Reining his horse in, he stopped and stared after the young shepherd for a moment longer, perplexed. What was it about him that was different? Shaking his head, Marcus gave a self-deprecating laugh and urged his horse on. He had spent too much time on the mountain without food and drink. He was turning fanciful.
He continued at a brisk pace down the mountain and headed south for Jerusalem.
12
Hadassah awakened to someone banging on the outer partition of the booth and calling for help. “My lord physician! My lord! Please. We need you!” She sat up, struggling from sleep.
“No,” Rashid said, moving quickly to intercept her. “It is late, and you must rest.” He stepped around her to push the partition aside, determined to silence and chase off the intruder. “What do you want, woman? The physician and his assistant are asleep.”
“My master sent me. Please. Let me speak to him. My mistress’ time has come, and we learned her physician has left Ephesus in disgrace. My mistress is in great difficulty.”
“Be off with you. There are other physicians at the baths. This booth is closed.”
“She will die if she doesn’t get help. You must awaken him. He must come. I beg you. Please. She is in terrible pain, and the baby won’t come. My master is rich. He will pay whatever you ask.”
“Rashid,” Hadassah said as she drew her veils down over her face. “Tell her we will come.”
“You have just lain down to rest, my lady,” he said in protest.
“Do as she says,” Alexander told him, already up and checking his instruments, adding several to his leather carrying pack. “Bring the mandragora, Hadassah. If it’s as bad as it sounds, we may need it.”
“Yes, my lord.” She added several other drugs to the box besides the mandragora. She was ready before he was, and, taking up her walking stick, she limped to the partition. Rashid blocked her way, and she put her hand on his arm. “Let me speak with her.”
“Do you not need rest like any other?” he said and glared at the slave girl outside. “Let her go elsewhere.”
“She has come to us. Now move aside.”
Mouth tight, Rashid yanked the partition back. Hadassah went outside. The slave girl drew back from her, her face pale in the moonlight. Hadassah understood her trepidation, for she had seen it often enough. The veils made many people nervous. She tried to ease the slave girl’s anxiety. “The physician is coming,” she said gently. “He is very knowledgeable and will do all he can for your mistress. He’s packing what he needs.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” the girl said, bowing several times and then bursting into tears. “My lady’s pains began yesterday afternoon and grow worse and worse.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Livilla, my lady.”
“And the name of your mistress?”
“Antonia Stephania Magonianus, wife of Habinnas Attalus.”
Alexander had appeared. “Magonianus? Surely not Magonianus the silversmith?”
“The same, my lord,” Livilla said, clearly distressed at the slightest delay. “We must hurry. Please. We must hurry!”
“Lead the way,” Alexander said, and Livilla set off quickly.
Rashid yanked the partition closed with one hand and followed. “You cannot keep up,” he said walking beside Hadassah.
She knew he was right, for already pain was shooting up her bad leg. She stumbled once and gasped. Rashid glowered at her with an expression of grimness as he reached out to take her arm. “Do you see?”
Alexander glanced back and saw her difficulty. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“No,” she panted. “Go without me. I will come as quickly as I can.”
“She should not be coming at all,” Rashid said in annoyance.
Hadassah shook his hand off her arm and limped after Livilla, who was standing at a corner and calling back to them to hurry. Alexander fell into step beside her. “Rashid is right. It’s too far and too hard on you. Go back. I’ll have Magonianus send a litter for you.”
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Hadassah scarcely heard him. All of her attention was on the frightened slave girl urging them to hurry.
Rashid swore in his own language and caught Hadassah up in his arms. He strode up the hill, still muttering under his breath.
“Thank you, Rashid,” Hadassah said, her arm around his neck. “God sent her to us for a reason.”
They followed Livilla through the maze of dark city streets and reached a large shop facing the Artemision. One glance told Hadassah who they were coming to see. Magonianus. The silversmith. The idol maker.