The Furies (27 page)

‘You love being a surgeon, don't you,' he said, a statement rather than a question. She looked up at him again and smiled.

‘Oh yes. It's the most important thing in my life. I've wanted to be a surgeon for as long as I can remember. It's all I've ever wanted.'

‘It's most unusual: a woman, so passionate about being a surgeon.'

‘Actually I remember the exact moment I knew it was the career for me.'

‘Really?'

She nodded, holding the cup to her chest, staring out of the window at the tobacco fields and smiling as she recalled the memory. ‘My father was a general practitioner on Skye. One day I was playing with my dolls on the front lawn of the practice – I must have been about six or seven years old, I think – when I saw a young boy carried into the waiting room by his parents. I didn't know it at the time of course, but he was very ill with diphtheria, choking and gasping from swollen glands in his neck. Then I heard the mother shout in anguish, and out of curiosity I followed them into the waiting room and saw the boy had stopped breathing.' She lowered the cup to the desk and Gabriel nodded for her to continue.

‘Then my father hurried out from his office and performed an emergency tracheotomy on the boy, right there and then, on the floor of the waiting room. And I watched it all unfold in front of me because, in the chaos of the moment, I had been forgotten about and slipped quietly into a corner of the room and stood there, amazed by what I was seeing. I saw my father calmly slice through the tracheal rings in the front of the neck with a scalpel – I can still hear the hiss of escaping air even now – and then the gratitude in the eyes of the parents when the boy began to breathe again. The incident hadn't frightened me at all: not the blood, nor the parental panic, not even the sight of the scalpel parting the tissues in the neck. On the contrary, it had been a fascinating thing to watch.'

‘I can see it made quite an impression on you.'

She nodded. ‘At one point Morag, our receptionist, noticed me. She ran across and took my hand, tried to lead me away. But I struggled free and pushed her aside: she was getting in my way and I didn't want to miss a second of it.'

Gabriel gently chuckled. ‘I have a picture of it in my mind,' he said. ‘You, a wide-eyed little girl with pigtails, standing silently in the shadows, pushing an older woman aside—'

‘Reasonably accurate, except I had plaits.'

He laughed again as she continued. ‘And what about you, Captain: what made you decide to become a surgeon?' she asked.

He lowered his cup to the table. ‘Well, it was not an event as dramatic as yours.' He paused. ‘I can't even remember the precise moment as you do. But my mother was a nurse, so I had always considered a career as a doctor. My parents were not rich, so it was only through a scholarship with the army that I was able to train as a surgeon.' He paused. ‘I always knew that I might one day be called upon to fight a war…I expected that.' He sighed. ‘But I never expected to see some of the awful things I've seen.'

She nodded; he fell silent and she smiled in sympathy with him. ‘It must have been a shock being taken prisoner.'

‘It was. I hadn't expected that either.'

‘Well, you may not be prisoner for much longer. Dr Curcin told us that German and Bulgarian forces are reported to be massing at the Serbian borders. An invasion is expected any day now.'

He nodded. ‘Yes. Dmitri told me about the rumour.' He gave a wry smile. ‘It doesn't surprise me: three times we Austrians failed to overcome the Serbs, so the Germans will have lost patience and decided to do it themselves. And it's an opportunity for Bulgaria to take revenge for their defeat at the hands of the Serbs during the last Balkan war.'

‘If it happened, you might be freed.'

‘I suppose so.' He hadn't spent any time thinking about the possibility of freedom. Now his first thought was about her. ‘But what would your hospital do if the invasion comes?'

‘Dr Curcin has told Dr Inglis that we should evacuate south to Greece, but she is most reluctant to leave and says we should stay and continue to look after the wounded.'

A worried frown came over his face. ‘I agree with Dr Curcin. You really must leave if another invasion comes.'

She smiled at his obvious concern for her. ‘We'll see.' And then, concerned at the gloominess of their conversation, she quickly changed the subject. ‘You studied medicine in Vienna I gather.'

Yes,' he said. ‘I qualified nine years ago.'

‘I've heard the training there is excellent, a legacy of your Professor Billroth. Even Dr Inglis spent time studying in Vienna and she highly recommends it, saying it helped broaden her experience. She also studied in America.' She gave him a curious look. ‘I was just thinking about Dr Plotz's suggestion before he departed. Would you ever consider moving to America?'

