Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) (5 page)

      
“Judaizers,” he echoed as the implication finally sank into his opiate-fogged mind. Isaac, Benjamin, Miriam... “Jews! My father's people are Jews?” he hissed. Then the terrible irony of it struck him like a blow and he laughed. God's bones, but it hurt to laugh. His side burned like fire, yet he could not stop, only choke out, “My Indian blood nearly saw me sold into slavery. Now I stand at double risk. I can even be burned by the Inquisitors! How fortunate I have been in my parentage.”

      
“I know nothing of your mother's people, but I know your father's family well. Any man should be proud to call himself a Torres,” she said stiffly, furious with this boorish, insulting barbarian.

      
He finally subsided as the tearing pain in his side caused him to stiffen in agony. Sweat beaded his forehead. Miriam quickly bent over him and pulled down the coverlet to examine his wound, pressing one cool palm firmly against his hard chest muscles, forcing him to lie flat on the bed so she could better see if he had torn her handiwork loose with his angry exertions.

      
Rigo struggled in spite of his weakened state to keep her from examining him. By the sweet Virgin, he was completely naked and here his brother's innocent betrothed was attempting to uncover his body! “I am gravely injured. Call Benjamin to assist me. He is a physician,” he gritted out.

      
“So am I. Benjamin has not slept in three days, being shipwrecked and then caring for you. Now be silent and be still so I can see if you have undone my work.” Her cold, clearly enunciated remonstrance quickly caused him to give up the uneven contest.

      
As her fingers deftly probed the fiery ache in his side, he watched her in dumb amazement. “Your work? You treated me? Small wonder I feel ready to greet St. Peter and the Archangels!”

      
“For one who has lived the life you have, I marvel at your assurance of acceptance at Heaven's gates,” she said tartly.

      
“I merely said I would greet them, not that they would admit me,” he replied with grudging admiration. She placed a cool water-soaked linen compress against his fiery side and the pain eased a bit. “What is in that water?” He eyed with curiosity the small vial from which she had soaked the cloth.

      
“Aloes, camphor and several other wild herbal powders I gather and dry myself during the summer,” she replied. “Lie still. You have torn loose one of my stitches.”

      
“Stitches? You have stitched me—like a damned piece of cloth?” he asked incredulously. When she removed her hand from the compress and began to prepare a fresh one, he reached down and tossed the old one aside. Then he raised his head to examine the injury. Rigo swore several remarkable oaths having to do with the sexual practices of the early apostles, then collapsed back onto the pillows. “Call Benjamin! I am a man, not a damnable piece of embroidery. He must cut open the wound and cauterize it.”

      
“Benjamin was the one who convinced me to try my most unorthodox embroidery on you,” she said in a clipped, low voice, pressing a fresh dressing to the wound. “He assisted me while I stitched.”

      
“Jews! All of you are insane! Mayhap the Holy Office was right to banish you from Spain!”

      
Miriam fought the urge to do as he wanted and rip out every stitch, but his exertions were taking their toll as he lay back panting with exhaustion. The fever in his body was rising. As he quickly lost consciousness she pressed the wet cloth to the wound once more. Good, the bleeding had stopped at the small spot where Benjamin wanted to insert the piece of reed. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Should she have him awakened? His precious brother was his responsibility. She could scarcely control Rigo de Las Casas if he began to thrash with fever. Looking at the evening sky, she estimated that Benjamin had slept through the day.

      
Her eyes traveled up the Spaniard's body, from the injured side across the black-furred chest and muscular arms to study his face. She was grateful those disturbing eyes no longer mocked or accused her. If Benjamin was cast in the image of goodness and light, this dark version of him was surely the spawn of Hades! She quickly covered him and walked to the door to summon a servant.

      
She issued terse instructions to Paul. Soon he returned with the lengths of soft, strong linen. For a moment she considered having the servant assist her in her task, then dismissed him. If word of her tying a feverish man down, naked in his bed, ever reached her father… She shook her head and turned resolutely to her task.

