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Post by Valerie Valanon on Apr 20, 2020 12:33:53 GMT
A small stone skims across the untypically calm sea. Dipping once, twice, three times, before at last sinking to the ground. "Perfect conditions." A sound tenor. "Mhm. He would have liked it," responses a sweet soprano. "Indeed." The owner of the first voice sighs. "Do you miss him?" The woman turns to the slightly older man next to her. "No." He waits for some seconds. "Yes, I do," he finally admits. She also sighs. "I miss him too." Another stone is thrown. More skill, less speed, but it ends it´s journey across the water after just two dips in a small wave. "He would have best both of us combined," the woman laughs lightly, looking towards Mont-Saint-Michel, rising some distance from the Normandic beach near Avranches. "You remember duirng that nip tide, that early morning?" the man asks. "Of course," she exclaims amused. "The Spaniard had sunk the night before. But still some men stood watch, guarding the goods aboard. He brought them something to eat, stolen from the kitchen. Then he befriended some of them. When he got back, he had managed to get some nice things with him." She plays with her broche, which once had belonged to a noblewoman somewhere in Spain. "Yes. I got that dagger. But his mum got the best of it." "You mean Julio?" "Who else?" The man laughs gleefully. "And I remember the reaction of his father, when he got to know about it." She rolls her eyes. "He was so angry, that one could hear his anguished screams all over the vicinity. And he immediately knew who had been behind that." "That miserable good-for-nothing... I curse his damned birth every day," the young man imitates a rude, even cruel voice. "But at that time Guy had been far away." "Yes... but his half brother had paid him a visit later on, nonetheless." Compassion lay in her voice. "Oh yes... Guy had been bruised all over. His half brother is such a brutish bully." "And stupid as few people I know of..." Another stone skims over the mirrorlike surface of the sea. "At least the fights with his brother were a good training for him." "Hopefully good enough, that he survives the Spanish frontier..." She sighs again. "I really do miss him." The man looks sharply at her. "You know how he is." "Yes... but he can dance." Dreamily she closes her eyes this time. Now it´s his time to roll eyes. "Women!" "If you would properly learn to dance, then..." She stops and looks at him, lowering her eyelashes a trifle. He feels his heart bumping. "Your wish is my command, Mylady..." He smiles, then bows extravagantly, imitating someone taking off his hat during the process. She laughs again. "Don´t be silly. And by the way, who would teach you how to dance?" He doesn´t answer to that. But a smile plays around the corners of his mouth. Guy indeed had taught him how to dance. Maybe during maypole dance he would ask Marianne... Marianne on the other hand thought of the last night she had shared with Guy. He had promised to come back to her, to Avranches. After he would have made his fortune in Paris. But deep down in her heart she knew, that he would never come back to her. Not really. Maybe she should give Charles some encouragement to court her. The maypole dance would offer a perfect opportunity...
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Apr 28, 2020 17:37:58 GMT
He sighed appreciatively, puffing small clouds of smoke up to the high, coffered ceiling. A great way to conclude this day. Pierre had been fortunate to be able to make this deal just in time. And now there was the news, that thirteen regiments were called to arms during the Summer Campaign. So his arms investment had paid off extremely well. Maybe he should think of another investment, depending on the way the Summer Campaign developed. But not now. Not while his guest sat opposite of him. "Mylord, please let me give you this box of cigars, directly from the Virginias, as a present." The man in the armchair opposite of Pierre still tried to look like the nobleman he so much wanted to portray, even after all these years of inaptitude. Now Richard de Montsurvent, Baron de Gratot, had lost his inheritance and his castle within the last three years. Not to mention his dignity, which was lost long ago. He simply could not handle money. He would even offer his title, if this was possible "I have to admit, those British bastards know what to do from this inconspicious looking leaf. It really tastes great," Richard exclaimed as he lit up a cigar for himself. "And those British bastards have now the monopoly, as we are at war with the Spanish," Charles reminded him. "Yes, yes..." Absent minded Richard drew in the smoke of the cigar and smiled. Pierre continued. "Since you have some influence among the royal customs, I really would appreciate it, if you would intervene on my behalf. Some unimportant papers were missing as my last shipment from Southampton arrived in Cherbourg." Now he had the undivided attention of Richard. "Some unimportant papers?" "Yes." Pierre waved