I expected some kind of outburst, some kind of response from inside the tent, but nothing happened. There were bedrolls, of warriors sleeping around open fires, but none stirred. I could still see the man’s foot in the tent entrance. No one was helping him.

The camp around us was stirring a bit more. I could see men moving about with weapons and horses, bent on various tasks. He’d be found eventually. But if he roused, and rolled over into the dirt… I took a tentative step forward, then another. There was no outcry, no calls of ‘escaping slave’. I hurried forward to help. The man’s foot never twitched as I carefully raised the flap of the main entrance and went inside.

I was hit with a terrible stench first thing. Gasping, I covered my nose with my shirt and looked around. What in the Goddess’s name…

It was a large tent, with fewer cots then had been up at the castle. Men lay in them, some moaning. The stench came from the overflowing slop pots under each cot. The man at my feet was unconscious, but breathing. From the look of it, none of these men had been tended, or bathed recently. There was no one about that looked to be caring for the men at all.

I staggered back out into the light and air, wiping my streaming eyes. I looked around, furious at this lack of care. There appeared to be some dozen warriors, sleeping around a fire pit at the side of the tent. The large cauldrons nearby told me that it was probably used for laundry. I stomped over, braiding up my hair as I went. Sure enough, these men looked healthy and sleeping off a drunk.

I hauled off and kicked the nearest one in the shins.

He yelled, coming out of the blanket. I had already moved on, kicking each body in quick succession. Their curses filled the air. I was unimpressed.

“Are you tending the men in that tent?” Spittle flew from my lips as I shouted, I was that angry. “How dare you sleep while men are suffering?” The one I was yelling at rubbed his face, looking at me owl-eyed. A hand came from behind me, gripped my upper arm and spun me around.

“What business is it of yours, dog? Eh?” A big blonde woman towered over me, clearly a veteran of long battles and hard living. The wonder of a woman warrior escaped me at the time, since she gave me a hard shake, her fingers digging into the muscle. I tried to pull away, but had no luck. I glared up at her.

“Those men in the tent need help while you laze by the fire.”

She shook me harder, and my hair came tumbling down. I braced my feet, trying to yank my arm free. That made her madder. I watched her other hand swing up to strike me.

The men grabbed her upraised hand, and voices raised, urging her to stop. One leaned over, whispering frantically. The veteran paled, dropped my arm like it was poisonous, and backed away. I rubbed my arm and followed her, step for step. “How can you leave men like that, while you take your comfort?” I stopped and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. They started to offer excuses and explanations, but I was in no mood to hear them. I spit on the ground before them. “That for your stories.” I gestured to the cauldrons. “Get the fires going and heat water, since that seems to be all you are good for.” With that I stomped back to the tent. I turned before I entered. “But don’t one of you set foot in this tent with these men. Do you understand me?” I did not wait for a response.

With water and much coaxing, I got the whipped man onto a cot, where he passed out again. I struggled to get the sides of the tents rolled up to air out the place. It was not a job for one person, but I’d be thrice damned before I’d ask for any help from the uninjured warriors outside the tent. Once that was accomplished, I moved through the tent and checked each one quickly. The majority were recovering from wounds although a few were clearly feverous. One had a bad cough that worried me greatly. They all had warm blankets, although it was clear that none of those had been changed in some time.

I stomped back outside and hollered at those lazy dolts. “Get some kavage and food for these men.” I stomped back in. I didn’t wait to see if I was obeyed. They’d feel my wrath if I wasn’t.

There were clean blankets and bedding in an area at the back. A table was spread out with some jars, knives and other tools. Most of the jars held nothing I recognized, but one had a thick, gooey substance. I held it to my nose, and knew it immediately. Boiled skunk cabbage. I tried some on my inner wrist, and felt the tingle. There was soap as well. I made a quick round, assessing them, trying to decide who to aid first. There were five, and it quickly became clear these men were not mistreated, but had been neglected. The bloody back was in need of aid first, then I’d see to the others.

Hot water was waiting by the tent entrance, and I bathed the poor man’s back, wishing for my basket of medicines. Thankfully, the man didn’t rouse as I used the skunk cabbage to clean the wounds. I moved on to the others, bathing sweating faces and chests, easing their misery, checking wounds. I noted the ones that would need more treatment in the way of medicines and herbs as we moved along. Goddess knew where I’d get the medicines, but that was a problem for later.

A young boy appeared soon after I started, a gangly child with red hair and brown eyes. He was loaded down with kavage, warm biscuits and gurt. He seemed startled to see me, but cheerfully agreed to help. He had a tendency to talk, mouth running like a mountain brook as he gave each man some food and kavage. But his piping voice was a contrast to the rough tones of warriors and put smiles on all our faces.

Food and care roused the men, and with help, most could manage to get themselves clean. That bunch outside at least managed to keep a supply of hot water coming. I had started a pile of dirty linens outside the tent. When the blonde suggested that they aid me, I didn’t say a word. I just pointed at the pile of linens. They took the hint.

The red-haired lad popped up next to me as I was cleaning a gashed forearm. “I’s done, warrior. I’s saved ya some biscuits and kavage, though they be cold now.”

“I’m not a warrior.” I replied absently. “I’m a healer.”

His eyes got large suddenly. “You’re the warprize.”

I reddened but kept working. My patient however, jerked up his head, and stared at the boy. “Warprize?”

“Lie still.” I snapped at the man. He did just that, and made no further complaint.

The lad leaned over my shoulder and craned his long neck. “What ya doing?”

“Cleaning out this wound. It’s soured.” This was the worst of the injuries, and I was concerned about this man’s condition.

He didn’t pull back. “How can ya tell?”

“Smell.”

He drew in a breath through his nose, which wrinkled in disgust. “That’s the smell?”

I nodded as I tied off the bandage.

He seemed to think for a minute. “I’s need get back, they’ll be looking for me. I’s be back later, with some soup and bread.” He took a step away, then turned back. His brown eyes focused on me thoughtfully. “You’re not like a warrior-priest, is ya?”

“I am a healer.”

He looked confused, but smiled anyway. “I’s can ask ya questions? You don’t mind?”

“Of course I’ll answer your questions.” I looked up into his eager face and had to smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’s Gils.” He grinned, “I’s be back with the supper.” Off he went, whistling down the path.

At last, we were done. Each man was warm, clean, treated, and fed. Time to start the last chore. I started at the far end of the tent and worked my way toward the entrance, carefully taking each slop pot and emptying it into a large bucket that looked to be for that purpose. I then took the bucket by the handle and walked it out of the entrance of the tent, passed the slackers, who were by the large fires trying to look busy. And innocent. On my first trip, one had approached me to help, but I had glared him off. Now they just sat and watched. Each time I walked past, they seemed to sink lower in their seats by the fires.