The Day of the Court Martial

Cotton grinned. He was used to dragging friends home from one bar or another. He wasn't used to being helped by an officer, though. At least they'd managed to get the man away from Hakeswill before he'd gone into a faint.

Padstowe noticed the grin and raised an eyebrow.

"Used to it, are you?"

It was a strange sensation, not quite like being drunk, and for a moment all Williams was aware of were the voices around him. Not the voices of his own friends, but half-recognized, even though they were at the bottom of a well. Someone had his arm round him, supporting his weight, and that seemed wrong. What seemed particularly wrong, as his vision cleared, was to realize that the man holding him up was an officer. Which seemed to mean trouble. He pulled away, trying to stand on his own. The redcoat officer - not his lot - wasn't alone. There was a man - two men - in Rifle green.

"Cotton," he said, then remembered, and recognized his companions. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. Captain. Did I - bloody hell. I haven't done that since - " He could hardly remember the last moments in the court, with his head swimming, and Hakeswill watching him with hatred in his eyes. Had he even thanked the Captain?

Padstowe smiled.

"Back with us are you, Williams? How are you now?"

"Yes, sir, I'm used to it," Cotton said, answering the officer before turning to his friend.

"Hey, mate, are you all right? You came over all swimmy-headed, it looked to me."

"I'll be all right. I think." Williams was successfully standing on his own, and his head was clearing rapidly. "I'm real sorry for that, though I don't think I could have stopped myself. Everything just faded. Everything except that bastard." He rubbed at his face, the prickle from the marks on his palms reminding him what he had just been through. "Captain. I don't think I even thanked you. And you too, Sir." He was able to smile at Cotton. "I saw you there. I appreciated that, especially as..." As far as he knew, Padstowe did not know that Cotton too might be a marked man in Hakeswill's warped mind. But at least he was now quite sure that Cotton understood what a dangerous man the Sergeant was.

Padstowe frowned, looking between Williams and Cotton.

"No need for thanks, Williams... however I admit I was under the impression that you and Cotton were close acquaintances."

"We've had a drink or two together, I'll admit that. And he makes a fine guard, for a man in the cells." On one hand, there seemed to be no harm in Padstowe or Sharpe knowing that Cotton had been in the bar with him when they had first met Hakeswill. But that was Cotton's business, not his: not everyone wanted officers to know everything, even if these two weren't even Cotton's officers. He didn't himself.

"Aye, we've shared a drink or two. And now we seem to share an enemy." He just could not get Hakeswill's threat out of his mind. Four simple, innocent sounding words with an ocean of menace and hate behind them: For you is next.

"I'd rather have him as an enemy than a friend." Cotton's remark made it seem daft not to tell the two officers. They might be able to do something to protect the youngster. "Hakeswill's got it in for the lad too," he said. "I'm not saying you were wrong Captain, but isn't there anything that can be done to stop him?"

He didn't know. There would be a way, if he was given time to think about it and discuss it with certain people, but right now he did not exactly know.

"There will be," he said. "But not today, nor tomorrow. What you have to do for now is watch your backs - and you, Richard," he said, turning to Sharpe. "All of you."

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"But what I need now is a drink."

He smiled at Williams.

"Would you allow meto buy you one? You look as if you need it too."

"There's a decent offer than a man doesn't get every day, from an officer. It's been a long time," he grinned at Cotton, "since I was last given anything worth drinking. And I'll have to admit that something stronger than water would be very welcome. So thank you, Sir.

"As for watching our backs, we know to do that now. But it'll be hard. He's a cunning old sod, and will want to make up for what he lost today." Which was my death, he realized with a sudden shudder. What sort of man would do that to another, just over a girl?

"Excellent! Let's go and find a taproom. Coming as well, Cotton?"

"Certainly, sir. Not often I get an officer offer to buy me a drink, you know." He saw the sudden change of expression on Williams' face. "Are you all right, mate?"

"Goose on my grave. But I ain't dead yet." That phrase had stuck with him, as a talisman. "And although I am not generally inclined to mix with officers, I'll make an exception today. Since it is an exceptional day." He grinned widely. "And I'd hate to go back to the billet with a mouth as dry as this." One thing about Lisbon, there was always a bar when you wanted one, and no doubt there would be a girl here too, as pretty as Maria, now safe with her family north of Coimbra.

"Richard, would you lead the way?"

"Certainly." Though a stranger party they could not have been, four men from four different regiments, two officers and two rankers.

Down the road a few yards and round a corner and there was a tavern that sold better wine than most other posadas round here.

"Here we are."

(They go here.)