Time became an unfamiliar concept to her. Every moment appeared to slip away too soon, and yet Vero watched each action she took in agonizingly slow motion. Each patient became an hourglass to her, sand trickling away. One saved, two lost, and ten thousand more lost souls pleading for her help. On to the next hourglass to stop up the sand before the last grains could fall.

She said prayers to Mother Luna as she worked. They were the same prayers Mama said over her when she treated Vero’s cuts and scrapes as a girl. How effective could such prayers be in the face of suffering on such a massive scale? There was so much blood already spilt in sacrifice. How could a goddess of mercy not be moved?

But then it was only last night Vero herself, who was so much nearer to these things than the Queen of Heaven, had been happily oblivious. They had been out here dying this whole time, alone in the dark and cold, and what had she done? By what right did she condemn the gods when she had been so close and so callous?

There was no more time. This hourglass could not be halted. And how much time had she lost in the failed effort? Enough that there was no more time for any self-recriminations. She moved on to the next patient.

It was not really a person, but rather a pig carcass. Yes, a pig carcass, just as Mama had taught her on. There was no need to feel anything for a pig carcass. It was only a lump of flesh waiting for Father to carve it up, salt it, and put it in the larder. This pig carcass was livelier than most, perhaps that meant it would have the strength to recover. How could she know?

And then came Barnabas with antiseptic.

Stretcher bearers were now taking some away to the field hospital. Soldiers were rousting the scavengers. The physicians and priests had arrived with acolytes bearing medical supplies.

Now she became more careful in her work. She was more selective in her patients, because she knew how to bandage wounds and set bones, but she was not a trained doctor. She left the most dire cases to others and helped who she could.

Cut away the clothes. Clean the injury. Set the leg. Anoint the wound. Put on the splint. Wind the whole thing in clean bandages and move on to the next, and then the next. The actions became automatic, like a clockwork toy. She could work more easily that way, disconnected from emotion. Moving flawlessly from one movement to the next, mistakes forgotten the moment they are made because there is no other choice. Repair the damage and move forward.

Lyam was there to keep her medical bag filled with everything she needed. And Jean was there as well, albeit at a distance. He was imposing some order on the chaos, having the dead collected for identification, and helping the survivors return to their families.

Then Vero stood and her vision became dark.

“What happened?”

“She seemed to come over faint, my Lord.”

Her vision cleared and she was laying in the grass with Jean kneeling beside her. “Vero? Are you alright?”

She sat up. “I just became lightheaded a moment. I’m alright now.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s hours past noon now. You’ve hardly eaten since last night- and a lot of that ended up on the bedroom floor this morning. We’ll have dinner now, you’re no help to anyone in this state.”

“I’ve ruined another dress.” Her front had several deep stains.

“Yes, well… I’m not certain how this one will wash out. But I’ve bought more than a dozen dresses for you, so I don’t expect losing one shall matter. You can choose another after we’ve eaten.” Jean helped her to her feet.

“I want to go to work in the hospital once we’ve eaten.”

“As you wish. Perhaps we had best put off changing your clothes then, until just before the ceremony tonight.”

A servant brought Jean’s horse to them. He lifted her up first, then followed himself.

“I’m glad you decided to help them.” Vero put her hand over Jean’s. “Those people in the field took up arms against you, you could have left them all to die.”

“They took up arms out of loyalty to their lord, I don’t bear any malice against them.” Jean spoke very easily. “Hopefully they shall show equal zeal in service to the new lord I set for them. They are my own subjects, even if their previous ruler led them astray for a time. It wouldn’t be sensible to depopulate my own demesne and leave such lingering scars of resentment behind. Not when much loyalty stands to be gained from an easy act of charity. It’s the simplest kindnesses which are often best remembered.”

They returned to Jean’s pavilion in the camp where the servants had prepared a lavish dinner of lamb with truffle shavings. It was served with a sweet flavored northern white wine. Vero found she was ravenously hungry and set in the moment she had washed her hands.

“Was it your master Aquinas who taught you the healing arts?”

“Of course not. I knew more about medicine than he ever did.” The lamb was delicious.

“Oh? Who was it then?”

“It was Mama.” Vero reminded herself not to speak with her mouth full. “My mother trained as a priestess of Queen Luna before she married Father. She was the wisewoman and midwife for our village, and I often helped her.”

“I see. I heard you reciting prayers to Luna while you worked.” Jean skewered two slices of lamb with a truffle between them. “I had just presumed you worshiped the Earth Mother- or…” He put it in his mouth whole.

“Or that I was a sorcerous atheist with a lot of natural-materialist explanations for the divine emanations?” The food had started to restore her good humor.

Jean smiled and shrugged in response.

“Yes, I worship Mother Luna- though not as often as I should. Most of the village I grew up in worshiped the Earth Mother, but the priestess in our village was extremely elderly, which is why they had practical need for a wisewoman. I suppose you must have been trying to decide which I was- the naïve country girl, or the conniving sorceress. If so, I’m glad I was able to evade such easy classification.”

