Thursday morning before the march

He nodded. "I do. There's eleven of us, an' I'm the third one. I'm from Kent, see, and Dad was a labourer for one of Squire's tenant farmers. We wasn't all livin' together in the cottage all at once though - wouldn't have fitted, like." It had been a good question to ask and it seemed Pye was a quick thinker. He'd fit in well enough with the 60th, Cotton was sure of that.

"That's plenty o' em!" He tried counting the number on his fingers, and frowned as his concentration wavered. He was convinced though that no matter how many fingers eleven was, it was a lot.

"More boys or more girls?" He asked, shifting his rifle, before it could slip any further. The continuous tap of the 'sword accompanied him at his side.

He thought for a moment, counting on his fingers. "More boys. Though by the time the youngest was born, Billy - my oldest brother - had left home to work in Squire's stables, and Becky was a maid up at the big house." It was a lot, but was no more than some of the other families had, and Cotton had been used to it.

"Any of 'em gone to t' army like you?" He smiled, while his step became a bit lighter. The terrain was a mix of stone, dirt and grass to the sides. It wasn't a bad kind and if a man or boy kept his wits about him, they could avoid hitting a toe on something harder.

"No, I'm the only one what joined the army, I think. See, the squire's eldest son didn't like me much, and when the squire died and he got the estate, he had us turned out, and I knew it was acause of not likin' me. So I 'listed. It was a bit acause of that and a bit so's Ma and Dad didn't have to worry about havin' me to feed as well as all the little 'uns. I went along to the hirin' fair to try for another place some'eres else, but couldn't find anythin'. And a recruitin' sergeant from the 22nd was there and found me, and that's how I ended up in the army." He shrugged. It was a fairly common sort of story, really. "So where's your 'rrivance? I mean, where d'you come from?"

"London n' there'bouts." He lightly tapped the rifle, though she'd become his companion but for a short while ago. He blinked and just a bit more subtly he asked: "Wot's an.. 'rrivance?" And smiled a little.

"Your ma n' pa mus' be proud. With ye' makin' it a batman n'all." He added. That's what parents were probably for. And relieved, with what they had one less mouth to feed.

"Just means where you come from, 'rivance does. My 'rivance is Throwley, which is a little village in East Kent." He shrugged. "Ain't ever had the chance to tell 'em till a week or so ago, when Maggie wrote a letter home for me, though they'll be proud enough when they do hear of it." He looked curiously at Pye. "What do your folks think of you bein' in the Army, then?" he asked.

"Dunno." He shrugged. He waved his hand and looked ahead of em. When he looked back at Cotton he smiled. " Didn't..er.. don't 'zactly know who they be." He said cheerfully. It did mean anything he earned - when mastering the prospect of money - he could keep - when the army decided to pay its soldiers.

"Your folk can read?"

"Ah. Sorry." He shook his head. "No, but they can ask the Parson or someone to read it for 'em, and mebbe to write back as well. Had to be written home for, I did - couldn't afford no schoolin', see, only bein' farm workers and havin' that many of us in the house."

He looked genuinely confused: "Sorry, 'bout what?"

When he thought about it, writing was useful if you wanted to write to someone. And the books were great for , some other kind of use. But that was their paper, not the weird scribbles that they had in them.

"Mus' be quite a journey a letter travels like. Has an adventure of their own, exchangin' hands n' so, to get home." He thought about it. Must've been hard to take them all to their destination, how it worked though he'd never though and never had an idea off.

"Askin' you about your folks. An' I never much thought about how letters get from one place to another anyways. They go to England by ship, and I know the Mail' involved somewhere, only I don't know quite how it all works. The Post Office sorts 'em all out somehow, I 'spect. One of me younger brothers went to be a postboy, I know that. He prob'ly knows how it all works."

It was something he'd never really thought about, but it would be quite a journey that his little letter had gone by the time it reached his family.

"Oh, dun' need t' be then." He smiled, nodding just to give some emphasis on that.

"You ask him in the next letter?" He lifted a foot over a rather unkindly looking stone, and was careful to keep his other safe from its sharp edge. Ruining a boot with carelessness wouldn't do when there wasn't an easy time replacing it.

" Wot' did ye folk say when ye firs' tol' em yer going ?" He asked curiously. He clasped a hand on the bayonet sword and kept it in place as he walked. Not too many steps later he let it go again, thinking it to be too much unneeded effort.

"Mebbe I will ask him. Hadn't thought about it." He shrugged. "Dunno if there will be another letter, the way things is goin'. And I might have more important stuff to ask than how letters get from one place to another."

He adjusted the hang of his own sword-bayonet and rested his hand on its hilt. "Last time I saw my folks, I was tryin' to persuade Squire's son - the new squire - to let 'em stay if'n I went, seein' as I knew it was me he wanted rid of, not them. And I just told 'em I'd be trying my luck at the hirin' fair, and they wished me luck. Never did get a chance to tell 'em I'd gone for a soldier, though."

"But.. why he didn' like ye? Been' more handsom' than he?" He grinned, thinking of it. Well , men did want to eliminate competition, didn't they?

They would certainly be happy to learn that their son had made himself a good career or so, and that he was well to feed himself and more. He couldn't imagine what joy it could bring them, but tried.

"Oh, I wos' tole' but now I'm confused 'bout it, since they said things back n' forth. But ye will know surely!" He looked at Cotton, holding the man in highest regards.

