26 May, evening; by the river

Newbury steeled himself again and stood straight. He appreciated Jenny's intervention, but at the same time he wished she had stayed well clear.

"C'mon in, lads," he said to the other two riflemen. This was going to get even worse, wasn't it?

Cotton moved forward, frowning. And what was Jenny doing here?

From the looks on the provosts' faces, it really didn't bode well for any of them, though he couldn't imagine what had happened in the short while since they'd had to show their tickets.

"What's a-goin' on?" he asked, looking around. "An' what're you doin' here, Jenny?"

"Your... friend stands accused of assault," the redcoat officer said, his tone suggesting that he was not fully convinced of the veracity of the charge. "The evidence thus far given supports this accusation. Where is your company officer?"

Pye followed Cotton trying to put on his face his best, blank expression. He was glad that the 33rd had allowed him to practice it so often and thus perfect it. But he was still nervous inwardly and as he stood beside Cotton, he thought it was best that he remained silent.

He glanced at Newbury but could not look at him for more than a moment. He couldn't, he had to, he wanted to, and he didn't know what to do exactly, so he remained silent.

"He what?! Sir." Cotton blinked at the officer, flatly shocked. "He wouldn't. 'Sides, he can't hardly stand up. An' Captain Vick'ry's up front with the Rifles - out with the vanguard some'ers they are, sir."

At least the officer didn't sound as though he quite believed whoever it was who'd accused Newbury, which was something, he supposed.

The officer looked deliberately at Giles, who gazed silently back. "That is the charge, Private. I would be... grateful if somebody would fetch your Captain Vickery here, at once." He paused a moment and almost smirked. "Whoever goes may use one of these troopers' horses."

Cotton blinked and looked at Pye. "Don't s'pose you ride?" he said. He could ride, at a push, but he didn't think Vickery would be at all amused to see him after the three of them had been sent to the rear.

A horse? Go to see Vickery? Captain Vickery, who would be terribly furious after he'd have heard that he was needed because his riflemen , or rifleman in this case, has gotten into trouble when he ought to have been sent to the back as punishment and thus he would have had to, if anything, kept out of it.

The lad dropped his gaze a little. Maybe if he avoided the man's gaze and looked as invisible as he could, the officer would pick Cotton instead. He regretted already that he'd even followed Cotton. What could he have expected? Really? That he would be there, able to see everything and Vickery would not have been called? Then Cotton asked him, and he looked up and he was just about to answer him, when he heard the voice of the officer, as clear and as stern as only an officer's voice could be.

"You.." He stiffened. "With the scar on your face.., yes you." He lifted his gaze, inched it upward. The officer knew everything! He would reveal it just now, he would..

"You will go fetch your captain." Pye blinked and opened his mouth. But one could not protest against a decision made by the officer. He slowly nodded and touched his brow, ready to go.

"..Take the horse. We are not going to wait for you all night." The officer indicated the animals. Pye gulped, saying a near silent. "Yes, sir." Before turning to go to the horses, the closest in sight.

There was a twinge in his knee. Newbury shifted his weight to his good knee as much as he dared. This was going to take all night, wasn't it? He watched Pye look over the horses in bewildered confusion and debated silently whether or not to break his silence, so to help the boy out. Then he thought that to do so would be seen as too earnest - and besides, a little embarrassment for Pye was not uncalled for.

"Be quick, won't you?" Cotton said, privately glad it was Pye who'd been picked, and not him. He was not looking forward to the blowing-up they were going to get.

Pye nodded to Cotton. Quick? It was easier said than done. He'd never even liked the horses. They bit, they kicked and they did everything they shouldn't and never what they should.

"Well?.." The officer looked impatient, but Pye just looked uneasy and lost. He approached the horse from the side - atleast he knew that - and then tried to pull himself into the saddle right from where he stood. It wouldn't happen of course. His arms weren't that strong.

He could hear some stiffled and muffled laughter coming from the provosts. "He doesn't even know how to get on, what a bloody fool." One of the provosts has whispered to the other. Pye grit his teeth and placed his foot into the stirrup. Right, he saw officers do that now, just to get over and onto the horse's back without it bucking and throwing him off, and without falling over on the other side.

