26 May; With the baggage

"So it may be with your sort of folk, but we aren't that way." Maria looked at Dores, who looked distressed. Guilty or not, if the provost would decide to act on it, they would be both in a terrible trouble.

"May we now go. You can keep the box.. Hope it do you any more good than it did us! the wrecked thing." While Maria spoke, Dores wished, she would have been a more timid girl, who'd have gone ,yes sir, no sir, and then perhaps, pardon me..sir.

Jenny of course did not understand the provost's conversation with the two women - how did he learn to speak Portuguese like that? - but she did not like the tone on either side. She was extremely glad that she had deposited her own findings with Newbury, but she might very well end up guilty by association if the provost decided to press matters.

She whispered to the other woman. "If you've picked up anything, throw it away. Now, while he's talking to them."

She hadn't been lucky at this particular moment, but she had managed to stow some things amongst the various bundles her donkey was laden with. That box and length of cloth were the first decent thing she'd spotted since leaving her donkey with her son. She spread her hands to show they were empty. "Ain't got nothin', have I," she whispered back, shrugging.

"No, you may not go." The Provost lifted his gaze and looked ahead along the meandering baggage train. Two of his subordinates should be making their own patrol up there. He spotted them after a moment and pulled off his glove in order to stick to fingers in his mouth and whistle for the two other troopers.

"Looters of opportunity are still looters, irrespective of nationality," he added as he fitted the heavy glove back on.

"What do you mean, we cannot go?" Maria looked startled, and looked at her friend to explain it to her. Dores shrugged her shoulders, for though she was older, she did not know what the provosts would have decided to do. It was an English practice, she'd seen it, she heard of it, but till then it was only the English - fortunate the Portuguese perhaps.

She squinted her eyes and covered her ears as the man whistled. Dores leaned to her ear and once she lifted a hand from her ear she whispered into it." I think he really means it."

Maria looked at the provost. "You cannot punish us, sir! We've done nothing wrong!...your laws are for your people, not us!" The girl, looked now much more worried.

Jenny started when the man blew a piercing whistle on his fingers. She had a sudden twinge of regret that she and the women had not killed him and hidden his body in the scrub bushes before anyone had time to notice. It would have done the whole army a favor, no doubt.

"What are you doing?" she asked. She had been inching away and away from him, but now she drew close. "Leave these poor women alone. Haven't they suffered enough with the French in their land? Take the box and throw it back on the ground, or burn it in your fire tonight, but let them be. They're not part of the army."

The two troopers had heard the summons and were trotting down the heavily-rutted road toward him.

"You are looting French belongings within sight and reach of the British army," the Provost said. "You may even be part of the army itself as a follower. Therefore, you are subject to the same laws as everyone else."

He did not trouble himself to look at the Englishwoman who'd chosen to speak up. "Am I to suppose you are associated with these two, by your defence of them?"

A fly was buzzing around above his face. Newbury awoke with a start when it landed on his nose. For a moment he didn't know where he was, but a glance around the cart quickly reminded him. How long had he been asleep? Not long, apparently. Jenny hadn't been back yet.

He frowned. She'd been gone awhile. Certainly it didn't take very long to root though discarded French baggage. Newbury reached for his rifle. He couldn't think of a better excuse to get out and walk, than to go straggling down the baggage train to see if he could find where she'd got to.

Jenny glared up at the provost on his horse. "Only in that I'm a woman. I'm not on the strength, and I doubt these women are either. We don't get paid by the army like you do, and we don't get fed by the army." But as quickly as it had flared up, her anger and argument seemed to desert her, a hopeless weariness taking their place. "Just let them be. You've warned them now. The French are their enemies, not us." After a slight hesitation, she laid a hand on his leather booted leg.

"French belongings? What they stole, more like it!" Maria exclaimed, feeling offended that the fabric, which belonged to the French solely because they have stolen it, suddenly got the protection which it did not deserved. Both girls turned towards Jenny as she spoke up, unsure whether she spoke for or against them. It was all English jabbering to them. Perhaps there was a word they could understand, but for the most part they could as well have spoken German.

The provost then replied to the Englishwoman in her language, and while Maria and Dores struggled to understand, the tone of his voice and that of Jenny's suggested that there was a disagreement. A different set of views perhaps, or that the woman had spoken for them, which was a surprise. They turned to each other and whispered hushed to one another. The other two provosts were close now and they chose to move further from the man, backing slowly away.

Again the woman spoke, and they could only watch her and wonder what their words of protest were, what she meant to reason with and whether it would convince the provost before it was too late. "Is there no way, that we could solve this.. without the need for them?" Dores spoke up, and perhaps regretted it right after. But neither she nor her friend were anything but normal women.

++

"Joe. Where's you going?" Pye had been walking alongside the wagons ever since the trio had been sent back to them. It was the punishment meant for the two men, and the young rifleman, who was inexperienced still in the ways of riflemen, was given the choice to join them. He did, thinking it was for the benefit of the others as well as him. Here he could learn, without endangering the lives of the other men with his inexperience.

And, in a way, there were other things he could do as well.

