Maurice called, “The battle. Is it over?”
“Aye, and we won! Blücher’s Prussians arrived after a brutal cross-country march. That turned the tide. The French army broke and is fleeing south as fast as they can go.”
Victory was a relief, but a distant one compared to the urgency of reaching her husband. “Take us to Simon!” Suzanne demanded. “How was he wounded? How badly?”
“He got trampled by a French heavy cavalry horse after he saved one of the officers of the Sixth. He’s got some sword slices and broken bones, but it’s the skull injuries that are the worst.”
After that, there was no talk. A grim-faced Lucas pushed the cart and horses as fast as possible in such a crush of traffic. In a few days it would be the longest day of the year, but it was still near dark when they reached the village of Waterloo.
Jackson led the way to one of the homes that had been commandeered by the surgeons. Suzanne tumbled from the cart and headed for the front door, shuddering at the sight of a pile of amputated limbs that had been tossed out an open window.
Inside, she grabbed the arm of a blood-splattered orderly. “My husband, Colonel Duval! Where is he?”
The orderly thought a moment, then gestured toward the back of the house. “He’s not a candidate for the cutting ward so he was taken into the dining room. Should be there if he’s still alive.”
Heart pounding, she thanked the orderly as she pushed past him, praying Simon still breathed. She was dimly aware that Lucas and Jackson were behind her and guessed that Maurice was guarding the precious cart and riding horse.
The dining room was lit by a single lantern and the air was thick with the scents of blood and injury. There, on the dining room table. Simon was stretched out on it, probably in deference to his rank. He looked like a carved image of a warrior saint, so still, so still....
Suzanne picked her way through half a dozen other injured men to reach Simon. His uniform was torn and stained with blood and mud. Dear God, a huge hoof print was clearly visible on his lower left leg!
“Simon?” she whispered. Then louder, “Simon?”
He didn’t react. She caught his right hand and checked for a pulse while holding it. There was a thready beat, but she had the sense that Simon was far, far off, and could easily slip away entirely.
Lucas joined her and began a quick examination with experienced hands. “He has a broken leg, a broken arm, probably some broken ribs. But the most dangerous injury is to the head.” Lucas delicately touched the blood-saturated hair. “Head injuries are the devil to diagnose and treat.”
Suzanne knew that it was possible for a man to survive severe head injuries, but no longer be himself. That would surely be a fate worse than death. “Can we take him back to Brussels?”
“I don’t know if he could survive the journey,” Lucas said painfully.
“I saw what you did with Marie,” Suzanne said in a low, intense voice. “You’re a healer. Can’t you heal Simon?”
“It doesn’t work like that!” Lucas said, his expression agonized. “Such miracles are rare and I can’t predict when one might happen. I can’t bear the thought of failing with Simon.”
“And I can’t bear the thought of your giving up without trying!” Suzanne retorted. “Do your best, almost brother. If you fail, well, Simon and I won’t blame you. But I will never forgive you if you don’t try!”
Lucas collected himself, becoming wrapped in stillness as he drew inward. Then he placed a light hand on each side of Simon’s head. Lucas’s eyes closed and his lips began to move in a silent prayer.
Suzanne felt as if heat was building inside Lucas. On impulse, she covered his nearer hand with hers. Heat, healing, a power that flowed from Lucas. Was some of it being drawn from her? She felt dizzy and had to concentrate on staying upright and connected to Lucas.
Silently Jackson covered Lucas’s other hand. The heat increased, creating an invisible light that filled Simon and spilled over them all.
Simon drew a deep breath, coughed, and his eyes opened. Dazed, he breathed, “Suzanne?”
She wanted to weep. “I’m here with Lucas and Jackson. You’ve been injured and we’re going to take you back to Brussels.”
“The battle?”
“Won, sir,” Jackson said. “When Blücher arrived with his Prussians, the battle turned our way. The French are fleeing in disarray.”
“Good . . .” Simon’s eyes closed, but his breathing was strong.
Relieved beyond words, Suzanne said, “Jackson, can you get a couple of orderlies with a litter to carry Colonel Duval out to the cart?”
Jackson nodded and went in search of orderlies. Suzanne wondered if Lucas would also need to be carried out since he seemed so weak. She didn’t feel much stronger.
But they both managed to make it outside to the cart, though Lucas moved like a sleepwalker. Suzanne swiftly spread two blankets on the floor of the cart, and the orderlies briskly laid Simon there. Suzanne ordered, “Lucas, you’re all done in. Lie down beside Simon.”