indifferently with his hand. "Some letter of something, I cannot recall. It is written down in the paper... warrant of attachment or the like." Pierre tried to sound casual, as if this only was some minor issue. But if these papers were not shown to the port authorities by tomorrow, the whole shipment would be lost. Of course there were no such papers. At least not originally. They were forged. Quite professionally maybe, but nevertheless falsified. A shipload of finest cigars from Santo Domingo. And some casks of rum. Blockade running was very profitable. Assumed you were not caught. Those shipping documents had to be there tomorrow, when the mestre d´office de douane would be inspecting the ship. And since he himself could not go there, this would rise suspicion immediately, it was paramount, to give this task to someone else. Someone with the right connections. As an old saying goes: It´s not who you are. It´s about who you know... Richard knew the signs and knew, that his service would be unique to Pierre. And quite important. Maybe important enough to... "So you want me to do... what?" "Au contraire, mon ami. I don´t want you to do anything. But I would be very pleased, if you could do me a favour." Pierre tried to avoid the fact, that Richard would be not much more than a legman, at least in this case. "A favour..." "Yes." Pierre leaned forward and smiled endearingly. "You are well acquainted with the mestre du port in Cherbourg as I recall?" "I am indeed. He is an old friend of the family," Richard nodded. Pierre beamed at him. "Great. If I gave you let´s say a small cask of a special brand of vine, which is per chance the favourite drink of the mestre du port, would you be able to slip those papers I mentioned into the desk of the mestre du port?" Richard smiled smugly. Now it was to determine the price. "You mean, I should..." "Do not name it. I shouldn´t have bothered you. I really do not want you to overstep any borders..." Pierre feigned regret at mentioning this affair. He was an able actor. But Richard was already hooked. "Oh, it need not bother you, old friend. You have done me great services in the past. I would be more than happy to do you this minor favour..." - unneccessarily he stressed the last word - "...for you and for our prospering relationship. Indeed, I could do it tomorrow." Pierre knew, that Richard would be near Cherbourg tomorrow anyway, because he had been invited to a hunt early the day after tomorrow. Therefore he had to stay in the vicinity of Cherbourg overnight. "Oh, that is wonderful news," Pierre told Richard. "I will give you the cask..." "I think, I will need... two casks of this brand. The mestre du port is heavily carousing, so one cask would be a little shortish." Pierre sighed. "Well, then it should be two casks of that brand. Right from Cognacais. They call it, a little exaggerated if you ask me, eau de vie." "How curious. I heard a very similar term from a... friend of mine. For this British brand usually called whisky. Uisge Beathe. It is essentially the same term, water of life. I wonder, if this... eau de vie would be a good merchandise product," Richard mused. "Oh, really?" Pierre again feigned surprise. "Yes. And maybe... with the help of the mestre du port... it would be possible to ship such casks out of the country without the toll taking notice." How interesting, Pierre thought. The Baron Richard de Montsurvent had even more criminal instinct than Pierre had recognized beforehand. But if he played the cards right, maybe a fortune would be at hand. "Maybe if we could pursue this merchandise together," Richard continued, now full of anticipation, "we could discuss this loan due in July?" Pierres eyebrows shot up. "Oh, that would be a completly different matter, of course. After all I bought you out of those gambling debts. And you owe me a favour for doing this." Richard winced. "Yes, I do. But if we could establish this deal, you could at least prolong this loan?" Pierre smiled leniently. "Of course. We could even discuss the repayment of the loan as part of the deal." Richard clutched at any straw at this point. "If we could split sixty for you, forty per cent for me?" "I thought more of eighty per cent for me. You see, I have to invest in the transportation and so on, that costs a great deal." Richard gasped for breath. "Twenty per cent only for me?" Pierre rolled with his eyes. "Okay, I could go as high as twentyfive per cent, but..." They were disturbed, as there was a respectful knock on the door. "Come in." Pierre raised his voice a little. A young man entered the room, holding a convoluted paper in his hand. "Master, you wanted me to interrupt you, when an important depeche..." Pierre nodded and waved the young man to get closer. "Thank you, Philippe. Now you can leave..." Philippe bowed and left the room, while Pierre unsealed the depeche. Then he skimmed the written lines, until he maliciously smiled, to read a part again. "Oh... did you know? Your eldest son..." Richard was startled and his lips curled viciously. "You mean this