It took a few tries before Hubert found someone that knew the city. His guess when they first arrived in Tarraconesis bore fruit: the streets were not normally so crowded. Folk had been flocking to the city for weeks now, in preparation for a grand event.
There was going to be a wedding.
It was easy to get the details out of anyone Hubert chanced to approach on the street. Duke Garibaldi, the de facto ruler of the city-state of Tarraconesis, had promised the hand of his daughter to another heir of a nearby city-state. The wedding was apparently to be held in Tarraconesis in only a few weeks time.
That was all very fascinating, but a secondary consequence meant that easily one in three passersby he approached were just as new to the place as he was. It took several tries before he found someone local, who was willing to spare a fat Middish monk some of their time, who also happened to know how to direct Hubert to the Giovanelli estate.
The helpful citizen was a weathered old man with broad shoulders, wearing simple clothes beneath a leather apron. A blacksmith, Hubert wagered.
“Giovanelli?” he said, squinting at Hubert. “Lady Andrea Giovanelli? You sure? She’s not the religious type.”
“Quite sure, my friend,” Hubert said. “Though I am not seeking her personally. I’m hoping to find an old friend, and he should be working for her. You know of the place—I trust you can tell me where to find it?”
The old man nodded. “I shoe some of her horses, even outfit her soldiers sometimes. I know the place. Most of her men aren’t much for monks either, though. Soldiers, they are. Hard men.”
“I may not look it, but I assure you that I can get on quite well with hard men,” Hubert said with a smile. “But either way, the fellow I’m seeking isn’t a soldier, exactly. He’s a medico.”
The blacksmith’s eyes widened. “You’re friends with Giovanelli’s medico?” he said.
Hubert could not help but laugh. Even the blacksmith has heard of you, Agrippa? Somehow I’m not surprised. To the old man, he simply said “I am indeed. Can you point me in the right direction then, please?”
The blacksmith nodded. He gave Hubert directions, then spoke for several long minutes about how Giovanelli’s medico had treated one of his apprentices after a nasty accident at the forge. Against all expectation, the apprentice kept his hand, which seemed to have quite impressed the old blacksmith. Hubert listened patiently until the old man’s story wound down, and he finally slipped away to follow the directions.
“You are friends with a medico?” Maria asked from the cart.
Hubert nodded. “Indeed. An excellent one, as a matter of fact.”
“An excellent friend, or an excellent medico?” she asked.
He grinned. “Yes,” he said. He took Wilberforce by the lead and helped directly guide the donkey through a crowd ahead.
“Who is Giovanelli?” She asked as they walked.
“House Giovanelli is one of the noble families of Tarraconesis,” Hubert said. “That much I already knew. Lady Andrea is part of Tarraconesian court—a vassal to the man that controls the city, Duke Garibaldi. She controls much of the city’s guard.”
“She sounds… powerful,” Maria said. “Wealthy.”
“Undoubtedly both, yes,” Hubert agreed.
“A good patron to have. No wonder you say your friend is excellent. You’ve come here to visit him?”
Hubert nodded. “Visit? Yes, in a sense. I’ve come to join him when he quits his job.”
Maria fell silent, staring at Hubert in confusion. Hubert chuckled to himself, and continued walking.
“Why would he quit such a job?” Maria finally asked.
Hubert shrugged. “Perhaps he won’t. But when we last spoke, some six months ago, he said he expected the job would bore him after a while. He said half a year sounded good—long enough to save some money, and hopefully it would not yet have become too tedious.”
“Your friend, he is… easily bored?”
Hubert laughed. “Smart men often are, I have found,” he said. “And Agrippa is very smart.”
Up ahead, he saw what had to be the Giovanelli estate. It took up most of a city block. It was an old manor of brick and stone, rising well above the nearby buildings and surrounded by a sturdy wall that stood a good ten feet high itself. Through the open gate Hubert saw a green courtyard, and trimmed hedges peeked over the walls in some places. A guard stood at the gate, looking bored but relatively attentive.
Hubert headed for the estate. He was less than a block away when a voice caught his attention.
“Hubey! Hubey!”
He couldn’t help himself. A wide grin spread across his face as he turned to face the sound.
