Napoleon Must Die by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Bill Fawcett Read Free Book Online Page A

Egypt was a short, rugged holiday in the Alps. It had been two days since Vernet left and she had been unable to relax a moment of the time. This morning she had risen with the resolve to take an active role in defending her husband and assist Larrey with the wounded now arriving from battles from both the east and south. She stood a little straighter. “I do sometimes feel ill from heat, but not from anything you might require I look at.”
    “This morning,” said Larrey bluntly, “I had to amputate the arm of a soldier. My greatest fear is that it will become infected. This place breeds infection. It is in the very air and water. Great care must be taken, more than you would in France. In this climate, laudable pus quickly turns pernicious unless an effort is made. Are you prepared to cleanse the wounds and change the dressings for this soldier, or would you rather bandage fingers?”
    “Of course I would rather bandage fingers,” said Victoire, and earned herself the first sign of approval from Larrey. “It is better to save fingers, but that is not mine to decide. If I am required to change the dressings or treat laudable pus, then I will do it.”
    Larrey nodded. “You may do, but if you do not know the difference between laudable and pernicious pus, then you will endanger lives,” he declared after a brief moment of thought.
    “I am aware of that,” said Victoire, trying not to weep with anger at Larrey’s suspicions. “If I have any doubts, I will ask you to inspect the wound.”
    “A reasonable precaution,” said Larrey. “I understand your husband has been sent to Jaffa.”
    “Yes.” Victoire volunteered no more.
    “How long will he be there?’ Larrey inquired.
    “I have not been told,” said Victoire truthfully, and once again was favored with approval.
    “Just as well. Things never go as anticipated in war.”
    He drew up a chair and sat down. “Since it appears that you will be helping us, let me inform you what some of your duties will be.”
    Victoire dropped him a slight curtsy before sitting down opposite him. She pulled a small notebook from her reticule and took out a pencil. “I will write them down, if you don’t mind.”
    “Not in the least,” said Larrey, this time openly approving. “I must emphasize again the need to guard against flies. These are not like the flies we see in France—oh, no. These are very difficult creatures. First, you must take care of flies. A swarm here is more dense than a storm cloud. They are everywhere in this accursed country, and they are dangerous. Where there are flies there is infection. We have seen that again and again. You’ll have to be most attentive that there are no flies around the wounded men, not merely on their wounds, but elsewhere, especially their eyes.”
    As she wrote, Victoire said, “I have some oil of citron. If it would be of help, I will use it on the wounded. Not near the eyes, of course, but there are other ways to use it, such as applying it to a poultice or spreading it in the hair.”
    Larrey was startled at this offer. “What possessed you to bring oil of citron with you?”
    “I was told that it would prevent mosquito bites,” she said. “I assume it will also discourage flies.”
    “Very true,” said Larrey, growing more cordial. “Yes, oil of citron is most useful. We are not well supplied here, but I am promised more carbolic and bandages in the next few days, as soon as the ships in Alexandria harbor are able to land supplies in some safety. The captains still fear Nelson will return.” He cleared his throat. “You will have to be careful of the water. The Nile may do for the crops, but there are leeches and unhealthy animalcules in the water that lead to flux. If you wish water, then treat it with lemon or boil it to kill the animalcules. It is safer then, but never wholly safe. If you bathe in Nile water, treat it with iodine for the same reason. And do not drink it unless it has been boiled, to