"You might want to untie him first." The officer motioned to the fact that the horse would not have moved even if the lad had managed to kick it right. Pye lowered both his feet nervously onto the ground and did as he was told, moving the reins, after some uncertain tugging, over the horse's head. Great, now the horse had nothing to keep him from running of while he was half way to his back!

"Oh, for..." Cotton said. "Don't pull the horse's head round, mate. Here, lemme give you a leg up. Grip with your knees, use the reins gently to get it to go where you want an' you'll be fine." He cupped his hands to give Pye a hand up.

Pye obeyed nervously. He held the reins in one hand to keep the horse from moving. He cursed the officer for ever picking him out for such a dreadful task. It was almost worse than having to meet Vickery. Certainly it was more embarrassing and it would probably not even stop there. If the horse wanted it could stand in place and go nowhere, and he knew that! He looked at Cotton and then rather awkwardly used his help, to manage to end up on the horse's back. There was a moment which would nearly have had him, slip over the saddle. But he manage to catch himself and so, a moment later, he looked down at Cotton rather gratefully.

"...Greencoats... incompetent?" The officer's voice had an edge which made Pye most eager to be out of sight in an instant. "Thanks." He thought he deserved it. He probably did. "I'll be.." He squeezed t he horse's sides. Nothing. He kicked them. Nothing again. He looked about ready to tell Cotton to strike his rump if that would make him run, and tried one final time and at last, with a heavy slow step the horse moved.

Reluctantly it quickened his pace in the next few steps. Going, and going faster with each step, though the manner in which the horse's body moved changed considerably as well. From a walk to a trot.

OOC- I can edit if needed.

IC -
The Rifles had stopped and were setting up camp when someone noticed the horse coming up behind them, with a panicked-looking Rifleman Pye clinging it to it, as if for dear life.

Someone managed to grab the reins and finally bring it to a halt, offering a hand to help Pye down. Roper took one look and went to get the Captain; for Pye to appear in that manner meant that something had gone seriously wrong with the others, somehow.

"What's wrong?" Vickery asked, before taking a closer look at him. "Sit down and get your breath back. You look like you've seen a ghost."

The ride had gone from bad to worse. Somehow he had managed to make the horse break into a gallop, and though it was running in about the right direction, Pye had wished it would have just alltogether stopped. Clinging for his dear life, ignoring the discomfort, the pain that the fact he was being thrown about and had landed against the saddle several times, he had decided that horses were the ultimate evil. For a while he had also wondered why officers ever chose to ride them, and how could they not have felt pain, perhaps finding reason why the rich people had done most of the talking, courting and entertaining, and very little of the latter, more physical work (atleast in his opinion).

He didn't have an idea on how he could stop when he reached the rifles. It was a blessing thus, that his horse had ben at last, halted, and even after he clung to it, as if expecting it to bolt again. He got of the horse and looked quite pale, paler still the colour of his skin, burnt by the sun.

When approaching Vickery, he was silent and shaken. He sat down like a proper sack of potatoes and winced when he did so. Of the horse, he was off the horse, he repeated the thought in his mind. He gulped a few breaths of air and then looked at the captain. The bad didn't end there. "Sir.." He began. "..your presence is.. is needed." He stammered. "..back.. there,. .wagons. "He gulped for another breath. "..couse.. couse Newbury, he's innocent!.. but.. he's.. they took him n'.. they .." He might've just turned more afraid to utter what he had to say next. " ..arrested him. The , the provosts..."

"Provosts?" He looked around for Cotton, belatedly realising that he had accompanied Newbury. His eye fell on one of the staid and sober Scheringer twins and he indicated that the man should saddle Brandy, then changed his mind. "No, I will take Phoenix. Brandy's about done in," he said in rapid German, before turning back to Pye. "What are they saying he's done?" he asked, wondering just how he was supposed to keep the man out of trouble.

"..They say.. that he pushed a provost in. But the provost is lying. He couldn't have done it... couse.. couse his knee is still busted, so .." He wanted to say more, to protect Newbury, and couldn't. Perhaps they would realise their error, and all would be well.

"..so he couldn't. But they say he pushed a provost into the water, into the river, and made him swim for it! But sir, .." He shook his head. He didn't know what Vickery had said earlier. German, if that was the language he used, was as foreign to him as reading and letters.