Jean swallowed the last of his truffle with a gulp of wine. “It’s easy to become abstracted from humanity in my position. Companies of soldiers must be controlled like objects- wooden pieces on a map. It’s such a simple thing to forget that when banners on a map meet, individual men begin to kill and die. Each name on a company register is a person with a whole life’s journey which has brought them to that point, and may well end there… I made presumptions based on your accent and occupation because – until now – you have been disinclined to discuss yourself in any greater detail.”

“Ah, well. What does it matter? At the moment I feel too exhausted to care.” The effects of digestion, and the relief of tension after hours of constant careful labor, left her completely drained.

“Oh? Excellent.” Jean skewered more slices of lamb and truffle. “Interrogations typically become much easier at this stage.” He fed the combination to her, and Vero took it without complaint. “Tell me something else about your family now.”

“What should I tell you? I can’t think of anything that would be of interest to a great lord such as yourself.”

Jean became thoughtful a moment, then he began to speak. “My father’s given name was Louis; my mother’s given name is Catherine. Their courtship was brief and their marriage was political. They never cared for one another, but both were very dear to me. My father had little time for affection, but I felt he showed his love for me in the careful attention he paid to my education. My memories of him were learning at his side when he conducted council meetings or troop inspections. My mother is an imposing presence to strangers, but also unrestrained in her affection towards those close to her. I understand why she left the day after my father’s funeral, but I wish she had not.”

There was silence for a time, and Vero realized that she must make some reply in kind. She cleared her throat to give herself some time to think. “Mama was called Olivia, and Father was named Niall. He was a mercenary during the civil war- not the war in our time I mean, but the last one.”

“The Priests’ War, I’m familiar. My family stayed out of it, though our Fer-mark steel weapons were certainly to be found in both camps.”

It was a neutral position. Vero was relieved. She had not considered the possibility she might learn something unpleasant about him when she brought up the topic. It would certainly have cast a pall over their relationship if his family had taken part in the repressions.

“Mama and my grandmother – whom I was named after – went to the Grand Conclave in the peasants’ delegation, at the church council to depose the pontifex. And then helped to elect Joan the Good.”

She paused and realized Jean was probably not familiar with the internal workings of a church he was not a member of. So, she added more context for him. “They also helped the persecuted escape the burnings once most of the fighting had stopped. We lived in Loix, right on the border with the Republic. They gave the refugees food and shelter before they went to Whitegate.”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear.” His eyes smiled at her the way she liked. “We tried to do what we could to help after the war. The king’s authority hardly meant a thing once all the various dynastic feuds were over. Father provided plenty of the refugees shelter- artisans and craftsmen, mostly. Gave them positions with the guilds. Then he went one better and made the guilds completely secular. I can remember the thundering feuds he had with the chaplain over that as a child. Those fights were the only time I can ever recall my father shedding tears. But he refused to relent, and Ignacio had eventually returned to him- as none of us had ever doubted.”

“They sound like intimate confidants.”

“Very intimate. That’s why I’ve treated him so gently since my father’s death- but he’s becoming intolerable. Ah! Why are we discussing the priests causing me problems? Tell me more about your father- Niall, was it? He must have come from the highlands just north of here by the sound of his name- and the look of your hair.”

“Yes, that’s right. As I said, he came to Velois as a mercenary. He wasn’t a knight, but he did rise to the rank of sergeant. And made quite a lot of money because he didn’t gamble or drink. He was injured in battle and then taken to the temple where Mama was studying as an acolyte. They began to court one another, and Father swore that he wanted nothing more to do with war and wished to settle down and build a farm with the money he had. When it came time for Mama to be consecrated as a priestess, she refused. When she told Father, he proposed to marry her on the spot.”

He took her hand. “I have four sisters, three elder and one younger. No brothers, although my cousin and I are rather close…”

Jean’s cousin the Duc de Emmoi had joined him on this campaign. Jean introduced her to him a few weeks previous and he had taken an immediate dislike to her when they met, although she was not certain why. They had cordially ignored one another since.

Vero realized that Jean was still talking.

“…are Catherine, Marianne, and Petronilla- in descending order. And my younger sibling – almost certainly a half-sister to the rest of us – is Johanna. The first three are all safely securing marriage alliances with our house’s near allies. The last, who I confess is my favorite, is studying to become a priestess. Father was on the verge of marrying her off too when he died, I was only just able to extricate her from the contract in time. She already managed to have two previous contracts broken off on her own- and I knew she loathed the prospect of a political marriage. I arranged this church position for her to close the issue permanently with our mother.”

He stopped, and Vero presumed it was her own turn again.

“I have two siblings- once three. My elder sister Yvette was a terrible nag, and my younger brother Antoine was only a babe when I left. My other brother…” She took notice of how late the afternoon had grown from the changing of the light. “But we’ve been talking too long. I feel much better now, we should go to the hospital tent.”

“As you wish. But can I convince you to leave at sunset to attend vespers in Hollowstone chapel with me?”

“It isn’t the full moon- or do they permit men to attend all evening services in Umbria? I’ve never been so far north before.”

“They permit very many things when one pays enough for the indulgence.”