Gabriel frowned. ‘I haven't thought about it before,' he said, scratching the short stubble on his head. ‘But I never intended on staying in the army permanently. Before my posting to Sarajevo, I worked in Vienna and always thought that one day I might return to work there as a civilian surgeon.' She saw a sadness cloud his eyes. ‘But the war has changed how I feel about my country. I don't like what I have seen done in the name of the Austrian people.'

He paused; she stayed silent.

‘So yes,' he continued, ‘there have been times I thought it might be good to make a fresh start. However, I cannot foresee what will happen to me, whether I will survive the war or not or what the future of Austria will be. The war has been a terrible thing for my country.' He saw a flare of surprise in her eyes and realised the tactlessness of his last remark.

‘Of course I realise that the Serbian people have suffered worse,' he quickly added, ‘much worse. But I've seen a whole generation of Austrian youth – their finest young men – die on the battlefield or of diseases in the prison camps. And that our local dispute with Serbia should have expanded into a war that involves Russia, France, Germany – even your own country…' He shook his head in disbelief. ‘It's the terrible waste of life that shocks me more than anything.'

She stayed silent while he paused.

‘It was after the Battle of Vienna that the reign of the Hapsburg Empire began,' he said. ‘And I think that this war – this Great War – may well mark the end of that empire. Our losses of men and materiel, our poor leadership…' He shook his head unhappily. ‘I could be accused of treason for saying this, but the Austro-Hungarian Empire will not survive.' He gave a sad smile. ‘The coffee beans will go on, but the Hapsburgs won't.'

She smiled again and another comfortable silence developed. After a moment, Gabriel spoke again. ‘And what would your friends and family think if they could see you sitting here, drinking tea with one of your country's enemies?'

She knew there was a serious side to the question and so she frowned as she considered it. ‘Well, you are a fellow doctor and not a combatant, so I think that would make you a special exemption—'

‘That's avoiding the question,' Gabriel said teasingly.

She feigned indignation. ‘No, it's not…don't you feel that the brotherhood…the sisterhood even…of medicine extends beyond national boundaries?'

‘Of course I do. I feel that very strongly.'

‘Well then.'

He smiled at her as she continued. ‘And I don't care what anyone else might think. It's my business who I drink tea with, or talk to.'

He tapped the table with the flat of his hand to mime applause. ‘Bravo, Dr Stewart. But you still haven't answered my question, which is what
they
would think about it.'

She sighed. ‘Honestly?'

He nodded and her face became serious.

‘Well, I'm afraid your allies have been thoroughly demonised back in England. Dr Inglis brought some English newspapers with her, which tell of the German excesses towards the French and Belgians. So the Huns, as they are called in Britain, are hated. And unfortunately you Austrians are stigmatised by association. So no, I don't suppose my friends would approve of me drinking tea with a captain in the Austrian Imperial Army.'

‘It's to be expected, I suppose.'

She gave him a sad smile and again their eyes met. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling and she looked away, and then lifted the cup and finished the tea. ‘And if your friends and family saw you here,' she said, ‘drinking tea, fraternising with a member of the enemy, what would they think?'

‘Well.' He placed his empty cup on the table in front of him before continuing. ‘If they knew you as I do,' he said, holding her gaze, ‘they would realise that I am the luckiest man in the world.'

Surprised at such an overt compliment, her heart began to race as she looked away from him and then down at the empty cup held tightly to her breast. How should she respond…?

But sudden footsteps startled her, and looking up she saw Anitch striding through the door.

‘I am
so
sorry for the delay,' he said breathlessly. ‘Dr Plotz's train was running late…' He paused, frowned, blinked. ‘Is everything alright?' he said, giving Elspeth a curious look.

Elspeth felt as if her face was on fire. ‘Yes, everything is fine, Dr Anitch, except it's rather hot in here.' She fanned her cheeks with her hands. ‘I should have had a cool drink,' she said, smiling as she stood up from the desk. ‘Anyway, I really should get back to the hospital.'

‘My driver will give you a lift—'

‘No,' she said curtly, but then saw the look of surprise on Anitch's face. ‘I mean thank you, but no, Dr Anitch. I would much rather walk if you don't mind – the fresh air will do me good.'

