Surgeons shop

Robert was intrigued by the conversation he had had that morning, enough to have stacked away his current set of books, and have only some wool out. Some men might think that he was doing them a disfavour by sitting in his own place and knitting himself some socks, but long hours seated similarly by his father, with cold feet, had taught him valuable skills in reusing his materials.

He was musing over the current, short, list of casualties and his gleefully long list of stores as he worked, and occasionally giving over his mind to a more pondorous set of thoughts involving food- the offending fungi sitting in front of him for observation.

Since coming down the slope, the injured had been sent to the surgeon's knife and care. Arriving earlier than agreed with the surgeon on the morning of that day, the Hussar was helped by a rifleman, to limp his way to the wagon. There he sat patiently and wondered a little about the French boy that they've taken captive. The lad would see the surgeon too of course, considering he had sustained a couple of injuries when he first fell.

RObert, as so often was the case, had been rudely interrupted in the middle of a bleeding row, to earn his keep. Some frogs had done some damage, as far as he could gather, but there was more interest in him for his patients than why they were hurt.

Looking up, he spoke above a murmer for the first time in hours, voice sounding croaky and unused, "If ye'll seat yerself here, Willoughby, I'll get ter ye as soon as I may." His smile encompassed the dazed men, lying now where he was getting used to seeing a couple of bodies, though these two thankfully weren't going to die on him yet, he reckoned.

"Will thre be any one else coming, d'ye ken?"

"There might be a young Frenchman that they will bring, sir." He answered and seated himself closer. " I wouldn't know of others." He leaned back slightly. " How bad, sir?" He nodded towards the man he was treating.

Carefully Robert was feeling this mans shoulders. He still hadn't learnt most of the lads names, but this one had been complaining about his buttons- and Robert suspected concussion.
"Oh, they'll be fine, I should think." He said, airily, "Nobbut a scrath at the most." Carefully he felt now around the head, parting the hair and wiping away some blood, "aye, lad, ye need hardly have seen me for this." he chided, gently, a smile in place, "Why, ye'll be up as soon as ye've a decent uniform ter stand in. I'f ye'll sit here now, and talk ter yer friend- quietly like- I'll be onto this lad."
He helped the men sit, hoping they would stay upright. This served his goals of fitting them all into his small space, and preventing them from going into any sleep, just yet at least.
"ANd let me guess." He began with his last patient, "Ye went and ran on yer ankle, aye?"

".. Well sir, No sir." He hesitated and looked to the surgeon."...I've only run once the French were sighted." He looked at his ankle, and hoped the surgeon would not wonder what he had done so far away up the hill in the first place. There was little to excuse the later. With a light encouraging smile he added:" I haven't run much though, sir. Even the French went to give this Hussar a lift. Though they are poor horses...might I dare add."

"ye may not have run, but ye travelled a fair bit, aye? When ye told me ye'd be off it fer a while?" Robert gently knelt to open the boot and roll up the breeches, "Ye've little else ter say fer yeself though, lad. though yer honest, mind."
Carefully he eased the muddy boot off the mans ankle and looked at it, then removed the other foots covering as well. "poor horses, were they? well, they may have given yerself a much needed break, if ye'll beleive me. Look at that now."
The offending area was certainly swollen, and the Dr shook his head over it, and the light covering he'd placed over it a while ago. "Thats it, lad. Ye're proping it up now, and yer leaving it up fer a while. Then, I'm strapping it so tight ye can't bend it. Mebbe that'll keep it off the ground" He looked up with a smile, "I'm guessing ye were in extenuating circumstances, ye'd think, ter be using it anyways?"

"Sorry sir." He bit at his lip as the boot was removed, for the narrowness of his boot and the manner in which his ankle had to be stressed when his leg was moved up, hurt. "Sir, I would request that I may not be sent to the wagon. I'm certain I can ride still, and I'd be of better use were I mobile, than were I set in place there." He did not look pleased with any thought that would suggest, he were to lie and not move for a good fair while.

He flushed some and looked at the ankle, as if it held the answer.".. We have been...eh.. walking ahead. But only did we mean to walk a short while."

"Whatever ye meaned ter do, lad, ye certainly overdid it this time." Gently, Rob peeled back cloth till he could get at the skin. "Now, ye'll be annoyed with me if in a few months time ye couldna walk cause ye wouldna do this now, wouldn't ye?"
He eyed the man sitting over him, thinking of the peice he'd now have to write- no improvement, possible detriment- on the mans precious form.
"I'm sure ye trust me, ay?"

"I wouldn't be pleased if I were not able to walk, yes." He found himself regretting the run and the fall down the slope, as much as it wasn't his fault. "You are a surgeon, sir. Of course I would trust you my health. Who else would I, if not yourself." Still he looked worried and, winced ever so slightly, when his swollen ankle was touched.

robert nodded, once, before bending back over the foot. "Good." He smiled to himself, "Now, I'll be happier if ye'll place yer feet in this here cushion, so's they good and high, and ye'll be able ter see what I do, if that's what ye want. And if not, well, ye can look away. All I'm ter do is bandage it though, losely at first, but tighter when ye get up."

He very gently helped the man swing them up, "Now, let me get this sorted." He eyed the messy clothes, "D'ye want a cloth for yer uniform or anything?"

"A cloth , sir?" Had moved himself so that his leg was on the cushion as told, not sure if he were interested in seeing, but deciding that either way it could not hurt. "..Depends, whether I need one." He began and then shrugged faintly and adjusted his breeches, which were at present held on by a broad strap of cloth, but were thus only till he could have the buttons properly sewed on.

