Chapter 12: Hippocratic Oath

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

My head was reelin' wi' the realization as I was a free man. I walked into the hallway, blind wi' joy, so's as I verra nearly knocked o'er my Sassenach when I entered the surgery.

She turned away from the work table, puttin' down the mortar and pestle as she was mixin' herbs in. "Jamie, what is it? You're flushed, but don't seem to be a bit upset."

"Nay, just the opposite. I'm free, Claire. Black Jack has granted me a pardon."

"What? A pardon? Excuse me for saying so, but that doesn't sound like Randall whatsoever."

"It's the god's own truth, Sassenach. The meetin' was verra odd tho'. The blatherskite asked me questions 'bout why I got marrit to ye and such."

"That is odd—very odd indeed. Why do you suppose he would venture in that vein of inquiry?"

Shruggin', I felt just as mystified as mo nighean donn. "I canna e'en guess 'bout the workin's of that cur's mind. He's touched in the head for certain, but I'll no say anythin' 'bout that."

Claire flung herself into my arms. "Oh, Jamie, I'm so happy for you."

"Aye. I wanta burst out singin'."

She looked op at me, eagerness in her eyes. "How did Colum react to this sudden turn of events?"

"Christ—Colum—I forgot 'bout my uncle. I imagine he'll be wantin' to ken the outcome as weel."

# # # # #

Jamie lifted me in the air, braying, "I'm free, truly free. Stars and stones, I canna believe it."

Putting me back on my feet, but still gripping me about the waist, he proceeded to endow me with a lingering kiss. As we were thus engaged, in walked Murtagh, looking as if he'd been sucking on the end of kosher dill.

After clearing his throat, he remarked, "I expect the meetin' wi' the British scunner went weel."

"Aye. The price on my head isna more."

With the scowl never leaving his face, he dryly offered, "Is that a fact, ye wee gomerel?"

"I kent yer meanin', forbye, I can barely believe it myself."

Murtagh's face folded in on itself, a frown of skepticism alighting upon it. "The man must be ill; else, barmy. It's the only explanation."

"Barmy or no, the man said the soldier as killt the sergeant was hanged, so I'll no be keekin' o'er my shoulder ever' minute o' ever' day."

"And what, might I ask, did Himself havta say say 'bout itall?"

"I've no been to see him as yet."

"Weel, ye best detach yerself from the lass, then, and inform the man."

"Aye." He promptly let loose of me, and nodding to us, blared, "Claire, Murtagh … I'm off."

I waved at him, cheerfully, as he strode toward the exit, delighted at this new development. His cousin, however did not share in my joy.

"You don't look at all happy for him, Murtagh."

"Nay … ye're correct in that assumption. I ken Randall, and what's to stop him from changin' his mind, aye?"

"But he gave Jamie his word. Surely, he would never give it unless he planned to honor it."

"Phffft! Randall's word isna worth a bawbee. I dinna trust that smarmy stoat."

"Bloody hell, you have such a prodigious talent for spoiling a person's good humour. Why, you're as glum as Eeyore."

His head shook, and he deadpanned, "Ne'er met the man."

I huffed at the messenger of melancholy. "He's not a man. He's a fictional character."

"Och … beggin' yer pardon; my mistake. I'll be leavin' ye to yer work then, and takin' my gloom wi' me."

Rolling his eyes, he then bowed, and made his way toward the door.

I followed in his wake, and he turned about. "Please … don't leave yet. I shouldn't have spoken to you in that way. I beg you to accept my apology. It's just that it warmed my heart to witness the relief in Jamie's eyes. I'd never seen him so carefree."

"I hope to god almighty as it lasts." Removing his tam, he waved it in front of me in a courtly flourish. "G'day to ye, Mistress Fraser."

Yes it is a good day, I thought to myself, smiling at the morose, little curmudgeon.

# # # # #

Frank grudgingly admitted to himself that Jamie Fraser was an amiable chap, and his regard for Claire indisputable as well. There was also the glaring evidence that he was in no way responsible—or even capable—of murdering Randall's sergeant. It was obviously a trumped-up charge due to Black Jack's personal vendetta against Fraser. He wondered why all that vitriol had been poured upon the young man. He'd put his ear to the ground to ferret out the reason.

The three dragoons dutifully waited without the gate, talking among themselves. They simultaneously separated, and mounted their steeds as they watched his approach.

"Where is the prisoner?" Hawkins asked. "I thought we'd come here to take Red Jamie back with us to the fort."

Frank slid one foot in the stirrup, and hoisted his other leg up and over the saddle. "I've had a change of heart. After reviewing the evidence, more thoroughly, I decided to pardon the fellow. However, my business here is not quite concluded. We'll not break camp yet, but hunker down for this evening and complete the mission at first light."

The corporal's eyes widened in surprise, but he spoke not a word in rebuttal.

With the explanation clearly revealed, the little group returned to the tents that were pitched in the clearing beyond the ridge.

Early next morning, before his men arose, Frank began experiencing vertigo and weakness. It irritated him, since he came all this way, and immediately prior to his planned visit with Claire, he'd come down with this cursed malady. Blasted inconvenience!

