“God sent her to us,” Hadassah had said on the way here. Alexander frowned. Had he?
“Make sure she is warm,” he said, nodding to Antonia. “She will need rest. I’ll return tomorrow and see how she’s doing.”
“Will she come back with you?” Habinnas said, nodding toward the doorway through which Rashid had carried Hadassah.
“Not unless you wish it,” Alexander said cautiously.
“Yes. I wish to know more about her.”
Alexander straightened, his leather carrying case securely under his arm. “What is it you wish to know?”
“I saw what she did with my own eyes. The woman has great power. Who is she? What god does she serve?”
Alexander hesitated again, unsure of the unease he felt stirring within him. Might this man move in the same social circles as Hadassah’s masters? If so, would revealing her identity put her in danger? Whoever had owned her had sent her to die in the arena. If they learned she was still alive, would they take possession and send her there again?
“Who is she?” Habinnas asked again.
“If she wishes to reveal herself to you, she will do so,” Alexander said and started for the door. A servant stood to one side of it, a small cedar box in his hands.
“Wait,” Habinnas said. He took the box from the servant and held it out to Alexander. “Payment for your services,” he said.
The box was heavy.
“See that the physician reaches home safely,” Habinnas told the slave and then ordered another to have a sleeping couch brought in so that he could stay close to his wife and son.
Alexander went outside, gave directions to his booth to Habinnas’ four litter bearers, then stepped into the luxurious box. As the slaves lifted the litter, he closed the thin privacy curtains and leaned back wearily into the soft cushions. Though exhausted, his mind was whirring.
Tonight had been momentous! Just how momentous filled him with disquiet.
He reached the booth before Rashid and Hadassah. With a twinge of conscience, he realized he hadn’t even looked for them on the way. He entered the booth and put his instruments and medicines away. Sitting at his writing table, he mixed soot and water and wrote on his scroll the events that had just occurred. Leaning back slightly, he looked at what he had written with dissatisfaction:
Hadassah laid her hands upon Antonia’s abdomen and wept. As she did so, her tears fell upon the woman, and the child turned and came forth.
Bottled tears were often used as a curative. Was there healing power in Hadassah’s? Or had it been her touch that had brought on the miracle? Or had it been the words she spoke silently to her god?
Someone kicked the partition, and Alexander rose and pulled it back. Rashid entered, Hadassah in his arms. She was asleep. Rashid lowered her gently to the beddings on the floor near the back of the booth and covered her carefully. He rose and turned to Alexander. “She must rest.”
“It’s almost sunrise,” Alexander said. “Patients will be gathering outside soon.”
His jaw set. “You must send them away.”
Alexander’s mouth tipped at his tone. “Are you sure you were a slave, Rashid, and not a master?” He held up his hand and added, “You are right.” He took a writing tablet and wrote a short message on it. “Put this outside on the ledge. We will hope those who come can read.”
Rashid read it.
“Does it meet with your approval?” Alexander said dryly.
“Yes, my lord.”
When Rashid came back inside, Alexander nodded toward the small cedar box on the counter. “Take a look,” he said, sprinkling sand on his notes.
Rashid opened it. He took one of the gold coins out and turned it in his fingers. An aureus. “A fortune,” he said.
“Habinnas prizes his wife’s life very highly. There’s enough there to rent an apartment and buy more supplies.” His mouth flattened. “I have a feeling we will be needing both soon.”
Rashid put the coin back in the box and closed it. “Yes, my lord. Tonight opened a new path. Hadassah touched that woman and brought the child forth. Magonianus saw. He will tell others . . . and those others will come.”
Alexander nodded grimly. “I know.” He poured the sand back into the small bowl. “As long as her compassion was limited to commoners or slaves like you, we’ve had no problem other than more patients than we can handle. Now there’s danger.”
Rashid’s gaze darkened. “Magonianus moves in exalted circles.”
“Yes, as do the masters who sent Hadassah to die in the arena,” Alexander said, seeing Rashid fully comprehended the threat. He rolled the scroll and tucked it into a cubicle above the writing table. “As Hadassah said, legally she still belongs to those who purchased her.”