The Wolf and the Snake (English version)

Chapter 5

Our army's disaster will soon be known in the villages, towns, hamlets of France. Everywhere people will mourn the loss of a son, a father, or a brother.

No more banquets or noisy parties in the castles' great halls!

Now, the noble wives, the unhappy fiancées, the desperate mothers will shed a million tears.

In this century of glories and battles, religion, daughter of heaven, mother of all consolations, asks its knights to make immense sacrifices. The souls of the luckiest will contemplate a sealed bier crossing the drawbridges. But those whose bodies are forever lost will be livid shadows in the hollow of the ditches, calling for more masses and prayers.

At the St. John Knights' Hospital, death results from brutal battles or everyday habits. The sick, the infirm, the poor die of old age, exhaustion, various ills, and wounds. All the bodies are carried to St. John's Church for religious services. The coffins are covered in scarlet with the cross of St. John Knights and taken to the St. Nicolas cemetery, where a chapel has been built. Most pilgrims hoped to die in Jerusalem, but many ended their journey in Acre.

So I promise that for all the piously buried corpses, the precious lives saved, possibly by my science or by the greatest of chances, will be fabulous lights shining from the dark hospital.

But practicing medicine is a difficult job. Especially among men and women who believe in God to the point of seeing the devil all the time!

A lot of pregnant women come to the hospital to give birth to their children. Some of them are very poor and hope to entrust their newborns to good nannies paid by the St. John Knights. These women are proud to show us the children of St. John, as they're called. One doesn't know how much wealth the order offers to support so many people inside the hospital and outside, where I frequently participate in generous distributions of bread.

I accepted to do night shifts because I'm quieter to empty the chamber pots and examine some patients discreetly.

One night, one of the men belonging to the great master's house is brought in a serious condition. Some dreadful lascars had savagely stabbed the poor guy. Given the emergency, all good wills are admitted next the victim. I identify two large wounds that need to be stitched up very quickly because the wounded man is losing a lot of blood.

"Where's the physician on duty?"

The face of the questioned matron illuminates when a man approaches.

"Here he is!" she exclaims.

I've seen this guy before. His staggering gait, his puffy eyes, and cheeks are the sign that he consumes enormous wine's quantities.

"I need a better light!" the man demands, his voice pasty, his hands shaking with tremors.

But I get between the physician and the wounded, under the furious glance of the matron.

"No way to practice in your state! You're drunk!"

The drunkard hiccups and tries to molest me. However, I resist. He ends up sprawling all over and hits his head on the floor. The matron is panicked, especially when I grab the thread and needles left behind by the physician.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What are you doing!"

"I must suture the wounds of this unfortunate man, or he will bleed to death!"

Luckily, the hospital has excellent equipment, including soporific sponges to put the patient to sleep. I do my best to stop the bleeding, ensuring that no organ has been seriously affected.

The matron disappeared. So I remain alone to take care of the wounded man. After several minutes, she comes back with a tall, imposing-looking man who rushes to the knight's bedside.

"How is he?" he asks, sounding worried.

"If there are no complications, he will be able to drink and feed himself tonight with a light diet according to the wise principles of Salerno."

My answer seems to suit him, and he stares at me from head to toe.

"It must be you His Highness Charles of Anjou warmly recommended to me before embarking for France. According to him, your father would have attended this excellent Italian school to pass its great knowledge to you. Ada of Chasseney, isn't that so?"

I feel intimidated, but I confirm with a firm voice.

"That's right! And it's not unusual for a father to teach his son."

"You will agree your case is a little different! You're a woman," he says, amused.

"Yes, I grant you! Sir?"

"I'm John of Ronay! I'm temporarily replacing our great master. The expedition of which your husband is a part should bring him back to us safe and sound. We pray daily for this purpose."

He bends over the wounded man with solicitude, anxious to recheck his condition.

"This man whose life you saved is my beloved brother," he murmurs.

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