He lay down. Everything in the surrounding area was spinning before his eyes. With them tightly shut to block out the nausea-inducing motion, he heard someone at the front flap of the tent.

"Sir, I have documents from Colonel Withers." Ah, it was a messenger arriving at his quarters with a missive from his commander.

"Come," he replied hoarsely.

The stricken man sat up when the young soldier stood before him. He handed the orders to Frank, who read them quickly. The private seemed reluctant to leave, appearing very concerned.

"Are you quite alright, sir? Your face looks a smite flushed."

It was a struggle for Frank to even form words. "No, as a matter of fact, I'm feeling rather poorly at this moment."

The messenger questioned him. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I must ask, do you have a reply for Col. Withers?"

"Yes, tell my corporal to write that I'm under the weather, and will be detained at Leoch for a few days."

"Aye" He turned to go, "I'll find you some help, sir."

# # # # #

Hawkins entered Frank's quarters, and was appalled by the captain's condition. Gesturing his intent to touch Frank's forehead, he hesitantly asked, "May I?"

Frank nodded slowly; his head throbbing with the effort.

Very gently, the corporal placed one palm on Frank's forehead to ascertain if fever was present. "Sorry to say, but you have a great deal of fever, but don't worry, Captain; you'll be right as rain soon. I'll go fetch the Beaton, Mistress Fraser, back at Leoch. I hear she has a pool of knowledge to do with this sort of thing." Well, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad …

# # # # #

Rupert led Corporal Hawkins to my surgery. I was absolutely flabbergasted by his visit, even more so at his request.

Hawkins removed his tricorn, placing it over his heart. "Mistress Fraser, I'm well aware of the history between you and Captain Randall. As you know, I was eye witness to his mistreatment of you. But, notwithstanding the events of the past, I come to you for help. The captain is burning up with fever. You're his only hope."

What? He wanted me to treat Randall—again? I almost refused his petition, but my conscience got the better of me. I couldn't withhold my help to someone in need, regardless of whether or not he was deserving of that help.

"Where is he?"

"Not far, just a furlong or so. Will you come with me then?"

"Yes. Let me gather up my supplies." I turned from him, putting various tinctures and ointments in my medicine box, and handed it to the corporal to carry outside.

Following Hawkins out past the gate, I noticed two horses already prepared and waiting for us. I took a deep breath, before mounting one of them, knowing full well that Jamie would not approve of my venture to the British encampment. Still, I wasn't a bit reticent; I trusted the corporal implicitly. Besides, if I didn't return by day's end, the warchief surely would send out a party to retrieve me.

The corporal dismounted when we reached the site, and assisted me down from my horse, along with my medical equipment. He then guided me through the maze of horses and tents to his commanding officer.

I could distinctly hear Randall moaning as we neared his quarters.

On entering, I saw Randall, lying flat upon his cot, his face reddened with the flush of a raging fever. I timidly approached the captain, and extended my hand. The heat spread to my palm; he was indeed febrile. I only wished I had a bloody thermometer with me.

Sighing, I opened my apothecary chest, and took out a vial of crushed willow bark. I showed the contents to Hawkins, and instructed him, "Can you perhaps bring in some hot water, so I may brew some tea for the captain? This herb is quite effective in bringing down one's body temperature."

When he left, I soaked a cloth in a stream of water from a ewer at his bedside, and applied the cool compress to his sweat-beaded forehead. As I did so, Randall grabbed my arm and opened his eyes. "Claire … Is that you?"

Taken aback by his familiarity, I answered honestly, "Yes, it's Claire Fraser, as you well know. Corporal Hawkins brought me to your camp to minister to you."

He struggled to lift his head. "Claire—don't you recognize me? It's Frank … Frank Randall, your husband."

I gently pushed him down to the cot. "Shhh … don't exert yourself. Lie down and rest."

Good lord! Was it possible? Or was he delirious? After all, Randall did hear me mention Frank's name once or twice. It was most disconcerting to say the least. The last time I ministered to him, he made the same assertion, but never clearly identified himself as Frank. I didn't know what to think, nor what to do about it if his assertion proved to be true.

I took his hand in mine, as he slipped into a restless sleep. My heart stopped as a result of this insignificant gesture, and a series of goose bumps rose on my arms, for there on his left hand was a wedding ring … and a perfect match to the one I wore. Coincidence?

I stayed with my patient until I felt certain his fever had subsided somewhat, then gave directions to his men for the use of the supplies I left with them, and to offer Randall liquids throughout the remainder of the day.

Hawkins escorted me to the castle, and thanked me for seeing to his commander. Rupert was at my side immediately, and the corporal lowered the chest with the remaining medications into his able hands.

I watched as the corporal banked the horses and rode off back to his encampment. Rupert and I walked through the gate, and to my surgery.

# # # # #

The events of that afternoon were hazy at best, yet Frank did believe that his beloved Claire had been there at his bedside, caring for him.

What had he said to her? He couldn't remember, blast it all! Did he reveal who he was, and if he had done so, did Claire take him at his word?

His head continued to pound, so he shut his eyelids, and succumbed to sleep once more, putting a halt to the thoughts that were roiling about in his brain.