(Thanks to VampireKaira for reviewing!)

Gwen wanted to stay and talk to Edith, when she heard her name being called.

"Cooper!"

Harkness beckoned over to her from his horse. Gwen gave Edith one last friendly look before heading over to the Captain. He swung down from his horse in so careless a manner that Gwen was certain he had spent hours practicing. He gave her an approving smile.

"Good job on settling that fight. We have no chance of winning this war if we can't work together and it's good to know we have people like you on our side,"

Gwen beamed. Having Harkness compliment her made Gwen feel like the most wonderful person on Earth. There was something about him that made Gwen desperate to impress him futher. it was rather to her dismay when Harkness simply gave Gwen a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away with a bit of a swagger. His horse followed behind like an obedient puppy and Gwen stood still, grinning like an idiot.

On the way back she was accosted by several young men, all giving her admiring smiles and handshakes. She was bemused to find that many of them had taken her threat seriously and were now trying to gain favour. Men twice her size moved to let her pass and soldiers with whom she had not exchanged two words called out jovial greetings.

By the time she had reached the physician's tent she was preening like a peacock, at least she was until the stench of beer hit her nostrils.

"Ah, here he is!" Owen slurred, waving a tankard around, "My favourite assistant!"

Gwen noticed a dark young boy arranging gauze in the corner.

"Who's this?" she asked politely.

"Martin Jones," the boy replied, jerking his hand as though to go in for a handshake, only to change his mind and nervously pull his hair over his face.

"Jones's father was a physician, so he's going to chum with us," Owen cheered.

Gwen moved to help Martin.

"And what has put you in such a good mood?"

"I can answer that," Martin replied, "I think you're gained us a lot of popularity. A bunch of lads came over here and brought a barrel of beer. Probably trying to make sure we treat them right if they get hurt,"

"Using your influence in the physician's tent to gain power," said Owen, waggling his finger, "Not very moral, is that Cooper?"

"I only said those things to stop a bunch of thugs from picking on a kid half their size. I can assure you Doctor Harper that I will use my powers for good, not evil,"

Owen laughed. "I don't care if you use your powers for good or evil! I just want you to keep bringing in the booze,"

/

When Edith did something stupid (or was thought to be stupid) at home, Mary would sneer and her family would smirk. She would then go to her bedroom as quickly as possible and throw herself onto her bed, scream into her goose feather pillows before asking a page to send some sweatmeats up to her room.

Here, when she did something stupid she was ganged up on, threatened with violence and had to hide in a tent shared by three others. She had no bed but a thin straw pallet and her cloak to be used as a blanket.

And in a few months time; after training, if she did something stupid she could be killed.

Night had descended. A bitter wind was blowing and although she slept in her clothes the cold surrounded Edith like a blanket made of ice. She was not used to roughing it, although her tent fellows clearly were. The tent was small, which Edith was glad for. She was also happy to be sharing with Thomas and William who had stuck up for he earlier. Or at least, William had stuck up for her and Thomas had clobbered Melty Face. Edith was unsure which act she was the most grateful for. Both; she felt, deserved a knighting.

The third man was someone she had overheard being called Pelham. She had only exchanged greetings with him but he had a kind face and a friendly manner, something she was pleased to see in such a place.

Edith squealed as she fell something run across her foot. She jerked up in time to see a fat grey rat scampering across the cold ground.

"Whatissit?" Thomas mumbled, blniking in Edith's direction.

"A rat," Edith squeaked.

Thomas looked round quickly, "Where? Did you catch it?"

"No,"

"Great," Thomas sighed, "That could have been breakfast,"

"What's going on?" William asked, as he and Pelham awoke from their sleep.

"There was a rat,"

"Did you get it?" Pelham inquired eagerly.

"Sorry,"

Edith lay back down upon her pallet, listening to the sighs of disappointment coming from the others.

Edith had guessed that meals would not be like at home, with great models made from sugar and almond paste and stuffed peacock, but rats for breakfast. Edith gagged at the thought. She had nearly gone back to sleep when it dawned on Edith that it was only going to get worse from now on. When they came face to face with the enemy there would be blood, disease and death. And that could her blood and her death. There was no backing out now. If she tried to flee, it meant death. If she revealed herself as a woman, it meant death. And if she fought, that probably meant death as well. Death was closing in on her from all sides. It was only now, when she confronted with the fact she would probably die that Edith knew she had made a mistake.

/

Robert knew he must be mistaken. It made no sense. When Edith disappeared she had simply ran off in a sulk. She must have. The ludicrous idea only really occurred to Robert when the conscription notices came and he received none. Tom and Matthew had read theirs gravely before going, leaving only their love and the desire for any news of Edith.

Having lost three children in one day left Robert feeling winded, and he found himself in Edith's chamber without remembering how he got there. With renewed vigour, her began to tear the place to pieces in order to find hints of Edith's whereabouts, and to disprove his wild theory. Robert's heart plummeted as he found a pile of hair inside Edith's chest. He knew why she cut it. She had no other reason. He also knew that it was definitely her hair. He would recognise those strawberry blonde curls anywhere.

Pain shot through him like an arrow as he remembered wrapping those golden ringlets round his fingers as his little girl sat by his feet, head on lap.

Robert stumbled down the echoing halls and brushed past pages and Ladies in Waiting until he found Cora in her sitting room, staring into space.

"What is it, my Lord?" she asked, putting her embroidery to one side.

Numbly, he held out a handful of hair. Mothers always know, and Cora was no exception. Robert was just able to notice the horror dawning on Cora's face before he collapsed to the ground with a thud.