Free The Enterprise of England by Ann Swinfen

the infantry. I have been working with the gunners this year and it was thought my experience would be of some use to those poor buggers. But there’s not much use having guns when you run out of gunpowder. And there might have been need of a galloper to carry messages, but we never had the chance. The only messages sent out from the town were carried by cunning local lads who knew where to slip through the enemy lines.’
    I saw that he was sweating slightly and realised that the brightness of his eyes was partly due to fever.
    ‘Peter,’ I said, ‘will you fetch me some of the febrifuge tincture? And we are going to need more of the salve.’
    Peter, who had been listening to this exchange with interest, nodded and got to his feet.
    ‘Trooper Andrew Joplyn and I worked together last year.’ I felt I must satisfy his curiosity. ‘When I was in Sussex with Master Phelippes.’
    Peter nodded. ‘I remember.’ He picked up his tray and headed off to the hospital still room.
    ‘That was a night.’ Andrew lay down with a sigh. ‘Back last year. I thought those fishermen were going to catch us.’
    ‘Because of my stupidity,’ I said.
    ‘Anyone could have had an accident in the dark,’ he said. ‘Still it was a fine race we had, back to Rye. Did they catch those men?’
    ‘Aye. They were . . .’ I paused, ‘dealt with.’
    ‘So you really are a physician. I’m not sure I believed you.’
    ‘I know you didn’t. Now, what is amiss with you?’
    ‘Dislocated my shoulder. A couple of the lads pulled it straight for me. It’s something we learn how to do. You can easily dislocate a shoulder, falling off a horse. The sling is just to give me some ease.’
    ‘And your head?’
    ‘Ah, well, that is nastier. I had a lucky escape. A bullet grazed my head just above the ear, but it didn’t penetrate. Hit the poor bugger behind me and killed him. Still, it’s sore.’
    I began to unwind the bandage around his head. Like so many of the dressings I had already removed, this one was caked with dried blood and would not come away easily. Peter had left a bowl of Coventry water on the floor beside me, so I soaked the bandage until I could peel it away, revealing a deep gash in the side of Andrew’s head, as broad as two fingers. The bullet had also torn away the tip of his ear. While I was working, Andrew said nothing, but bit down on his lower lip. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face.
    ‘Aye, you were lucky,’ I said, relieved that the bone of the skull was merely grazed and not shattered. ‘It also looks quite clean.’
    ‘I did my best to wash it.’ His voice came out high-pitched, as if he was still struggling with the pain.
    Peter came back with more salves and a bottle of the febrifuge tincture. I dressed the wound and bound it up, then gave Andrew a dose of the tincture.
    ‘I’m not sure whether or not your hair will grow back, and you will have a nick out of the top of your ear.’
    ‘My beauty quite spoiled, then?’ He gave me a shaky smile.
    ‘Oh, it will be quite an heroic wound.’
    He smiled again and sank back on to the pallet.
    ‘Good to see you again, Kit.’
    I smiled down at him. ‘And you, Andrew.’

Chapter Four
    P eter and I continued to tend the wounded lying along the left hand wall of the ward until we reached the end. Most of the injuries were bullet wounds. In some cases the bullet had passed through the body or had been clumsily prised out, but I had to extract most of them with a scalpel and forceps. It was difficult to judge which were the more dangerous, those where a bullet had been left in the wound, preventing it from healing, or those where some dirty knife had been used to poke it out, enlarging the wound and filling it with who knew what filth.
    In order to work more quickly, I showed Peter how to clean and salve the wound after I had extracted the bullet. He was quick and neat, so that by the time we reached the end of the row we were working to a steady