26 May; With the baggage

Contrary to his hopes, his knee was not noticeably better after most of a night's rest. The long march back to the baggage train early that morning had probably made it worse but Newbury was not about to complain. It was all his own fault, wasn't it? He'd turned his knee, torn his trousers, and lost his shako, on top of the graver offence of nearly getting himself shot because he'd gone off tracking by himself. They still didn't know where that horse had gone, either.

He grimaced as the wagon he was riding in bounced roughly over a rut in the road. Being stuck in a damn wagon was good for his knee, but it was playing merry hell on his spirits and his backside. He'd tried to mend the tear in his trousers, but the unpredictable jarring made it impossible. There was nothing to do but hold tightly to the side of the wagon and pray for the column to halt for awhile.

"Mindin' it arrigh' back there?" The wagon driver asked. "Road's gettin' a bit bad, I think."

"Aye," Newbury muttered. It was different for the driver, wasn't it? He wasn't sitting almost directly above one of the axles.

Jenny came running up to the wagon, out of breath and eyes gleaming. "Joe dear! Hold these for me!" she exclaimed. She let go of the corners of her apron, and out tumbled a strange assortment of articles - cutlery, a book, a razor, a snuff box, and various other oddities. "What do you think this was? Isn't it fine?" She held up an empty shagreen case. "I'm off to get some more!"

"What - " Newbury stared as the small shower of kit came scattering across his legs. Where had all that come from? That was a stupid question. He knew where it had come from. "More?" He asked in surprise. This was some good stuff, he thought. Especially the razor. Which reminded him that he hadn't yet shaved that day.

"Lots more! I'll bring you something! French left it!" she cried as she took off at a run.

Ah. Naturally. The French had abandoned their entire baggage train, it seemed like. Looting was rampant despite the Provosts' attempts to stop it. Newbury picked over the items Jenny had dumped into the wagon. It did look like some pretty useful stuff. He really liked the look of that razor too.

"What do you have, Dores? Told you it would pay to follow the British and the French. Here we are safe from those beasts! And we can take a little of our own back!" She held up a fine roll of fabric, found in one of the boxes, broken and discarded by the side of the road. "See this." Maria looked rather upset. "Those monsters stole it. I bet it was from some poor unfortunate Fellow country man!" It did not stop her from taking it though. Not because she was a thief, but it would be a waste to let it lie, it would be a loss too, and she could never find the man who owned this, nor the woman. Perhaps they were dead too anyway.

"Maria. ..We should've stayed behind. This isn't safe." The older of the two girls sighed, her bag weighed down by what she had picked as well.

Jenny eyed the women's find with a sharklike avarice. But it was another woman who took action, an English woman leafing through some books in search of money. She pounced on the younger of the Portuguese women and snatched the fabric from her. "That's mine!"

"Yours?.. How is it yours?!" She cried, knowing that one who found, would be one who would take the found object. " I found it first!" She cried and pulled on the fabric again, when she got a grip on it." Let go, it's mine!"

Dores aided her friend. "You thief."

"I put it there! I found that box!" The woman scrabbled to grab its other contents.

"You lie!" Maria exclaimed, while her friend seemed to be more the voice of reason, than her fiery counterpart. " I just found the box, it was damaged and broken, you wouldn't have put it here!"

Dores shook her head. "Do you have any witnesses to the act, miss?" She asked. "Anybody who could attest to you doing so?"

"Dores! Don't you see she is lying?" The girl scowled at her friend. "She just wants this fine fabric, because she saw its worth!"

"What is all this?" A stern voice demanded, belonging to a man in a grey cape came trotting up on a horse.

Jenny had already moved away from the quarreling women, deciding it was better to hunt on her own. Now she was glad of it. She froze at the appearance of the provost. She did not know any of the women concerned, but she had a particular dislike of provosts and their duties.

"They don't speak English," she said quickly.

Dores urged Maria to let go of the fabric and make herself scarce, but the girl wished to hear none of it, and angrily turned to the grey cape, whom she didn't understand. "..What do you want?" She asked in Portuguese, holding one hand on the fabric, and one on her hip.

"What is all this?" The Provost asked again, this time in Portuguese. He looked over the group of women with a stony expression on his face.

"She tried to steal from me!" Maria spoke haughtily. Dores raised her hands, trying to ease the situation. "It is nothing good sir." Whoever he was, he looked rather sour faced and stern. Not a safe man even if English. Not when he felt that there was a certain rule he had authority over.

Well so much for that plan, Jenny thought wryly. She had hoped that an insurmountable communication barrier would leave the provost no choice but to leave, at least to find a translator if not altogether.

But her own countrywoman was not quite so quick-witted. "Whadya mean, don't speak English? I ain't no Portugese like them. You just tell me what they're sayin'. All lies, I don't doubt."

The Provost barely lifted an eyebrow. "Rather a great fuss over nothing. What is the item she is supposed to have stolen?" He glanced briefly at the one who'd spoken in English. "Hold your tongue, woman, if you have nothing useful to say."

The Englishwoman responded with a wordless open-mouthed scoff.

"This fabric, sir." Maria continued more politely, though her nerves were clearly on end still. "This lovely fabric she wanted to claim as her own, which it is not. It's Portuguese, and it is mine!" She looked angrily at the Englishwoman.

"No better than those beasts!" She meant the French.

"From where did it come?" The Provost asked, uncaring about the finer points of the fabric itself.

Jenny frowned. Did these women not know how much trouble there would be? It would not be the first time a woman was whipped in the army. At least the Portuguese might have an excuse. They lived in this land, after all, and might not be considered part of the army's followers.

She stepped forward and grabbed the Englishwoman's arm. "Come on, blockhead, she doesn't want to sell. You should buy from the English anyway."

"From the Portuguese." She answered and pointed at herself. "From us." She said simply. "It does not belong to noone but us." Which was in part true. The French stole it, but the make and design was decidedly Portuguese. She saw the girl being pulled, and though she was to complain Dores told her in quick sharp whisper, to hold her tongue.

The other English woman pulled her arm away from Jenny's grasp, but one look at the Provosts was enough to dissuade her from saying anything, and she went with her friend. It was a pity those Provosts had turned up just now; it was a good bit of cloth, more than enough to make a new dress out of.

This time, there was a very slight flicker in the Provost's expression. "Allow me to clarify. Where did you find it?"

Dores shook her head at Maria, who seemed not to notice the danger that she was in. Even more now, that the two English women were leaving. "..Find it? ..I did not find it, It was in this box. Which .. is ours." Whether she suggested , hers and Dores's or, Portuguese, she did not elaborate on. "..it is all sorted ..though, good sir. That woman has gone!"