25 May, evening

The official word was that the French were in full flight, making their way through hills to some distant place of safety. The remarkable amount of discarded belongings on either side of the road suggested that there was some truth to that. But where was the French army heading with such haste? Certainly they could not be afraid of another fight.

Blackwood touched his heels against his horse's flanks, spurring the gelding forward into a gentle trot. He'd like nothing better than to have at least one more good, head-on scrap before the retreating French got too far ahead of their pursuers. No chance of that today, though. Not with the army lumbering to a halt for the night. Regiments were already falling out to their designated bivouacs, which created no end of chaos for anyone trying to move about from place to place.

It was lucky he was on horseback, or else he'd never get anywhere. Now it was only a matter of getting back to his own regiment. He spotted some greenjackets drifting a short distance away from the road and grinned to himself. The Rifles. Stories and rumours about the Rifles abounded within the regiment. Blackwood himself had never directly met any of the greenjacket officers, but supposed them to be little different from any other officer in the army.

Curiosity sent him trotting through the formless crush of people toward the cluster of riflemen. There was some time yet before he was expected back to his company. Perhaps he could get away with some innocent nosing around.

The most important thing in setting up camp, Sam Mayden had learned, was fetching water for tea. That was his usual assigned task, owing to his age and standing. Not that he minded. Having water ready and heating up was important. Besides which, tea was the best thing to mix with the whiskey he kept in a flask, which was kept in his pack. Not enough to get drunk, of course, but he'd never cared much for tea without a couple drops of something stronger in it.

Mayden passed the kettle to his opposite hand and adjusted the hang of his rifle from his shoulder. There was a steady stream of people vying for space at the river to fill up their kettles and pots and canteens. He had waited in line for his turn, only to be jostled and leered at by those behind him to hurry up. Attempting to get back toward the fire was no less troublesome. It seemed like the entire army was trying to get in his way.

A redcoat officer on a horse was making his way toward their little camp, his course running nearly parallel with Mayden's. The young rifleman frowned. He knew few redcoats, even fewer redcoat officers, and hardly any of either who bothered to visit the Rifles. He stretched out his legs a little to draw even with the officer.

"Lookin' for somebody, sir?" He asked, offering an abbreviated salute.

The movements in the greenjackets' camp were bustling yet orderly. Blackwood found himself nodding slightly in silent approval. Without a doubt these men were well accustomed to sharing tasks. It suggested also that they were not afraid of work. That in itself was good.

A young rifleman carrying a kettle spotted him. He returned the offered salute as he reined his horse to a stop. "I was simply passing by," Blackwood answered. "And was impressed by how well your company manages its camp."

Sharpe sat back and fed a few more sticks into the small fire. It was only right that he do his bit when making camp, after all, and others were fetching wood and water. He heard a horse's hooves and looked up to see who the rider was.

A grin brightened Mayden's face. "Thank you, sir. From the 95th, we are. All by our lonesome. Resta the regiment's back in England, y'see."

He shifted the kettle back to his right hand. On the face of it, this redcoat seemed all right enough. "Which lot are you with, sir, if I can be askin'?"

"Here Sam, I'll take that." Perkins smiled at Mayden, looking curiously at the new arrival. The stranger was a redcoat officer, who seemed friendly. Didn't get many of those there, specially the friendly ones.

"Second Guards," Blackwood answered, nodding his approval at the question. Being aware of who came from what regiment rarely hurt. "It has been an uneventful march for your company, I assume?"

He noted the appearance of another greenjacket, who took possession of the kettle. The new arrival seemed mildly surprised by Blackwood's presence. Of course it wouldn't be usual for redcoat officers to stop by for harmless chats.

Perkins' arrival was a welcome distraction. "Good lad, Perkins," Mayden said, only too glad to surrender the heavy kettle.

"Been quiet 'nuff, yes sir," he added in response to the redcoat's question. "Reckon the fight's gone outta the Frogs for now."

Perkins smiled subtly and turned, taking the heavy kettle back to the fire. "Officer from Second Guards, sir. " He said to Sharpe, his voice rather low, and lowered the kettle. He looked in the direction of the redcoat arrival to indicate what he meant, and then turned back to his task to get the water boiling. He tested the poles that would hold the kettle above the fire and then hooked it onto them. The water would boil soon and then the riflemen could have their well deserved tea.