Traveller Probo
54. 11th Century England

The equipment arrived into the glade one crate at a time. Engineers briskly moved them from the Area of Convergence to be stacked by number. Once they were opened, the construction of the temporary medical facility took place with surprising speed. Michael noted the excitement of the newcomers, for intense planning had gone into the mission. The aluminium and fabric structure would retain heat and not only act as a hospital but also as a domicile for the medical mission staff. Military observers from a number of nations watched closely.

“What are this lot doing?” asked Yffi quizzically.

“Just watching,” replied Michael.

“Lot of people just watching!” the hunter responded with an incredulous shake of his head.

The construction of the field hospital and installation of medical equipment was overseen by the gaunt-faced medical mission leader, Dr Fitzgerald. Electrical generators were soon fitted and cots installed. Wicks wandered over, carrying modern weaponry that had Yffi intrigued. “D’you think they can do this without too many hangers-on?” asked Michael.

Wicks commanded a team of three other British SAS guards. His concern was keeping each new visitor in the designated operational area. He merely shook his head. “I think it’s the thin end of the wedge. There seems to be a lot standing about doing nothing,” he observed.

Michael just laughed.

Wicks continued, “Tomorrow we’ll be accompanying some of the medical team to the village. They’ll select some of the prioritised patients for treatment.”

Michael nodded and told Yffi what was said. “Okay,” the hunter nodded, “we’ll have them ready.”

By the next day, the hospital was complete. Some of the villagers, most notably Wuffa and his mates, had already gathered, more out of curiosity and the desire for lollypops. The village families waited, ready and nervous. They knew the medical team was to help but failed to understand what that truly meant. Tatae, her assistants and the monks chatted with the medical team as they sipped some of Tatae’s infusions. The glade was already a hive of activity.

By that afternoon only a few villagers remained in the village. A huge bonfire and temporary camp in the glade imparted an almost carnival atmosphere. As the winter gloom heralded the end of another day, the hum of generators and the lights elicited expressions of wonder and concern. The glade was not a place normally frequented by the villagers. Yffi had told Michael that it was a mysterious place known to be sacred. The hunter looked meaningfully at Tatae but she only smiled.

Tatae had become a little dubious of the medical facility. She understood the role of healers, for she was a healer but she failed to understand the need for such a profusion of medical equipment and lights, things she often criticised as more ‘clever’ than wise. But Dr Fitzgerald was a woman who Tatae respected, so when the medical team leader invited Tatae to observe, the keeper of ancient lore overcame her prejudice and accepted the opportunity to witness modern medicine at first hand.

Michael watched as Tatae and Horsa donned sterile surgical garments, even their filthy boots were covered, and then they were able to watch as the doctors went to work on the girl with the cleft pallet. The deft process left the Saxons deeply disturbed. “They are like woodcarvers of flesh and blood,” Tatae later exclaimed, not fully convinced.

Not surprisingly, Brother Horsa disagreed. “They are angels, Lord Michael,” he exclaimed in awe. “Angels of beauty and compassion!”

On day three, Godric’s arrival caused a stir among the villagers and visitors alike. That Godric was also to receive treatment gave some cause for alarm. Dr Fitzgerald greeted the thegn with respect and they sat together with Godric’s wife; Hilda, and Tatae as she described his coronal arterial restriction. Failure to treat Godric would cause him to seriously weaken or even die. As he was washed by Hilda and then prepped for surgery, Godric looked puzzled rather than terrified. “Why do they do this?” he asked for the fourth time. Though he understood that they would make him feel better, he refused to admit he was slowing.

“Ahh my Lord, this is for good,” comforted Michael soothingly. “The healers will give a potion to make you sleepy, so don’t worry.”

“Worry? Why should I worry?” the thegn asked as he lay on the gurney. He frowned when a nurse placed a needle in the back of his hand. The big man muttered wearily, “Fear. I don’t fear, Lord Michael! It’s just these strange people make me nervous. They smell funny! And look what they have me dressed in! I feel foolish.”

Michael smiled and replied gently, “They have their ways my friend but you’ll feel much better after this, I promise.” He nodded to the doctor to continue.

The nurse placed a respiratory mask over Godric’s mouth and nose. He started, his eyes wide, and took a few panicked breaths. Michael muttered quietly, “All is well Godric, all is well.”

Before long the big man’s eyes glazed and rolled around until they dreamily closed.

***

Within days, the field hospital was filled with patients who lay quietly. Most were semi-conscious and families gathered to sit with their loved ones. What most impressed the Saxons were the lights, for as night descended and blanket rolls were set by a blazing bonfire, the lights kept the glade as if in daylight. Some guards crept into the dark with the hunters to patrol the surrounding forest but there was no danger. Villagers sat by the fire and drank a skin of beor as they told stories to the strangers. By the end of the first week the medical procedures were mostly complete and parts of the facility were removed and packed for Transport. Godric was up and about the day after his procedure. Though barely able to stand, he swore he actually felt better. Michael found the big man surprisingly unfazed by his experience, though Hilda constantly followed him to make him rest. In the end, he lay wrapped in blankets and dozed by the glowing coals of the bonfire.