“So anyway, I was playing pulu, thisnewgame, and I fell off my horse. How princely and exciting is that?”
“Then why were you shouting?”
“Oh, well, yes, then I got run over by someone, and their horse stepped on me. I thought it was a bit unsporting.”
“Good God. Let me see.”
“Not here!” He chuckled. “I think you have taken my story of the naked army too much to heart. I cannot ride down my lines without my uniform. It would be… cold—if nothing else. Tonight.”
I felt a shiver run through me, as though he had said that for another reason. That I had asked him desperatelywhen can I see you, and he had repliedtonight. I’d take what I could get of Aleksey, though. Being his doctor was also something to be greatly anticipated.
He arrived back in camp earlier than was his usual habit. He always did the rounds of the various encampments before returning to ours: checking the men, speaking with some, showing himself to all. But tonight he returned straight to the officers’ camp and dismounted outside our tent, passing his reins to one of the boys. He came in and said immediately, “Help me, Niko.” I went to him and took his arm. He leaned gratefully against me and smiled, chastened. “I should have taken your advice and returned with you after the fall. I think I am dying.”
I was now over my initial fear and able to treat this theatrical way of speaking with the scorn it deserved, but I was concerned. It wasn’t like him to look quite so pale or to admit he was in pain. I eased him down onto his bunk, squatted in front of him, and unbuttoned his jacket. His eyes followed my fingers. My hands began to tremble slightly at the thought of how this scene might play out in another time, another world, and if we were not both men.
I laughed it off. “I’m cold.”
He nodded, distracted. I eased the jacket off his shoulders and laid it on the bed. His shirt pulled easily from the waistband, but when I tried to pull it off his head, he winced. “I cannot lift my arm.”
I swallowed anxiously and resumed squatting, staring at him. “What have you done, you little fool?” I slid my knife from my boot. He seemed surprised that I kept one there and followed its movement as I sliced through his shirt from hem to tie and eased the halves off his shoulders.
I was not too surprised at what I saw. He was black, blue, yellow, and green, the bruise vast and extensive and centered on one side of his torso. “I think you have broken a rib.” I glanced up. “You have carried on riding all day like this? Why?”
He pouted. “Because I’m stupid?”
I could not be angry with him. He had suffered enough. He needed something other than anger and remonstration. I eased him back so he lay on the cot, then took the coverings from my bed and put them behind his back, lifting him and arranging him until he was comfortable. I sat down alongside him, considering his pale face. I touched my cool fingertips to his bruise. He closed his eyes. I reached up and stroked the hair off his forehead, then let my fingers run farther, tugging the dark strands as a father might to a wayward son. He caught my hand, held it for a moment, then pushed it down to his bruise where it disappeared beneath the leather of his breeches. “It hurts here.” I felt the place gently, knowing I was being manipulated. He still had hold of my wrist.
If he had pushed my hand farther down, all would have been clear between us, all sorted and decided, but he did not. He hissed, and I did not know if it was from pain or something else, but I rose and went to my medical box. I brought out a little bottle, poured a cup of wine, and added a few drops from the vial. I returned to the bed. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“What I am telling you to drink. That is what it is.”
He gave me a sulky look but drank it down, wincing at the bitterness. The laudanum took effect quickly. Unused to it, he had no resistance, and very soon he was quite cheerful. I laughed and shook my head at him, and he slurred softly, “What? Am I amusing you?”
Nodding, I brushed a finger over his eye. “Tiny pinpricks. You would not pass muster. Your eyes betray you. It is an effect of the laudanum; don’t worry.” He insisted I sit with him, and he did seem to find some relief from my gentle application of ointment upon his bruised side. I was very happy to smooth my hands over his warm skin, so we were both very content for a while. But a starving man finds it hard to control himself when given access to the feast. Aleksey was sleepy, malleable, needy. I wanted to supply what he needed. He was blinking slowly, watching me through lowered lids as I stroked him. “You should sleep now.” He nodded but caught my hand before I could rise.
“Kiss me good night, Niko.”
I tried to keep it light and not give away too much of my desire. “That is not a doctor’s role.”
He pouted. “Then kiss me as a friend.” I sighed and leaned forward, my lips brushing his forehead. He cupped me around the neck, so as I lifted my lips away, he pulled me to his. His lips were soft. They opened. They went slack. He was asleep.
The laudanum had worked through his system, taking him to a place where there was no pain. I smiled into his unresponsive lips, kissed him once more as a father to a child, and tucked the blankets warmly around his battered body.
CHAPTER 16
IDIDnot know the next day if Aleksey remembered his request for me to kiss him, or that I had actually done it. He gave no indication that he did, and I could not read him at all. I have some legitimate excuse for this, because he was not himself for many days. He was in considerable pain, despite the tight wrap of bandages I had supplied under his shirt and the laudanum I allowed him to take each morning and night. Hehadto ride; there was nothing else I could do.
We had our first major argument over laudanum. I do not count the brothel incident, for I was the only one arguing there. I had used laudanum before with patients and was very well aware how it seemed to take over a man’s mind in the way alcohol could. We had one such officer, a Lieutenant Colonel Rohanus, riding with us. To all intents and purposes, he was a good soldier, and during the day he rode and worked as well as anyone. But when evening came, he changed. At first, as the wineskin emptied, he was entertaining and charming, but very soon this turned to combativeness. Arguments ensued. He wanted to fight with everyone. Johan once banned him from the wine cellar, but this had been worse. Rohanus had almost killed a young soldier who challenged him on sentry duty one night. It seemed better to let him drink. By the time he came to be on the march with us, he would often take himself off for a day or two after such a binge to recover privately. It was a terrible situation, but Aleksey did not want to have to do the inevitable.
Wine, though, was nothing to laudanum in its power to corrupt all men. I only allowed tiny amounts to Aleksey and only to get him up onto his horse in the morning and to sleep at night, despite how he always demanded more. I had heard of a case where an overdose of the opiate had caused a man a premature appearance of death: he had been as a corpse for many days until he had revived in his own coffin. I did not know the end of the tale and wondered how it could be true, for who knew he had revived? I thought the story apocryphal but nevertheless heeded its essential truth. Aleksey needed his own body to take over control of the pain, so on the fourth night I cut him off completely.
At first Aleksey thought it was a joke, and he eased his boots off, chuckling at my warped sense of humor. I felt very bad for him. He was still in considerable pain, but I knew the pain would be worse down the road if I allowed the drug to take him. He finally got the message that I was not going to give him what he wanted. He stood up and made his own way to my supplies. He was a prince; he was the head of the army. If he wanted something he was accustomed to getting it. I had anticipated this and let him rummage, unconcerned. He rounded on me, furious. “Don’t do this, Niko.Where is it?”
“You can be as angry as you want. You won’t find it. It’s for your own good.”
“It hurts!”
