27th May, morning; with wagons

"All the more places for ill-gotten items to be concealed," Smith countered smoothly. "But of course. As you claim, it is nothing but your officer's kit."

Giles gazed intently at Newbury. "We will be taking this one with us, all the same. Until such time as we can be sure of the story of how he came by that creature."

Newbury thought of several nasty words, but gave voice to none of them. It wouldn't help a bit. All this over a stupid chick...!

"T' chick is not his. It's mine." Pye snapped, surprising even himself with the harshness of his voice. "N' you're not taking him or her anywhere." He added his eyes narrowing on Giles. He said no more and kept his place between Newbury and the men, atleast some of them.

"I told you how he got it - it was an egg that hatched." Cotton felt like spitting. This was just so much horse-dung. "Honestly come by, an' all. Ain't no reason to take anyone anywheres. An' if you want to tip the Captain's stuff all over the road, be my guest - only you can 'splain to him why it's all covered in mud an'... an' shit, when he asks."

And he was going to talk himself into trouble too, at this rate. Not good. He took a breath. "Sorry, sir. Here," he started to unfasten the rope that secured Willow's load to the pack-saddle, hoping the gesture would mollify the provosts a bit.

Neither provost said anything, seemingly content to watch Cotton break down the mule's packs. Other than to glare disgustedly at Pye, anyway.

Newbury held out the chick to Pye, hoping to take advantage of the reprieve so he could tend to the torn flesh of his palm.

"You may claim it is yours," Giles said after a moment, "but it was this one who we found in possession of the animal. Therefore..."

Cotton paused, unsure whether the provost was addressing him or Pye. "We was jus'... Me an' Pye was jus' off doin' some trainin', sir," he said. "He'm new to the Rifles an' I had to show him a bit o' what we do, like. Couldn't take the animals with us, so we left 'em with Newbury here to look after till we got back, sir." He was nearly done with taking the bulk of the Captain's bags off the mule's pack-saddle, and tried not to sigh. Knowing his luck, they'd turn the tent out of its bag, turn all Vickery's belongings out on to the ground and leave him to pick up the pieces as best he could.

"Therefore it is still mine. The honest rifleman here." He indicated Newbury. "Has done his duty in helping us by watching out for my chick while i went to train with this honest n' dutiful rifleman here."

He took his chick, which settled in his palm, nestled herself comfortably there and chirped at the provosts. It was at home, it was still upset but it might've learned that if it did not succeed with Newbury, so it wouldn't with Pye. "N' is mine as honest gotten." He didn't suggest that the rabbit instead was, but nobody knew of a rabbit. There was no rabbit what the provpsts were concerned, and what the riflemen were - the rabbit would be dinner!

"'cept of skulking about, sir.." How pointedly that was said, and how obvious it was it suggested the provost's own presence and work to be just that. ".. we was doing our best ter be ready ter serve ....serve this army n' t' captain Vickery well."

And after a moment, once he had gently petted his chick, which was obviously accepting and greeting its master merrily again, he added: "If you took it, it would be stealin'. Like those things they found in yer packs."

He listened to Cotton, let the man speak, but he had put some of his imput there too. His chick was not going anywhere, and since Newbury was innocent, neither was he!

"We shall be the judges of that," Smith said, and he and Giles busied themselves with carefully inspecting every item on the mule.

Newbury stuck a well-pecked finger into his mouth and grimaced. This was insane. "Ain't a thing in there," he said after a moment. "Nothing that ain't the cap'n's, anyway."

"You be careful with that there!" Cotton said, seeing one of them going for the Captain's pelisse. This was worse, almost, than finding a stolen watch in there himself. At least he knew there was nothing in there that shouldn't be. It had been hard enough work packing all this stuff up to leave Lisbon, and it was almost soul-destroying to see these heartless bastards poking carelessly through it. Cotton couldn't begin to imagine what the Captain was going to say when he heard about it.

"All a bunch o' liars and thieves. "PYe had no kind words for the provosts, but now that he had his chick he stepped aside and beside the elder rifleman.

"You know nothin's there.. You know it!..you jus' one ter bother us. " And he was nice and quiet, almost as if debeting just to get up, and then leave. But he was meant to back Cotton and Newbury up, so he remained.

They were ignored. Newbury wasn't terribly surprised. He swiped a stubborn droplet of blood off his palm and made a face.

"Funny how they're troublin' themselves with us," he said offhandedly. "As if there ain't anybody else in the whole baggage train..."

How long was it going to take before they decided they'd seen enough of the Captain's personal possessions? It wasn't even like they were going through the Riflemen's stuff - this was an officer's baggage. Vickery was going to be livid.

"You watch it with that. He'll want names if anythin' gets broken," Cotton said, though they were probably just going to ignore him. He had to try, anyway - his professional pride was at stake here.

Pye noticed Newbury's attention at his fingers and made a note do apologise to him once all this was over and the provosts were gone. The chick seemed to have relaxed, and satisfied itself with an offhand chirp of distress for the most part. Pye guessed that it had been rather livid when Newbury held it, and may have pecked him. He was grateful to the man for not letting it run, not letting it go where the provosts could swoop it up or stomp on it. He gazed at his palms and revealed the little bird, which looked up at him. It chirped and tilted its head a little. Got to its feet but then it was nudged back. It had to wait. There was no running about with those monsters so close. They wanted to take it earlier, and now - well they sure could try.