Guy?" "Yes," Pierre agreed. "He is not my eldest son. He was only a minor mishap with a house maid, when I was not even grown up," Richard pointed out, irritated. "However, since he went to Paris two months ago, he registered for the infantry." "Yes, i know. I told you, remember?" Richard had been almost happy in expectance of a message, that his bastard son would be among the fallen soldiers. What a waste of life, fighting in the infantry! '"Of course," Pierre agreed. "He even survived the second month at the Spanish front. And it is rumored, that he would be knighted after the Summer Campaign." "What? That stupid good-for-nothing?" Richard fretted and fumed now. "Apparently he at least can command a company quite efficiently," Pierre reported. "Thanks to him, most of his men survived last month´s devastating defeat of the regiment." "Ha... he probably run away from the fighting!" Richard tried to convince himself of this interpretation. He could not stand this bastard. "Au contraire. Indeed he went more the heroic way and fought with his men against overwhelming numbers of Spanish troops and withdrew only when nothing else was possible to do," Pierre continued. "He even saved several supply wagons while retreating." But Richard did not longer listen, wanted no more report from his bastard son. This pain in his ass, this... How often had Richard cursed the day, when this... whore had manipulated him to get her pregnant. He had been at her mercy and she had utilized her power over him to get her will. Then she even had gouged him to marry her. Only thanks to his father he escaped from this evil and cruel woman. His father had bought her some house in the vicinity of Avranches at the coast, near Mont-Saint-Michel. Richard had never met this woman again and only seen this bastard twice in his life. The last time more than three years ago, when this Guy had been found guilty to have been involved in a brawl with foreigners from England. Richard did not even bother to talk to Guy. He just accepted the punishment the magistrate suggested. He even did not remember what this punishment was about. At that time Richard was more often drunk than sober, unlike today. He had just lost all of his inheritance after the untimely death of his father. Most of it by gambling. Accursed gambling! And accursed Guy! A knighthood. How dare he...
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Oct 8, 2020 16:03:16 GMT
Heroes of War - Behind the Lines
Gun emplacements, west of Marsal, late Summer.
The new regimental commander looked down to Marsal, a previously fortified city, built around a medieval cloister. Now the fortifications were gone. Gone under the repeating gunfire from the surrounding hills. The Austrian units had retreated to their next line of defence, some miles upriver. Within hours Guy expected to recieve the orders to move off and towards their next camp. And the next siege at the next bridge across the river Seille. Although it worked quite well, they didn´t gain much ground. And what the won here in this valley, they lost elsewhere at the front.
But at this hour, right after sunrise, Guy had the leisure to recollect the last days and months. Intense fights were followed by decampments, long marches and pitching up another camp. He had read enough about the Military to know of the procedures. But it was one thing to read about it. To experience it was something completely different.
Of course, he had been fortunate to get promoted twice up to now. And to be mentioned in despatches on different occasions. Let alone the title he would recieve in September. But most fortunate he had been to have survived it all. Good men had died during the fighting. Men he had made aquaintance with just several days before. Most of them coming from the Picardy, but some also from the Normandy or other provinces.
Serge had been one of those men. He had lived his life only some miles away from Avranches, near the Atlantic coast. They knew the same miller in Champcervon. And his eldest daugther. They had both lain at the beach across Mont-Saint-Michel. They both had been drunk in that low pub near Grainville. And now... Serge was gone. Dead. No more carousing. No more chasing after a bit of skirt. No more leisure at some beach. No more bawdy, even raucous stories to be shared with the others. And Serge was not the only one. No, too many young men, most of them full of dreams about fame and fortune, were gone forever. Guy absolutely knew, that he was lucky to be among the survivors. Among the living. And he absolutely knew that he had to lead the men... his men, with caution, with prudence and with determination. He was now responsible not only for a company, which had evolved during the first month at the Spanish frontier. No, after the last promotion he was now the regimental commander. Although many men had been senior in rank and longitude of service in the Picardy Musketeers, the General staff had seen fit to promote him to Lieutenant Colonel. Only half a year later from his last date with Marianne in that half derelict barn.
