Thursday morning before the march

Pye stopped by the side of Cotton and Williams. There could not be a fight in mid day, so close to the officers, but it wasn't beyond Hakeswill to provoke it. He was a fine master of that kind of act. He looked worriedly at Williams. Did the man know who he was dealing with? He had to be careful! Even such words could turn out in disaster.

Hakeswill's face spasmed into a hideous grin.

"And it'll be I what does for you, Davvie, the day that you try. Just watch me."

His child-like eyes darted towards Cotton, who was looking distinctly pale.

"Like what is done for others."

Williams stared back at the Sergeant, unwilling to ask. He might just be referring to the flogging - somehow he had been to blame for that. But the timing made it likely that it was more than that. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with Cotton, wondering if the rifleman was going to speak.

It looked that it might soon be two men that needed holding back. he didn't know the redcoat but Cotton....

"...." He opened his mouth to speak, his usually cheerful expression lost for the moment, and closed it.

Hakeswill had not missed the other riflemen inching forward to back up Williams, one of which seemed strangely familiar from elsewhere, though he could not exactly pinpoint where from - or put a name to the face for that matter. His glance darted back to Cotton.

"What's the matter, grasshopper? Let your Welshman do all the talking for you? 'Spect you're tongue's as green as you bloody jacket, what with all the filth that's on it. Not surprisin' your punk upped and lost you."

Williams felt the chill horror of Hakeswill's words drive the colour from his face. "You bastard. What have you done. No. You don't dare tackle either of us, face to face, like a man..."

"Didn't say I'd done anything, did I?" Hakeswill sneered. "'S what I hear's being said. So she's upped and left you; probably realised she's wasting herself on you, pretty little 'ore that she is. Could bag an officer easy, she could - a General even, maybe Nosey 'imself?"

He cackled at the absurd image of Sir Arthur with a lowly creature like Maggie.

"Or maybe a sergeant..."

He spoke of Maggie! That pretty lass that was with Cotton. The boy looked between Hakeswill, Cotton and even the redcoat Williams. Two of them on one side and one poking his stick into a wasp's nest to see if he could rouse them up. It wasn't right, how he spoke about that Maggie. She looked like a good girl, a proper girl with a man. Didn't look like she were looking at the others like some girls did. Had eyes all for him!

"Miss wouldn't ..!"

"She ain't less'n you had sup'm to do with it, she ain't. An' she's no more a whore than I'm a Chinaman, you... you... bastard." Cotton's voice was low and his hands were clenched so tightly around his sword-bayonet and rifle that his knuckles were white.

"Easy," breathed Williams. Hakeswill had tried these tactics on him, but he hadn't had a Maggie to worry about. She wouldn't have gone off with the Sergeant, though. She knew about him, and would have been wary of having anything to do with him.

Cotton was gripping his sword-bayonet, and another word from Hakeswill might goad him into action. Williams' eyes flickered round, looking for the officers, for the Rifles' own sergeants. Who, however much they might sympathise with their own man, would not cover up the murder of Hakeswill. The man deserved it for sure; he and Cotton would not have a moment's peace until he was out of the way.

Edrington had returned to his own men by now and Vickery looked up to see an unexpected and unwanted confrontation taking place between one of his men and a couple of redcoats. He frowned and approached them. One of the redcoats was wearing the buff facings of the 27th, and the other had the red facings of the 33rd. He had Sergeant's stripes on his sleeve and an unpleasant expression on his face.

The rifleman, he now saw, was Cotton, who seemed to be shaking with anger, though he was doing his best to keep it under control. The Inniskilling was holding Cotton's arm, apparently trying to calm him down. And that meant that the Sergeant had to be the Hakeswill who Padstowe had warned him about.

"You must be the odious Sergeant Hakeswill," he said, addressing the sergeant in a friendly tone, though there was a dangerous note in his voice. "I've been told about you. What business do you have with the 60th?"

Williams relaxed his grip on Cotton's arm, and turned to watch an officer deal with Hakeswill. The man had a way with officers, but this one was already wise to his ways. Like Mr Sharpe and Captain Padstowe, he was not going to be taken in by Hakeswill's act of being a good sergeant.

Pye felt relief and glanced at Williams and then at the captain. Now all would be well! An officer would set a sergeant right. Especially Captain Vickery, who was a great man!
And the danger that Cotton would've been goaded into attacking was less now too. All with the officer present! He shifted his stance a little where he stood and his hand inched back, for there was no need for it now. The redcoat did good too, what with holding on Cotton.

