Here There Be Dragons

Chapter 3: Mare Desperati

Siegfried fell asleep with his head on the book, which is how Helen found him. She thought about waking him, but decided against it, tiptoeing out of the surgery and closing the door. Tristan was just coming in from the kitchen.

“Helen! Anything for lunch? I'm ravenous!”

She hustled him back into the kitchen. “There's some leftover lamb stew I can heat up. We can eat it in here; Siegfried's fallen asleep in the surgery.”

Tristan's face lit up for a moment, but Helen put her hand on his arm. “Don't you dare, Tris. I know he's a little short with you sometimes...”

“A little short! That's like calling Krakatoa a 'minor disturbance'. He's always onto me about lying about, sleeping too much, breathing too much air...” He thought for a moment. “It isn't like him, is it? He's never still. Probably exhausted from being up all night.”

Helen frowned. “I didn't know he was out on a call.”

“He wasn't. He was up pacing about all night. First in his room, then downstairs. Which reminds me, I noticed there are some squeaky floorboards about.”

“You just noticed? Tris, how do you think Siegfried knew half of the time when you came in late? They've always been there.” She patted him on the hand. “You're getting old, Tris. Hearing things in the night; you used to sleep like the dead.” All the time they were talking, she was bustling about, ladling the stew into a bowl, setting out the bread and butter, and slapping his hand away when he reached for the plate of cookies she'd just baked. “Only two, and after you've eaten. Rationing just seems to be getting worse all the time. Those poor people in the big cities.” She sighed. “And James has lost so much weight. I thought at least the men in the service would be well fed.”

“He's just lost the pounds your good cooking added.” Tristan was already scraping his bowl. He never seemed to put on any weight, although he polished off as much food and drink as the others. “Siegfried seems as solid as ever.”

“A good appetite seems to run in the family.” She moved the plate of cookies still farther away. “Has Siegfried said anything?”

“About what?” Tristan had temporarily given up the struggle for the cookies, and was leaning back dangerously in his chair, idly dangling a string in front of a stray kitten they'd taken in.

“Anything. Being home, being back in the practice, what he's been doing the last few months.”

“Not a word. Oh, he did inform me that it's still his practice. As if it had escaped my notice. He seemed right on top of things this morning, did a brilliant piece of sleuthing in the field.” He shot a glance at Helen. “Are you inquiring as to whether my dear brother and I have had a heartfelt chat about the state of affairs?”

“I suppose,” said Helen, “although that's rather silly, isn't it? Perhaps he would tell me what's bothering him. Aside from the fact that you'll be leaving soon.” She wanted to say more, but her throat tightened every time she thought about him going off to war.

“Yes! Engage your feminine wiles, Helen. You women always manage to finagle information out of us. In fact, the British Empire would do well to employ only females as spies.”

“If women ran things, we wouldn't need spies. Or wars, for that matter.” She saw that Tristan's eyes were getting heavy. “All we'd need to do is continually stuff you men with heavy meals, and then let you go sleep it off in front of the fire, until the next one. We'd pacify the world inside of a week.”

The kitten, bored with the string, decided to hone it's hunting skills by leaping at Tristan's ankle and sinking it's needle-like teeth into it. Tristan jumped, swore, and crashed over backward in his chair, landing with his head under the sink. Helen, torn between concern and laughter, helped him up. A door banging at the end of the hallway alerted them to the fact that Siegfried was up and about. He appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“God, I might have known it was you. Blowing up the house again?”

Helen was already shepherding him to the table, while motioning Tristan to leave. He did, with alacrity, having felt the bite of Siegfried's bad temper often enough. He blew a kiss at Helen on the way out.

Siegfried sat down and reached for the cookies.

Helen promptly moved them out of reach. “There's some stew, if you'd like.”

He toyed with his spoon. “I'm really not that hungry,” he said, getting up from the table and giving her a peck on the cheek, “but I could use a drink.” She followed him into the sitting room, and he poured a small sherry and handed it to her. “I don't know how you and Mrs. Hall manage everything, sometimes. I hope you realize how much I appreciated your looking after things while I was gone.” He sat down with a sigh, and she saw his eyes flick around the room. “Nothing much changes in here, does it? I've spent a lot of time in here, with you, James, and Tristan. Always took it for granted, too. We were so eager to take on life, solve problems, push the frontiers of veterinary science. We were successful, too. Not so much in financial matters,” he said ruefully, “ but in practice and in spirit.” He sipped his drink.

“I've always driven myself to excel at everything. To always be on top of things...” he trailed off.

Helen went over and sat next to him. “I think you've done wonderfully.” He didn't answer, and she took his face in her hands. “Aren't you glad to be home?”

“Not like this.” He looked away. “I'm here because I'm too old to be a pilot. My reflexes and eyesight were deemed 'not good enough'. So it's back to being a country vet.”

Helen's eyes flashed, and she shot to her feet. “Siegfried Farnon! Don't tell me you, of all people, are going to sit there drowning in a pool of self-pity! The whole country is suffering, and you're walking around nursing a bruised ego, because for once in your life, you didn't come in at the head of the pack.

Pacing around, day and night, like those cattle Tristan was talking about, circling and pawing and driving themselves to exhaustion. I'll bet you're worried about what people will say, too, aren't you? They'll want to know if you've 'done your bit'. Well, you have. You did what was asked of you, and now you can do what I said you should have done in the first place – James as well; stay here and take care of the livestock that we're all dependent on.” Helen took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you have any idea what it's been like, with James gone, carrying our child and wondering if he will come back to help raise it? Wondering what kind of future this country has if, Heaven forbid, we lose this war? I haven't the luxury of stomping around and being miserable. I've had to take care of myself, and look out for Dad, and Tristan, and now you. Don't you think I look around this room and wish with all of my heart that things had stayed the way they were?” She choked out the last few words, and Siegfried was by her side, handkerchief at the ready.

He proffered it slowly, as if afraid she might take it and throw it in his face.

“I'm sorry,” he said simply.

“Oh Siegfried, you are so aggravating sometimes. But it is part of who you are, and I shouldn't have gotten angry.” She took the handkerchief, and dabbed at her eyes.

He put his arm around her, and gave her a gentle shake. “I do need sorting out, now and again. I have been rather selfish and distracted of late; and the cure for that, of course, is work. As I've tried to impress upon my younger brother, to no avail.” He smiled, then grew serious again. “One more thing. I know you have a father who adores you, and looks after you, and a home to go to; but whatever happens, I will always make sure that you are taken care of, my dear. For the next few months, we'll look out for each other, shall we? Then neither one bears it alone.”

She nodded silently.

“Good.” Siegfried jumped to his feet, rubbing his hands. “I've just had another thought. An old friend of mine, Seamus Worley, has all sorts of contacts in the Army. I'll set him to work, pulling every string he can, and see if I can get Tristan assigned to someone who will keep a careful eye on him. Someone who will keep him out of mischief, make him toe the line, someone like me....what?” He looked at her, puzzled, because she had burst into laughter.

“Siegfried, there is no one like you. No one!”

He had a half-smile on his face. “Is that good or bad?”

Helen put her arm through his. “Come along. Let's go and get you that cookie.”