Carry On

by Celia Lake

  The man who looked like Healer Rhoe got a gleam in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Elen had worded that as carefully as she could, but honesty compelled her to be clear that she might have talked to other people. Well, one other person, Amet. She hoped they wouldn’t ask about that.

  “How have you occupied your time?” That was the woman from the Ministry.

  “Reading and knitting, mostly, ma’am.” Elen kept her voice as clear as she could. “Walking in the park when the weather permitted.” She glanced at the priestess, and added, “My personal devotions, as well.” Again, leaving that narrow gap. “I took the opportunity to catch up on some of the professional literature, the journals I hadn’t had a chance to read.”

  “Senior Healer Cole has made a demand for your dismissal. He said that you have broken your oaths, the ones you took as Therapeutes. How say you?” They were formal ritual words, from the woman again.

  Elen took a breath, steadying herself as best she could. Part of her wanted to cry out at the unfairness, that Healer Cole had not kept his oaths, that she had done nothing wrong. But that would not do her any good here. “I have kept my oaths, ma’am.”

  That got a little twitch of the woman’s chin. “This is not a court of law. Breaking your oath would not be a matter for the courts, unless you also committed a crime. We cannot invoke the magics of Justice here. However, Healer Rhoe has reminded us of an ancient option. Astrophella, here, has offered to provide a suitable ordeal. If you pass, you will be returned to your duties. If not, you will be barred from any further work in any place of healing. Do you understand?”

  Elen took a deep breath, hanging onto the first part of that. “I believe so, ma’am. Am I correct that this - this method cannot be questioned further? Whatever the results might be?”

  The woman nodded. “Exactly so. You may not appeal the decision - but neither can Cole.” Elen began to get the sense this woman hadn’t much cared for him, to be using his bare name, not his full title.

  Elen straightened her shoulders. “What do I need to do, please?”

  That made the man who looked like Healer Rhoe grin for just an instant, she caught the way his eyes danced, before he focused on the priestess, who stepped forward. “I am one of the priestesses of Sirona. The sister who made space for your oaths is, she regrets, unable to travel.”

  It seemed like there was more she wanted to say but instead the older woman held up the cup. “I will bless the cup. If your oaths hold properly, you will drink it easily. If you have broken your oaths, then you will not be able to swallow it.”

  That seemed more civilised than most of the ordeal methods Elen had heard of. “How will you know that Sirona has touched it?”

  That made the priestess laugh, freely and with delight. “You are a sharp-minded woman, I like that. These fine people are here to observe what happens. We hope there will be an overt sign, the omens and divinations have been promising. If there is no obvious sign, we will have to see what we can discern together.”

  It wasn’t a final answer, then, but still worth doing. If it did solve her problems, all the better, but it seemed like it wouldn’t make things worse, unless she really had broken her oaths. In which case, she would deserve what she got.

  She remembered making them. It had been in a ceremony here, with the rest of her nursing class, all of them turned out in their new uniforms for the first time. She remembered how the starched cap had felt precarious, compared to the simpler cap they wore in training, and the weight of the watch when her teacher had pinned it on her apron strap. Most of all, she remembered the light and the water, the way it had felt crystalline to her.

  There had been a fair set of invocations, to each of the healing deities they were pledging. Hers had been a sizable class, and she had waited patiently for the more commonly made oaths. A few to the Christian trinity, half a dozen to Apollo, more to Asclepius, some to Hygeiea. Then it had come down to those powers who attracted fewer followers and less notice.

  It had been perfect, though, with the priestess lifting up her hands, pouring water from one cup to another, then offering it. Elen still remembered the way that tasted, like the purest mountain water, with a sharpness like mint and lavender twisting around each other, but without anything like a flavour.

  There was a slight cough, that drew her back to the present moment, and the priestess was smiling at her. “Ready?”

  Elen nodded. “At your pleasure.”

