Clinging to that, she kissed Marcus’ cheek in blessing and whispered, “Do whatsoever you must.” Only she knew the words were not spoken to her son, but to the unseen God she trusted with all her heart.
5
Alexander Democedes Amandinus lounged back on the bench in the calidarium while his two friends continued their debate over the practice of medicine. He had not seen either of them since leaving Phlegon’s tutelage, where all three had been studying beneath the master physician. Vitruvius Plautus Musa had always had difficulty keeping up with the written work Phlegon required, while Celsus Phaedrus Timalchio took every word the master physician said as the final authority. After a year of study with Phlegon, Vitruvius had decided he was an empiric and sought a master physician who shared his views. Cletas apparently sufficed. Alexander had reserved his comments about him, deciding that whatever he would say would fall on deaf ears anyway.
And now, Vitruvius sat across from him, his back against the wall, his strong legs stretched out in front of him, declaring that true physicians received their healing abilities directly from the gods, a view undoubtedly touted by Cletas. Alexander smiled to himself, wondering if young Celsus had grasped yet that Vitruvius was boasting out of a sense of inferiority. Phlegon had frequently congratulated Celsus on his quick grasp of medical concepts, especially those he himself favored.
“So, now you think you’re a gift from the gods,” Celsus said from where he stood near the steaming font. He was pale, perspiration dripping from his body, and in no mood for Vitruvius’ boasting. “Pray to the gods all you want, but I hold with what Phlegon teaches. He’s proven that illness comes from an imbalance of the humors and elements, all of which are rooted in fire, air, earth, and water.”
“Proven! Just because Phlegon says health comes from balancing body fluids, you swallow it as fact,” Vitruvius said. “Have you no mind of your own?”
“Indeed, I’ve a mind of my own. Mind enough to not swallow your hogwash,” he said, moving closer to the hot steam rising from the stones.
“If that old man was right about how to treat a patient, you would be able to overcome these recurring fevers you’ve suffered since studying in Rome. You’ve been ‘balancing humors’ since we met. If his theories worked, you’d be the healthiest man in the Empire!”
“The fever is less than yesterday,” Celsus said stiffly.
“Ah, so the bloodletting and emetics helped.” Vitruvius uttered a derisive snort. “If that were really so, you wouldn’t be standing there shivering in this heat!”
Celsus glared at him in growing frustration. “If you’re so sure of your divinely inspired abilities, give me a demonstration! By Cletas’ logic, all a physician would need to do is utter the right words and give a sleight of hand to produce a cure! So whisper your incantations, Vitruvius, and let’s see if you can cure someone who’s really sick. Let’s see this gift of yours in action!”
“Magical incantations are only the beginning,” Vitruvius said haughtily. “Animal and vegetable remedies—”
Celsus held up his hand. “If you’re about to suggest I swallow a brew like that last one you concocted out of lion’s manure and the blood of a dying gladiator, save your breath. It almost killed me!”
Vitruvius sat forward. “Perhaps what you lack is a proper respect for the gods!”
“If I had kissed your feet, would it have made a difference?”
Seeing that what had begun as an interesting exchange of ideas had deteriorated into an argument, Alexander interceded. “What ails you, Celsus, is a common affliction of many who live in Rome. I think it has something to do with the mephitic floods that occur there.”
Vitruvius rolled his eyes and leaned back again. “Another of your theories, Alexander? Have you shared it with Phlegon? Or is he still not speaking to you because of your defiance over that slave girl you smuggled out of the arena?”
Alexander ignored him as he continued speaking to Celsus. “I studied in Rome before coming to Ephesus, and I wrote extensive notes on my observations. The fevers come and go, sometimes with weeks or months between attacks. Sometimes they grow worse. . . .”
Celsus nodded. “My symptoms exactly.”
Vitruvius looked at Celsus. “Alexander will now tell you again disease is spread by tiny invisible seeds, and that if medical cases were recorded in a logical, methodical manner, one could find a commonality.” He waved his hand airily. “By experimentation, a trial and error method, if you will, a workable cure could be found for almost any disease.”