It was growing dark and Raoul was working alone in the little room when he heard the thud of horses and the sudden commotion outside the door. The doctor, at last. He looked up, his relief tempered by surprise when he saw a fresh-faced young man enter the room.

      ‘You are Dr Bonnaire?’

      ‘Yes. And you are?’

      ‘Duval. My wife and I were passing through here when the accident happened.’

      ‘It was good of you to stay and help.’ Dr Bonnaire looked about him. ‘Are all the men recovered, did everyone survive?’

      ‘Everyone is accounted for now, nine men in all. Two are dead, four had only slight injuries. I patched them up and sent them home. These three are the most seriously injured.’ He nodded to a man sitting by the fire. ‘I have set his arm, but he has also had a blow to the head and is not yet able to stand.’ He walked over to the two men lying on makeshift beds. ‘These two are the worst. They were both trapped by their legs.’

      As Bonnaire knelt beside the first of the men Raoul heard a soft voice behind him.

      ‘I thought you would need more light.’ Cassandra came in, followed by three of the village women, each one of them carrying lamps and candlesticks. ‘We collected these from the other houses.’

      The doctor shot to his feet. ‘How thoughtful of you, Madame...?’

      ‘Duval,’ she said quietly.

      ‘Ah...’ he glanced towards Raoul ‘...your wife, sir. Enchanté, madame.’

      Raoul saw the faint flush on Cassie’s cheek and knew she was not happy with the subterfuge, but it was necessary.

      ‘Aye, Madame Duval and her husband arrived most providentially,’ put in one of the other women.

      ‘Madame Deschamps owns the auberge at the far end of the village,’ explained Cassie. Her eyes flickered over Raoul and away again. ‘She and her husband have offered us a room for the night.’

      ‘Well, ’tis too late for you to be travelling on now and ’tis the least we can do, for all your trouble.’

      ‘You are very kind,’ murmured Raoul.

      ‘Nay, ’tis you and madame that have been kind, monsieur, helping us as you have done.’

      Madame Deschamps appeared to be in no hurry to leave, but once the other women had gone Cassie touched her arm and murmured that they must not keep the good doctor from his work. She cast a last, shy glance at Raoul and ushered the landlady from the room. Bonnaire stood gazing at the door and Raoul prompted him gently.

      ‘Well, Doctor, would you like to examine your patients?’

      ‘What? Oh, yes. Yes.’

      It did not take long. Raoul had already stripped the men of their clothing and cleaned their lacerated bodies. The doctor gently drew back the thin blanket from each of the men and gazed at their lower limbs.

      ‘Legs crushed beyond repair,’ he observed.

      ‘Yes.’ Raoul nodded. ‘Both men will require amputation at the knee.’

      The young doctor blenched. He placed his case upon the table, saying quietly, ‘I thought that might be the situation and brought my tools.’

      He lifted out a canvas roll and opened it out on the table to display an impressive array of instruments, very much like the ones Raoul had lost when he had fled from Paris, only these looked dull and blunt from lack of use.

      Raoul frowned. ‘Have you ever performed an amputation, Doctor?’

      Bonnaire swallowed and shook his head.

      ‘I saw one once, in Paris, but I could not afford to finish my training. These tools belonged to my uncle. He was an army surgeon.’

      Raoul closed his eyes, his initial relief at finding a medical man on hand rapidly draining away. He sighed.

      ‘Then you had best let me deal with this.’

      ‘You? You are a surgeon, Monsieur Duval?’

      ‘Yes. And I have performed dozens of these operations.’

      The relief in the young man’s face was only too apparent. A sudden draught made the candles flicker as the door opened and the priest came in.

      ‘Ah, Dr Bonnaire, they said you had arrived. Thanks be! A sad business, this. Will the Lord take any more souls this night, think you?’

      ‘I hope not, Monsieur le Curé,’ was the doctor’s fervent response.

      ‘Good, good. I came to tell you that you are not to worry about your fee, Doctor. If these poor people have not the means there is silverware in the church that can be sold. You shall not go unrewarded for this night’s work.’

      The young doctor bowed.

      ‘Thank you, but if anyone is to be paid, it should be this man.’ He glanced at Raoul. ‘He is the more experienced surgeon and is going to perform the operations necessary to save these two men.’

      ‘Is that so indeed?’ declared the priest, his brows rising in surprise.

      ‘It is,’ said Raoul, grimly inspecting the instruments spread out before him. ‘But to do so I will require these to be sharpened.’

      ‘But of course, monsieur! Give me the ones you need and I shall see it is done without delay.’

      ‘And get someone to take this fellow home,’ added Raoul, nodding at the man dozing in the chair by the fire.

      ‘I will do so, sir, I will do so.’ The priest gathered up the instruments and bustled away, leaving Bonnaire to fix Raoul with a solemn gaze.

      ‘Thank you, monsieur, and I meant what I said about payment.’

      ‘I do not want the church’s silverware, but you should take it, Bonnaire, and when this night is done you should use it to go back to Paris and finish your training.’