Beloved Enemy (42 page)

The storm passed by late afternoon, leaving the air cool and
fresh, the sky a clean-washed, brilliant blue. Ginny went in search of Jed,
having the firm conviction that the old soldier's wisdom in this matter would
prove illuminating.

She found him in the stableyard, sitting on an upturned
rainwater butt, cleaning tack. "Afternoon, Jed,
"
she greeted him casually, fetching a
three-legged milking stool from the barn and sitting down beside him.
"That was a powerful storm."

"Aye," he grunted, spitting on the saddle resting
across his knees and rubbing the saliva into the leather energetically. "
'
Bout time, I'd say. Tempers was gettin' short
.
"

"Yes," Ginny agreed, picking up a bit and dipping
it in the bucket of water, rubbing with her fingers at the green-flecked stains
made by Bucephalus' mouth.
"
And, on
that subject, the general and I had a . . . disagreement.
"

"Ah?" Jed's faded brown eyes shot her a shrewd
look. "Found out about visitin' the camp, did he?
"

Ginny took the bit from the water and reached for a cloth,
beginning to shine the metal with the intent concentration she brought to most
activities. "He says that if I go there again, he'll put me in solitary
confinement on bread and water for two days."

"Humph," murmured Jed in his customary laconic
fashion.

"Do you think he would?" Ginny asked almost
nonchalantly.

"Like as not," replied Jed. "If 'n he said
so."

"Yes, that was rather what I thought," Ginny agreed
dolefully. "Well, what's to be done, Jed? I cannot take the risk of
defying him anymore, but the men need me." She placed the now-shining bit
with the rest of the clean tack and picked up a stirrup and leather,
methodically rubbing at the dull leather with a damp cloth.

Jed was silent for a while, and Ginny, content to let him
mull over the problem, continued with her task. "General says you can't go
to the men
,
" he pronounced eventually.
"Nothin' that says they can't come to you."

"What?" Ginny stopped working and looked at him,
understanding dawning slowly. "You mean they could come to
headquarters?"

"Don't see why not," Jed shrugged. "Give 'em a
time posted in the camp when you'
m
available."

"It just might work." Ginny nodded thoughtfully.
"And then, perhaps, that obstinate idiot will come to his senses."
She looked guiltily at Jed. "I beg your pardon, I should not talk to you
in that manner of the general."

Jed grinned. "Bit hard o' hearin' these days, mistress,
particularly when it's su
mm
at I already know."

Ginny kissed him soundly on a leathery cheek, just as General
Marshall on Bucephalus came clattering into the stableyard. "What did you
do to deserve that, you old rogue?" he demanded cheerfully of Jed,
swinging to the cobbles.

"Jed has more sense in his little finger than some I
could mention in their entire bodies," Ginny told him with a teasing
smile. "There is a haunch of venison for dinner, so I hope you are all
hungry." The smile embraced the rest of the company who had ridden in with
the general and was returned with the same natural warmth. Ginny went back to
the kitchen to supervise the dinner preparations and put the final touches to
the red-currant sauce, well satisfied with the outcome of her discussion with
Jed.

The following morning, after breakfast, a trooper, barely a
boy with no more than the lightest down on his chin, appeared at the kitchen
door, bent double with g
ri
ping stomach pains that a few
questions elicited had begun after he had feasted on green plums from a
neglected orchard in the village. He was a town lad from the north, and Ginny
kept her caustic comments to herself as she mixed a herbal potion that would
ease the gripes and keep him out of the latrines. No country-born boy would
touch green fruit, but so many of these children had been flung into manhood
and war before they had experienced anything beyond the four walls of home.

"
Who
was that?" Diccon inquired curiously, coming in from the yard.

Ginny told him, and then, because she could think of no good
reason not to, explained the situation in its entirety. Diccon listened in some
trepidation, wondering if simple knowledge would make him an accomplice. Ginny,
guessing at his thoughts, laughed at him and told him he was a milksop to be
concerned, but if he was afraid, he could keep out of the way when the men came
in search of her.

Diccon bristled at this implicit accusation of cowardice and
would have stomped off in a huff if Ginny hadn't apologized, much as she would
have done to Edmund in similar circumstances, and Diccon, placated, became
quite pink-cheeked with pleasure — until Alex's arrival i
n
the kitchen sent him scurrying off with a muttered
excuse.

"
What
the devil's going on, Ginny?" Alex asked.
"
First, I find you kissing Jed, and now Diccon looks as if
he's just been given a glimpse of nirvana."

"Well, it's a little difficult to hold oneself aloof,
when one is living in such close quarters," Ginny replied, reasonably
enough.

Alex looked at her closely.
"
You are up to no good,” he pronounced.

She smiled. "I cannot imagine what I could get up to here,
surrounded by Parliament's army. I dare swear I am the only Royalist for miles
around."

"That is what makes me uneasy," he said.
"
I k
n
ow that you cannot possibly find an outlet for your subversive
inclinations, but there is something about you at the moment that sounds the
alarm — "

"Beg your pardon, sir, but the patrol is ready."
Captain Baldwin provided the interruption, saluting smartly in the doorway.

"
I
am coming directly, Captain," Alex responded, still frowning quizzically
at Ginny; then he shook his head in resignation. "I shall have to discover
whatever it is later, I fear. We shall be back by sundown."