She must have been lounging at a small outdoor beer stall. She was leaning against a narrow bar and had a wooden cup in her hand. She brought the drink to her lips, downed it in one gulp, and slapped it down onto the bar. Then she hefted a large shield from where it lay beside her, and approached.
He took a moment to study her. She must have arrived in town at least a day ago—she wore a tunic instead of mail, for one. Her spear was also nowhere in sight. Her only visible armament was the short-bladed sword belted at her side, and the heavy oblong shield she carried with her everywhere she went.
She was still as beautiful as ever. Striking eyes, flawless cheekbones, long hair the color of straw. She was tall, with a muscular frame and tanned skin. She had filled out a little, and moved with perhaps a little more grace than he remembered. It had been less than a year since he’d seen her last, and yet she looked notably older to his eye.
Of course she does. Half a year is a long time, at her age, he reminded himself.
“Leona!” he called out as she grew closer.
“Hubey!” she said again. She threw her arms out and pulled him into a tight hug.
He was shorter than her. Not enough that it mattered, though. He returned the embrace with both arms, while she mostly hugged him only with the arm not carrying her shield. Even so, she squeezed him tightly.
They held the embrace for a long moment. She smelled good. He sensed the hint of something floral—she does love her baths, when she’s not busy fighting battles, and has time to enjoy them—but mostly she just smelled like Leona. They had bunked together so many times, he knew he would recognize that scent anywhere. He had missed it. He had missed her.
“I missed you,” Leona said quietly. “It’s good to see you, Hubey. You are well?”
“I missed you too, my dear,” Hubert said. “I’m lovely. And you? Have you enjoyed your six months of mercenary work?”
He finally ended the embrace. He leaned back so that he could look at her. She wrinkled her nose at the question.
“Not really,” she said. “It was okay. Kind of boring. Shitty food. Shittier medico. Glad I didn’t get hurt too badly.”
“Too badly? You were injured?” Hubert looked her up and down, trying to see if she was favoring any part of her body.
“Just a few cuts and scrapes. They healed as clean as I could hope, but the medico’s stitches were—eh, I’ll show you later,” she said. “Ugly scar. Who’s your friend?”
Leona nodded at the cart, where Maria was staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“Ah, of course. Come down, my dear, it’s alright.” Hubert held out a hand and helped Maria climb out of the cart. “Leona, this is Maria. Maria, this is my old friend, Leona.”
“Not so old,” Maria blurted out. Her mouth shut a moment later.
It was true, of course. Leona was no older than Maria, and quite possibly younger. Barely fifteen when she was first conscripted to fight for her home city. We met just a few years after that. By now she must be, what? Eighteen? Nineteen, at the oldest.
Leona snorted. “No,” she agreed. “But Hubey and I go way back.”
“We both served together,” Hubert explained. “We fought for the city-state of Casavento, almost a year past.”
Maria looked at Hubert in surprise. “You—you mentioned you have been a soldier before, but I thought you meant… years ago.”
“Why? Because I’m an old man?” Hubert asked, eyes twinkling. He winked. “You’re quite right. I wasn’t serving Casavento as a soldier. I was a cook. Our third friend, Agrippa, was their chief medico. Only Leona fought on the front lines.”
Maria’s gaze turned back to Leona. She looked the tall, muscular woman up and down. Even out of armor, Leona carried herself like a warrior. And she held her huge shield effortlessly, as if she barely remembered it was there. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense,” Maria said. “She looks—fearsome.”
“And you look like a deer,” Leona said. “Tall and skinny, with big eyes. Who is your new girl, Hubey?”
“I am Maria, like he said. I traveled with Hubert from Saluzzo,” Maria said. “And I am not his girl.”
Leona shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not an insult, Maria. I’ve been Hubey’s girl lotsa times. If you haven’t, you should give it a try—he’s more generous than most.”
Maria blushed. Hubert could not decide whether he should laugh or sigh. He did some of both, his laugh turning to an exasperated huff. “Leona…”
She just grinned. “Why’d you leave Saluzzo to come here, anyway?” she asked Maria.
“I—I grew up on a farm there. It was crowded.”
“I grew up on a farm too, in Trivento,” Leona said. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“My family wished for me to enter a convent. Brother Hubert offered to escort me,” Maria said. “To the nunnery here.”
