'I was so afraid, Taita,' she whispered, 'until you came. Now I know it will be all right.'
'Hold tight,' he ordered, 'or it will be all wrong.' With his teeth he tore a strip of linen from the hem of her tunic, then pressed the stub of the severed shaft flat against her upper thigh and secured it with the linen. 'Not very neat or pretty,' he told her, 'but you are bravest girl I know, and that will hold it firmly until we get back to Tamafupa.'
The pursuing Basmara dropped back, and soon disappeared from sight among the trees. They were able to rein down to a trot, but still reached the gates of Tamafupa before the sun had made its noon.
'Stand the garrison to arms,' Taita ordered Meren. 'Those devils will
be upon us before another hour has passed.' He lifted Fenn down from Windsmoke's back, carried her to the hut they shared and laid her gently on her sleeping mat.'
Taita spoke reassuringly to Fenn as he washed away the clotted black blood from around the shank of the spearhead. Then he began a thorough examination of her leg. Until he was ready to operate, he would not remove the linen strip with which he had secured it.
'You were always a favourite of the gods,' he told her at last. 'The spear has missed the big artery by the breadth of your little fingernail. If we hadn't stopped the sharp edges sawing away inside you they would have ruptured it. Now, lie quietly while I mix you something to drink.'
He measured a strong dose of the red sheppen powder into a ceramic bowl and topped it up with hot water from the pan that stood on the coals of the central fireplace. 'Drink this. It will make you sleepy and dull the pain.'
While the drug took effect he searched in his leather medical bag.
There was a separate compartment in which he kept his silver spoons.
To his knowledge only one other surgeon had ever owned a set, and he was dead. When he was ready he called Meren, who was hovering at the door of the hut. 'You know what to do,' he said.
'Of course. You know how many times I have done this before,' Meren replied.
'You have washed your hands, of course?' Taita asked.
Meren's expression changed. 'Yes,' he said doubtfully.
'When?'
'This morning, before we rode out on patrol.'
'Wash them again.'
'I see no reason for it,' Meren muttered, as he always did, but he went to the pan on the fire and filled a bowl.
'We will need another pair of hands,' Taita decided, as he held the silver cups in the flames. 'Call Imbali.'
'Imbali? She is a savage. What about one of our own men?'
'She is strong and clever,' Taita contradicted him. What was more to the point, she was female. Taita did not want another man handling Fenn's naked body. It was bad enough that he must use Meren, but not
another rough soldier - and the Shilluk women were flighty creatures.
'Call Imbali,' he repeated, 'and make sure she washes her hands also.'
Although the red sheppen had sedated Fenn, she groaned and stirred when he disturbed the spearhead. Taita nodded at Meren. Between them they lifted Fenn into a sitting position, then Meren squatted behind her, folded her arms across her chest and pinioned them.
'Ready,' he said.
Taita glanced at Imbali, who was kneeling at Fenn's feet. 'Hold her legs straight. Make sure she does not move.' Imbali leant forward and gripped Fenn's ankles. Taita took a deep breath, and focused his mind.
While he flexed his long, bony fingers, he reviewed every move he must make. Speed and decisiveness were the keys to success. The longer the patient suffered, the more damage was inflicted on body and spirit, and the lower the chances of recovery. Quickly he cut the linen strip that held the spearhead, and gently lifted it into the vertical. Fenn groaned again. Meren had the leather gag ready and slipped it between her teeth to prevent her biting through her tongue.
'Make sure she does not spit it out,' Taita told him. He leant closer and studied the wound. The movements of the flint had already enlarged it considerably, but not enough to allow him to introduce the silver spoons into the gash. He palpated the swollen flesh and traced the regular pulsing of the great artery. He slipped his first and second finger into the wound to stretch it open, then ran them down into the warm raw flesh until he touched the sharp points of the barbs buried there.
Fenn screamed and struggled. Meren and Imbali tightened their grip.
Taita stretched the wound channel a little wider. Although his movements were so quick, they were controlled and precise: within seconds he had located the points of the barbs. Fenn's flesh and muscle fibres were clinging to them. With his free hand he took up the spoons, placed them over the shank and ran them into the wound, one on each side of the spearhead. He guided them over the sharp flint to mask it so that he could draw out the spearhead without it snagging.
'You are killing me!' Fenn screamed. Meren and Imbali were using all their strength, but they could hardly hold her as she wriggled and squirmed. Twice Taita managed to guide the spoons over the barbs, but each time she twisted them loose. At the next attempt, he felt them slide into place. He closed the polished metal over the barbs, and in the same movement drew them upwards. There was a clinging suction as the bloody lips of the wound resisted the movement. With his fingertips deep
in Fenn's flesh he could feel the artery thudding steadily. It seemed to reverberate through his soul. He concentrated on guiding the spoons past it. If even a sliver of the flint was protruding from the enclosing metal it might catch the artery and slice it open. Smoothly he applied more pressure. He felt the mouth of the wound begin to yield, and then, abruptly, the blood-smeared silver spoons and the flint spearhead came free. Quickly he withdrew his fingers from the wound, and pressed the gaping lips of raw flesh together. With his free hand he snatched the thick linen pad Meren handed to him and pressed it over the wound to staunch the bleeding. Fenn's head fell back. Her screams became soft moans, the tension went out of her limbs, and the rigid arch of her spine relaxed.
'Your skill never fails to astonish me,' Meren whispered. 'Each time I see you work like that I am in awe. You are the greatest surgeon who ever lived.'
'We can discuss that later,' Taita replied. 'Now you can help me to stitch her up.'
Taita was laying the final horsehair stitch when they heard a shout from the northern watch-tower. He did not look up at Meren as he tied the knot that closed the wound. 'I believe that the Basmara have arrived.
You must go to your duties now. You may take Imbali with you. Thank you for your help, good Meren. If the wound does not mortify, the child will have much to thank you for too.'
After he had bandaged Fenn's leg, Taita went to the door of the hut and called for Lala, the most reliable and sensible of the Shilluk wives.
She came with her naked baby on her hip. She and Fenn were close friends. They spent much time together, talking and playing with the infant. Lala burst into loud lamentations when she saw Fenn pale and blood-smeared. Taita took some time to calm her and rehearse her in her duties. Then he left her to watch over Fenn while she slept off the effects of the red sheppen.
Taita scrambled up the makeshift ladder to join Meren at the north wall of the stockade. Meren greeted him gravely and, without another word, pointed down the valley. The Basmara were advancing in three separate formations. They came at a steady trot.
Their headdresses nodded and waved in the breeze of their passage, and their columns wound like long black serpents through the forest.