17th May - After Review - Cleaning out

"Sir, I am not so freely to lay with a lass, I would think." And he felt that he had to keep his heart from them. For if ever he were to return home, he knew what words his choice could've received. Perhaps.

"Oh, I would hope for something like that. And if not over, atleast let us fight against them and take the prisoners we rightfuly deserve. Show them perhaps, how it is done. Not to flee, but to keep what you've gotten." Not that he complained in being left behind. It was a far better thing than to be a prisoner. It might only have been the manner in which they were left - humiliated - that still stung his pride.

Sinclair muttered something about laying with t'lassies, not feeling the need to continue that conversation any more.

"Tis a good thing ter have such a definate aim in mind, when ye are going ter fight again' someone." he smiled, "And I have nay doubt ye'll do a much better job than they did with ye, keeping them prisoner fer much, much longer."

"I mean to do my troop proud. That is much that is my goal. And to do my duty." No longer in the keep of the 60th perhaps, but the duty changed little. At least now he owned a weapon, one firing and one to slash with. Hack at the enemy, both on horseback and on foot.

He only hoped that the terrain would allow it. And that the horse that he was so dutifully given, would not shy at the most important a moment. " What did you think of the review?" He asked, part of the other side's stalls already cleaned and some more to come.

Rob shrugged, "T'Reveiw was...interesting. I've not a seen one afore, I don't think. Or at least, not so close up."

He grinned, "Seems ter me ye got known a little bit, there, nay? There was some discussion about yer mount, wasn't there?"

"About my mount? Whatever do you mean?" Ah, he knew there was a bit of discussion about that strange animal. He hadn't heard exactly what was discussed amongst the officers either, but the feeling and what he was able to gather from those in the front lines - and even those couldn't quite hear much - there was indeed some mention or so of that very beast.

He looked at Sinclair, with a certain deal of curiosity, as to see what he had meant.

"i didna hear it all, of course, not being allowed ter trail around with t'rest of them important people...but they seemed ter think it wasna as good lookin as could have been hoped."
He shrugged, "Shouldn't they be happy yer still able ter ride fer them?"

"Well, certainly so.. for the normal march .. though even there, the horse is rather peculiar. I shall show you." He had debated whether he would have attempted in some way to mask it's furr, perhaps have it somehow darker - yet he didn't quite figure how - so that the spots would be less obvious.

"But on review, to have such a... uh... well such an ugly horse, before all those civilians and important men and women of the Portuguese society, .. it might not have been a call that one would preferred. You see, it is as coming to meet a lass, and coming in your less appealing an attire, instead of attempting to seem and look your best."

"BUt where did ye get t'horse? Was it provided by them which then told ye off for't? Else why did ye end up with something so...ungainly?"

He did not understand the division of mounts, or how they were gained once one was lost, or needed replacing through some other misfortune.

"It was one that was provided by my own !5th Hussars. Though I indeed had hoped that I may be granted the ride you may recall as a rather feisty lass, well, she would not have been well, too untrained that she is still."

He shook his head slowly: "Why have I been given the task to clean the stalls?.. It is both for the same reason, I fear. I have done a few things in error. Of which the last was to report in all lateness that I could master. I had been retrieved by... that young officer. " He had not spoken ill of him, though he felt the man might need to calm and take in stride the things of his service before the men should become to loathe him for most petty things.

" I may be incorrect to assume so.. though I believe that it was indeed a form of punishment. Have the least gainly of steeds they could find."

"Tis hardly clever, ter give ye somethign which canna do it's job properly, just as a punishment, is it?"

He shook his head. Clearly there was something Willoughby had done which had upset plenty of people, and there was punishment to be had for it, which would probably continue for long enough, too.

"THough it seems rather...silly, ter do such a thing."

"Oh.. he seems to be.. a horse fairly well trained, for he has stood in place with nae but breathing to know that he is indeed still alive and had not gone stiff and dead." He had perhaps other challenges now, with the animal, and he wondered just how many would be shown too late.

" Oh sir, we have no doubt that our officers have a sense of humour... which we might sometimes which that they hadn't." He spoke lightly.

Rob smiled down at the lad, "Officers with a sense of humour? Yer'll be tellin me they've real blood flowin through their veins next, all human like."

