The Chattery

[Bennet Asquith]

There were days when Lord Bennet Asquith wondered if he would ever get used to this life. There were heavy footsteps tramping around and hushed voices speaking in worried tones... It seemed as though everyone had decided they simply must congregate outside the door to the room he was currently occupying. Or pass it, or hold absolutely vital conversations outside it.

He turned over, pulling his boat-cloak more tightly around him and tried desperately to cling to the last few shreds of sleep. Five minutes more convinced him that there was simply no use in deluding himself and he sat up, yawning and blinking awake.

It wasn't even light!

He went to the door and pulled it open. "What on earth's going on?" he enquired of the knot of officers gathered in the corridor outside.

[George Sanders]

That knot of officers turned to look at the new arrival with varying expressions.

"The general's gone off on his own again," Sanders explained, after a moment. This was hardly the first time such a thing had happened but it never failed to be cause for concern.

[Bennet Asquith]

"What, again?" Asquith had arrived not long before Talavera and knew of the General's close encounter with the French - his escape from their clutches had been a near-run thing.

"Well, any idea where he's gone, sir?"

He had the shrewd idea that, as he was one of the most junior officers on the Staff, he'd end up going out searching.

[George Sanders]

"Not the slightest." Sanders managed not to sigh. "Horses are being saddled as we speak. I expect we'll find him roaming the picquet lines or some-such, but..." his shoulders twitched upward in a shrug, then he eyed Asquith's state of dress.

"You had better put some boots on."

[Bennet Asquith]

"What?" He looked down at himself in dismay. "Oh. Right."

Boots, coat, sash, hat...

Everything else was easy enough but he was still fiddling with his sash when he re-emerged into the corridor five minutes later.

"Does the General often go wandering around, sir?" he asked, glancing up from trying to get the sash to tie properly

[George Sanders]

Somebody's batman was striding past carrying an armload of cloaks. Sanders grabbed one without caring whose it was and slung it carelessly around his shoulders. "Not often if it can be helped, but it is an annoying habit of his," he admitted.

[Bennet Asquith]

Boat-cloak too... He turned to grab it, throwing it over his arm and finally got the sash tied.

"Where are the French from here, sir?" he asked, hoping that it would not be another close-run escape like the last.

[George Sanders]

"At a safe distance, thank God." They had damn well better be, anyway, or somebody would answer for it with their commission, Sanders was sure. He was in motion, trailing close behind Bullen and Andrews, who were already at the door leading outside.

"If you're coming, you'd best shift!"

[Bennet Asquith]

He was shifting, wasn't he? At least, he had everything on that he thought he'd need, including his sash. He settled his hat more firmly on his head and came along.

[Jonathan Padstowe]

"What's the hullabuloo?" Padstowe asked, removing his hat as he crossed the courtyard, unveiling his sweat-caked hair. The dust on his clothes and the pungeant smell of horse indicated that he had just returned to Headquarters only a few minutes beforehand.

[George Sanders]

Some quick-thinking groom had begun leading horses out of the stable and officers were milling about, looking for their respective mounts before pulling themselves up into their saddles. Sanders' own horse, a gelding he'd bought from a captain of the Buffs being sent home after Talavera, was being held by his batman not far away.

"What a start to the day, eh?" Sanders remarked to nobody in particular as he took the reins and swung easily up into the saddle.

[Bennet Asquith]

"The general's gone for a wander, sir," Asquith replied to the nondescript officer who'd just come in.

He located his own grey gelding with some ease - most of the others were chestnut or black.

[Jonathan Padstowe]

"Again?" Padstowe's brow creased in annoyance. He had been riding two days to deliver the message in his breast pocket to the general, and to find him absent was, at the very least, frustrating.

He turned and strode back over the courtyard, snatched Bethany's reins from the groom that had taken them only two minutes before, and mounted back up again. The mare, having been looking forward to a nice rub-down and breakfast, complained bitterly, but complied as her master turned her to join the other officers getting rready for the hunt.

"I'll ride with you," he said to Sanders. "I've got information that cannot wait."

[George Sanders]

Everyone was mounted by now and it seemed like Murray was taking charge, giving out directions as to who was to go where.

"Again," Sanders said with just a trace of weary resignation. "You'd be welcome, Padstowe. With luck, we'll round him up before an hour's out."

[Bennet Asquith]

At least Asquith wasn't expected to find the General's whereabouts on his own, he supposed, as he mounted his own horse. "Anyone know where he's likely to be heading, sir?" he asked of nobody in particular.

[Jonathan Padstowe]

"He usually heads out towards the picquet lines," Padstowe said, touching his heels to Bethany's sides and starting her in a walk. "But in which direction is anybody's guess!"

[George Sanders]

Indeed. Sanders nudged his horse forward, trying to think which part of the picquet line Sir Arthur had headed for. "I shouldn't like to be the poor souls on picquet if he was to have a notion be seen."

[Bennet Asquith]

They'd probably tie themselves in knots. Asquith had to hide a grin at the thought.

Although, they might not, at that. Just because he was new out here didn't mean everyone else was! There were several regiments that had been out here since last year, after all.

"Who's on picquet now, sir?" he asked instead.

[George Sanders]

The picquets for the week were... "The Thirty-third," Sanders replied.

[Bennet Asquith]

Asquith didn't know them, which didn't mean a whole lot - he didn't know most things, yet. He merely nodded and filed the information away so that he would have some chance of matching the regiment's designation with its appearance when he did see them.

"So, ah, what's the plan for looking for the General, then?" he asked, wishing he felt more certain of things.

[Jonathan Padstowe]

Padstowe wondered whether any particular plan would ever stick to Lord Wellington, but there was no use in voicing that thought.

"Bullen gave us the road to Escalos de Baixo," he said, his voice rising in volume a little as he took up a trot, clearing the courtyard and turning towards the north-east. "I came that direction this morning, though that was some time ago. Early riser the Beau may be, but he's unlikely to have slipped past me in the dark."

[George Sanders]

That might be so but it could not hurt to be sure. Sanders touched his heels back, spurring his mount after Padstowe's. "He can be deuced slippery when he's of mind, it must be said."

Then again, Padstowe was not the sort to miss it should a fellow on horseback be anywhere nearby.

[Bennet Asquith]

Asquith had no idea and nothing to suggest, so kept his mouth shut and concentrated on sticking with the group of senior officers until and unless told otherwise.