"I'll get them," came the answer from the other room, but in Ludmilla Borisevna's voice. "Kyril Yureivich is out buying pork for the evening meal."
The man lying in the sixth bed moaned and turned over, watching the two men with mild interest now that he could understand what they were saying.
"In that case, you may find this useful," said Saint-Germain, also in Russian, pulling out nine golden guineas from his purse hanging on his hip.
"Oh, Hercegek, this is too much," van Hoek exclaimed.
"It seems to me you have need of it," said Saint-Germain, looking at the men in the beds. "It would be my honor to help with the expenses of this care-house."
Ludmilla came into the main room, her poppy-colored European clothes protected by an engulfing apron. She carried a tray of supplies, which she set down on the table near the stove. "Hercegek," she said with a slight curtsy.
"Ludmilla Borisevna," he answered with a bow.
Van Hoek took a pair of scissors from the tray. "If you will put your heel on this stool, Hercegek, knee straight?"
Saint-Germain did as he was told; he no longer had trouble keeping his balance, but he was careful to remain still as the point of the scissors slid along his shin, cutting the splint away. He watched as the bandages were unwound, and the skin revealed. "Some bruising still, but otherwise nothing alarming." He had seen far worse on his body, but he still felt a sense of self-condemnation for allowing the assault to happen at all.
"What would you expect, given the severity of your injuries?" Van Hoek inspected the exposed flesh with meticulous attention. "There is very little puffiness remaining and the texture is good. I believe you are making an acceptable recovery. In a few days--shall we say three or four?--you may wear high boots if you like, but not quite yet."
"I look forward to that," said Saint-Germain with feeling.
Van Hoek achieved a smile. "If only all our patients recovered as well as you're doing, Hercegek, we would have no need of your guineas."
"All the more reason you should accept them," said Saint-Germain.
"Guineas? What do you mean, guineas?" Ludmilla asked, staring from van Hoek to Saint-Germain and back.
"The Hercegek has made the very generous offer of covering some of our expenses." He cocked his head. "I haven't accepted: this is your house."
Ludmilla regarded Saint-Germain intently. "Why do you wish to help us?" She was more curious than challenging, but there was a light in her eyes that showed she was alert to interference in her tasks.
"Because your care-house is much needed and no one else appears to be willing to help you. You are short on supplies--as is almost everyone in Sankt Piterburkh, and that is more than an inconvenience: it hampers your effectiveness. You need another dozen beds and additional staff, but you have not got either, and it is all you can do to deal with what you have, let alone any more patients; you work to exhaustion, which benefits no one. If you could afford these expansions, you would do more good, not only for the city, but for yourself. Since the Czar has not settled funds on your care-house, you're left to your own monies and the donations of others, which will suffice only so long; when you have no funds, you cannot give care to anyone. Under the circumstances, I thought you would find a few extra guineas useful. The ones I provided today will be equaled every month that I remain here." He inclined his head to her, aware that she was vexed with him for saying so much. "Heer van Hoek has not mentioned it, but I also offered to provide a sovereign remedy I possess against infection of all kinds. I would be pleased if you would accept both the money and the remedy."
"What do you know of remedies?" Ludmilla asked sharply.
Saint-Germain answered with unflustered calm, "I have traveled extensively, and during my travels, I have taken the time to learn as much as I can. I have studied medical techniques in Egypt, in Greece, in Italy, and in my native land." He had also studied them in China, in India, and in the Audiencia de Peru, but he did not mention this. "This remedy has been helpful in many cases where infection and putrefaction were present."
"Are you a physician?" van Hoek asked, startled.
"I have some capability in medicinal arts, although most of what I have done is in the realm of discovering treatments; I do not fill my days seeing patients, as you do," said Saint-Germain, telling himself that this was not entirely inaccurate. "I have made the remedy available to others, from time to time. I believe that many of them have found it satisfactory." He did not mention that the sovereign remedy he spoke of was made from moldy bread, or that he had treated the sick throughout most of his long life.
