Thursday morning before the march

His jacket was still a little damp from the water-fight he'd gotten into with Pye, but it would dry itself quickly once they got on the march. Newbury whistled as he ambled toward town for a last-minute visit to the market square. It wasn't likely that the army would come this way again and he hadn't gone into town half as much as some others.

"Hey, Cotton!" Newbury called, having spotted the other Rifleman ahead on the street. What was he doing out here and in such a hurry?

Cotton turned as he heard his name called. "Newbury," he said, thankful to see a familiar face, even if it wasn't the one he was after. "Don't s'pose you've seen my Maggie, have you? Only, she slipped out during the night and ain't come back. Left her things be'ind and all."

His grin slipped away quickly. Miss Evans had slipped off? "No," Newbury replied with a regretful shake of the head. "I ain't seen her. Not like her to up and vanish like that, though."

He looked around the slowly-filling market square and tried to think of any place Miss Evans might've gone. If they couldn't find her before the army marched... Newbury fingered the sling of his rifle uneasily. "Did she forget to buy somethin' last night?"

Cotton shook his head. "I don't think so. I thought she just went out to the privy, y'know? But I ain't seen her since, an' I'm real worried about her. I just can't think where she might be."

And what if something had happened to her? He'd never forgive himself if she'd been hurt somehow.

That was bad. Newbury looked around again. There was nobody around he recognised.

"Well come on," he said. "We're wastin' time standing around like this. She can't have gone too far anyway, we'll find her."

Cotton nodded. With two of them looking, they could cover twice as much ground, which would make it twice as likely they'd find her soon. Although he was starting to dread what might have happened to her, and what sort of state she'd be in when he did find her. She wouldn't have vanished like this of her own choice, not without taking her things with her. He raised a hand unconsciously to where her locket rested under his shirt. There was no way she would have gone anywhere without that.

"We'd mebbe best split up to look," he said, trying to think straight through the worry. The worst thing he could do was to give in to it and start panicking, after all. "You take this side of the square and I'll take th' other. Check the alleys and that - though I know we can't search the whole town." And if he was late back, well, he didn't care - he'd told the Captain where he was, and Vickery knew him well enough to know he'd be back as soon as he could.

"Right." Newbury adjusted his rifle where it hung off his shoulder and set off at once. They didn't have much time before the army marched out. Where the devil would that girl have gone?

He pushed his way through the anonymous redcoated men of the 5th and 27th, catching sight of the red facings of the 33rd and automatically adjusting his steps away from them before freezing. No! He recoiled from the thought. Please, God, she hadn't fallen in with Sergeant Hakeswill.

He started moving with even greater urgency than before, hoping desperately that she was all right.

"Gabe, where are you going?" called a familiar voice. Roper was hurrying down the street, rushing back to his billet. Cotton's half hour was spent. "We're marching soon! You're going the wrong way."

"Maggie's disappeared, mate," Cotton said, He was almost beside himself with worry - he hadn't seen a single trace of her and he kept imagining her lying in some dark alleyway somewhere, wondering why he hadn't come for her. If she showed up, he wasn't going to let her out of his sight for a long, long time.

He hadn't realised just how much he cared for her until now. Somewhere, a clock struck the half-hour, and he nearly sank to his knees in despair, holding onto the wall next to him to stay upright. Would she understand that he'd had to leave her, that he had to return to his Company? He prayed she would, that she'd be all right and would somehow be there at the mid-morning rest break with the other women.

"You... you ain't seen her anywhere have you?" he asked, hopelessly.

He shook his head. "Sorry, Gabe. But don't worry - she'll turn up. We'd better hurry."

Hurry? How could he hurry when his heart felt like lead and his legs refused to move? "I'm a-comin'. I'll be there just as soon as," he said, hoping to see her. "Oh God, Tom, I'm terr'ble afeared for 'er," he said after a moment, his Kentish accent thickening with the worry he felt. "Don't ee mek me run, will ye now? Acause I can't bear it, not knowin' where she've got to."

"Come on, Gabe. She'll be fine! She's probably back there waiting for you now. Come on, we've got to go or they'll have our hides."

Cotton stopped dead. "She ain't fine. She went out in the middle o' the night and nobody's sin 'er since. She've left all her stuff be'ind an' all, purty much. Though I reckon Sarah Palmer's goin' to look after it for her, like."

He sighed and got moving, and though he couldn't hurry, not really, he tried his best. He didn't want to hold everybody else up, after all. If only they weren't moving out today, he'd down everything and look for her till he found her, even if it meant tearing the town apart.

He found himself praying like he'd never done before, begging God to let her be all right, please, and didn't even stop when they reached the Company, the last two to fall in.

Cotton was there! Couldn't miss the man even if one had wanted to. And he didn't!

Yet Cotton looked so crestfallen, that even from where he stood, he could sense something wasn't right. What was the matter? Did he loose something? No, he's had his rifle there and no man would look as bitter and just the way this one did. Something very precious it had to be.

Roper nudged Cotton into place. "What about that lieutenant, the one what nabbed you for the watch? Didn't he give Maggie trouble that time? Maybe he seen her washing the captain's shirts and grabbed her for thieving them. Some of the lads in the 95th talked about him. Seems like he has a grudge against riflemen."