"He was a bully. And when I was twelve, thirteen, somethin' like that, he picked a fight with me - he was three or four years older'n me, you see. And the Squire come ridin' past and seen us, so he stops it. I think he must've given Master Edward a real tongue-lashin' later, 'cause he fair hated me afterward. So when he got the estate, he could do summat to hurt me for real." He shrugged; it had all been several years ago. He just hoped his family were all right, because it hadn't really been anything to do with them.

He grinned. "Here, don't you go treatin' me no diff'rent, just 'cause of being Captain Vick'ry's batman, will you? I'm just the same as the other lads, after all."

Silly men to hate for something that they were at fault for in the first place. He shook his head. Shouldn't hate people anyway. Or do bad things, 'cept for the kind that enabled you to survive. Those weren't bad. "He was a child then! Never grown up out of it!" He smiled. "He didn' go t' the army tho' did 'e?"

He tilted his head a bit to the side, listening to the rifleman, rather quick to be silent.

"Alright. But , but you would still know!" He nodded, his mind unchanged and simply set. "So um'.. what's right? T' rifle's scoutin' is fer huntin' rabbits too? Or isn't it?"

"Bleedin' bully. Used to bully all us village kids, he done, and we couldn't stop him, neither, 'cause he was the Squire's son. And he was the eldest son, too, to the estate went to him. He should be back there runnin' it, though he's probably spent all the money on drink or summat. Ain't got the guts to come into the Army, I know that much."

He shook his head. "That was a bit of a tease at Joe Newbury, that was. We get time to go lookin' for food, but scoutin's for looking for the French. And if we see 'em, it's trouble, is what."

It was pleasant being able to talk, but he was still worried about Maggie. There wasn't anything to be done right now, though, apart from hoping and praying, and he was doing a lot of both of those.

He hoped the talk would ease Cotton's mind a little and make him less anxious at a time when he couldn't really do anything much. When they'd stop marching he could try, but now worry would only turn him gray too soon.

" Ha ha! Might learn him a lesson!"

"Thankee! Oh, Frenchies is trouble, but good a little too. Gets you findin' all things later, somewhat to keep you well." He looked again at Cotton. "If it rains.. t'will be good weather, it will. Always is." He added softly. He hoped tha man knew that if he needed something of help, he would do it. Loyal enough to someone like that.

"It don't look like it'll rain anytime soon, though it's spring. Anythin' can happen in spring, you know," Cotton replied. "And we ain't expectin' the French to be out - though we've had a bit of a brush with 'em the other day, so whoever's scoutin' needs to keep a proper eye out, jus' in case."

"is' t' 95th scoutin' today, isn't it?" Those were the ones that had black on their cuffs and their collars, if he remembered right. They were lead under a different man, they were a bit scruffier even and they were the second ones that had also showed what the rifles could do.

"They don't 'ave nothing red on them left." He tapped his collar to indicate what he had meant. He hadn't been ignorant to hear some about the 95th, and it wasn't all good. No passing judgment though, always was wrong that anyway!

"Aye, though I reckon we'll be providin' flanking scouts soon enough - there ain't so many of the 95th with us after all." He grinned at Pye's next comment. "No, they don't, but don't forget, we'm the fifth battalion of the 60th, and the first four battalions are all redcoats. The sixth are rifles too, but I dunno where they are. And I think the others are in America, or Canada, or the Indies or some'rs like that."

"So.. t' sixth don't have t' red collars at all or nothin' other red?" He inquired curiously. His world was that of the 33rd not too long ago, the others were just red, mounted or not red. Made it more simple that way unless someone told him right of. Then he'd remember.

" How's.. how's scoutin' like? " The conversation had a preferable effect. It took the mind off of various things that might plague and torment it, were a man left to his devices, and being an educational ordeal in part, helped. But first and foremost, Pye was very happy about that, was that it had made Cotton less like a dead man walking.

"Think they've got the same facings as us, but I ain't sure - haven't actually seen 'em, y'see. And scoutin's fine - you get away from the column a bit, and there ain't any marchin' to worry about. You just got to keep your eyes open for things that ain't right, and try to figure why they ain't right, and if it means there's French around. Well, French, or anythin' else dangerous, that is. Like, if you was to see a flock of birds take off sudden-like in the distance, is it 'cause there's men there that shouldn't be, or did they get disturbed by a goat."

He shrugged, with a smile at Pye. "It's learnin' to read the ground. Comes easy to me, 'cause I'm from the country. Might be a bit harder for the likes of you, who's allus lived in the city, but it can be done. And you seem like you learn quick, so I reckon you'll get it, no problem."

He nodded, liking the sound of the scouting all the better. He was eager to learn it proper, do it the best he could try, give it his best atleast. All he was told he'd tried soaking up like sponge, and keep it in his mind for when the knowledge was to be needed.

" Didn' always.. sorta! I lived by a big 'ouse...fer a while. When I lef' ye see. They had a forest n'all, n' some of them horses. N' dogs." It wasn't the ones that were confined he'd worried about at all, but the ones released for a hunting party that were in great numbers of bark and a potential bite. But that was when he'd left the good dark streets of his home.

He was smiling brightly. Cotton had complimented him, and that had the boy smiling and grinning enough for his mouth to hurt. "Which have you liked better? T' life out in t' country, or did ye like t' city kind any better?"

"Ain't bin in any town than Lisbon, not prop'ly, for more'n a day. I'll stick with the country - it's cleaner. Fresher, sort of. And not so many people. I don't like bein' all closed in, with folks pushing and shovin' you every which way you turn. Ain't right, that."

He missed the clean, open spaces of the country, with the hills and fields and the horizons, and the time to think. And it seemed to him that people in towns were a lot ruder than the country folk he was used to.