"More chemist than physician, then," said van Hoek, satisfied with this answer.
"It is where my interests lie," said Saint-Germain, who had practiced alchemy for more than two thousand years. He turned back to Ludmilla. "Well? Would you be willing to try the remedy? I have syrup of poppies, as well, and pansy-and-willow-bark ointment, and tincture of wolfsbane for spasmodic coughing. You may think syrup of poppies a bit old-fashioned, but I have found it to be quite reliable in the way that some of the current soporifics are not."
She thought about his offer, and finally said, "If you would like to bring what you have and instruct me on the uses of the remedy, I'll see what we can do with it. You can supervise its distribution, if you think it's necessary. If it proves effective, we'll want more. If it doesn't, then you needn't provide us with it any longer."
Van Hoek nodded in concurrence. "An excellent decision." He reached for the roll of linen and set about rewrapping Saint-Germain's leg. "This will be much more comfortable, Hercegek. I'll want to examine it again in a week, to be sure there are no secondary problems, but by the look of it, you'll be almost recovered by then."
"That is my hope," said Saint-Germain. He looked down at his splinted right hand. "But this, you say, will take longer to improve."
"The damage was worse, as is the case with your ribs," said van Hoek as if he had forgotten how badly the hand had been injured. "Ludmilla was right to splint it from the first." He paused in his wrapping. "There has been no infection. Is that on account of your sovereign remedy?"
"It has that effect," said Saint-Germain obliquely; no medicaments
of any kind had ever had impact on him, although he had been given poison a few times in forms that had left him vitiated and suffering.
"Ah. Very good," said van Hoek.
"What do you want in exchange for it?" Ludmilla asked, keeping her tone neutral.
"Nothing. I've already received more from you than money can repay; the remedy is more a payment in kind," Saint-Germain said.
"But you've given us gold," she said reasonably. "Why so much more?"
Saint-Germain considered his answer. "Because you are needed and no one else seems willing to do your work." He inclined his head to her.
She heard him out, and waited as if expecting a longer, grander explanation. When he did not go on, she said, "Very to the point. Well, then, I imagine we'd be fools, Heer van Hoek and I, if we refused either offer."
"Then we understand one another," said Saint-Germain, and held his right hand out to be treated, splinted, and wrapped. He could sense the attentive eyes of most of the men in the beds on him, and he wondered what the rumors would be by the end of the following day, for surely the patients would report on what they witnessed, and their reports would be repeated and improved, until he would be unable to recognize his own simple act; only yesterday he had heard that his attack had been carried out by a gang of fifty ruffians who had slaughtered four of his companions and kidnapped another two. He waited patiently while van Hoek continued his ministrations.
"I saw your wife yesterday," Ludmilla remarked suddenly. "She was walking along the levee with a German noblewoman and her escort. It is still a bit surprising to see women of quality out on the streets in that way, but since the Czar abolished the terem, even Russian women take the air." She paused. "She is a very attractive woman, your wife, with a grand bearing. You must be very proud."
"Proud?" The observation took him aback; he disguised this with a wry smile. "I suppose I am, at that."
Ludmilla seemed puzzled by his response. "I've been told all European men of rank seek to wed women of whom they can be proud. Is this incorrect? Have I misunderstood?"
Keeping in mind the man he was supposed to be, Saint-Germain said, "No, you have the gist of it, Ludmilla Borisevna, although many are content to be proud of a wife's connections and fortunes; it is the hope of all that they will be well-matched in every aspect," he allowed. "When great Houses unite, it is a good thing for everyone if both spouses are inclined to think well of the bargain."
One of the listening patients laughed, and another swore quietly.
"Sadly, that is much the state of marriage, isn't it, Hercegek?" van Hoek asked as he finished securing the wrapping; he had left his wife in Antwerp with her brother's family and the promise that he would send for her and their three children as soon as the city was livable. "But it sounds as if you've made the most of your situation in that regard. There. That's done." He found Saint-Germain's fashionable cane and handed it to him. "Come back in four days so I can make sure the splint is properly aligned. And wear a high boot on your leg. I want to see if you have any secondary swelling from it."
