The Furies

by Irving McCabe

  Luka looked at Elspeth first and then at Gabriel. ‘Skotski damé: she operate me also?’

  ‘Yes. Dr Stewart is a good surgeon and you’re a two-man job.’

  ‘But she no man – she damé.’ Luka paused. ‘Damé is good hirurga?’

  ‘Yes, Luka. The lady is a very good surgeon.’

  Luka looked doubtful. ‘Damé should be home, have babies…’ Then he paused and Gabriel saw a look of comprehension came over his face. ‘Ah.’ He nodded his head sagely, as if he only now understood. ‘Skotski damé is Virginesh.’

  Virginesh? Gabriel frowned, but then heard Aurelia stifle a giggle and turned to see a look of amusement on her lips. Elspeth, like him, appeared puzzled at the word. ‘What does he mean by that?’ she asked Aurelia.

  ‘He thinks you’re a Virginesh, Dr Stewart,’ Aurelia replied.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A sworn virgin.’

  Elspeth blushed, but Aurelia quickly smiled. ‘Oh, it’s not what you think. A sworn virgin is a woman who has taken a vow of chastity and chosen to live her life as a man. It’s a well-known tradition in all the Balkan countries.’

  Elspeth looked across at Gabriel. He shrugged at her. ‘Maybe he thinks you Scots have a similar tradition?’ he said.

  Elspeth turned to Aurelia. ‘Is that what he thinks…? That I’m one of these…people?’

  Aurelia spoke to Luka and after a rapid exchange of words with him, she turned back to Elspeth ‘Yes, Dr Stewart. There are no women doctors in Serbia, let alone any women surgeons, and with your short hair, and manner—’

  ‘Yes, alright, Aurelia,’ Elspeth interjected and Gabriel saw her look of irritation. ‘Just tell him no, I am not one of these creatures. I am a woman through and through and have no need to pretend to be a man.’

  While Aurelia spoke to Luka, Gabriel turned to Elspeth. ‘You’re not offended by his assumption, are you?’ he asked her.

  She shrugged. ‘It is frustrating to know that he thinks in order to practice surgery, a woman has to adopt the garb and manner of a man. But at least he acknowledges that some women are capable of doing all the things men can do—’

  ‘I think,’ Aurelia interrupted, ‘that whatever I say to him, in his own mind he still sees you as a sworn virgin. It’s the only way he can understand the concept of a woman behaving like a man. But I think he’s beginning to come round to the idea of letting you operate on him: he says there is a sworn virgin fighting in his Cheta that he would trust his life with.’

  Gabriel looked down at Luka but could still see a shadow of doubt on the bearded Chetnik’s face. ‘Dr Stewart is a very good surgeon, Luka,’ he said. ‘You’re lucky to have her operating on you. Trust me.’

  ‘Trust?’ The look on Luka’s face was scornful. ‘I no trust Austrians.’ Then his face relaxed. ‘But you, Hirurga…you I trust.’ He looked at Elspeth and then back at Gabriel again. ‘Alright: you and Virginesh operate me.’

  Gabriel turned to Elspeth. ‘He’s agreed to have the operation.’

  ‘Oh good; what did you say to him?’

  ‘That he is lucky to have you operating on him.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope I don’t let him down.’

  ‘I know you won’t.’

  ***

  The operation was difficult due to his immense girth. But with Gabriel’s help, Elspeth made an incision over the entry wound in his abdomen. He watched her as she dissected down and found a bullet wedged between the ribs and capsule of the liver. And then as Elspeth had predicted, she found a sub-phrenic abscess tucked up high between his liver and diaphragm. He helped her drain the pus from it and then began to close the wound. It would have been a tricky operation under ordinary circumstances, made more difficult by his size. But he saw how confidently and expertly she had dealt with the problem and all had gone smoothly. Finally, after inserting the last stich, they were finished.

  It was late now, but the day had gone well, Gabriel thought, as he stripped off his gown and gloves, then thanked the three nurses for their help. From the genuine warmth in their smiles as they congratulated him on his work, he knew that they shared in the same sense of accomplishment as he and Elspeth did.