Fortunately, Scheringer (whichever of the two it was) had grasped the gravity of the situation and was already bringing Phoenix over. The horse whickered and pawed at the ground.

"They're saying that. Is there any proof?" He stood up and prepared to swing himself into the saddle, but paused. "You know you're going to have to come back with me to help straighten this out - and to return the horse you borrowed. I can put you on a leading rein, if it will help." Judging by the way he'd come careering into camp, it would be a necessary arrangement.

"Only the provost.. who was suppose to be pushed in. Is his word against Newbury." The boy said, which was true. There were no other witnesses, it was just Giles, and the man was lying as sure as the stars at night. He paled a little when Vickery suggested that he would return on the horse as well as how he had come.

He hoped somehow that the horse could just be sent away and it would return home. "..Yes sir." He stammered. He didn't know what the captain meant, but if it made things easier, safer he was all for it.

"We won't be going at quite such a break-neck speed, either," Vickery said. Scheringer produced a leading rein from somewhere among Vickery's saddlebags, and fastened it, holding the loose end until Vickery was ready to take it from him.

"I don't know exactly what happened, and while we're talking here, we're wasting time," Vickery pointed out. "We'll save time if you make your report while we head back."

"Yes sir." He sounded more confident than he looked. He approached his horse again. He had to get into the saddle and this time preferably without the need to call for help. He slipped his foot into the stirrup trying to imagine it being Cotton's hands. So , if those worked, so could this even if it was uncomfortably higher now. One, two, he pushed himself up and with a rather startled look on his face, he found himself sitting right in the saddle. Aching too of course, but in there.

The horse threw it's head up a bit and smacked the leg of its rider with its tail. If anything, Pye was ready.

Well, Pye had managed to get into the saddle, which was something. Vickery mounted Phoenix and took the leading rein from Scheringer's hand. Lieutenant Brady had noticed the unusual arrival of their newest Rifleman, and come across to enquire what was going on. Vickery looked down at him. "You're in charge of the Company until I get back," he said. "There seems to be a case of mistaken identity or something involving one of our men, and it appears I'm needed to help sort it out."

Brady looked puzzled, but stepped back and saluted. "As you wish, sir," he said.

"I shouldn't be more than a few hours. If it will take any longer than that, I'll send a runner to keep you informed." He turned the horse and headed back the way Pye had come, leading the horse with the reluctant Rifleman mounted on it.

He wasn't sure how long it was before they came in sight of the baggage, and he followed Pye's slightly confused directions to where he'd left Cotton, Newbury and the provosts. He dismounted, looking around to see who seemed to be in charge.

The wait for the greenjackets' officer seemed, to the redcoat, to be interminable. He had kept the sullen-faced provosts and the greenjacket prisoner on their feet throughout, while he had sat on an overturned bucket nearby. Their discomfort was none of his concern.

At last, however, two horses came trotting out of the darkness. The redcoat looked up. "Good evening, sir," he said as he came to his feet. "My apologies for summoning you away from your duties."

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Vickery returned. Newbury looked rather the worse for wear, swaying a little on his feet. "I was informed one of my men is in trouble, so it apears that my duties lie here, at least for now."

If Newbury really had done what he was being accused of doing, Vickery was going to keep him under close scrutiny for the next three years. And probably fasten him to a ball and chain for the next ten years.

"Would you please enlighten me as to what my man stands accused of doing?" he asked, wishing to hear the story from the arresting officer.

Jenny frowned up at the horses and their riders, particularly Pye. Certainly took him long enough, with Joe standing on his wounded leg all that time. Why did the army insist on making its men less fit for duty? Probably because it was run entirely by men, stupid bastards.

"I'll go find those women who were at the river. They'll tell him it wasn't you," Jenny whispered to Newbury. Because of course it hadn't been him. True, they had only days earlier been discussing the outright murder of a certain redcoat sergeant, but Joe had shown himself to be a sensible careful planner. He might have an impulsive nature at times, but he would not impulsively rush into a crime with such dangerous consequences, and would not carry it out so sloppily. She hoped. She would be rather disappointed if she was wrong.