  The answer apparently amused her, and certainly pleased Healer Rhoe, who was standing beside her. The priestess nodded and stepped forward, facing Elen across the altar. As she set the cup down, the dog moved to curl up at her feet again, and the snake slithered from her wrist to form a loose coil on the altar itself.

  None of this seemed to bother the priestess at all. Instead, she held her hands over the cup, and began, first in Gallic, long rolling vowels, mingled with clipped consonants, the trilling W for the V. Elen didn’t speak it, not more than enough to pronounce some of regular prayers respectfully, but she rarely even got the chance to hear it. However serious the moment was, she felt the sincerity of the priestess.

  Nothing happened. Elen tried hard not to feel cheated, or worthless, but she could not quite restrain a flinch. Healer Cole certainly spotted it, his chin went up, and his chest puffed out, as if he was about to say something. The Guard glared at him, and he subsided, without the priestess paying the slightest attention.

  Instead, the priestess began to speak, this time in plain English. “Star-kissed Sirona, bringer of healing, cleanser of illness, you who restores health and wellness to those you touch. Here, in a place sacred to healing, here in a place of oaths, here in a place of the miraculous, we ask a boon. This therapeutes, sworn to you, has had her oath questioned. Grant us knowledge, by right of ordeal, right of the corsned. Fill this cup with your magic, great and gentle lady, and let us know the truth, that healing might be done.”

  It was a curious proclamation, but Elen’s heart was beating faster now, and she couldn’t begin to untangle the words. Again, there was no overt sign of anything changing, and again out of the corner of her eye she caught various of the witnesses shifting impatiently.

  The priestess waited a moment, for something only she could see, then she lifted the cup, and beckoned to Elen. “Come, drink.”

  Elen had only one choice, really. She reached across the altar, taking the cup carefully in both her hands. It felt surprisingly heavy, for a small cup. The metal was cool against her fingers, like the waters of her original oath, too cool for the room. Then she closed her eyes, made her own wordless plea to the heavens, and lifted the cup.

  It tasted the same. It held the same sharpness, the same refreshing coldness, that washed away everything that was dirty and charred. She didn’t pause in the drinking, draining it down in five sizable swallows, before she lowered the cup, and offered it back. She felt no different, but she realised, as she opened her eyes, that several of them had stepped back, instinctively. Including Healer Cole.

  Astrophella was beaming at her, reaching to take the cup. As their hands met, the snake shifted from the altar, by Elen’s elbow, and twined up her arm, and she felt the smoothness against her wrist. It settled on her forearm, peering at her, tongue flicking out, before it reversed direction, and Astrophella held out her hand for it.

  “I believe there is no question, then?” Healer Rhoe’s voice was resonant, echoing in the large temple space, though Elen wasn’t sure how to name the emotion there. Something Rhoe was suppressing, for the moment, at least.

  There was a grumble from several of the witnesses, a wordless grudging agreement, and then several peeled away, and went, mostly separately, to different doors, mingling in with all the other people in the space, coming and going from tending the shrines or making their own personal pledges and prayers.

  Healer Cole himself had vanished into the crowd of other people, and Elen could see the flash of his red robes for a moment. It was as if h
e was sure he did not want any part of the gods anywhere near him. It made her more certain something was wrong in his oaths, but she had no idea how to ask. The Archiater looked after him, considering, and Elen was not at all sure how to read his expression.

  The woman from the Ministry inclined her head. “You may return to duty, Therapeutes. Healer Rhoe will explain further, if needed.” Then, without saying anything further, she nodded and walked away.

  It left Elen blinking, not sure what to do now, and she looked to Healer Rhoe for any help at all. She was whispering to the man beside her. Then she waved at him and said to Elen, “My brother, Cyrus.” It was a very uninformative introduction.

  He made a slight bow, and he was clearly amused by something, but she couldn’t tell what. “Congratulations, Therapeutes.” His voice had the measured ease of someone used to people doing what he said, and without argument. “We should not keep you from your duty. Do you have somewhere you can change?”

