Wedding Bells in Oporto

Cotton wrapped his hands around his mug and grinned. "Oh, you made it in time. Dunno how much time - Maggie was in the middle of sewin' ribbon to her best dress when you two showed up."

"They love their sewin', don't they?" Newbury thought of Jenny's apparent interest in plying her needle on him, and shuddered.

"Well, long's everybody's here who you both wants to be."

"Now that you got here, I think they are. We'm thinkin' of goin' out round the corner - there's a small square there, with a water fountain. Enough room for folks to see, I think. Ain't anythin' special-like - we'm just jumpin' the broomstick, after all. No time for a parson an' banns and proper church vows and all." He shrugged and started buttoning his jacket up. "Would you... Would you be me groomsman, Joe?"

It was all he could do to keep from choking on his mouthful of tea. Would he...? Newbury managed to swallow the tea, somehow, but he didn't reply right away. Him, as Cotton's groomsman. He couldn't quite believe that he'd been asked...

"Be bloody glad to," he said at last, finally getting his brain settled enough to reply.

Cotton hadn't meant to get Newbury as flummoxed as he had done, but couldn't think of anyone he'd rather ask, apart from possibly Roper. He grinned. "Thanks, mate. Means... Well, means a lot."

Maggie looked at Cotton from across the room where she was now attracting a growing crowd of what few women were about. "Gabe, did the captain say anything about marching?" she called.

"He said we'm to be ready to march by ten o'clock, an' that we'd hear the clock strike the half hour." He grinned across at her. "Ready when you are, Miss Maggie."

This news spurred the women on to a flurry of more frantic activity and noise. Cotton may be ready, but Maggie was not. "Why don't you... go on ahead Gabe. And take the broom. Sarah, give him the broom. I'll be along shortly!" Maggie said, handing her sewing to Martha while Jenny adjusted a bonnet on her head.

Cotton blinked as someone thrust a broom into his hands. "Hey, there ain't no need to rush like. It ain't but half past six o'clock now." He heard the clock outside strike the quarter, and shrugged. "Sorry. A quarter to seven o'clock. You know we get up early in the Rifles, an' allus did."

Maggie nodded vaguely. "Whatever you like, Gabe."

He rolled his eyes. "You've got two hours, Maggie. Don't panic so." He thought his wards were falling on deaf ears and propped the broom up in the corner, picking up the bucket to go and fetch some more water.

Maggie nodded in acknowledgment without looking up, vaguely aware of his exit.

He drew a bucket of water and rested it on the wide edge of the fountain. He was getting married today. He couldn't quite believe it, even now. He sat down, watching the first rays of the sun start to touch the houses across the small square from where he was. "I'm gettin' married," he said, and shook his head. He stood up, pulled his forage hat off and dunked his head into the cold water in the wooden bucket in an effort to wake himself up in case it was a dream.

It wasn't, and that water was cold. He flicked his hair away from his face before pouring the water away and drawing a fresh bucketful, which he carried back to his billet.

Jenny met him at the door, watching him drip. "Did you fall in?" she asked, reaching out to take the bucket from him. "Oh, that's heavy. I'll let you take that. Cotton, do you think Captain Vickery will let us go upstairs? It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, though of course you've seen her already and all. Also, your girl needs feeding."

He'd forgotten that - but then, he'd never been a groom before. Never had a wedding in his family, not since his father had re-married, and he'd been too young then to pay any attention to what happened. He instinctively put his hand up to shield himself from catching even a glimpse of Maggie, hoping he hadn't brought bad luck on their marriage before it had even started.

"Don't see why not," he said. "He's up an' dressed already. An' Roper might do some stirabout if anyone knows where he can get the oats for it. I've got... I've got summat else to go an' do." He grinned at Jenny. "I couldn't borrow a towel first, though, could I? It's a mort cold out there."

"Think I got somethin' that'll pass for a towel, in my pack," Newbury offered, having escaped outside before he could pressed to work somehow. He set his borrowed mug carefully aside and shrugged off his pack. Truth to be told, however, he wasn't quite sure precisely was - or wasn't - in his pack anymore.

"That'd be real good of you," Cotton said, watching as Newbury swung his pack off. He had a sudden thought, and reached to unclasp Maggie's locket from around his neck. He held it out to Jenny. "Reckon she'd like to wear this for her weddin'. Only... you got a pair of scissors I could borrow 'fore you give it her? There's summat I'd like you to do for me."

Jenny took the locket, recognizing it as the one that he had sent to Maggie in Coimbra. "Scissors? I just saw some scissors. Everyone's got their sewing things out." Jenny consulted with the women and returned with the desired scissors. "There you go. Don't lose them. They're Margey Deal's."

"Only want 'em for a moment," Cotton said and looked at her. What he was about to ask was going to sound strange - this was the sort of thing lovers did for each other, after all. "Would you... Would you mind cuttin' a lock of me hair, to put in here?" he asked, indicating the locket. "If, well, if'n you don't mind."

Jenny blinked in surprise, but then said "Wait a minute," and hurried away. She returned with a piece of thread. "You have to tie it first or else it will go flying everywhere in a mess. Though your hair is all wet. You really must have gone head first...! Hold still." And with a quick snip, it was done. Another snip trimmed off the ends of the thread and she handed him a tidy little lock, though it was rather damp.

"Didn't, then. Just dunked me head, that's all." He smiled at her. "Won't make any diff'rence if it's wet, will it?" he said, as she handed it to him. He carefully opened the locket, not wanting to lose either of the two locks of hair that were in there already, and added his own, closing it again. "There. That's for her to wear for now." He passed the precious item of jewellery to Jenny, aware that it was only precious because of who it belonged to. "Thanks, Jenny."

She gave him a grin and disappeared into the group of women again.

He turned to Newbury. "You got that towel handy?" he asked. "I'd use me old shirt, only..." He indicated his pack, which lay against the wall on the far side of the room.

Newbury handed the towel over, managing to stifle a grin at the wild state of Cotton's hair. "Be wantin' a brush too?"

"Brush?" he asked, pausing in the act of towelling his hair rather vigorously dry. "That's goin' a bit far, ain't it. It ain't that bad, really." He got most of the water out and combed his fingers through it, trying to persuade it to stay half decent. "'Sides, I can't stop long. I've... I've got to find her some weddin' flowers. I noticed a place nearby with a rose-bush an' I'm hopin' I can persuade 'em to let me have a couple."

And there was an orange tree growing in the corner of that little square, that had already blossomed, so a spray of that, with a couple of early roses, would make a nice bouquet, of sorts. And he had once said he'd give her a rose.