“You are also in danger for harboring her, my lord.”
Alexander hadn’t considered that. “There’s that, too, I suppose. The problem is what do we do now? She has a valuable gift, and there are many who need it.” The thought of what could happen if Hadassah’s owners discovered she was alive propelled Alexander from his stool. He paced in frustration. “I’m not about to give her back to anyone who sent her into the arena to die, no matter their reasons!”
“Find out their names, and I will kill them.”
Astonished, Alexander stared at him and saw the dark fierceness in the Arab’s eyes. “You leave me in no doubt you could do such a thing,” he said, appalled. He shook his head. “There are sides to your character that worry me, Rashid. I’m a physician, not an assassin. I strive to save life, not take it. In that, Hadassah and I are alike.”
“I will protect her, whatever the cost.”
“Hadassah wouldn’t approve your means of protection. In fact, it would cause her tremendous grief.”
“She need not know.”
“She would know. I don’t know how, but she would.” He looked at Hadassah, lying asleep on the mat. “She’s a strange one. She can see into people and know things about them. She says it’s only because she listens and looks, but I think it’s more. I think her god reveals things to her.” She had curled on her side like a child. He stepped over and gently removed the veils, exposing the disfiguring scars. Gently he touched her marked face, careful not to awaken her. “The fact that she’s alive is a testimony to her god’s power. My abilities as a physician wouldn’t have been enough.” Straightening, he looked at Rashid. “Perhaps we should leave it to her god to go on protecting her.”
Rashid said nothing.
Alexander looked at the fathomless face. “Do you know why she covers herself?”
“She is ashamed.”
Alexander shook his head. “She has not one particle of vanity in her. She covers her scars because they disturb others. No other reason than that. People see the mark of the lion on her. They fail to see what it means.”
He bent down and smoothed back the tendrils of hair. His heart ached for her. From the moment he had seen her walk into the middle of the arena, he had been drawn to her. She was like the slaves at the Asklepion: cast away and forgotten, her life meaningless in the scheme of things. And yet her sweetness and humility were like a beacon to Alexander’s heart—and to many others. Scarred and broken, Hadassah had a resilience that defied reason. Sometimes the love she expressed to a patient by a light touch or softly spoken word pierced him. It was the love he wanted to show . . . the love he seemed to lack.
He cared. Hadassah loved.
He shook his head in wonder. How was it possible for anyone who had been through what she had suffered to be the way she was?
“I’ve never known anyone like her, Rashid,” he said, rubbing a strand of dark hair between his fingers. “I will do nothing that would displease her.” He was startled to realize that his voice was shaking with the intensity of his emotions, and he straightened quickly. He looked at the Arab, staring hard into his dark eyes. “Nor will you.”
“I have sworn to protect her, my lord.”
“Then protect her, but do so in a manner pleasing to Hadassah and not yourself.”
“My life belongs to her. Because of that, I can’t let someone take hers.”
Alexander’s mouth tipped. “She would say your life belongs to her god, just as hers does.” He let out his breath and rubbed his neck wearily. “Don’t ask me for answers. I haven’t any. Perhaps we are only borrowing trouble. Nothing may come of tonight, neither opportunity nor threat. Let’s get some sleep. We can face whatever comes much better with some rest.”
But rest was elusive.
Alexander lay awake, thinking, going over and over the night’s events in his mind. Wonder over what had happened mixed with a troubling confusion when he considered the intensity of his feelings at the thought of Hadassah being in danger. He tried to tell himself that it was only natural he be worried. After all, Hadassah was a capable and valuable assistant. But something deep inside told him there was much more to it than that.
Finally someone knocked on the partition and called out an appeal in Hebrew. Alexander recognized a few words and knew it was not him for whom the man called, but Hadassah. Apparently, Rashid was having equal difficulty sleeping, for he rose swiftly and opened the partition just enough to speak to the intruder upon their sleep.
“You fool! Can’t you read?”