Hakeswill snapped to attention so swiftly and sharply that he wavered momentarily with the force of it.

"Me, sir? Only odious 'coz I ain't had my three month bath yet, sir; can't be too careful. Can't afford to be clean all the time like the fine gentleman you are, sir."

Hakeswill's eyes darted over Vickery's uniform facings, taking in regiment and rank at one fell swoop.

"Captain Vickery, sir, isn't it? Heard of you, sir, from Mister Sharpe. Used to be one of my lads, did Mister Sharpe."

"Did he now? He's done very well for himself, has Mister Sharpe." Vickery took a step closer. "And Rifleman Cotton is one of my lads. And if I catch you so much as looking askance at him or anyone else in my Company, I will be extremely angry. Is that clear... Sergeant?"

He would have liked to have been able to offer Private Williams that reassurance as well, and made a mental note to have a quiet word with the man's Company commander at the earliest possible opportunity.

Williams glanced at Vickery, and felt as he was about to be thrown to the wolves, but the man's face said otherwise. And, to be fair, it had been his intervention that had started it. So he schooled his face into a look of unconcern and bland innocence, that would infuriate Hakeswill.

Inside Hakeswill fumed. Bloddy Rifles officers... Scum, the lot of 'em. His eyes darted to Williams, who was looking as smug as a Welsh Ram could, because he knew the sergeant could not touch him at the moment, and so his eyes lighted on the young private he'd thought he'd recognised - and turned out that he did. He grinned.

"I didn't mean no harm, sir," he wheedled. "Nor to Mister Sharpe, fine officer that he is. I was only visting my lad here -" He clapped what could be interpretted as a friendly hand on Pye's shoulder. "- seeing how he was getting on in his new regiment, like. I cares for all my lads, I do."

Pye looked uneasily, and smiled more forced than he'd thought to. He dropped his gaze a little and then as he began to step aside subconsciously, he stopped himself, though he wasn't sure why.
Vickery didn't seem to like Hakeswill - no surprise there - and he didn't know what to say. Though what Hakeswill said, it was untrue, as untrue as saying that food wasn't important.

Vickery did not want to get drawn into any sort of conversation with Hakeswill. Pye had been hanging around a little, and had simply been unfortunate enough to come to the sergeant's notice. He had seemed to be more concerned with threatening Cotton, from what Vickery had seen.

"Well, we have not managed to kill him yet, as you can see. If that's all, you may return to the 33rd, Sergeant, thank you."

"Wait," said Williams, before the Sergeant could go. "He came here to make insinuations. I'd like to hear what he knows - if it's all right with you, Captain."

Hakeswill gave Williams a poisonous look.

"I do not make insinuations, sir!" he protested to Vickery. "I only come up to see my lad, out of the goodness of my heart, so I did. Don't ask me what this Welsh bastard's doing here - you'll pardon my language, sir. Up to no good, I'll be bound."

".." He hesitated. Williams and Cotton were together first, it was Hakeswill who approached them. He had been in clear sight enough so he knew that what Hakeswill suddenly attested to wasn't so. He didn't know why he was there, though he'd heard some mean things said.

"Sir.. the.." he looked at the Welshman. ".. he'd come to meet Cotton. it.Isn't.." And how exactly to say it?

Cotton pulled out the note Williams had given him. "He come to give me this here, sir, Williams done," he said and passed it over. Vickery took it and scanned the few short words before looking back up at Hakeswill.

"Do you know what reason Miss Evans might have for remaining behind in Coimbra without telling anyone about it until now?" he asked. "I believe she left her possessions behind as well, which tells me it was not something she had planned on doing."

Hakeswill's grip on Pye's shoulder tightened painfully, forcing the boy into silence. He was not liking the way this conversation was going, but there was no way they could prove anything, or lay the blame at his door. They did not even know what had happened to the girl, so how could they accuse him of anything?

Pye winced. He wanted to dislodge the offending arm and pulled on the hurt shoulder slightly. A hand was raised towards the source of pain but faltered. He put on a brave face. "sargn't.. captain asked..." He said with some effort. He opened his mouth to say more, atleast to confirm his location to have been elsewhere. Thankfully it looked that Vickery needed no further persuasion though.