It had been exciting. But she didn´t take it lightly when he had told her about his plans. To leave for Paris. At last she had understood. Avranches, the Normandy was no place for him at that time. His father´s influence denied him of any fair chance to make some progress, neither socially nor in business. He promised not to forget Marianne. And to write to her. Which he had done once before his leave to the Spanish border. And then twice again. After the announcement of his oncoming title. And then two days ago, when it was disclosed, that he would now lead the Picardy Musketeers. He had heard only once from her. After his second letter she had told him, that she intended to go out officially with Charles, his boyhood friend. It was a small sting in his heart, granted. But it had been his decision to turn his back on Avranches. And on Marianne. But on the other hand, better that she would date Charles than to have this cretin Paul making approaches to Marianne.
Lost in thought, he only barely recognized the hoofbeat. The expected depeche from the General staff. He stood erect, made sure that everything was in place, and stepped towards the rider, who delivered the orders promptly. Then he turned to get to the Languedoc regiment.
Guy went towards the camp and to the commander´s tent. The regimental adjutant had already met preparations for decampment.
"Lucien?" The adjutant saluted smartly. "Sir?" "We got the marching orders. Please get the company commanders to this tent." "Sir, we lack one company commander." "Yes, I am aware of that. I will myself disclose who will lead the fifth company." Lucien looked inquiringly to Guy. He had been with the Picardy Musketeers now for more than three years and had seen a fair number of company commanders as well as regimental commanders. Not many were as qualified as Guy. "Yes, I will tell you in advance. Arnaud. He is among the ones serving longest in this proud regiment. He taught me to survive. And to lead. He has earned it without a doubt." Although Lucien quietly had hoped to become regimental commander himself, he approved of the decision to give command to this dedicated young man. That he was not from the Picardy, was his only fault. But the Normandy was nearly as good a place to come from as the Picardy. And now he proved to be sensible too. "They will be here as soon as possible, Sir." "Thank you. Dismissed." Guy nodded his consent and left the tent right after the adjutant. Now he would address his company again, a last time as their company commander. And assign someone else to command this extraordinary company. The responsibility of his new command pressed on his shoulders. But as he stood in front of his company, he stood there erect and without any doubt in mimic, gesture or speech, as he told them about the news...
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Oct 10, 2020 8:38:32 GMT
Heroes of War - Behind the Lines
Camp near Château-Salins, gunfire in some distance. A foggy November day.
"Mon Colonel?" "One moment, please..." The voice rung clear from the unassuming tent. Shortly after the tent opened, the young colonel of the Picardy Musketeers stood in front of the army´s adjutant. "Lucien?" "A depeche from the General Staff, mon Colonel." "Merci." Guy took the roll and skimmed through it. Then he shook his head in disbelief. "They did it... again," he told Lucien. "Who did... what again?" Lucien was puzzled. "Another promotion." "No!" "Either someone at the General Staff is quite fond of me and gets my name on every other roll for a promotion..." Lucien interrupted at this point. "No Sir, you are really skilled. And you got better at tactics during the last months." "Nice of you to say," Guy responded. "But that means I may have to leave the Picardy Musketeers in the near future." Lucien waited for Guy to explain. "If the need is elsewhere, I will have to move there. Now that I have gotten to feel at home in the Picardy Musketeers." Lucien remained silent for some moments. Then he looked into the eyes of his Colonel. "That´s the way of things... mon general." Guy looked up, surprised. "Not yet. It´s a brevet rank." Then he sighed. "It would be sad, if I have to leave this great regiment." "It is a great opportunity." "Indeed. And it would open opportunities for you also, wouldn´t it?" Lucien said nothing. "I am sure, that you had hoped for a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel for some time. And then this young guy from the Normandy gets one promotion after the next until he is Colonel of the Picardy Musketeers." Guy could see it in the eyes of the Regiment´s Adjutant, that he was not too far away from the truth. "I hope, that I did not give cause to any embarrassment, neither for the Picardy nor for the regiment. And by the way, it wasn´t altogether my idea. Of course I didn´t object. But to be honest, if I would have had the