  ‘It’s been a real pleasure working with you today,’ Elspeth said as they left the theatre and stood in the corridor. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay with us until Dr Soltau and Dr Chesney have recovered.’

  ‘I am happy to help for as long as you need me.’

  ‘You’ll have to sleep in the same room as the other Austrian orderlies.’

  ‘I expect no special treatment.’

  She nodded and walked him past the top of the staircase and a little further along the corridor until they came to another classroom. A number of hospital beds were arranged around the walls and in the middle of the room, several school desks and chairs had been pushed together to make an improvised dining table. Four Austrian prisoner orderlies were sitting there, smoking and chatting. One of the men looked vaguely familiar to Gabriel; this orderly looked up at him with surprise, and then quickly stood to salute him.

  ‘Captain Bayer,’ Sergeant Huber said. ‘I’m very glad to see you’ve made a full recovery.’

  ‘Ah, Huber,’ Gabriel replied, recalling the sergeant’s smallpox-scarred face and gap-toothed grin.

  ‘I heard Dr Stewart was being assisted by an Austrian doctor,’ Huber continued, ‘but I didn’t realise it was you, sir. So now you know what a wonderful surgeon she is.’

  ‘Yes, she certainly is,’ Gabriel replied, and saw the pink in Elspeth’s cheeks as she smiled shyly to allay her embarrassment.

  ‘Well, I can see you’re amongst friends here, Captain,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Huber will get you some supper before you turn in. I’d like to see how the post-ops are doing first thing, so perhaps you might join me for an early-morning ward round before we start in theatre.’

  ‘Of course. Good night, Dr Stewart.’

  ‘Good night, Captain Bayer.’

  ***

  As she left the school hospital and walked back to the women’s villa later that evening, Elspeth reflected on a busy day’s work. After operating on eleven complex cases, she would normally have expected to feel tired, possibly exhausted. But she was exhilarated: she had learnt most of her surgery by assisting experienced male surgeons in Edinburgh and London, and previously had always been required to follow their lead, in much the same way that a female dancer would follow the lead of her male partner.

  But with Gabriel it had felt very different.

  She had set the pace of their work in such a way that it had taken on a definite rhythm – almost like a surgical tango – dictated by her. She had felt remarkably relaxed and confident working with him, and it was strange to see how their hands seemed to instinctively know where to position themselves as they carried out their work, their fingers occasionally touching. She could tell from the deft handling of the instruments that his skills were no less than her own, and after only a short while, and without having to ask him, his movements began to anticipate hers in such a way that it almost felt as if his hands were controlled by her thoughts. It had felt strangely intimate in a way she had never experienced before. And it wasn’t just the fact that their surgical minds seemed so attuned: she had felt respected by him as an individual. Without being obsequious, he had supported her in a quietly assured manner, allowing her to perform at her best. Behind the sharply intelligent eyes she sensed a considerate and warm individual; he had been a real pleasure to be with. She could well understand why Sylvia had taken to him.

  Arriving back at the villa, she collected a mug of cocoa and plate of toast from the kitchen and then went to her bedroom. Opening the door, she saw Vera and Sylvia sitting at the table in the corner, the latter with an expectant look on her face.

  ‘Well?’ Sylvia asked eagerly. ‘How did it go, Ellie? I’m dying to know.’

  Elspeth sat down next to her, placing the toast on the table between them. ‘Oh, it was fi
ne,’ she said nonchalantly. She lifted the mug to her lips.

  ‘Fine?’ Sylvia said, as Vera leant past her to pinch a piece of toast from the plate. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’

  Elspeth took a drink of cocoa before replying. ‘Well, yes: it went well.’ She picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

  ‘Oh come on, Ellie,’ said Sylvia. ‘Monica was saying that the quality of your and Captain Bayer’s surgery was the best she had ever seen.’

  Elspeth took her time to chew, swallow and take another sip of cocoa before replying. ‘Alright,’ she finally said, holding the warmth of the mug to her chest. ‘It did go very well. And of course you were right about him, Sylvie. He’s a very competent surgeon, but also a nice man and a delight to work with.’

