The Furies Read Online Free PDF Page A

opened and a tall, slim young man dressed in a pale blue uniform stepped out onto the street.
    Captain Gabriel Bayer, regimental surgeon for the Austrian 6 th Army, stopped for a moment to remove his cap and run his fingers through thick black hair. He replaced the cap and adjusted it to fit, then pulled the door closed behind him and began to stride purposefully along the street, a copy of the
Boston Medical and Surgical Journal
tucked under one arm.
    Gabriel glanced up at the sky. Although the day had started out wet, a dazzling sun had burst through the clouds half an hour earlier and already a gentle steam was rising from the pavement below his feet. He hoped this was a good omen for the day ahead, because in a few minutes the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, the Duchess Sophie, were due to begin a royal visit of Sarajevo. For the past three drizzly days the royal couple had been staying in Illidza, a suburb twelve kilometres south of Sarajevo. But now, as if on cue, the sun had come out at the very moment their train should be arriving at Sarajevo central station, where they were due to be met by General Oskar Potiorek, the Governor of Bosnia.
    The streets were unusually busy for a Sunday morning, Gabriel thought, impatient at a crowd of slower-moving people on the pavement ahead who were delaying his progress. It appeared as if much of Sarajevo was going the same way as him, south towards the Appel Quay embankment on the River Miljacka, presumably to find the best vantage points to view the royal procession which was due to pass there shortly. Gabriel’s impatience was due to a headache caused by an uncharacteristic excess of wine the previous evening: as a consequence, he felt an urgent need for coffee, and the lure of Schiller’s café on the embankment – only a minutes walk away – was strong. But just as he was striding past a dawdling couple in front of him, he heard a call from the street behind.
    â€˜Captain Bayer!’
    He turned and saw the squat figure of Lieutenant Peter Flieger, his First Surgeon, hurrying towards him. Gabriel stopped and allowed the stream of pedestrians to flow past while he waited for Flieger to arrive at his side.
    â€˜Morning, Captain,’ Flieger said as he drew near, a large grin on his owlish face, bushy eyebrows partly hidden by round, silver-rimmed spectacles.
    â€˜Morning, Peter,’ replied Gabriel. ‘I take it that everything went well?’
    Flieger’s grin broadened. ‘Yes, it was quite a short labour and Maria produced a son for me just before midnight.’
    Gabriel reached out to shake the young lieutenant’s hand. ‘Congratulations, Peter: a son at last. Mother and baby doing well I hope?’
    â€˜Yes. I’ve left them with the midwife.’
    â€˜Shouldn’t you be at home with them?’
    Flieger waved a hand dismissively. ‘No, they’re fine, really. I’ll just get in the way and Maria’s sisters are there to help look after the other children. Anyway, I’m on duty for the royal visit.’
    â€˜Still, it’s the birth of a son,’ Gabriel said as he began to walk again, Flieger by his side as they turned into Franz Josef Strasse, the embankment now quite close. ‘I could do your shift for you if you want. Chief Fischer wouldn’t mind.’
    â€˜That’s kind of you to offer, Captain, but I’m quite happy to get away from all the women fussing at home.’
    Gabriel smiled: four girls and now a son, he thought. Good Lord, how on earth did Peter manage to find any time to study? Gabriel felt a tinge of sympathy for his friend, as it seemed that Peter’s wife was in a perpetual cycle of pregnancy, only interrupted by brief interludes of labour. Without a wife or family to worry about, Gabriel relished the fact that he could devote all his time to his career, and for a moment his mind drifted towards the research paper he hoped to present at