Anitch bowed his head. ‘As you wish, Dr Stewart.'

She walked around the table to shake his hand and then turned to Gabriel. ‘It was good seeing you again, Captain Bayer.'

‘Yes, and thank you for the lesson in tea-making, Dr Stewart,' he said, as they shook hands. ‘I sincerely hope we meet again.'

‘So do I,' she said with a smile, then turned and left the room.

Shortly after dawn, one morning in the first week of October:

Gabriel was asleep in the Austrian orderlies' room inside the First Reserve Hospital when the low rumble of distant artillery fire roused him from his slumber. As he lifted his head from the pillow, the other prisoners in the room began to wake.

‘I think that's from the north,' whispered one.

‘Maybe it's Belgrade?' murmured another.

‘They sound like Austrian guns – big ones.'

‘It must be the offensive.'

Gabriel got out of bed and walked to the metal-barred, west-facing windows. He pulled the sackcloth aside, pressed his face against the cold bars, and, squinting northwards, saw flashes of light low on the horizon. The other orderlies were already clustering around him.

‘It
is
from the north!'

‘We could be free soon!'

He could feel the other orderlies' excitement as they pressed around him and he backed away to allow them access to the window. It
was
the next offensive – he was certain of that – but unlike others in the room he was not so sure it heralded freedom: it might instead mean danger.

Arriving on the ward later that morning, Gabriel met a worried looking Anitch who told him that the third invasion had indeed begun, and that they were about to hold an emergency meeting of all hospital staff to discuss the evacuation plan. And he also had a favour to ask of Gabriel.

‘If, as seems likely, the town is about to be captured,' Anitch said, ‘all the Serbian medical staff will evacuate the hospital. But I'm asking if you would be willing to stay behind and look after any casualties who are too sick to move.'

‘Of course,' Gabriel replied, pleased to be entrusted with the care of the Serbian soldiers he and Anitch had operated on over the past few months.

‘Good. The other Austrian orderlies will also stay here under your command. As senior medical officer you'll be in charge, at least until the Austrian medical columns arrive to take over formal responsibility for the care of the wounded.'

The emergency meeting took place in the dining area near the hospital kitchen, and Gabriel arrived and took a seat unobtrusively at the back of the room. He could see that almost all the Serbian staff – orderlies, porters, cooks, hospital carpenters and engineers – looked worried and were muttering surreptitiously to each other as they sat at tables nearer the front. Anitch arrived a few minutes later, accompanied by a uniformed officer who Gabriel didn't recognise, and who was introduced to the room as Dr Curcin.

‘As many of you will have gathered,' Curcin began, ‘early this morning Belgrade came under attack from Austrian and German assault troops.'

The news of German involvement did not surprise Gabriel. After three failed Austrian attempts, it seemed inevitable that Germany would take command of the offensive.

‘We have reports that there are two armies involved,' Curcin continued. ‘The German 11
^th
, with support from the Austrian 3
^rd
. Reports indicate that units from the German 11
^th
have crossed the Danube and entered Belgrade, where there is heavy fighting in the streets.'

Interesting, thought Gabriel: if the 3
^rd
Austrian Army was in the assault, it meant his own 6
^th
Army must have been so badly mauled during the last offensive that it was no longer capable of taking part in the fighting. What, he wondered, had happened to Field Marshal Potiorek?

‘There are also reports that Bulgaria has mobilised along our eastern border and is expected to attack within the next few days.'

Although it did not surprise Gabriel to hear that Bulgaria had mobilised, he still saw the shock on the faces of the other men in the room. Serbia would not be able to withstand an offensive from three nations: they would be trapped between the Germans and Austrians in the north, and the Bulgarians in the east and south, with nowhere to retreat to. Well, almost nowhere: one possible route of escape was west across the mountains of Montenegro into Albania, although those icy peaks were rumoured to be impassable in winter.

‘We must be ready to receive casualties from the Belgrade front,' Curcin said, ‘but also need an evacuation plan for the possibility that Kragujevac may be overrun.'

Gabriel saw the anxious looks from several of the Serbian hospital staff.

‘If it appears inevitable the town is about to fall,' Curcin continued, ‘all walking wounded will be discharged and given railway permits and discharge papers which will allow them to travel home without accusations of desertion.'