  ‘More specifics, please: what was it like to operate with him?’

  Elspeth paused to think about the question before she answered. ‘Well, when I’ve operated with men before, I’ve always felt slightly patronised: that by simple virtue of being a man, they must be somehow better than me, even if they have less clinical experience.’ Sylvia nodded as she continued. ‘You know the sort of thing: an eyebrow raised here, a pout of the mouth there, giving their colleagues a knowing look whenever you come up with an interesting clinical observation. But there was none of that from Captain Bayer today; no arrogance or superiority, no hint of competition. It’s the first time I’ve ever operated with a man who supported me in every way, a way that indicated respect and admiration for my abilities.’

  ‘Ugh,’ Vera said, shaking her head in disgust. ‘Don’t tell me that you’ve gone and fallen for him as well, Ellie?’

  Elspeth smiled as Sylvia raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘Well, have you?’

  Elspeth sighed and then shook her head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, both of you.’

  ‘But there is something about him, isn’t there?’ said Sylvia.

  But Elspeth just yawned, stretched her arms and stood up from the table. ‘I’m off to bed. The day is catching up with me and I have an early start tomorrow.’

  ***

  The next morning Gabriel rose early and went to the ward, where Elspeth was already waiting for him. Accompanied by Aurelia and two of the VADs, they began a round on the post-op patients. The Serbian sergeant with the empyema was now breathing easily, and upon inspecting the water bottle by his bed, Gabriel saw that the end of the rubber tube had stopped bubbling, indicating that his lung had fully re-expanded. He carefully loosened the purse-string stitch around the drain – freeing both ends – while Elspeth took a firm grip of the tube. Then catching his eye she gave him a nod and yanked the tube out. Gabriel quickly pulled the ends of the purse-string suture tight around the defect and tied a surgical knot, while she leant over him with a pair of scissors to snip off the loose ends. Then Gabriel heard her give the VADs instructions to redress the wound and ask Aurelia to tell the soldier to begin mobilising.

  A few beds further along, Luka was also in good spirits, flashing a grin at Gabriel from within the tangle of his beard. The wound on his abdomen looked healthy and dry, and Elspeth asked Gabriel to tell Luka that the operation was a success, saying the stitches would be removed in seven days, and that he should be well enough to leave hospital shortly after that. Then Gabriel pointed at Luka’s eye-patch and motioned for him to lift it.

  Luka raised the patch with one hand – his eye blinking at the unfamiliar brightness – and Gabriel leant forward to gently separate the eyelids.

  ‘Hm – looks much better.’ He turned to Elspeth. ‘Perhaps you could ask one of the VADs to bathe the eye with warm dilute saline.’ He turned back to Luka again. ‘You can keep the patch off from now on.’

  The Chetnik appeared pleased and reached out to shake Gabriel’s hand. Then he grinned at Elspeth before turning to Aurelia and exchanging words with her.

  ‘What did he say?’ Elspeth asked her when they had finished speaking.

  ‘He thanks you for what you have done,’ Aurelia replied. ‘And he again mentioned the sworn virgin he knows from his Cheta. He said she’s one of the bravest Chetnik fighters he knows, but that you’re one of the best surgeons he’s met.’

  Gabriel saw Elspeth flush with pride as Luka extended his hand to her. ‘Good luck, Virginesh,’ Luka said to her in pidgin German.

  Gabriel smiled when he saw Elspeth wince from the firmness of the big Serbian’s grip, and as they left Luka’s bedside he turned to her. ‘Congratulations. I think you’ve just convinced a Chetnik that a woman can be as good a surgeon as a man.’

  ‘Hm,’ Elspeth said with a wry smile as she shook her cramped fingers. ‘I think if I’d shaken his hand for much longer, I might never practise surgery again.’

  ***

  After their round finished, they went upstairs to the operating theatre to begin the day’s list. There were fewer patients – most of the work on the Valjevo transfers had been done yesterday – so their last case was finished by early afternoon. However, Huber told them that three more cases were expected later, and Elspeth told Gabriel to have a break. ‘I’ll come for you when they arrive,’ she told him.