choice, some more loot or being mentioned would have been better than one or the other promotion." Lucien nodded with a sad smile. "A little more loot wouldn´t have been bad, indeed. But if we are more or less to stay in our camp, there is nothing to be looted." "At least we survived the time at the frontier. Not everyone did..." Guy looked towards the small cemetery near the chapel, now lost in the fog. Nearly a dozen men of the Picardy Musketeers had been buried there. The corpses of some others had been brought back home to their families. "One last month and then we will get back home..." "We can hope," Lucien replied. "Nine months at the frontier. We will welcome the barracks back home. And our families." "If she has waited for you, you should ask her," Guy quietly said. Lucien looked surprised. "You... know?" "Of course. I may be from some distant place in the Normandy. But I have eyes. And ears. And by the way, during the first weeks in this regiment, I had to run some errands, among others including the correspondence of the regimental staff. Remember?" "Yes... we write every other week. Although the messages sometimes need a little longer. We plan a trip to the Picardy together. I would like to show her my homeplace and she wants to introduce me to her family." "Oh... you think about marrying?" Now Lucien looked happy. "Yes. I have promised her to take care of myself until I am back." Guy smiled. "We try to keep you alive, Captain." Lucien nodded and looked directly at Guy. "What about your sweetheart, Is she waiting for you?" Guy shook his head. "Not any longer. When I left Avranches, my childhood friend paid attentions to her. He had loved her for years. At last she gave in. Their marriage will take place next year, some time in spring. I don´t know yet, maybe I will attend." "If you are not at the frontier," Lucien tried to light up the spirit a trifle. "Yes... the military demands sacrifces from all of us," Guy replied. "But I definitely don´t want to tear open old wounds. He has asked me to be his best man." "It seems to be complicated," Lucien replied. "It´s never easy, neither in war nor in love." Guy made a face, then looked inquiringly down the little hill, which vanished after some dozen foot in the mist. "Did you realize the fog?" "Well, yes, I have." Lucien seemed puzzled. "We may use it to our advantage..." "What do you mean?" "We know quite well, where the Austrians have built their camp. And where their artillery stands." "Yes we do, a little out of reach of our light artillery." "Exactly. But in this fog we may be able to switch positions a little. Do you remember that sketch of yours you drew up during the first days?" "Of course." "Well, to the left, about some fivehundred feet, a small knoll arises. If we can put our artillery there, we may take them by surprise," Guy explained his strategy. "You know, that really could work," Lucien thoughtfully answered. "And if we strike first at their artillery, we may give them enough reason, to leave their positions." "Yes, I have thought so," Guy agreed. "So, Adjutant, would you please be so kind and tell the men what to do? And that we need to keep utmost silence about this? We do not want to spoil the surprise for the Austrians, do we?" Lucien grinned viciously. "No, absolutely not." He saluted, waiting for the answering salute from Guy to get started...
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Oct 12, 2020 15:18:46 GMT
Chère Maman,
first of all: I am well. Indeed, more than well. I not only got lucky to lead now this great regiment. But I am blessed by Him to have survived up to now. And since the November will be the last month during the Autumn Campaign, I will be back to Paris in December to make accomodation for my life in the capital. If you wish, I can arrange a coach for you to get to Paris for the titling ceremony. I don´t know now, when it will take place. But you can of course live in my apartment as my guest, which I will rent as soon as I arrive in Paris. Or if you prefer I will find an adequate accomodation for you.
You have asked about life at the frontier. It is not as full of deprivation as one might think. Often our evenings are full of enjoyment. Singing, laughing, gambling - of course not for money, just for the dogwatch - or telling stories. It´s great to be among such comrades. And the General Staff seems to recognize our regiment´s efforts. We got extra rations last week, even a couple of barrels of brandy from somwhere near the city of cognac. After the first evening I had to ration it to one glass each per evening.
Have you heard about Marianne and Charles? I am not sure, whether or not I shall attend their wedding. He asked me to be his best man, but I do not want to arise old feelings between Marianne and me. But maybe I will get to the Normandy in female company. Probably that would clarify the situation.