He watched them carefully, attentively, just to make sure none of them would pocket any goods that they saw on the ground. He wouldn't put it past them to do that. "... they don't like us." Which was no surprise. It was a man of the 60th that shoved one of them into the water, and the men of the 60th who had made a ridicule of them. But if they thought this was the end of it , Pye could think different.

"Here, treat his stuff with a bit of respect, can't you!" Cotton wanted to strangle them. "Would you go through your own officer's things the way you'm goin' through Captain Vick'ry's?" He emphasised Vickery's rank, speaking loudly enough that the provost officer could hear. Hopefully other people around them could hear his complaints too. "Jus' you wait till I make me report to him, that's what!"

"Of course not," Smith said blithely. "But our officer does not - garh!" The provost snatched one hand away from the pack he'd been handling, an expression of absolute disgust coming onto his face. "What the hell...?"

Newbury bit down on his lip to keep from making any noise of amusement. It seemed that the provost had put his hand squarely into the mess made by the chick earlier, before they had come barging along. Served him right, didn't it!

"Your officer don't what? Care if folks go riflin' through his things? Mind havin' his stuff thrown all over the place?" Cotton was going to report this to Captain Vickery at the earliest opportunity.

And then the provost snatched his hand away from the pack as if he'd been burned. He looked disgusted, though Cotton couldn't think what he'd just done. He glanced at Newbury, who was biting his lip but couldn't quite repress a grin of amusement.

"Bet your officer'll have summat to say when he hears what you've bin doin'," Cotton added. Whatever the provost had just done, it served him right.

Giles scowled. "What's to say he don't already know?"

"Lucky for you lot, there don't look's there's anything in this mess that ain't s'posed to," Smith added, after taking care to wipe his hand clean on the mule's rump. "And 'cause we're nice fellows, you can keep that damned chicken. For now."

"Glad to," Newbury told them, wondering if he had enough crumbs in his bread bag to satisfy the ravenous chick's appetite. It certainly deserved it!

"'S'only a mess 'cause you made it one," Cotton retorted. "Was packed prop'ly afore we left Lisbon, that was." Why couldn't they clear off and bother someone else for a change? At least they hadn't ended up pulling the tent free of its canvas bag, he supposed. That was always a nuisance to get back in it.

"So sorry," Smith replied, oozing insincerity. "Mind you make sure to stay out of trouble, now. We'll be watching that you do."

Newbury held back a chuckle until the two provosts were out of earshot. "It ain't funny, but that stupid bugger put his hand square in a patch of chicken crap," he said, fishing in his pocket for something, anything, to reward the little fuzz-ball with.

"Wish Willow'd had the bloody sense to stand on his foot," Cotton said, looking at the wreckage of Vickery's neatly-packed belongings. "First thing I'm goin' to do when we get back to the column is tell the Captain. Hope he gives 'em what-for, the... the bloody bastards."

He bent to start picking things up to re-pack them. "Wish I could do the same to them. Might learn a bit of respect that way, they might."

Newbury sort-of hopped over to lend a hand. "Dunno where they came from, either. I was just feedin' the chick and they was there, all sudden-like."

"Come crawlin' out of the wood any time they think there's summat fishy goin' on." He shook his head in disgust as he picked a shirt up from the roadside. "They go an' pull everythin' out but don't 'pologise or offer to help put it back when they don't find what they want." He shook the shirt out and started folding it. "I don't need the extra damn work, Joe, that's about it."

Shaking his head, Newbury retrieved a pair of stockings from the ground. "Figure they're lookin' to get their own back, from the other night. Vile bastards. Dangerous, too." He sighed, brushing dirt off the stockings. "Nobody needs any extra work, 'cept for them."

"They wouldn't ha' done it if he'd been anywheres nearby." Cotton had managed to keep Vickery's pelisse from ending up in the dirt, but they'd torn the tissue paper he'd wrapped it in before leaving Lisbon. He smoothed it out as best he could and did his best to wrap the pelisse up again to put back in the pack it had been pulled from. "I'd like to give 'em a proper piece of my mind." He indicated the bag he'd put Vickery's shirts in. "They go in there, Joe. Thanks for the help, I 'preciate it."

"Aye," Newbury agreed. He felt a bit guilty for the whole affair, since it'd been only him present when the provosts had appeared. "Might's well help, since I didn't stop 'em goin' on. Should've just gone with 'em, maybe."

"No, you bleedin' shouldn't've gone with 'em. What d'you think the Captain'd have to say about that? I'm s'posed to be keepin' an eye on you, an' if you'd gone with 'em, who knows what would've happened." He shook his head. "You can't trust 'em, Joe. They'm too big for their boots, that's what. At least they didn't break anythin'... an' they'm a sight too keen to see folks in trouble, that's about the size of it." He started roping things back on Willow's pack saddle. "Wish you'd've done summat to help, you dratted stubborn mule. Could've stood on one of 'em, that would've done it."