  As Gabriel walked back to the Austrian orderlies’ quarters, he decided he ought to familiarise himself with the layout of the hospital. And it was only now, as he strolled along the corridor, that he realised that the building must have once been a high school. And then he stumbled upon the library.

  The room was no bigger than any of the other classrooms, one side piled from floor to ceiling with empty desks and chairs, the other side full of books; some stacked on their original shelving while others lay in a scattered heap on the floor. Many of the books had their covers ripped away, their pages shredded like large pieces of confetti, torn apart, he supposed, for use as kindling. It had been a while since he had seen a book and he had an urge to read something.

  He wandered into the room and started to look at the intact books on the shelves, tilting his head as he scanned through the titles on their spines. But disappointingly all the words were in Serbian; so he began to rummage through the books strewn on the floor. With mounting excitement he realised they must be a collection of foreign texts, because the first book he picked up was in Greek, and the next was in Russian. He dug deeper into the pile and with a thrill saw Goethe’s Faust, but half its pages were torn or missing. Then he saw Hamlet and next to it Titus Andronicus; with delight he realised he had found a collection of Shakespeare’s plays.

  After checking through more than twenty books, he found to his disappointment that most were so damaged as to render them undecipherable. But delving further into the pile he discovered two undamaged copies: Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet. If he was going to be here for some time, he thought, it would do him good to practise his English. As they were both slim volumes he slipped one tome into each pocket of his jacket and then went back to the orderlies’ quarters. The room was empty and so he stretched out on his bed and began to read.

  He had been reading for no more than an hour when he heard a noise and lowered the book to see Elspeth standing in the doorway watching him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sat up and smiled at her.

  ‘What are you reading?’ she said, pointing at the volume in his hands as she walked into the room.

  He looked down. ‘This? Oh, it’s Macbeth.’ He stood and gave her the book. ‘I found it in the school library. I need to practise my English. I hope it is permitted?’

  She flipped through the pages. ‘I don’t see why not.’ Then she shrugged her shoulders and handed it back to him. ‘Actually you may as well, because we’re so short of fuel for the braziers that the VADs have been using some of the books as firelighters.’

  ‘I thought as much. Well, in that case, I’m pleased I saved it from the flames.’

  ‘You have a liking for Shakespeare?’

  ‘Doesn’t everybody? Even we Austrians appreciate him.’

  ‘I would have thought that you would be more interested in the German playw
rights, like Schiller and Goethe.’

  ‘There are some Austrian playwrights as well, you know.’

  ‘Oh? I don’t know any.’

  ‘Our most famous is Franz Grillparzer.’ She frowned, and then shook her head as he continued. ‘He wrote Sappho, about the poetess of ancient Greece who threw herself from the high cliffs of Lesbos when she found out her love for the youth Phaon was unrequited, and that he preferred her maid Melitta, instead of her.’

  ‘Sappho? As in Sapphic love?

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I would have thought she would have been more interested in her maid than the youth.’

  He smiled. ‘Well either way she was unhappy about it. And like all good tragedies it finishes with her coming to a grisly end – same as this.’ He waved the copy of Macbeth in front of her.

  She looked past him and he turned to see her staring at the copy of Romeo and Juliet, which lay at the foot of his bed. He reached down to pick it up. It was a slim book, cloth-bound in grey moleskin, the title and author in gold lettering on the front cover. As he handed it to her he saw an expression of amusement appear on her face.

  ‘I see you have a liking for tragedy and romance,’ she said, rubbing her fingertips over the velvety surface.

  He grinned. ‘You mustn’t read any significance into the title: that and the Macbeth were the only two undamaged books I could find. But yes, I do like Shakespeare’s romantic plays.’

  ‘Hm,’ she said, making a face as she leafed through the pages. ‘I’ve always thought the plot absurd: he kills himself because he believes her dead, and then she kills herself too.’ She closed the book and gave it back to him. ‘In real life, Romeo would quickly have gotten over his grief and married Juliet’s best friend.’