"Don't say things like that, Tom, please," Cotton said. Though if it was Waldegrave who'd got his hands on her, she had a much better chance than against that Sergeant...

He couldn't think like that. He couldn't afford to. And the not knowing was tearing him up inside. She was all right, had to be.

It wasn't an easy decision, but Newbury was sure he was doing the right thing. Maggie Evans was important to Cotton. Even if Cotton himself was unable to keep searching for her - being Captain Vickery's batman meant he had to back to the company - Newbury could keep looking in his place.

He paused to look back along the street, hesitating for a moment. There would be hell to pay if he didn't go back now. Newbury sucked at his lip and started walking again. He could deal with that after he found Maggie, or at least had gone over the town top to bottom and back again.

Roper regretted his words immediately. "I didn't mean - I'm sure she's not in trouble. I just mean, maybe an officer or someone wanted to talk to her and she couldn't get away. Can't just interrupt an officer with 'I gotta go now, someone's waiting.'" He looked at Cotton with concern. "But even if it's that bloody lieutenant, he'll have to talk to Captain Vickery if he has a problem, and then you'll hear about it." He smiled suddenly. "Maybe someone just needed some emergency sewing done, eh? Some bloody officer tore the braid on his uniform, I reckon. No one works a needle like your Maggie."

"Mebbe... mebbe you'm in the right of it, Tom. I do hope so, really I do," Cotton said, looking at Roper with a wan smile. He couldn't help thinking that Roper was wrong, though.

He looked around, and realised Maggie wasn't the only one missing. Joe Newbury wasn't there either. He hadn't run - deserted - that wasn't something that would ever cross his mind. Had he, possibly, stayed away to look for Maggie? Cotton felt a little more hopeful, suddenly, though Newbury was risking getting in trouble. He'd cover for his friend somehow, though, make it easier for him when he got back.

Newbury was still at large, that was what he noticed as well. It surely wasn't either of the men's habit to be late, no? Did something happen to Joe? The youth glanced to Cotton a couple of times. He looked ahead then. If Vickery came, it should look as if the whole company was there and nobody was missing. Wouldn't do to stare right at the place. He looked forward a bit too stiffly like, a bit too 33rd Regiment of foot like.

Vickery was marching with the men today, rather than riding in front of them. He noticed Cotton and Roper fall in and frowned. There was still someone missing.

Where was Newbury? It wasn't like him to be late for parade, wounded or not. He pulled out his watch to check the time, and sighed. They needed to move out now or run the risk of holding up the whole army, and he wasn't going to risk that. He glanced along the road Cotton and Roper had come down, but couldn't see anyone else in green.

If he'd known Newbury's injury was going to hold him back this much, he'd have given the man a ticket. He glanced along the ranks of paraded men. Cotton was looking somewhat green as well, though he didn't seem to be ill. It was more a sort of... listless hopelessness, and it didn't look right.

He wondered what was going on, for Cotton to look like that. Very likely it was connected with Newbury somehow. Had the other Rifleman run? In a town over-run with soldiers? It seemed highly unlikely, and Newbury was one of the last men Vickery would put down as ever deserting.

He glanced at his watch again. They were out of time.

"Rifles! Right... face! Quick march!"

Newbury would just have to catch them up later. Hopefully he could fall back in and travel with the surgeon or the 60th's women and come up when they stopped; he didn't want the man making his injury worse by trying to catch them up while they were on the move.

It was sheer force of habit that made Cotton face right and step off, trailing his rifle as he did it. How he was going to get through the day, he didn't know. He needed to be back in Coimbra, scouring the place from top to bottom for Maggie. The not knowing was a physical pain inside him, and he was more grateful to Newbury than he'd ever be able to put into words.

Watching how the men had slung their rifles, Zachary hoped that Newbury would return soon.

Joe hadn't looked too bad when they were carrying water for the tea to be had by the whole of the rifles. He did look strained and relieved when they arrived by the camp, but he could walk, he'd joked and he was fine when the youth returned with pebbles and shoes.

Come to think of it, there was nothing at all in the character of the man - though he could be wrong, he'd only seen him for such a short while, only since he joined the ranks and even then he'd seen Cotton a lot more - that indicated he would desert. Thinking further, there was not a man wanting to leave the rifles! It was more than he'd imagined it could be, more that he dreamt when he first dared to step out to ask and hope for the transfer.

Perhaps the captain knew where he was though, for he made no indication of his absence. Would Cotton be as woried about where they've sent their man?

The boy was quick and eager to follow in the example of the other riflemen, cheerful that they were going, though wondering why they've left a man behind.

Ah! he figured with a sudden revelation and found himself smiling. Of course, Newbury was still hurt! He'd seen that, and he was going in with the doctor's wagon. Cotton was worried about that, because Joe was his friend and, well it made sense! He nodded and adjusted the hold of his rifle quickening his pace a little. That was it! Well best wishes for the man! Best and may he be feeling at his best soon!

Newbury managed to avoid the last groups of late-returning redcoats by ducking into a half-blocked alley. The Rifles would be on their way by now and for an instant, he felt guilty for not being with them. Then he peered cautiously out of the alley and was glad there weren't any more redcoats in sight. Breathing out sharply, Newbury slipped out of the alley and moved deeper into town, eyes and ears alert for approaching redcoats or any sign of Miss Evans.