  Elen let out a breath. “I can find somewhere, sir.” Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if that were the proper form of address. She glanced around again, but the others had melted away, all except for Astrophella, who had gathered up her basket and settled the snake comfortably in it.

  “Come visit us, sister, when you have the chance. At the country shrine. We would love to spend more time with you.”

  She didn’t explain what had convinced everyone either. Astraphella simply turned, and made her way out, the dog trotting along at her side in her own elegant procession of one. Elen realised she was not going to get any answers, and so squared her shoulders, going off to find somewhere to change into her uniform, so she could see Roland again.

  Chapter 32

  Later Monday morning, Roland’s room

  Roland had sunk back into the pillows in the dim room, feeling utterly awful. Whatever it was they had him on felt like it was draining him as the days went on. He had also been entirely alone, bar the meals and assistance from the orderlies, since Nurse Eglinton had been scared away. Since he had terrified her, not to put too fine a point on it.

  It was getting on toward lunch, when he heard someone at the door. He turned his head, not really wanting to know who was going to bother him now. The door opened, with a faint creak, then it was closed.

  “Well, you’re in a fine state, you are.”

  Elen. Not only Elen, but she sounded surprisingly well. He turned, rolling his head back, and then stared. He didn’t know how to describe it, not at all, but there was quite a glow about her.

  It wasn’t bright, precisely, and yet it was like shouting. It was the kind of light you saw in paintings of saints with halos, or some other divine touch, the way the light shimmered around a fire, how everything was just a little off-set, like looking through clear water. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his jaw dropping open.

  “Roland. What’s the matter?”

  He waved a hand, still without words, just blinked at her. She took a step back, as if surveying him.

  “Are you all right?”

  That, at least, he could nod at. He was all right. Much better now, actually. He swallowed hard, then managed a sentence, a question. “Did you know you’re glowing?”

  Her eyes went wide, he could see that much, between her faint glow and the dim light. “Glowing?”

  “All of you. Head to toe. Are you - are you all right?”

  She didn’t answer, instead she came and sat herself down on the end of his bed, as if going any further would mean she collapsed. “Oh. I suppose that’s why they let me come back.”

  “Let you come back? Who let you come back? Why are you glowing? Do you know why?” The questions bubbled out of him.

  Elen let out a long breath. Her voice was almost a whisper. “They put me through an ordeal.”

  Roland looked at her. She was neatly dressed, in her uniform, her hair and cap pinned in place by whatever arcane methods nurses used. If it had been an ordeal, it seemed to have been an unnaturally tidy and well-behaved one. “An ordeal?” Then he ventured, “Start from the beginning, perhaps? When they - I’m sorry, first. It’s my fault that they sent you away.”

  “Your fault?” Her voice was uncertain now.

  “I wanted to kiss you. I let it show. I shouldn’t have. I should have known that wouldn’t be, that I shouldn’t.”

  She went entirely still for a moment, then she reached out a hand, groping for his. “I realised, when I was gone, that I’d wanted you to.” Only then did she look up to meet his eyes.

  Roland fumbled for her hand, then found it, squeezing it. “Right. Well. Right. I, we can talk about that. Can we talk about that? But not yet. Why are you glowing?”

  It was desperately hard to yank his mind back to the essential questions right now, or at least the more immediate ones. And certainly, if he were going to talk about wanting to kiss her, they should do that only when lunch and the necessary interruptions were not looming.

  Elen swallowed. “When they, when he sent me away.” She was doing her best, Roland could tell.. “I managed to send a note to Healer Rhoe, asking her to check on you. I don’t think it made much sense, but I only had a minute before I had to be at Sister Almeda’s office.”

  “Was that awful?” Roland squeezed her hand again, because that was what he could do, and her hand was still in his. He could feel the strength in it, and the little bits of callus. Not like women he’d known before the War, whose hands were smooth, satiny. Who hadn’t worked. That was another distraction, and he yanked his attention back to what she was beginning to say.