Leona’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Nunnery? Like, to Torath? You worship a goofy snake?”
“I—yes!” Maria said, indignant. “My family are devout followers of God.”
“Huh. They don’t let you fuck in nunneries, right? Psh. Even more reason you should have taken Hubey for a tumble.”
“I did,” Maria said, her tone defiant. She was still blushing, but—as Hubert had seen several times now—when she was pushed enough, she could be quite bold. “And besides, I’ve decided not to join the nunnery.”
Leona didn’t back down from Maria’s fire—Hubert knew she wouldn’t. She just smiled and nodded approvingly. “Good for you! Who worships a snake anyway? On my farm, we followed the old gods. Cassaline gods. You want a good harvest, you pray to the harvest god. Want a good battle, pray to the battle god. Makes more sense.”
Maria opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Hubert interrupted.
“When Maria declined to become a nun, I promised I would help her get settled elsewhere in the city. Find some work, perhaps. Thus she is keeping me company for now.” So be nice, Hubert added with a pointed look. Leona just smirked at him. “Anyway, judging from your lack of spear and mail, I assume you didn’t just arrive. You already met up with Agrippa?”
Leona nodded. “Got here a few days ago. Mother Hen was still finishing up what he says is his last job for the lady. Gio-whatever. So I’ve mostly been drinking here and watching the streets for you. Got in a good fight yesterday though—someone was in my seat.” She gave a predatory grin. “Quiet other than that.”
“Is he busy today, then?” Hubert asked. “Or is it alright if we go interrupt him?”
“Hubey, it’s you. He’ll want to see you. Come on,” she rolled her eyes, and turned to start walking towards the Giovanelli estate. Hubert and Maria followed, with Wilberforce just a few paces behind them.
The guard recognized Leona, and waved them through. He didn’t see Hubert or Maria as threats to be worried about. The courtyard was even more beautiful from the inside, adorned with blooming flowers and carefully tended hedges. A young stablehand came bounding up to take Wilberforce’s lead.
There were several buildings on the estate grounds, and Leona led them to a small brick building adjacent to the large manor house. Within, even before they reached the door, Hubert heard a familiar voice. Agrippa did not usually speak in a hushed tone, especially not when he was working.
“You see? If you had listened to me the first time, you would not be in this situation. Now, what was it that I told you?”
Hubert heard a lowered voice mutter a response.
“Yes! And?”
The voice murmured a few more terse words.
“Yes. Good. Now hold still. You are lucky not to lose the arm—a lesser medico would have taken it off by now.”
Leona banged on the door.
“Go away! I am busy!” the voice shouted from within.
“Agrippa,” Leona through the door. “It’s me.”
“Leona? Oh! I thought you were Lady Andrea. One moment! I am with a patient, but I will be finished soon.”
“Hubey’s here,” Leona said.
Hubert heard a clatter of metal inside, and a moment later the door opened.
Agrippa looked much the same as Hubert remembered. A darker complexion than Leona, and unlike Leona he was not so young that six months showed up in his face the same way.
His dark hair was trimmed short, his thin mustache and the patch of hair on his chin both immaculately groomed. His eyes were dark and piercing, his nose long and birdlike. He wore simple, well-tailored clothes—the mark of a man with the money to buy nice things, but without expensive tastes.
And his hands were spattered with blood halfway to the elbows. Some things don’t change.
“Hubert!” he said, breaking into a grin. “You have arrived!”
“Good to see you, Agrippa,” Hubert said, smiling back. “You look well. Busy?”
“Master Agrippa! Please… it hurts!”
Inside the room was an infirmary of some kind. A man lay on an operating table. His left arm was limp at his side, a long bloody incision visible running down much of his forearm. A few bloody tools lay nearby.
“You are fine,” Agrippa said dismissively. He clucked his tongue. “I told you what would happen if you did not change the dressing every day. You’re just lucky that the infection was not worse.”
“But it hurts. Please! Can’t you—”
“It can’t be that bad. I have already given you poppy for the pain. Be thankful that you can still feel pain in the arm. This, too, would have gone, had you let this fester any longer before bringing it to me.” Agrippa shook his head, exasperated. He looked back to Hubert. “Care to lend me a hand? The sooner I close him up, the sooner we can go.”