The Provost shifted his weight and his horse stepped obediently backwards. "It is not my concern whether or not a regiment supports you," he said flatly. "It is, however, my concern that your companions have confessed to willful looting."

He noted the arrival of his troopers with a very slight nod. "Save your breath, woman," he told the Portuguese woman. "Surrender your ill-gotten goods and this will be relatively painless."

Pye. He'd forgotten the man had been sent back with him and Cotton.

"Just walkin'," Newbury replied, testing his knee by gradually easing more weight onto it. It seemed to be holding up all right for the moment. He had his rifle handy if he needed a crutch. "Come along?"

Maria pursed her lips. "You already have it. The box. All other things have been mine before." She answered stubbornly. "I would let you know that we sell clothes and we sell fabric, and we sew, so that you will see, and as such the fabric is very legitimate with us. Just the box you can take, if you really want to!" She looked a bit like a hen that has just lost its nerve and would peck the eyes of the offender out if she could.

Dores on the other hand, tried to calm her friend, not wanting to see the provost upset to the point that he might do something awful to them." Maria! Calm your tongue!" She said sharply to her.

++

Pye smiled at the question and nodded. "Would like to." He said, gazing at Newbury's leg as if to make sure that the rifleman could manage. He looked to walk well enough. And he had his rifle to aid, and at very least, if even the rifle would not help, Pye decided, that he would.

"It's rather lively here." He commented with a grin. "Lots of stuff."

"I sincerely doubt any of it is was yours before," the Provost said. "It would be best if you went quietly with these two lads, now."

"Aye." Newbury looked around at the laden mules and the wandering knots of camp followers. "Like a second army back here, ain't it?"

Again the provost had lapsed into Portuguese, and by now his two men had arrived. "What are you going to do?" Jenny asked. "Surely you won't punish them."

"It was! It was!" Maria exclaimed, and looked angrily at the two men. Dores looked more fearfully, and held her friend. She watched as the pair came closer, and wished they could flee. But even if they did, where else could they go. They were far from home, and the income was the army, fleeing from the provosts would bring them into their wake soon enough, at a later time.

They were honest girls, which showed, for if they had not been they would run then, know how to hide themselves, and remain with the army. They did not know though. Not that.

"We have done nothing wrong!" Maria spoke, rather loudly again and as a man reached for her hand to detain her. She yanked it free, glaring at him. When a firmer grip was taken she cried out. "Unhand me, you brute!"

Dores looked at Jenny and her female companion, and for the first time she looked, perhaps asked that they place in a good word for them. Would the camp followers hold together for what they were, or would they remain first, of the nationality, and second, of their role.

"They are. Do quite the same as the army up ahead..,just without fighting." The lad mused. "But they still pick..."He spoke more hushed. "They still find things." He waved his hand in general direction, vaguely. If Newbury wanted to pick on it, he could, if he did not know, it was better so.

He heard a cry in a language he did not know, yet it was as sure a sound of distress as spoken in any language. He looked at Newbury questionably. If soldiers meant to harm a lass, they would've been fools to do that with the provosts about! And if provosts were the ones, what could be done?

"Just let 'em have it," Molly said, glancing between Jenny and the two Portuguese girls, who were looking rather alarmed. "Ain't worth gettin' het up over, really it ain't." She gestured to show what she meant. There would be plenty of other opportunities, later, and it wasn't worth getting into trouble for a simple bit of cloth, after all.

"They will be put under arrest," the Provost said, glancing at his two men. "Punishment will be adjudged by the Provost Marshal."

Newbury shrugged. "Let 'em find things. It don't interest me 'less it's me shako they're findin', 'cause that I'd want back." He canted his head to the side and frowned slightly on hearing the raised voices from somewhere farther along.

"Somebody's disagreein' over somethin'," he remarked, only half-interested. Now that he was on his feet again, his knee seemed to be loosening up a bit. A short walk down the train before turning back to his wagon would do nicely. "S'pose it's just some followers squabblin' over buttons or somethin'."

Maria shook her head. She did not want to be punished for something that everybody did. That even the British did, and a lot more than she and her friend. She wasn't thinking when she broke away from Dores and tried to flee. Dores called to her, worried that the punishment would be too great, if she was seen running away.

"Maria!.. Maria!"

"It must be camp followers... they're girl noises." Pye agreed looking on ahead with mild curiosity. His attention was though more on making sure Newbury wouldn't damage his knee worse, walking before his knee was good.

"Think your shako's lost for good." He murmured.

"Giles!" The Provost snapped and one of the troopers wheeled his horse immediately, almost not needing to be told. "That was foolish of your friend," he added icily. "You would be wise to not present any resistance yourself."

If it was just a squabble between camp followers, Newbury had no interest in getting near it. "So they are," he agreed, shrugging. "Pity. I'd liked that shako."

He stepped carefully over a rut in the road and crossed to the only slightly-less rough field stretching out from the side of the road. "Don't think there'll be a baggage train with us much longer," he observed as he slung his rifle from one shoulder so he could unbutton his trousers. It was amazing how full a lad's bladder could get after a few hours of bouncing in the back of a wagon.