Valour and Victory by Candy Rae Page B

chair and closed his eyes but after a few
moments he sat up.
    What am I
doing? I am a King! Kings don’t sit on their own thinking about
pleasures.
    He rang the
bell.
    One of his men
entered and bowed. Xavier gave him his instructions. The man
grinned as he took in Xavier’s flushed face.
    The guard was
one of Xavier’s oldest retainers, he had known him as boy and man.
This would not be the first time that Guardsman Melk had been asked
to find Xavier a young woman.
    Melk winked at
the other guards as he closed the door behind him and made his way
to the servants’ quarters where there would be plenty of young
serving maids and kitchen wenches.
    The two
frightened girls Melk pushed into the room were young and pretty
enough, Melk was sure, to please even the self-proclaimed King of
South Murdoch. In fact, Melk would have liked to experience their
charms for himself. Perhaps there would be the opportunity once
Xavier had finished with them.
    He bowed
sardonically as he pushed the two quivering maids in Xavier’s
direction and left the room.
    His King was
not to be disturbed for the next few candle-marks and he, Melk,
would make sure he wasn’t. He also took a vicarious pleasure in
listening to what was happening behind the door. It looked as if
this was going to be one of the good ones.
    He smiled an
evil smile at his fellow guards.
     
     
    * * * * *
     
     
    Zilla
     
    The frigate,
the FS Layra , drew away from the wharf at Port Settlement
with the creaking and flapping of hawsers and sails. Every last
space above and below decks was filled with the men, women and
equipment that formed a large part of the medical arm of the Argyll
Garda.
    With them went
Assistant Nurse Zilla Talansdochter and her friend Maura.
    The Medical
General commanding the doctors, nurses and orderlies had accepted
their offer of help as he had the two hundred or so others who had
also volunteered. This was the first time ever that the Garda would
see action overseas and they were not geared up for such a campaign
where they could not rely on local townspeople for help. The five
hundred doctors, nurses, medics and orderlies that made up its
permanent roll would not be enough and the Medical General knew it.
He was expecting a casualty rate of upwards of thirty per cent and
that a conservative estimate.
    Zilla, Maura
and the others had spent the last twenty days undergoing what the
doctors were calling ‘General Zhukov’s Crash Course’ in nursing
wounded, a course designed by himself and one which would give them
at least the bare minimum of the medical knowledge required.
    This course in
practical nursing continued during their sail south to Port
Duchesne, augmented by lectures. Lucky Zilla found that she was a
good sailor, unlike Maura.
    “Never mind,”
Zilla tried to comfort her friend during one of the intermittent
periods when Maura managed to get herself on deck. “Doctor Hallam
says that you’ll feel better when you reach land.”
    “That will be
soon I hope,” Maura groaned. “I never knew a person could feel so
ill and still be alive. What have I missed?”
    “Bandaging
again and bloods.”
    “How to stem
it?”
    “No, we’ve got
to be able to check the blood groups. It’s horribly complicated and
finicky but it’s got to be done in case of transfusions. The Garda
wear metal tags round their necks that tell us what blood group
they are. The Vada do too but many of the Militia don’t. If a
patient gets the wrong type of blood, they die. I’ve taken notes so
you can copy them out when you’re feeling better. You’re not the
only one who is unwell, even Doctor Hallam was looking a bit green
around the edges when I saw him last.”
    “Anything
else?”
    “We’ve been
assigned to our medical teams. You’re with me. We’re the lucky
ones; we’re with Doctor Hallam himself. I heard in the grapevine
that he asked for us specially.”
    “He asked for you ,” said Maura with a knowing look. “Funny how two
brothers are