There were nods of understanding.

‘Then it will be the turn of the medical staff to evacuate the hospital.' He looked at Anitch, who stepped forward, clearing his throat.

‘Once the walking wounded have gone,' Anitch said to the hospital staff, ‘you will all go straight to Kragujevac railway station, where specially reserved trains will be waiting to take you south to the Czar Lazar Military Hospital in Krusevac. Those patients who are too sick to move will stay behind. They will be under the care of Dr Bayer until the arrival of the German and Austrian medical columns.'

Several men sitting in front of Gabriel turned and smiled approvingly at him, and Gabriel felt a warm glow of pleasure at the trust that Anitch had placed in him.

‘Those of you who have worked with Dr Bayer,' Anitch said, ‘know him to be a capable and conscientious surgeon. I have every confidence that our wounded will be well looked after by him.' He paused and looked at Dr Curcin, who shook his head as if to say he had nothing further to add. ‘That's all for now,' Anitch continued. ‘We will let you know of any new developments. Now, please go back to work.'

The hospital staff rose and trooped out of the dining room, but Gabriel – the last to leave – was stopped by Anitch on the way out and introduced to Curcin.

‘I'm very pleased to meet you, Dr Bayer,' Curcin said to him in English. ‘Dmitri and the Scottish women speak very highly of you.'

‘I've enjoyed helping Dmitri,' Gabriel said, looking at Anitch with a smile, ‘and it was an honour to work at the Scottish hospital. They are an amazing group of women.'

‘Amazing…yes,' Curcin said with a wry smile, ‘but also stubborn. When rumours of this invasion first began, I tried to persuade Dr Inglis that she needed to prepare for a possible evacuation. But she didn't even want to discuss it, so committed is she to staying with her patients.'

‘But the women
must
be evacuated if the town is likely to fall to the Germans,' Gabriel said. ‘Their safety cannot be assured during an invasion of the town. Can't you just order them to leave?'

‘Unfortunately not: it is entirely Dr Inglis's decision. I can make a recommendation, but that's all. In fact, I am about to drive over to the school hospital and inform Dr Inglis of the latest development.' He sighed. ‘Knowing her as I do, however, I suspect that even if the capture of Kragujevac is imminent, she will insist on staying.'

‘Would it help if I came with you?' Gabriel asked. ‘As an Austrian officer, my knowledge of the likely behaviour of my allies might just convince her.'

‘I hoped you would say that,' Curcin said with a smile. ‘But I'm not optimistic: Dr Inglis will need a lot of convincing.'

***

Gabriel stood beside Dr Curcin in the middle of the school hospital surgical ward, waiting for Dr Inglis, who had had been summoned out of theatre to speak with them. She entered the ward – ungloved, but in a bloodstained surgical smock – and stood with arms folded resolutely across her chest as she listened to Curcin's plea to prepare for evacuation.

‘Absolutely not,' she said, when he had finished speaking. ‘Under no circumstances will I abandon my patients. It would be morally wrong and I would be reneging on my duty as a doctor.' She lifted her chin and folded her arms tighter across her chest. ‘May I remind you that we are working under the remit of the International Red Cross, and the Geneva Convention exempts medical personnel from imprisonment?'

‘I know that,' Curcin replied. ‘But we have no guarantee the Germans will adhere to the Conventions. You have been assisting an enemy. They may be very hostile.'

‘We'll just have to take our chances. The answer is still no.'

‘You have much valuable hospital equipment here,' Curcin persisted. ‘Electrical generators, X-ray machines, surgical instruments. You will lose all of it when the Germans arrive.'

‘Then we will manage without it.'

A look of frustration passed over Curcin's face. ‘But, Dr Inglis—'

‘I've stated my position, Dr Curcin, so there's no point in any further discussion.' She moved as if to turn away. ‘Now as you can see, I'm very busy—'

‘Dr Inglis,' Gabriel assertively interrupted. ‘You should know that I will be staying in Kragujevac until the Austrian and German medical teams arrive. If you did agree to evacuate, I would personally ensure that every patient in your hospital is treated in accordance with the Geneva protocols.'