Hubert laughed. “Gladly!”
“Hubert?” Maria stood behind him, with Leona. But where Leona was just beaming with amusement, Maria looked confused and somewhat intimidated.
“Oh, this should just be a moment. You can observe if you like, my dear.”
Leona snorted. “Think she has the stomach for it? The deer?”
Maria set her jaw in a stubborn frown. “Yes,” she said. She stepped past Hubert and into the infirmary.
Leona shrugged. “I’ll be out here,” she said. She leaned against the wall of the building, staring at the well-kept gardens nearby.
Hubert knew that for all Leona was a terror on the battlefield, she found the bloody mess of chirurgery somewhat off-putting. Probably reminds her of times best left in the past.
He gave her a nod, then followed Agrippa and Maria inside.
“Wash up over there,” Agrippa said, gesturing towards several basins of water resting over a smoky hearth.
Hubert washed his hands in the hot water. Maria hesitated, but when Hubert nodded at her she followed his lead. Then he joined Agrippa at the table.
“Who are you?” the patient asked, grimacing.
“Brother Hubert,” Hubert said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“He is a friend, and skilled enough at medicine to fix you on his own,” Agripaa said. “Now be silent. We are working.”
It was clear what had happened to the poor man, once Hubert got a close look. His arm was infected, and Agrippa had lanced the wound and begun to cut away the diseased flesh. Hubert quickly added his hands to the work, supplying Agrippa with tools as needed and helping to fold back flaps of skin when Agrippa had to delve deeper into the tissues of the man’s arm.
Maria watched it all very attentively, and Hubert nudged her into handing them a few tools as well. She was eager to help, albeit ignorant of most of the work they did. Still, soon enough most of the work was done. All that was left was to sew the wound closed and apply a new dressing.
“I will prepare the poultice and bandages, if you can close him up?” Agrippa said.
Hubert smiled. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Maria, dear? You know how to sew, yes?”
Maria’s eyes grew very wide. “Um. Yes? I mean—I sewed clothing, back home, yes. Many, many times.”
“This isn’t so different,” Hubert said. He picked up the suturing needle and catgut thread. “See? The needle has a peculiar shape, but not so peculiar. Feel it.”
She reluctantly accepted the needle, and nodded. “I see. But—you want me to sew him up?”
Agrippa gave Hubert a single questioning glance. For all that he had little patience for the whimpering and complaining of a man that had brought this on himself, Agrippa also prided himself on his work, and expected perfection.
“I will help, dear,” Hubert said to Maria. As he spoke he gave Agrippa a single nod in return. That was enough. Agrippa went to wash his hands and begin preparing the dressing.
The poppy and the pain had done its work, and the patient wasn’t paying attention to them any longer. Fortunate, as Hubert expected that he, too, would have protested.
Hubert showed Maria how to knit the flesh together, doing the first several stitches himself before passing it off to her. Once she began the work, however, her hands were steady. She finished in good time, and but for a few minor slips her stitches looked as good as any Hubert had done. He helped her tie off the last stitch, and then he showed her how to apply the dressing Agrippa had made.
“All done,” Agrippa said. “He’ll be fine here for now. I’ll send a few of his companions to help him into a bed. Come, let’s get cleaned up and go.”
As they washed up one last time, Agrippa looked Maria up and down.
“So, who are you, exactly?”
“Maria. I—I was a farmer. From Saluzzo. Brother Hubert brought me here to join the nunnery, but I changed my mind.”
Agrippa nodded. “Probably wise. Torathi nunneries seem an awful waste of time.”
“I promised her I would help get her settled here instead,” Hubert said. “Help her find some work.” He met Agrippa’s eyes. Agrippa arched an eyebrow at him, and he smiled back.
They walked towards the door.
“Work, hm?” Agrippa said. “You handled that needle well. This place—Lady Andrea Giovanelli is a soldier. Her men handle most of the guard duty for Tarraconesis, so they see bits of fighting here and there all the time. Someone is always injuring themselves. Since Hubert and Leona are here, today will be my last day. My replacement, Bruno, is not a bad man. Not an idiot, but… he is not me.” As always, Agrippa delivered his self-aggrandizement in the most matter-of-fact way, as if it was simply a given that was not worth discussing. “He’s a soldier, and mostly learned his healing in the field. I expect he could use help.”
