Zwerger nodded and then, turning his head, he called for one of his men. “Komm mal her, Meier!”

A young soldier, hardly more than a boy, appeared at the kitchen door.

“Meier has a wound that needs attending. He failed to listen to the medic and the stitches have split. Is there anything you can do?”

She waited for Nico to intervene, but he said nothing. “May we go outside where the light is better? Have him sit on one of the stools while I wash my hands.”

She washed and dried her hands and, taking up a clean dishcloth, went to sit on the unoccupied stool. Spreading the cloth upon her lap, she took the soldier’s hand and bent to inspect it. There was a deep, jagged cut in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, and though it had been stitched, the job had been hurried and careless. Several of the stitches had torn loose, and the edges of the wound were angry and inflamed.

“It isn’t so very bad. To begin with, the infection is local to the wound. You’ll need to have someone remove the remaining stitches, clean the wound, and restitch it. The dressing will have to be kept clean and dry, and as soon as the wound has scabbed over, the sutures will have to come out. Anyone can do that with a clean pair of scissors and tweezers, though. Simply boil them or cover them with iodine.”

“Are you able to attend to him now?” Zwerger asked.

“I can, but I have no way of numbing the area. It will be quite painful. Won’t you consider taking him to Dr. Pivetti in the village?”

Zwerger spoke to the soldier, and though her knowledge of German was imperfect, she was fairly certain he told Meier to “sit still and act like a man.” The soldier was already looking a little green, but he nodded and set his chin.

“Let me gather my things,” she said, resigned to the task ahead, and returned to the kitchen.

“I’ll need two bowls, one empty and one filled with the water you boiled earlier,” she told Rosa, “and can you fetch me the iodine, tweezers, scissors, needle, and thread from the first-aid box? Nico—can you spare a razor blade? A fresh one?”

Outside the soldier was swallowing a great gulp of something from a silver flask. “Not too much, please,” she said mildly as she set the tray she and Rosa had assembled on a chair Nico had brought outside. “I can’t have him falling over while I’m working.”

“Of course, signora.” Zwerger cleaned the mouth of the flask with his handkerchief and slipped it into a pocket in his jodhpur trousers.

“Does he speak Italian?”

“After a fashion. Enough to understand basic commands.”