She had paused at his interruption and now she sighed. ‘Look, I'm sorry, Dr Bayer, but the answer remains no. Not that I don't trust you; indeed, I have heard many good things about you. But I cannot bring myself to abandon my patients to whatever fate—'

‘I don't mean to be impertinent, Dr Inglis,' Gabriel interrupted again, ‘but perhaps you are only thinking of yourself and not your staff.' Her eyes flared with surprise and then a flicker of indignation as he continued. ‘I believe there may be a real risk to the women in your group.'

Her indignation faded in in instant. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You must have heard the rumours of atrocities committed against some women in Belgium and France?' Although she made no reply, her expression told Gabriel that she knew of the reports. ‘I believe there is a real possibility that your women might attract unwanted advances from some of the Germans.'

‘You surely don't mean—'

‘Unfortunately I mean exactly that,' said Gabriel, and saw a look of shock pass across her face.

‘There is also the Nurse Cavell situation to consider,' added Curcin.

She still looked shaken as she swung towards him.

‘As you no doubt remember,' Curcin continued. ‘Edith Cavell, a senior nurse in a hospital in Belgium, has been tried and found guilty of helping prisoners escape. We have just learnt that she is due to be executed by the Germans within the next few days. The International Red Cross and Geneva Conventions have been of little use in protecting her.'

‘For your staff, if nothing else,' Gabriel added, ‘it would be safest if you were to relocate to Krusevac.'

She looked away and was silent for a time: Gabriel knew she was wrestling with the dilemma. ‘So if I were to agree to evacuate, you would promise to come here and take charge of my patients?'

‘Yes. Of course.'

Her face slackened and she exhaled heavily. ‘Alright: if it comes to it, and the town is about to fall, then we will evacuate to Krusevac.'

‘Very good,' a visibly relieved Curcin said. ‘I'll keep you informed about the military situation.'

***

One week later: Elspeth – operating on a patient in the school hospital theatre – heard a roaring noise like a giant oak tree crashing to earth. The floor below her feet shuddered slightly and the surgical lamp hanging above the patient on the table began to dim and flicker.

Oh no
, prayed Elspeth, gripping the suture forceps more tightly as she looked up at the wavering light.
Please don't go out on me.

She stepped back from the operating table and cocked her head to listen: that last explosion had sounded even closer, she thought. Standing on the opposite side of the table, Aurelia and Monica stood stock still, their brows above their surgical veils furrowed with anxiety as they looked up at the ceiling. A few shards of plaster released by the tremor from the shell burst had begun to float down and all three women stepped forward to cover the exposed, semi-sutured wound of the soldier on the table with their upper bodies. Elspeth waited for the falling debris to stop and then straightened up again.

‘Thank goodness we're almost finished,' she said to Lydia, who was sitting at the soldier's head. ‘We need to get him downstairs quickly, so you'd better wake him.'

Lydia nodded, then removed the gauze mask from the soldier's face and began to pinch his ear as Elspeth inserted the last stitch.

‘Cut please,' Elspeth said, and Monica leant past her to snip the suture with scissors. Satisfied with her work, Elspeth stepped back and looked across at the two Austrian orderlies waiting patiently in the corner of the room. ‘You can take him down to the ward. Be sure to ask Captain Bayer to see him as soon as he arrives—'

Suddenly, the door to the operating room swung open and a frantic-looking Serbian guard appeared and shouted something unintelligible at her.

‘What did he say?' Elspeth asked Aurelia.

‘He said it's now seven o'clock, and that if we're to make the last train we have to go with him
right
away,' replied Aurelia,

‘Well, we're done,' Elspeth said, stripping her gloves off and loosening the surgical mask. ‘So you can tell him that all three of you will be going with him now.'

‘What about you, Dr Stewart?' Monica asked.

‘I'm going to say goodbye to Sister Calthorpe first, so I'll meet you at the station later.'

Monica nodded, and then helped by Aurelia and Lydia began to quickly throw the surgical instruments into a large holdall. Still dressed in her surgical gown, Elspeth hurried through the door, out along the corridor and down the staircase to the ground floor.

The order to evacuate had come late that afternoon, when Dr Curcin had arrived to tell Elspeth and the other women that German patrols had been sighted on the outskirts of town. The fall of Kragujevac was imminent, he said, and it was not clear how much longer the railway line could be kept open. The women should go straight to the station, he added, as the last train south to Krusevac would leave at nine o'clock that evening.