Now I have to apologize to you, for I have some kind of errand for you. You remember that competent caretaker of the grounds of the Marquis de Peroult? After he had been fired by the Marquis due to some unsubstantial suspicions, he left the estate of course. Would you mind to find out, where he went? I may be in need of an apt land agent in the near future, when i get titled. An estate of some eminence will be given to me and I definitely cannot take care of it myself. It would be a great help, if you could try to locate him. I am sure you remember how the estate of the Marquis had prospered under his ministration.
Now I will conclude this letter. Please write me, if you plan to be in Paris anytime during the Winter Season. There is a slight chance, that I will have to serve at the frontier all along during the Winter Season, although I do not think it will happen.
May the Lord guide our steps. With all my heartfelt love,
Guy
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Jan 12, 2021 16:53:46 GMT
Chère Maman, now it is just over a year, that I have left the Normandy. I went full of hopes for a better future. And now future is happening, even brighter than I had dreamt of. I will become titled again. A Baron. Can you believe it? Although I really hope not to make such a mess as last time I had become titled. It was hard, especially for Mimi, my love interest. I have told you of her, haven´t I? You will probably meet her soon, when we will be going to the Normandy. By the way, her family is from Cherbourg.
Along with the title came another promotion. Although I am not ready yet to sit back in an armchair and to lay out a military campaign at a huge map of France as part of the French General Staff, it is tempting to do so in the future. But not yet, as I said. I have grown close to the men at the front. They have had my back as well as I have had their´s during the last year. And I feel obliged to lead them into battle so that they will see their families after the fighting is done. Maybe there will be an opportunity during the Summer Campaign. But do not worry about me. i will be careful. I have managed so far and I am quite confident to survive the summer also. And after that... who knows? Maybe I really do take a step back and apply for a less exciting appointment. Maybe something in the government.
But that´s all still up in the air. Firstly I would like to take an absence from the front and the battles. Probably together with Mimi. Of course she knows that I am a military man. But she deserves better than someone who is always at the front, month after month. She likes the theatre. I don´t know yet about the company´s plans for June, but maybe this will give the both of us some leisure time. I will write to you soon again, when I know of my plans for the near future. I hope you are well and enjoy the estate. Sooner or later I shall probably employ some caretaker, because my own skills aren´t that good. With love, Guy
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Post by Valerie Valanon on Jan 19, 2021 18:04:23 GMT
"Sir, the regiment is ready for roll-call inspection."
"Thank you, adjutant." The freshly to Brevet Marshal de Camp promoted soldier moved with slow but steady steps along the line, making only few remarks about a missing button or some unkempt hair.
"Very well, gentlemen. As you may have heard this will be my last address as commanding officer of this regiment. It has been an honour to serve with the Picardy Musketeers. And with you, some of the bravest men I have ever met. Men who without hesitation stand in for their brethren in arms. Men who know the value of honour, determination and valour."
The former Colonel of the Picardy Musketeers now stood upright in front of the companies on the training ground of the regiment´s barracks. "A little more than year ago I had just enlisted with this regiment. During the last year we had been to several battle fields, where we had been victorious, at least most of the time. I have learned a lot of what makes a good soldier and a good leader. But foremost I have learned what it means to be part of a regiment, where each man stands in for all. And all stand in for every single one. This is the spirit which makes this regiment one in the best of this country. I doubt anyone will find a stronger comradeship anywhere else than here, with the Picardy Musketeers."
Guy d´Avranches took some deep breaths before continuing. "For the last time it is my duty and my pleasure to honour the banner of this regiment, to honour it´s traditions and to honour the men we lost during the last year. May they rest in peace." He saluted before the banner of the regiment. As one man the soldiers of the regiment fell in with him, saluting the banner. Seven musketeers raised their weapons towards the sky.
Three shots of salute broke the silence of the moment. Then the adjutant stepped forward. "Musketeers... eyes to the banner." As one the shout came from the several hundred men. "Place a la banniére!"
The silence that followed lasted for a few heartbeats. Then the shout of the adjutant broke it again. "A last missive from our former Colonel. The casks of brandy and beer are to be drunken on his health. And now let´s give him three cheers." The noise from the cheers was deafening. When they had been fading away, the adjutant agein raised his voice. "Thank you, gentlemen. Dismissed." Loud jeering now made any other sound barely audible. So the words Guy spoke with his adjutant and the now commanding officer, Major de Charette, couldn´t be overheard by anyone else...
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