26 May, evening; by the river

Newbury pointed. "It's just there, sir."

One of the provosts had tossed both items carelessly onto the ground near a tent.

Cotton crossed over to retrieve Newbury's things for him, glaring hard at the provosts. "Need a hand, mate?" he said, coming back with Newbury's rifle slung next to his over his shoulder. He'd heard the pop his mate's knee had made, and it hadn't sounded good at all.

"No thanks." Newbury shook his head. He'd managed all right on his own up to this point. Might as well finish out the night that way.

"If you'm sure," Cotton said, sticking close to Newbury though not offering his hand. Hovering was just irritating, after all, but he was going to be there if needed.

He was sure. Keeping a grimace off his face, Newbury walked after Captain Vickery, his gait mostly steady only through a devoted effort.

"All right," Vickery said, once he'd found a relatively private spot. "What am I going to do with you, Newbury?"

"I don't know, sir."

Now that they were safely removed from the provosts and that redcoat officer, Newbury felt drained and defeated. He'd gone and done it but good this time. For once, it wasn't even his fault despite his efforts to prove it otherwise.

"All right. We'll start from the beginning. What happened? Because Pye seems to think you didn't do it, even though you're taking the blame for it. And I want to know why." He looked between Newbury and Pye.

Damn Pye for having a big mouth. Newbury hesitated a moment, then said, "There was provosts about this mornin', sir. Herdin' up some Portugee who were caught lootin'. They caught sight of the lads and came down askin' after their business. I saw 'em 'fore they started comin' down and shifted off, 'cause... 'cause there was some looted bits in the wagon I was ridin' in. I dunno who belonged to 'em, but they was scattered all 'round with me own kit, so I wanted rid of 'em, 'fore the provosts got to searchin' things."

He paused, realising he was close to trembling. Lying to an officer, even only partially, wasn't sitting well with him. "That one trooper came 'round and found me. He checked my ticket and went off quick. I figured he was suspectin' me of bein' up to somethin', but he didn't say anythin'. Don't ever know with provosts. So... so when I saw him at the river this evenin', sir..." he shrugged, feeling helpless.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. "I don't understand it. Either you're telling me the truth, and you did push him, for reasons that are beyond me, knowing you'd get caught, and Pye is mistaken. Or you're lying to me, for reasons known only to you, and you're trying to cover for someone, and Pye isn't mistaken."

He looked between the two Riflemen in question and folded his arms. "I have never known a man to come so close to getting in serious trouble so many times, without actually doing so, Newbury, and I must confess that I am at a loss as to what to do with you, short of handcuffing you to a Sergeant for the foreseeable future, which will please neither one of you."

"Yes sir," Newbury said tonelessly. He found that he didn't care what happened to him. Captain Vickery was right. How many times had he gotten into trouble since Oporto? It was about time he finally ran out of luck.

"So what can I do with you? If you're with the Company, you run off ahead and men have to chase after you and if I leave you in the rear, you end up in trouble with the provosts. The provosts, for God's sake, who'd hang a man as soon as look at him if they think he's been looting." He sighed again. "At least there's something to be grateful for. They didn't flat out accuse you of looting anything. I just don't know what to do with you."

They would hang him, if they knew he had been disposing of looted goods. Or that he still had looted goods in his possession. Newbury gazed sightlessly into the dark and said nothing. He couldn't think of anything to say.

He looked at Cotton, who was standing watching, wondering what had happened while he'd been elsewhere, and whether he could have prevented it. "Cotton, the only thing that I can think of doing to help overcome this particular trait of Newbury's is to break up your partnership and have him partner with Sergeant Fischer for the foreseeable future. I am well aware that this goes against the traditions of the Rifles, and I can't split you up without your agreement."

Cotton glanced across to Newbury, and swallowed, looking down. "I... I'm sorry I ain't bin so good as I should've bin, sir, an' kept a proper eye on him, like," he said. "I never thought he'd go off an'... an' get himself mixed up like that, though, or I'd've chased after him."

OOC - Modding of Pye is with permission

IC -

"Sir..."

Newbury's gaze shifted jerkily toward Pye, who had until then been uneasily silent.

"Sir... it's... he didn't do it, sir."

Vickery raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who did, then?"

Pye looked on the verge of panic, but his voice was remarkably steady. "Yes sir..." he darted a glance at Newbury. "It... I... me, sir. I did... pushed the man."

Idiot. Daft, brainless idiot. Newbury shivered. It was almost sorted.

Vickery's other eyebrow shot up to join the first. That changed things somewhat. "You men certainly show remarkable loyalty to each other," he said. "Though Newbury and Pye, you both need to learn to exercise judgement better. Newbury, you seem to me to have a distinct lack of forethought, and Pye, I could say much the same to you. I don't even want to know what possessed you to do such a thing."

He paused, thinking. "Pye, I know you're new to the Rifles and you're still learning. Such an act is, however, as unacceptable in the Rifles as it would be in the 33rd. You will come with me to apologise to the unfortunate Provost you pushed into the river. Newbury, you will stick with Cotton like glue. You will tell him where you intend to go, before you go running off anywhere, even if it's to relieve yourself. You are not to go running ahead the way you have done and getting yourself into scrapes. The next time may well be the one time I can't get you out of a mess."

"Sir." Newbury said stiffly, doing his best not to look at Pye. Stupid bastard... it had almost been over. He heard what his punishment was to be, but he hardly cared. Given a choice, he wasn't going to budge from his wagon even for a piss.

Cotton scowled in Newbury's direction. If Newbury was likely to go off again, he'd find himself tied to Willow in double-quick time.

"Yes sir," Pye muttered, subdued. He couldn't look at either of his fellows.

For his part, Newbury longed for just two minutes with the boy. Two minutes and exemption from punishment for thrashing the daylights out of him. There was a twinge in his leg as he shifted his weight slightly and he decided it wasn't worth the effort. If this whole ridiculous mess was over, was he free to crawl back to his wagon?

He would have to apologise to the provost. The man he felt justified in pushing into the water and had hoped he would've drowned. Equally it was the man he would have pushed again, given the chance. Though this time he might've thought to make absolutely sure there was nobody around, let alone Newbury.

Atleast Newbury was no longer the accused and would thus not ...perhaps suffer the blame. It meant sadly though, that Vickery had learnt from it and this, joined with being new, was a terrible thing. He stared at the floor and waited.

"All right, Newbury and Cotton, you're dismissed. Pye, you're with me." He hoped they'd learn from this, but he wasn't sure how much hope he held out that they would. He was going to have to come up with something stringent next time - if there was a next time. He sincerely hoped there wouldn't be.

"Sir.." Pye began after they were left alone. But he couldn't say more. What he thought, was not for the captain's ears, what he felt, he could not follow through. Follow orders, that was the best solution to his thoughts. That way, it was impersonal. Saying sorry would've just been simple following orders, like firing when told to. He made up his mind. "...Newbury is.. safe now, sir..?" He asked instead.

"Yes sir," Cotton said, with a salute. He glanced at Newbury. "C'mon, Joe, let's get out of here."