Rob came over, carrying his bandages, "aye, if ye want ter try and do anything te yer uniform, stained though it is." He gestured at the stains, "And no doubt at some stage ye'll need some cotton ter sew up yer buttons, as well" he added, eyeing the tattered clothes. "Now, let me strap it fer ye."

"How much may it cost me?" He asked and he frowned for he saw those stains for the first time. Not having payed attention to them, his thoughts were riddled with the French, with the young captive and with the injured on their side. He worried about the officers and how they may take their straying so far and wondered also if any of the riflemen took the rabbit with them. The hefty animal should better not have come into the wrong hands.

The additional cloth and the cotton, and were there a needle I could borrow." He asked polite, yet hopeful." I haven't my own.. not yet."

Gently Rob straightened the ankle and quickly started ons trapping it, talking all the while, "depends how much ye want ter owe me, and how much other work ye'll do, and such. What other skills d'ye have? I ken yer pay is special fer ye, not ter be wasted on trivial things like buttons."

He was down to the last few turns on the bandage now, and sorry for the pain it had brought the lad.

It was a struggle to listen to the surgeon with the bandages pressing at his ankle as they were applied. Having the ankle straightened brought a small grunt from the youth , though he stiffled the sounds that could follow. He breathed in heavily, and was visibally tense, with lips pale from the stress, and eyes looking ahead without seeing. So strong was his concetration, yet his ears still found time to listen in on the questions.

"...I'm not quite sure which skills I am to offer that would be helpful for you. I'm certain that landing a hit on the mushrooms with my sling... isn't quite what you may have in mind. Sir." He rolled his left shoulder and placed a hand to it. It wasn't damaged, but a bruise was sure to bloom on it.

" And may I ask only.. I'll be permitted to ride.. now that you have taken care of my leg?"

The doctor sighed, then smiled to show he wasn't angry, just bemused. "Ye may only ride when I say, now, and that won't be fer a coupla days, just ter please me." Gently he finished up the bandaging, tucking in the end and poppiong another cushion on the other side, then standing to loud clicks on each knee, "Can ye write a fair hand? paperwork has always been my lax area. I'd drop the price if ye'd spend yer time in here doing such usefull things."

[incidently, what coins are we using here? pence? should I bone up on shilling values?]

"But sir. That is a sure long time." Not happy that he would have to entrust Bella in someone else's keep, when he had finally gotten her and even less that he would remain back, when others would make themselves of use. Though he had to remind himself, that he wasn't quite that needed even before.


Is distracted out from his thoughts by the question and he smiled.
"Yes, I.. am able of enough of writing. I shall be glad to be of that kind of service for you sir, if it may be what you are in need of."

Satisfied Rob nodded. He'd known men to do themselves lasting injury by being bored, and had no wish for that to happen here. He had, after all, a fair dose of personal pride. "I always have need fer someone else ter do the work, lad, just like everyone else. I dina learn ter do this job fer ter fill out forms all day. Ye and I'll be happy enough in here, and I'm sure ye can hobble out ter see yer precious Bella after a while, too. But only on my instruction" he cautioned, quickly, "and ye neeedn't complain ter me, either, tis yer ankle, ay."

His three charges settled, he set about placing everything back in place, and wrote, in meticulous handwriting, that he was down to his last sets of buttons and such. Always helped to have a list, though he doubted much of the things on't would be supplied from above. "And was I supposed ter be writing something fer ye, lad?" He threw over his shoulder, fingering the thick paper he had got out.

"Yes, sir." He gazed to his ankle that was secured so tightly in place that he wondered if indeed, were he to try and use it, he would be unable to move it at all. Sure felt as stiff and painful. He sighed and considered his options and though he wished for them to be more, it all came down to the fact that he were not able to ride. Not till his leg was less swollen and his ankle on the mend rather than the other way.

He nodded again, while observing the surgeon stack and stash his things in place, placing those that he did no longer need, neatly in their boxes. "Yes sir. The ... report of my state on the day I've joined you." He flushed, for he felt that he'd been no better than at that time. "..I would reckon an evaluation of the present.. might not be as..encouraging." He looked slightly bemused about this.

Rob sat at his table, pulling out a knife and trimming his implements. "aye? and to whom should I address it to?" He pulled out a rough sheet of paper and drafted upon it everything he had- not much, admittidly, just the general appearance of a man with a leg made worse by constant use.
"I doubt they want to know more of the same, no." he smiled, adding, gently, "I dinnae suppose ye'll be telling me more? Those two aren't listening to ye, and probably wouldn't remember anything anyway."

He wasn't sure, believing the note be in need only of the content and a signature, so that it may be used as evidence to anyone who would have thought it important.".. .. I'm not yet sure.. who may be in need of it, sir.. so perhaps, to whom it may concern, would fair and solve that?"

He touched his head and was glad it hadn't been as shaken as when he first fell from Bayard. (mild concussion, I think was the other one) "Telling you more, sir?...Of what kind and interest?" He felt at ease, more at least than he did before, though his leg still ached and he wondered if there was anything to dull it down.

Rob added concussion to his list and set about writing out a fair, delightful copy, leaving space at the top for a 'to whom is may concern', and spoke while writing, "Well, if there do be anything else ye've got going on, now..." he said.

"At present sir?.." Still somewhat confused at the question he makes most of what he thinks is right. " .Are you.. wishing to know why I seek these papers .. Or do you inquire in general.. what goes or has gone. " Places two fingers to his temple and rubs gently.

Rob looked up then, eyeing the man gently, "Well, both, lad. I always feel a responsibility towards ye patients, ay? If there be anything I can do ter help ye more.... ye just call out, ye hear?"

With a flourish, and a few more lines free if he should need them, the doctor signed his name, carefully going back to dot the i's and cross the t's.