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An Echo in the Darkness(28)

By:Francine Rivers


“I didn’t mean to imply the girl was not grateful,” Alexander said.

“Yet she doesn’t credit you with her life.”

“Well, not exactly.” He grinned. “She said I was but a tool in the hand of God.”

“I’ve heard Christians are thought to be insane.”

“She’s not insane. Just a little strange.”

“Whatever she is, she cost you a promising career. If you apologized to Phlegon, I’m sure he’d take you back. He said once you were the most brilliant student he had ever had.”

“I see no need to apologize, and I disagreed with Phlegon in several areas. Why should I go back?”

“You spent three years studying at the Hippocratic Corpus in Alexandria. Then you studied in Rome under Cato. When you learned all he could teach you, you came here to Ephesus, seeking Phlegon’s teaching because of his reputation throughout the Empire. But now, here you are in a booth outside the public baths.”

Alexander laughed. “Don’t sound so distressed. I chose to be here.”

“But why? You could have a prestigious practice anywhere, even in Rome itself if you wanted. Physician to the greatest men in the Empire. Instead, you defy Phlegon, set off on your own, and end up here, like this. I don’t understand it.”

“I’ve treated more patients in the last six months than I saw in a year under Phlegon, and I don’t have Troas breathing down my neck,” Alexander said, referring to the master physician’s Egyptian slave, a gifted surgeon and healer in his own right.

“But what sort of patients come to you?”

Alexander arched his brow. “People with conditions other than gout and mentagra or wasting illnesses caused by rich living,” he said, nodding toward a pile of scrolls neatly tucked into a shelf in the corner. “Where better to learn medicine than by treating the masses?”

“But can they pay?”

Alexander looked at him with a wry expression. “Yes, they pay. Granted, I don’t demand the same fees Phlegon does, but I didn’t come down here to get rich, Celsus. My purpose in being here is to learn all I can and apply that knowledge for the benefit of others.”

“And you couldn’t have done that with Phlegon?”

“Under his conditions, no. He’s too set in his thinking.”

Someone began to open the partition and then drew back.

“Someone is trying to get in,” Celsus said, alarmed.

Alexander rose quickly and pushed aside the heavy screen. “I should have left it open for you,” he said to whomever was outside, and glanced at Celsus as a veiled figure limped through the opening. “This is the woman of whom we were speaking earlier,” he said.

Celsus did not rise as a crippled woman in heavy veils entered the small cubicle. Alexander pulled the partition closed behind her. “Did you get the mandragora?” he asked her, taking the small basket she balanced over one arm and uncovering the contents.

“Yes, my lord,” came the soft reply. “But far less than you wanted. Tetricus had just received some opobalsamum, and I used the money you gave me to purchase it instead.”

Celsus frowned, listening intently. There was a slight impediment to her speech, but it did not disguise the heavy Judean accent.

“You did well,” Alexander said, pleased. He took the squat jar with the precious balsam and set the basket on the work counter. He held the small jar carefully near the flickering flame to see the deep color. Opobalsamum was made from secretions from numerous balsam trees, the most famous being the Mecca balsam or “balm of Gilead.” The drug had dozens of uses, from cleaning wounds as an erodent and a suppurative for drawing pus from a festering wound, to acting as an emollient.

“Are you making mithridatium?” Celsus said, alluding to an ancient antidote that was reputed to counteract poisons introduced into the body through bites, food, or drink. It had been named for its inventor, a brilliant and learned king of Pontus, Mithridates VI, who had drunk poison daily after first taking remedies to render it harmless. When ordered to take his own life, poison had proven ineffective, and he had died by the sword instead.

“Mithridatium might be in demand if I was physician to the proconsul or some other high official,” Alexander said, amused. “Since I’m treating laborers and slaves, I prefer to use the opobalsamum for something far more useful. It’s one of the ingredients in several poultices I make and also useful as an anodyne salve for relieving neuralgia. It’s also proven effective as an eye ointment.” He glanced at the slave girl. “Is it resin?”

“No, my lord,” the slave told him softly. “It was boiled down from leaves, seeds, and branches.”