Maria looked less surprised than Hubert expected. You do her a disservice. She’s very sharp, of course she figured out what your game was, he told himself.
“I can sew, but I do not know anything of healing,” Maria said. They’d made it outside, and Leona sidled up alongside them.
Agrippa shrugged. “Let us be honest: neither do most healers. Bruno knows enough not to kill anyone that is not already dying. He can likely teach you, and he could no doubt use the help.”
“If you want to,” Hubert added. “If you’d prefer not, we won’t pressure you. But… you could do much worse than working in the household of a high lord of the city-state. Lady Giovanelli has wealth and influence and a reputation for fairness. You would be well taken care of.”
“Why would she hire me?” Maria asked.
“Good question,” Leona said. When Hubert shot her a reproachful look she just grinned. She didn’t actually bear Maria any ill will, she was just having a bit of fun at the girl’s expense.
“It is not a good question,” Agrippa said. “It should be self evident. If I recommend you, Lady Andrea will agree in an instant. You could not find a better reference.”
“But why would you recommend me?” Maria asked. “You—you don’t know me. All you saw is me follow a few orders and sew a few stitches.”
“You kept a steady hand and a level head during your first chirurgery,” Agrippa said. “The sloppiness of your stitches was due only to mild incompetence, not poor nerves. Keeping calm during such things is of the utmost importance, and one of the harder skills to train into someone not already disposed towards the right temperament.”
“I see,” Maria said, though her tone still sounded hesitant.
“More importantly, Hubert trusts you to do the job well,” Agrippa said. He glanced at Hubert, and Hubert nodded. “Just as Andrea will accept my recommendation without question, Hubert’s approval is all the recommendation I need. If he says you can do it, I’m sure you can do it. So: Do you wish for me to speak to Lady Andrea on your behalf?”
Maria hesitated. She looked to Hubert, then reached for his hand. He took it, and felt her squeeze his hand tight. She stared into his eyes as if she was looking for something.
“I can’t answer it for you,” he said softly.
She nodded. “I know,” she said. “I’m just—preparing to say goodbye.”
“Oh!” Hubert laughed. “It need not be goodbye forever, dear. I expect Leona, Agrippa, and I will remain in the city for a little while before we move on. I’ll stop in and check on you.”
Maria nodded again. “Alright. Still… it is a goodbye.” She leaned in and kissed him, more hesitantly than Camilla had earlier, but still with tenderness.
Behind Maria, he heard Leona snort. “Yeah, definitely not Hubey’s girl,” she muttered. He ended the kiss in time to see her rolling her eyes.
Maria turned to Agrippa. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it. Thank you.”
Agrippa shrugged. “No thanks are needed. What happens will be up to you. My recommendation will get you the job and a fair chance, but if you are terrible at it, you will be dismissed.”
“Of course,” Maria said.
“Well then,” Agrippa said. “Hubert, Leona, wait here? Come on Maria. Let’s go talk to Lady Andrea.”
He led her to the main manor house, and she followed. She spared one last glance at Hubert, and then she was gone. He turned his attention to Leona, who grabbed him in another tight hug.
“It’s fucking good to see you again, Hubey,” she said.
“You too, my dear. I missed you quite a bit.” Her and Agrippa both. More than expected. I’ve said goodbye to many friends, and it’s a rare few that I’ve felt this excited to be back together with.
She ended the embrace. “Let’s not split up so long again, alright?”
He grinned. “Agreed,” he said.
“So,” Leona said. “Once the Mother Chicken is free of this flock, what do you want to do first?”
“Well—”
“Nevermind,” Leona said, eyes twinkling. “I know already.”
“Do you?” Hubert asked. Of course she does.
“There’s a great place a few blocks from here,” she said. “Mostly serves rich merchants, but it’s been filling up with foreign nobles in town for the wedding. Best beer in the city, I think. And I bet you’d love the food. They usually make some kind of roast lamb.”
Hubert grinned. “You know me well, my dear,” he said. “Lamb sounds lovely. And I could definitely use a drink.”