An Echo in the Darkness(33)

She smiled beneath her veil, a smile that lit her eyes. “One small boy had bread and a fish. He came forward and gave it to the Master, and with it the Master fed them all.”

“Who was this master?”

“His name is Jesus,” she said. She took Boethus’ hand between hers. “He said something else, too, Boethus. He said that man doesn’t live by bread alone.” Leaning toward him, she told him the Good News. They talked quietly all the while the prostitute was with Alexander.

The woman came out and handed Hadassah a copper. “Keep the two quadrantes change for yourself,” she said. Surprised, Hadassah thanked her.

Boethus watched the woman hurry away.

“Sometimes,” Hadassah said, smiling again, “the Lord answers prayer in swift, unexpected ways.” He glanced at her as she rose and left him again to speak briefly with a young man who had a severe cough. She went behind the curtain again.

“What do we have next?” Alexander said as he washed his hands in a basin of cold water.

“His name is Ariovistus and he’s twenty-three years of age. He’s a fuller and has a cough that won’t go away. It’s deep in his chest and has a thick sound.” She took a money box from a small concealed shelf beneath Alexander’s worktable. “Severina gave us a copper. She wanted me to keep the two quadrantes change.”

“She was probably grateful to have someone speak to her,” he said and gave her a nod. Giving thanks to God, she took the two small quadrantes from the box and replaced it beneath the worktable.

Boethus was still sitting on the stool beside the small table outside. He glanced up as she came from behind the curtain. “My headache’s gone,” he said, bemused. “I don’t think I need to see the physician after all. I just wanted to wait and thank you for talking with me.” He stood.

Taking his hand, Hadassah turned it palm up and placed the two small coins in it. “From the Lord,” she said, closing his fingers around them. “Bread for your family.”

Needing a moment’s respite, Alexander came out of the booth. He needed a breath of fresh air. He was tired and hungry, and it was getting late. He glanced over the patients still waiting to see him and wished he was more than human, that he could command time to stop. As it was, he could not see everyone who needed him. People such as these, who had little money and even less hope, came to a physician as a last resort. To send them away without the care they desperately needed sat ill with him. But what else could he do? There were only so many hours in a day . . . and only one of him.

He saw Hadassah had set her stool before a woman who held a crying child in her lap. The mother’s face was pale and intent as she spoke, her gaze flickering to him nervously. Alexander knew that patients often were afraid of him, certain that whatever cure he might dispense would involve considerable pain. Unfortunately, that too often was true. You couldn’t suture wounds or set limbs without pain. He struggled with the sense of frustration that welled within him. Had he the money, he would give doses of mandragora before he did his work. As it was, he had no choice but to save the drug for use during surgery.

He sighed, then smiled at the woman, trying to ease her trepidation, but she blinked and looked quickly away. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to the scroll on the small worktable. He ran his fingertip down the names written carefully onto the parchment and found the person he’d just finished with. He announced the next patient.

“Boethus,” he said and looked over the people standing and sitting around the front of the booth. Four men and three women were waiting, not counting the woman with the crying child. He had already seen ten patients and knew there wouldn’t be time to see more than two or three more before he needed to close and rest himself.

Hadassah leaned heavily on her walking stick and rose.

“Boethus!” Alexander said again, impatient.

“I’m sorry, my lord. Boethus left. Agrippina is next, but she’s agreed to let Ephicharis go before her. Ephicharis’ daughter, Helena, has a boil on her foot and it’s causing her terrible pain.”

He looked at the mother and gestured. “Bring her in,” he said abruptly and went behind the curtain.

As the mother rose to follow, her child screamed, struggling in her arms. The mother tried to reassure her, but her own fear was evident: her eyes were wide and shining with it, and her mouth trembled. Hadassah stepped toward her and then hesitated, knowing Alexander wouldn’t want her to interfere with what had to be done. Ephicharis carried her child behind the curtain.

Hadassah wanted to cover her ears as sounds of terror splintered the air. She heard Alexander’s voice, and it was none too patient. “By the gods, woman! You must hold her down or I can’t work.” Then the mother spoke, and Hadassah knew she was crying as she struggled to do as she was told. The screams grew worse.