  “Very. They both, they yelled, and they, they made me feel like nothing I’d ever done was right. That I’d failed as a nurse, that I’d failed as, as a person.” She let out a long breath, looking down at her lap. “I don’t want to talk about what they said. Ever.” It came out as a whisper.

  “Don’t, then.” Roland did his best to keep his own voice even. “They sent you away?”

  “Suspended me from service, yes. They sent me back to the rooming house, and they said they’d tell me what to do. Only they didn’t.”

  “What did you do, then? Besides knit.” He was fairly sure there had been knitting in there, even if much of it might have been angry knitting she had to redo later. He was rewarded by a little quirk of her lips, not a proper smile, but moving in the right direction.

  “There was knitting. After a really awful headache. Eventually I went to see my friend Amet.” She hesitated, shying away from something there, and Roland didn’t press. “Then I got a letter from the Archiater. I think Healer Rhoe was the reason.”

  “She came to see me. Not for several days after you left, she said she’d had trouble. And they’d given me a new nurse.” He flinched for a moment, at the memory of the scream.

  This time, Elen was the one to squeeze. “Don’t need to tell me. What happened?”

  “I’d had another presentation. I have one, in London, next week. Less than a week, now. Is that why they sent you back?”

  Elen shook her head. “I don’t think so. I got a letter, telling me to come to the Temple at...” She reached with her free hand to lift the watch. “Half-nine. Two hours ago.” She said it as if she wasn’t quite sure where the time between had gone.

  “They didn’t tell you why?” Roland was not entirely sure he approved of that.

  Elen shook her head. “Just to be there, out of uniform, what to bring. No warning. I guess, from what they said, that is part of the point.”

  “They?” Roland was sure he wasn’t following this, what he wasn’t sure about was whether he was confused, or the whole thing was a tangled mess of confusing points.

  “There were a dozen people there. The Archiater. Healer Rhoe. Her brother, I’m not sure why? Healer Cole, Sister Almeda. Someone from the Ministry, a woman, and someone from the Guard. Other healers, I didn’t know them. And a priestess. Astraphella, her name is. A priestess of Sirona.” Her eyes went wider, and the glow got a little stronger.

  R
oland watched her, watched that reaction. “Is that why you’re glowing?”

  Elen let out a breath. “I suppose so. Healer Rhoe said there was a form of an ordeal. Like the witch hunts, with water or fire or awful things. But this wasn’t awful? The priestess, she had a snake and a dog and a basket, and I suppose the basket had eggs, but I didn’t see.” She cut off suddenly. “I’m babbling.”

  Roland squeezed her hand. “Tell it however you like. The priestess was there for a reason?”

  “The ordeal was that she blessed something in a cup, and I had to drink it. If I’d broken my oaths, it would make me ill, I suppose. Be obvious, somehow.”

  “Clearly,” Roland’s voice was dry. “It was the other thing.”

  It made Elen laugh, and then she smiled and her eyes crinkled properly. She squeezed his hand again and shifted a little more comfortably onto the bed. “They were very firm about it being my oaths that mattered. Not professional ethics, or all the things Healer Cole was yelling about.”

  “What - um. Pardon, but it is a tad relevant. What precisely are the restrictions?”

  “It’s not proper to form an affection with your patient.” Elen said. “But people do, especially in private nursing, when you’re together for so much time. It’s not considered appropriate to act on it, while someone is a patient. And certainly, it’s a problem if we neglect our duties, or let the affection get in the way of our nursing. If we avoided a treatment that was necessary, but that hurt in the moment, for example. Debriding a wound, or a solution that burns when it’s applied, that sort of thing.”

  “Other than disagreeing with my potion, you have been rather strict with my care. Plenty of making me walk further than I think I can.” He wasn’t trying to tease, but it came out a bit of one anyway.