He understood what was meant by the sentance though. An officer with a cruel sense of humour could easily make life a misery for all the men under him, and an officer with no sense of humour would do the same, albiet unwittingly.

"What happens if an animal dies on parade, then? Will he stay standing, propped by t'ones around him, ter finish? or will t'whole thing stop being pomp and start being a trip to t'butcher?"

"Oh, I certainly would not dare to go thus far." Willoughby laughed softly and rested his hand on the length of his shovel. "Real blood, blue perhaps, but not the real red sort!" He smiled at the doctor: "Though is it not you, that should know better on that account, but a Hussar who knows only to ride a horse and fight on its back?"

He grinned at that thought, though his horse was one he had refrained to delight in. But delight in itself was not why they were there, and personal pleasure needed make space to duty. Already he was starting to wonder if he was not doing his animal an injustice. After all, it was still a horse, though with the patterned back.

"Hm, if an animal dies on parade it would have the others not too close, I think, to keep it up. Though there is rarely an animal that would meet such an end if one at all! On parade, to arrive with a horse that has been treated so poorly.. would not be in the favour of inspection. And to the effect of dying.. I cannot imagine what would happen then at all. And hope dearly that I need never to learn it!"

"well, yer might've been known ter cut up an opposing officer or two, in t'line of duty?" It was a silly question, deserving only that silly answer.
But he wasn't going to make the conversation more serious by talking about patients he had known. It was a breech of his word, to begin with. And not that many people wanted to know about the exact workings of their superiors inards. Or needed to know, and let hiim keep his job.

"Surely a horse could die from something other than neglect? A tumour, unnoticed, or a sudden shock? although I wouldna say I knew much about them in horses. I would have ter be talkin ter some other man, more important in t'horses eyes, I should imagine."

Gently he turned his head back again, glancing at the dispersing sparrows, swallows still in their midst, "But, if I may talk of it, a dead horse...which yer'd get in battle, say, fer t'arguement, it could be seen a source of food by some, couldn't it?"

" I think I did, though I admit to not wish hanging around to see more of what might transpire with such a man." And he was glad to stray from the topic, not only as gore was aplenty already in their daily lives and needed not a conversation based on it, but also as an officer's mention could as well be that of their own kind as of the enemy's.

"Perhaps of heat, if made to travel a great distance, at a fast pace and then left with little water to drink before the preparations for such a thing were set. Indeed a horse may die of other things, though all too many are connected quite to the neglect, lesser knowledge or dumb luck."

He paced a little at the question given and went to load the cart again for the n'th time or rather one he had stopped counting for. At last he nodded and answered: " A dead horse might become such a source and I would reckon that in times when food is scarce it is a cavalryman's fear as much as an effort, that he has to protect his horse from death, not solely from starvation but from the starving." He paused and smiled slightly. "Mind though that might be when the troops are retreating and in the unfortunate times. mind so." And then he shrugged and added: "Though ,.. I would not be .. eh... surprised if few, perhaps civilians or soldiers, see a horse fallen in battle as means of a meal as well." And he didn't feel like considering it, nor did he feel at ease talking of it.

Not of dead horses even if that wasn't an unusual accurance.

He seemed to have a gift today for starting conversations which woudl be better stopped. Officers being normal men, dead horses, they were hardly appropriate, as he gathered from the agitated set of the shoulders down below.

The first topic, then, he let slip, moving onto the second carefully, "I thought as much. THough...I reckon each man whose in charge of any animal, be it bird or beast, would find 'imself in t'same position, specially in t'famine."

He shifted against the roof, drawing his left leg up to stretch out in front of him instead, "Tis why there's allus a demand fer gamekeepers, as me Ma would allus remind us. It's one of them jobs as'll never die out."

"Indeed. Though some men may swear not to eat the meat of horses. Not all and it is often their background which decides upon which choice they would lay their eyes on." Perhaps a swift death would so end both the suffering of a horse and of the man, he did not know, nor did he wish to experience such a feat. He had heard how men had to slay their horses so the enemy would not gain possession of them.

"And their belly." He looked at the pile of dung that he still needed shifting about. And perhaps it was the stable work for all the horses that might have a change of heart for some, he mused though somewhat less lightheartedly.

"What would you do sir, if you were no longer able to have your cart pulled, what things would you choose to carry with you then, for you too need horses, do you not?"

