Chapter 44
The Collegium Academicum
Gyulafehérvár
Isaac watched young Oana Dalca work with one of Prince Rákóczi’s medical student caregivers as they began stitching up the incision that Isaac had made in the prince’s abdomen. Some good news: no perforated bowel, no signs of peritonitis. The Murad mini-ball that had torn through the prince had partially cauterized the wound. The chance now of infection was slim. But the man was still in a coma, still clinging to life. His weight was down. He was dehydrated despite their efforts to provide liquids. He was dying, and how long could the man linger on the cusp of death before he finally succumbed?
Oana had a delicate touch, a soothing demeanor. Like a young Devorah Bayer. She was inexperienced with needles and stitching, but she was a quick study, and over the past several days while administering care to all three of Isaac’s very important patients, she had learned a great deal.
They finished, and the student left the room to check on Len Tanner. Oana stayed behind to begin preparing Prince Rákóczi’s soiled bedsheets for washing.
“I must compliment you, Oana,” Isaac said. “You learn quickly. Your needlework is improving.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, giving a small curtsey as she rolled a dirty sheet up and placed it in a basket. “You are a good teacher.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Isaac then said, “Perhaps when all this is over, you can become a full-time nurse. Or even a doctor, like me.”
Oana paused. She smiled, wiped her wrist on the green scarf around her head. “A woman doctor? I do not think that is possible.”
Isaac shrugged. “In the USE, in Grantville, in Magdeburg, it is. If you are interested, I can speak with General Roth. With my recommendation, I’m sure he would be willing to send you.”
She said nothing to that, kept her head down while filling her basket with additional linens and wet rags.
“May I ask you a question, Oana?”
“Certainly, Doc—Isaac.”
He cleared his throat. “You are very young. Where are your parents?”
Oana paused, and Isaac immediately regretted asking the question. She continued packing her basket. “My mother died ten years ago. A fever. My father is in prison.”
“Prison?”
She nodded. “He spoke out publicly against Prince Rákóczi’s alliance with Bohemia. That, and the fact that he’s an unrepentant Sabbatarian.”
Isaac paused in his cleaning. To some extent, he could understand how a man might find a prison cell speaking out against his prince in public. He did not, however, understand the latter point. “I don’t understand why his religious beliefs would—”
“Then you do not understand Transylvania,” she said. Isaac could see her immediate regret at being so abrupt. She dropped her basket, bowed. “Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to—”
Isaac scoffed and waved it away. “That is quite all right, Oana. These are stressful times. Forgive me my excessive curiosity. I only wish to understand why a young lady like you would willingly provide medical aid to the man who, as you say, has thrown your father into prison.” He lowered his head. “Were it me, I wonder if I would be so kind.”
Oana smiled. “I am Sabbatarian as well, Isaac. My father says that Sabbatarians are like horsemen, with one stirrup in Unitarianism, one stirrup in Judaism. We straddle that delicate line between both religions, a line that terrifies some people…like the prince.”
She motioned to Prince Rákóczi’s still form, his pallid face, his shrinking body. “But the Bible teaches us that if we do not forgive others their sins, then how can our Father forgive us ours? My hope is that if I care for the prince, and if he survives, he will see how I have cared for him, and he will forgive my father his public transgressions. And perhaps he’ll forgive us for being Sabbatarian.”
Be a proud Jew…
Isaac smiled. He performed a few menial tasks with his scalpels, his tweezers, and then asked, “Would you care to join me tonight in Shabbos? Rabbi Gotkin will be holding a service for the First Regiment of the Joshua Corps. You can come as my guest.”
The offer seemed to surprise her. She considered for a moment, then: “Yes, I would like to. But I must ask the family I am staying with. Would your Rabbi Gotkin approve of my attendance?”
Isaac shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Some Rabbis are not comfortable with Sabbatarians either.”
Isaac waved her concern off with a pronounced huff. “Jason Gotkin is an up-timer. There will be no problem.”
Her expression suggested she wasn’t so sure, but Isaac said nothing further on the matter. He waited.
“Very well,” she said. “Thank you, Isaac, for the offer. I will let you know.”
The Collegium Academicum
Gyulafehérvár
Ellie had taken Len’s radio and had set up a small communications desk in his room. Add to that a cot, and she had commandeered a corner as her personal living space. Isaac was against this at first, for the noise of the radio chatter would, without doubt, affect Len’s sleep, and good sleep was what he needed the most right now. But in the end, he’d relented and allowed her to do so. It would have taken three Ashkenazim guards to drag her away. Maybe more.
Len’s pain management was growing more difficult by the day. Like Prince Rákóczi’s wound, the ball that had struck Len’s shoulder had cauterized much of the flesh. They were beyond the concern for infection. Now, severe swelling had set in. The healing process had begun, thankfully, but his discomfort was constant. Len called for pain medication hourly. Small doses of opium had been administered. That helped to calm him and allow him to sleep. But now, he was asking for larger doses.
“We need to keep his doses small, Ellie,” Isaac said as they huddled outside the room for a brief chat. “I’ve no doubt that he’s in a lot of pain. Increasing his dosage would be helpful, but we can’t afford to allow him to become addicted.”
“Your people are in control of those doses, Isaac,” Ellie said, her hands on her hips, “not me. How can I be of help?”
He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. “I cannot be with him around the clock, nor can my staff. There will be times where you will be alone with him, and I’ve seen it before, Ellie. A mother, sister, brother, seeing their loved ones in such pain. They will do almost anything to make that pain go away.”
Ellie shrugged his hand off her shoulder and put up her own hand. “Hold up. Are you suggesting that I would try to—what—smuggle opium into his room when you’re not looking?”
“I’m asking you to help me ensure that Len doesn’t get his hands on any doses outside his normal regimen.” He looked left, right, then leaned in close. He whispered, “Ellie, we are in a dangerous place, and you know as well as I do that someone here, in the capital, told the Moldavians that Len, the prince, von Mercy, and all the others would be on that field.
“I’ve assigned Ashkenazim from the Joshua Corps to guard their rooms, but I can’t even guarantee that they may not succumb to bribery and allow someone to slip Len an extra dose nor can I absolutely guarantee that every student physician helping me is sincere in their care. I’ve seen nothing in their behavior to indicate otherwise, but I cannot be sure. The only one I trust completely is Oana Dalca, who, by the way, I’ll be assigning to Len’s care more often now that he’s no longer bedridden.”
“Is she the young lady who tricked Len into thinking she was me?”
Isaac nodded. “Don’t be upset at her, Ellie. It was the only way to keep him calm during the surgery.”
“I’m not upset,” Ellie said, smiling. “I want to give her a big wet kiss.”
Isaac laughed and nodded. “All I’m asking of you, Ellie, is to keep your eyes open. Make sure you know who’s coming into the room to care for him. And try to distract him from his pain. If he can help you with radio work without using his shoulder and without moving around too much, give him work. That’ll help take his mind off the pain.”
“Incoming message!”
Len’s voice echoed through the hallway.
Isaac followed Ellie into the room. With his good arm, Len pointed to the radio sitting on the table at the foot of his bed. “Morse code.”
“Hmm.” Ellie grunted. “Must be quite an important message to be in code.”
Isaac had heard the clicks of Morse code before, but couldn’t understand any of it. Ellie turned her chair around, sat, grabbed a piece of paper and an up-time pencil, and began scribbling out the message. It went on for quite some time. By the end, the page was almost filled with her dictation.
Ellie returned her reply in Morse code as well, then stood and winked. She didn’t read the entire message, but Isaac and Len got the essence of it.
“Some good news, finally! The Sunrise is in Kolozsvár.”