      
Pulling Rigo's arms to the edge of the bed and securing his wrists to the side boards with linen roping was relatively simple. She studied his widespread arms. For all his sinewy muscles, his bone structure was as elegant as Benjamin's. His wrists were amazingly similar but marred with small white scars. Indeed his whole upper body attested to how often his martial occupation had cost him varying degrees of injury. For all his slimness, the man must have the constitution of one of those huge plow horses of the Flemings!

      
Having secured both arms, she debated about his legs. With a sigh, she decided no half measures would do. As if to confirm her decision, he began to tug on the bindings at his wrists, then kick. The coverlet quickly went flying from the bed, revealing the length of his body to her eyes.
      
Miriam had never seen a naked man before—never a live one! Somehow viewing the dissected, dehydrated cadavers in the Padua anatomy lectures had not prepared her for this sight.

      
This man was most definitely alive! His long legs thrashed and his narrow hips bucked as he tried to free his arms. Quickly she ensnared and secured one ankle, then she raced around the bed and did likewise with the second one. If only the roping held! She reached down to the floor and retrieved the coverlet. Fevers must be sweated out. All conventional medical wisdom agreed on that. She placed the heavy brocade fabric with its fleece lining over his body, trying in vain not to let her eyes stray as she did so.

      
Like the cadavers in anatomy class, he was uncircumcised. Of course, except for a few small Jewish boys she had treated, Miriam had never seen a circumcised phallus. Rigo de Las Cases was certainly no boy!

      
Even unconscious and wracked with fever he exuded a raw male vitality that made her exceedingly uncomfortable. She ascribed it to his lower-class Spanish breeding. Yet he spoke Provencal fluently. Benjamin had said he had books among his belongings. Surely no rude mercenary would be lettered. Then she was forced to grimace at her own prejudices. Did not most of the men she knew assume that she and all other mere females were incapable of reading books, much less comprehending the knowledge they contained?

      
Miriam walked to the window and drew it closed against the dank night vapors, then pulled the heavy velvet draperies closed tightly. In spite of the mild autumn air, she should probably have a fire lit in the fireplace to heat the room. Still, in the few cases when she had followed the instructions of her professor, Miriam had been less than satisfied with the results. But she had seldom treated fevers, except for those of women after difficult births, never one of a man with a battle injury.

      
Benjamin opened the door and stood silently for a moment, observing the way Miriam stared intently at his brother. He found her preoccupation oddly unsettling. Then he broke into her reverie. “Paul said you asked for linen roping. Is Navaro thrashing with fever?”

      
Miriam turned quickly, relieved beyond measure to have him make the decisions about this troublesome man. “Yes. He burns. I have tied him lest he open more of my fine embroidery,” she said tightly.

      
Benjamin raised one golden eyebrow. “Embroidery?”

      
“His words. To say he was not pleased to have a woman as physician would be an understatement,” she replied with asperity.

      
Benjamin grimaced. “He was raised by Spanish Christians, scarce the most tolerant of folk.”

      
“He was less than overjoyed to find his father's family were Jews.”

      
“Uncle Isaac warned me that his upbringing might make our reunion difficult.”

      
“Difficult! The man is impossible. If it is as you say and the Tainos are gentle souls, then he takes none of his mother's blood but for his coloring. I know not from whence his disposition comes, except that he has been a Spanish soldier.”

      
“As was my father.” He appeared to consider for a moment as he twined his fingers in her soft brown hair. “Of course, my mother has remarked on his obduracy from time to time. Come, let us see how our patient fares.”

      
He walked to the bed and lowered the covers. “The room is stifling and he is already too warm.”

      
“But we were taught—”

      
“Did you do as you were taught when you sewed up the comtesse?” he asked shrewdly. “I have never seen a feverish patient helped by sweating. Oh, some live, but in spite of the treatment, not because of it.”