"Aye, I need t'horses ter drag all that stuff I insist on carrying." he shrugged.
"Well...fer ter carry. Some of t'things would be silly little things. A capbadge, me kilt...me knife, I'd keep with me, fer many reasons."

GLumly he thought over everything he had amassed and apreciated. He wasn't new to wondering without the large amount of gear he had currently though, thought he knew what he could carry, "Clearly I'd take some medicines...or at t'least a book, ter try and work it out. SOme money..."
It was difficult to imagine exactly what he'd need. Presumabley the lack fo horses wouldnt' stop him from being the army surgeon? "What der yer think I'm forgettin that I should have with me then?"

"I wouldn't know, but surely the sort of things you might need as a surgeon, a saw or the pliars or what you might call those unbecoming looking things that you use to pry a bullet from one's body. I reckon you might've had someone apointed to you to aid you with your gear. " Certainly the officers would have preffered their surgeons equipped well enough that they could themselves be aided if bad came to worst.

He smiled and then shrugged: "But why do we even discuss such morbid a topic and such a future. Are we not, by day successful in that, we follow the French rather than walk back from them? " He was smiling for he was glad for a word with a man that would share his thoughts and was able to hold a much longer conversation of wit, wisdom and general things.

"AN aide would make life easier...."he considered all the instrumenets, "Oh, I could carry all them saws and what not, as ye call it," he broke off for a smile, "easy. But t'food and such...." his whimsical smile turned scheming as an idea came, "we could loose that horrid, well written book and stick with just dashed off notes of t'patients. No more paperwork." It was a pleasant thought.

Although not as pleasant as considering the positions of the french and themselves, "Indeed. We are most succesful. Tis ter be thankful for, which I am, at least." He gave a quick glance heavenwards. Many men would cross themselves, but it had never been their way, not being as catholic as those he was meeting now. It was something he was used to seeing, though it was not natural. "And with little loss of man ter anything..other than t'charms of a lady or two, now and then."

" We may hope that it so continues.. though where we go now,.. it is bound to happen that our luck may run thin. " He shrugged softly. "Though, your business then may thrive greatly." His thoughts strayed to the girl that came to him at the tavern. Lost to a woman's charm, made a sure fool. But she was pretty and had earned the praise that men write into their minds when they have not spent more than moments with the proffered girl, or have a memory fading after a long time from her.

"Do surgeons become lost then, as easily as their patients?" He asked with an amused look on his face, and rested his once injured foot for a little while.

"Tis hard, ter say I'd get more business, which woudl be good fer me, but bad fer t'rest of ye." It was one of the things he'd never got used to.
A friend he'd had once used to delight in asking him what his reply to the question 'How's business' meant for the rest fo the populace.

"Lost in geography, we're more likely ter do that than most, sometimes, or be distracted, I think." He gestured at himself, perched on the roof of a building, as an example. "Ter t'women...I think it's depend on t'man, same as ever. Nae doubt, low though it may be spoken, there are great men who've done silly things themselves, fer women."
No doubt there'd be plenty throughout history, and keeping going, too. Though he'd yet to hear of women starting wars over men. Unnatural, that would be.

"Lost in the geography and the rooftops." He said amused. "Why, if I had not known you and saw you there I'd have thought you were anything but a doctor, sir. And I mean no offense in that."

"Indeed, wars have been fought solely for, because of women, or to return them to their husbands and their homeland or all of the above. " Or so the history taught.

"And, duels,. men fight them also solely for a woman's honour." Though in that there'd been some word of a different kind of fight even accuring, though rarely.

Rob grinned unrepentantly from his perch, pleased with the view and the chance to do as he wished for once. Too pleased to have been bothered taking offence even if it had been meant.

"AYe. I've yet ter start fighting fer a woman other than me sister, but I canna count t'number of times I've done that. DOn't ye ever have too many sisters, laddie. THey're more trouble than they're worth, sometimes!"

Mind you, fighting for the honour of his sister put him in just the same boat as fighting for any other womans honour, he supposed. Although it was duty, not lust....he shook his head and filed the thought away for later.

"I have none. So fear not that I should have too many." He answered, and knew there would have not been a single chance that he could have had a sister even in the future.

" Women perhaps are as much a blessing to a man as they are a curse, though I might speak with my years so young." He smiled. "And perhaps ought not to have the right to judge, not yet at least."