When the patrol returned an hour before sunset, Alex received
the answer to his question in full measure. A line of troopers trailed from the
kitchen door of the inn out into the yard. They were an orderly group, chatting
quietly amongst themselves, and at the sight of the general sprang to attention.

"Find out what the hell's going on, will you?" Alex
said in clipped words to Major Bonha
m
before pushing past the troopers in the doorway and striding into the kitchen.

The youngster sitting on a stool at the table, his head bent
as Ginny stood above him, a sharp object poised over his neck, leaped to his
feet, stammering.

"Sit down!" Ginny said impatiently. "You
should not make sudden moves when someone is about to stab you with a needl
e
."

"At ease, trooper," Alex said, well aware that no
blame for his presence in headquarters attached to the soldier. He said nothing
to Ginny, merely sat down at the end of the table, one leg crossed over the
other, and watched as she lanced the enormous boil on the soldier's neck,
squeezing out the poisonous matter until the blood ran, while her patient
endured in stoic silence.

Major Bonham came into the room, intent on giving his general
the required explanation for this extraordinary occurrence. Since it was
immediately apparent that the explanation was not necessary, he asked General
Marshall in an expressionless voice if he had any further orders, for
instance,  the dispersal of the men outside.

Ginny, in the process of anointing the trooper's neck with a
soothing salve, paused, her hands poised. Was Alex, the
G
eneral Marshall of rigid principles and invincible
purpose, beyond redemption? Would he see only the clever circu
mven
tion of his orders and not the need that justified the
m
eans? The man, Alex Marshall, would
see the latter, but could that man be allowed to supersede the soldier?

"No, leave them be, Major," Alex said slowly.
"
It is to be a
s
sumed that they have good reasons for being here
.
" He remained watching until the last man had
gone and he had earned a good deal. While the general's presence caused some
awkwardness, not one of the men seemed to feel any with Ginny in whom they
confided symptoms, painful, embarrassing, or trivial, with remarkable ease. She
was cheerfully matter-of-fact, did not blench at the most repellent sores and
infections, and dispensed advice freely and with earthy bluntness.

As the lady of a great house, she would have been responsible
for the health and doctoring of her household and, frequently, the tenants, but
Ginny
'
s skills and manner went far beyond
such basic duty and ordinary training. The men treated her with the respect
they would have afforded the wife of their liege lord, and the trust they would
repose in someone who clearly had their interests at heart and knew beyond a
shadow of doubt what she was doing.

When the kitchen was empty of all but themselves, Ginny began
to put away her instruments and medicines, saying nothing to Alex who continued
to sit at the table. He noticed how she washed everything with scrupulous care
in boiling water, how she scrubbed her hands, and never had he seen anyone take
this kind of care. He was no stranger to field hospitals, where one bloody body
replaced another on the operating table, knives and probes were rarely even
wiped between patients, blood-blackened bandages were replaced over suppurating
wounds.

"Why do you concern yourself so much with
cleanliness?" he asked eventually.

Ginny shrugged.  “I do not know exactly why it should be so,
but it seems that malignancy is less frequent if wounds are kept clean.  A
goodwife in Freshwater taught me much, and she was most insistent that
cleanliness aided healing. But she did not know why, either." She laughed.
"It is simple enough to do and takes but little time, so I do it."
There was a short, but far from empty silence. Then she said, "Will the general
permit me to continue doctoring his troops?"

"It seems the question should be, 'Will the general with
a good grace permit you to continue?' " Alex replied. "Since it is
clear that the general cannot prevent you."

"And will he?"

"Come here."

When she came over to him, he pulled her down onto his knee.
"Alex, anyone could walk in," Ginny protested.

"Unlikely," Alex said dryly, "since I am
certain everyone is aware that you and I have something to discuss that does
not require an audience."

Ginny kissed his nose. "Is the general perhaps afraid
that his consequence will suffer, if it is seen that I have defied him
successfully?"

Alex smiled reluctantly. "If that were the case, I
should be sorry for it. A short while ago, it probably was the case, but since
an intractable gypsy entered my life, I have learned a few lessons. You may
move freely among the men since you are clearly in no danger from them, and
that was my only concern. However, you are not a free agent, chicken, not for
as long as you follow the drum. There will be orders and restrictions, some of
which you will not agree with, may not even understand, but you
must
agree
to obey them, even if I do not have time to explain the reasons to your
satisfaction."

Ginny sat upon his knee and thought this over. "I will
agree on condition that you
do
explain them as soon as you have the
opportunity, and that
you
agree to hearken to my opinions, however
disagreeable they may seem." She punctuated the statement with a short,
firm nod, pursing her lips.

Alex gave a shout of laughter. "You are a consummate
negotiator, Mistress Courtney. There seems no end to your talents. We are
agreed, then.
"
He tipped her off
his knee and
stood up, the laughter fading from his expression.  “We
begin the march to Scotland on the morrow.  It will be arduous and
frequently uncomfortable, sweeting.
It is to be hoped you do not regret your choice."

"I do not think there ever was a choice," she said
with
equal gravity.
"
Did you not once say
that
I could no more leave you than you could leave me? I
will follow you to the gates of hell, my love, whatever the differences that
lie between us."

Speechless, Alex took her in his arms, and they clung
together in a moment of passionate confirmation that transcended all but the
absolute commitment of a love that had come from nowhere, had not been sought,
and could never be denied.