      
“What would you suggest then, Doctor? Using the Theory of Opposites and applying cold to freeze out the fever?” she asked, half-scoffing, half-curious, for such was never done.

      
“Back on Española, the Tainos treat fevers with herbs we do not have here, but perhaps more importantly, they bathe the patient with cool cloths all over his body, much as you have bathed his wound.”

      
“With aloe and camphor?” she asked curiously.

      
“The natives do use a form of aloe plant, but I think tis the cool water that aids breaking the fever. I fear to give him more of the opiate while he is so hot and weak. You did well to tie him,” he added as Rigo thrashed and rolled his head in feverish frenzy.

      
Miriam felt her cheeks heat as if she, too, were afflicted with fever, but Benjamin, was preoccupied with his brother and seemed not to notice. When he asked her to send for cool clean water and more fresh linen, she did as she was bid, glad for a moment at least to be quit of the sick room and its disturbing patient.

      
Isaac came to check on their progress as they laid cool wet cloths across Rigo's sweat-soaked body. If he was scandalized that Miriam helped Benjamin with the task, he said nothing. She prayed he would remain as silent on the matter when he spoke to Judah.

      
Just after dark her father sent a runner inquiring when she would return home. As she shared a simple evening meal of roast lamb with Ruth and Isaac, she penned a message for the boy to give Judah, assuring him she was well and needed to assist Benjamin, lest he overtax himself. She added a postscript. The Sabbath began at sundown on the morrow. She would, of course, return home to observe it with him, leaving Benjamin to tend his brother unaided until sundown Saturday. She must take her turn now to give what respite she could.

      
“There, that should soothe Father,” she said as she signed the missive and handed it to the runner.

      
Isaac smiled at her as he wiped his hands and pushed himself away from the table. “Your father is only concerned with your safety. That is why he sent the inquiry.”

      
She sighed and picked at the juicy slices of meat on her plate. “Father is very over protective, Uncle Isaac.” Although he was not her uncle by blood, Miriam always felt warmed by Isaac's concern. It was a term of sincere affection to call him uncle and the gentle Ruth aunt.

      
“And well he should be. You are his only child and he has already allowed you to journey to Padua to attend the university, then to practice medicine. Tis a dangerous and unconventional life for a young woman,” Ruth said as she gazed at Miriam with troubled brown eyes. “Judah and Isaac and I will all be most happy when you and Benjamin are wed. Perhaps a child or two will distract you from your medical obsession—at least for a while,” she added with a smile.

      
“Has that young fool come to his senses about returning to Española yet?” Isaac asked.

      
Miriam felt suddenly trapped. She loved these people as her own family and knew they meant well. “Not exactly. That is one reason for not holding the formal betrothal feast. Benjamin is adamant about living near his family in the Indies and treating the Taino people and the poorer settlers in the back country where Aaron and Magdalena reside. I can understand his need to see his parents and brothers and sister after so long an absence, but...” She shrugged in helpless frustration.

      
“You do not want to live among wild Indians and Spaniards,” Ruth finished softly, reaching out one veined hand to pat Miriam's pale, smooth one in reassurance.

      
“The Indians are your least fear,” Isaac said sourly. “Tis the Spanish Christians and their Inquisitors you need fear. Aaron, like his father—may God rest his soul—is a
converso
. He and all his family are in perpetual danger of being accused of backsliding.”

      
‘They do not keep the Law of Moses, but I would,” Miriam said with quiet determination. “No Spaniard will ever force me to convert.”

      
“All the more reason not to go. Jews are strictly forbidden in all Spanish colonies. That young fool Benjamin does not understand the danger to you,” Isaac stormed.

      
“He was raised to observe the Christian faith, Isaac. Benjamin respects both traditions, as did his father and his grandfather before him,” Ruth remonstrated, feeling compelled to defend her favorite great-nephew.