"That I will," said Saint-Germain with an elegant bow in preparation for taking his leave.
Ludmilla offered a curtsy. "I thank you, Hercegek, for all you've offered us." There was a slight emphasis on
offered,
as if she had reservations about his willingness to live up to his self-imposed obligation.
"Then I will see you in four days," Saint-Germain told them as he went to the door. "Oh," he added as an afterthought, "if I can be of any further service, I would be honored to know what that might be." Ludmilla and van Hoek raised their hands as he stepped out into the warm afternoon sunlight.
Adolphus Gronigen leaned down from the driving-box of the light carriage. "Where shall I take you now, Hercegek?"
"Take me out toward the second levee, as far as you can go, then wait for my return. I want to have a look at that treadmill." He got into the carriage and settled back onto the upholstered squabs, then
tapped the ceiling with his cane as a signal to be off. As the carriage threaded its way along the rutted streets, the signs of industry were everywhere: a road-crew was adding coarse sand to the street to provide a better surface for the wheels of carts and wagons; more houses were going up, as well as more barracks, and at the walls of the fortress, another gang of builders was reinforcing the stockade with split logs; another four administrative buildings were being erected; a load of lumber was being pulled along on a sledge by a team of stout Dutch draft horses the color of buttercups--they leaned into their collars and sweated as they went. In the river beyond, a dredging barge was aswarm with activity, while half a dozen boats tacked inexpertly across the water. The Dutch bell in the fortress' church chimed two.
Some ten minutes later, Adolphus reined in the matched grays and called down to Saint-Germain, "I don't think we can go any farther, Hercegek."
"Then I'll walk the rest of the way," said Saint-Germain, opening the carriage door and letting down the steps; he descended with care. "Wait here. I shouldn't be long." He blinked in the pale sunlight and shaded his eyes with his hand as he picked his way out toward the wooden walkway that led out along the levee.
"Ah!" shouted the supervisor of the huge treadmill as he caught sight of Saint-Germain. "Hercegek! A pleasure to see you up and well."
"Thank you, Mikhail Valentinovich," said Saint-Germain to the man who had been Vladimir Pavlovich Timchenkov's assistant and who had now taken his place. "It is good to be out." He pointed to the treadmill with his cane. "How is it running? Are you having any trouble with it?"
"One of the gears was damaged, but it's been replaced." Mikhail Valentinovich Tverin rubbed at his chin; he was a bit nonplussed to see the Hercegek so soon after his attack, but did his best to appear composed, offering a full report. "All four hoses are functioning well now that the filters you made are in place, and they no longer clog twice a day; the pumping is proceeding well. As you can see, we have
five men on the treadmill, and we alternate them every two hours or so, as you recommended. No man has to do more than four shifts on the treadmill in any day. They don't collapse as often that way."
"A sensible change in methods, then," said Saint-Germain, watching as the men in the huge open wheel kept up their steady pacing. From a short distance away came the steady sound of axes and saws as logs were made into more planks to extend the wooden walkway beyond the treadmill. "Any other trouble?"
"You mean with gangs?" Tverin asked, a bit too quickly.
"If there has been more trouble with them, yes, otherwise, no. What other trouble do you have?" Saint-Germain asked urbanely.
"We're plagued with flying insects and with lice, but that's the way of summer," said Tverin, waving aside these nuisances with a chuckle. "Last week, we were given bad meat and half the men were sick for a day. No better and no worse than any other work-gang. You can see that Feodor Lavrentovich has his men making preparations for sinking piles. By the end of summer, we should have a dozen houses here."
Feodor Lavrentovich Odevsky lifted his head, batted away at the midges that teemed up from the marsh, and inclined his head. "God is good!" he shouted as a kind of welcome before using his heavy walking-stick to drub the shoulders of a man who was teetering with fatigue. "You! Keep working!"
