The Cole Trilogy: The Physician, Shaman, and Matters of Choice (71 page)

* * *

Rob had been shaken when he recognized Musa Ibn Abbas as the Vizier’s aide, whom he had seen in secret meeting with the Seljuk ambassador. But he had quickly realized that on that occasion he himself hadn’t been observed, and the
mullah’s
presence on the examining committee posed no special threat.

When the examination was finished he went directly to the wing of the
maristan
that contained the surgical patients, for he and Mirdin had agreed that simply to sit and wait together to learn their fate would be too hard. The interval was best spent working, and he threw himself into a variety of tasks, examining patients, changing dressings, removing stitchings—the homely jobs to which he had become accustomed.

Time passed, but there was no word.

Presently Jalal-ul-Din came into the surgery—which surely must mean the examiners had dispersed. Rob was tempted to ask if Jalal knew their decision but couldn’t bring himself to do so. As Jalal gave his customary greeting he offered no indication that he was aware of the clerk’s agony of waiting.

The day before, they had labored together over a herdsman who had been savaged by a bull. The man’s forearm had snapped like a willow in two places when the beast trod on it, and then the bull had gored his victim before being diverted by other herdsmen.

Rob had trimmed and sewn the torn muscles and flesh of the shoulder and arm and Jalal had reduced the fractures and applied splints. Now after they examined their patient, Jalal complained that the bulky rag dressings made a clumsy juxtaposition with the splints.

“Can the dressings not be removed?”

It puzzled Rob, for Jalal knew better. “It is too soon.”

Jalal shrugged. He looked at Rob warmly and smiled. “It must be as you say,
Hakim,
” he said, and left the chamber.

Thus was Rob informed. It dizzied him, so that for a time he stood without moving.

Eventually he was claimed by his routine. Four sick men remained to be seen and he went on, forcing himself to give the care of a good physician, as though his mind were the sun focusing on each of them small and hot through the crystal of his concentration.

But when the last patient had been tended he allowed his feelings to take him again, the purest pleasure he had experienced in his life. Walking almost drunkenly, he hurried home to tell Mary.

56

THE COMMAND

Rob had become
hakim
six days before his twenty-fourth natal day, and the glow lasted for weeks. To his satisfaction, Mirdin didn’t suggest that they go to the
maidans
to celebrate their new status as physicians; without making too much of it, he felt that the change in their lives was too important to be marked by an evening of drunkenness. Instead, the two families met at the Askaris’ house and rejoiced together over an evening meal.

Rob and Mirdin went to watch each other being measured for the
hakim
‘s black gown and hood.

“Will you go back to Masqat now?” Rob asked his friend.

“I’ll stay here several more months, for there are things I still must learn in the
khazanat-ul-sharaf.
And you? When will you return to Europe?”

“Mary can’t travel safely while pregnant. We’d best wait until the child has been born and is strong enough to withstand the journey.” He smiled at Mirdin. “Your family will celebrate in Masqat when their physician comes home. Have you sent word that the Shah wishes to buy a great pearl from them?”

Mirdin shook his head. “My family travels the villages of the pearlfishers and buys tiny seed pearls. They then sell them by the measuring cup, to merchants who sell them in turn to be sewn into garments. My family would be hard pressed indeed to raise the sums needed to buy great pearls. Nor would they be eager to deal with the Shah, for kings seldom are willing to pay fairly for the large pearls they love so well. For my part, I would hope that Al
ā
has forgotten the ‘great good fortune’ he has bestowed on my kinsmen.”

“Members of the court inquired after you last evening and missed your presence,” Al
ā
Shah said.

“I cared for a desperately ill woman,” Karim replied.

In truth, he had gone to Despina. Each of them had been desperate. It was the first time in five nights that he had been able to escape the fawning demands of spoiled courtiers, and he had valued every moment with her.

“There are ill people in my court who need your wisdom,” Al
ā
said peevishly.

“Yes, Excellency.”

Al
ā
had made it clear that Karim had the favor of the throne, but Karim already was tired of the members of noble families who often came to him with imagined complaints, and he missed the bustle and genuine labor of the
maristan,
where he could be ever useful as a physician instead of an ornament.

Yet each time he rode into the House of Paradise and was saluted by the sentries he was newly moved. He thought often of how astounded Zaki-Omar would have been to see his boy riding with the King of Persia.

“… I am making plans, Karim,” the Shah was saying. “Formulating great events.”

“May Allah smile on them.”

“You must send for your friends, the pair of Jews, to meet with us. I would speak to all three of you.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Karim said.

Two mornings later Rob and Mirdin were summoned to ride out with the Shah. It gave them a chance to be with Karim, whose time these days was fully occupied in the company of Al
ā
. In the stable yard of the House of Paradise, the three young physicians reviewed the examinations, to Karim’s pleasure, and when the Shah arrived they mounted and rode behind him into the countryside.

It was by now a familiar excursion, save that on this day they were overlong practicing the Parthian shot, which only Karim and Al
ā
could perform with even a random hope of success. They dined well and spoke of nothing serious until all four of them were seated in the hot water of the cavern pool, drinking wine.

That was when Al
ā
told them calmly that he would lead a large raiding party out of Ispahan in five days’ time.

“To raid where, Majesty?” Rob asked.

“The elephant pens of southwest India.”

“Sire, may I go with you?” Karim asked at once, his eyes alight.

“I hope that all three of you may come,” Al
ā
said.

He spoke to them at length, flattering them by making them privy to
his most secret plans. To the west the Seljuks clearly were preparing for war. In Ghazna, the Sultan Mahmud was more truculent than ever and eventually would have to be dealt with. This was a time for Al
ā
to build his forces. His spies reported that in Mansura a weak Indian garrison guarded many elephants. A raid would be a valuable training maneuver and, more important, might provide him with priceless animals which, covered in mail, made awesome weapons that could turn the tide of a battle.

“There is another goal,” Al
ā
said. He reached to his scabbard lying next to the pool and pulled out a dagger whose blade was of an unfamiliar blue steel, patterned with little swirls.

“The metal of this knife is found only in India. It is unlike any metal we have. It takes a better edge than our own steel and holds it longer. It is so hard, it will cut into ordinary weapons. We shall look for swords made of this blue steel, for with enough of them, an army would conquer.” He passed the dagger so each could examine its tempered keenness.

“Will you come with us?” he asked Rob.

Both knew it was a command and not a request; the note had now come due and it was time for Rob to pay his debt.

“Yes, I’ll come, Sire,” he said, trying to sound glad. He was light-headed with more than wine and could feel his pulse racing.

“And you,
Dhimmi?”
Al
ā
said to Mirdin.

Mirdin was pale. “Your Majesty has granted me permission to return to my family in Masqat.”

“Permission! Of course you have had permission. Now it is for you to decide whether you will accompany us or not,” Al
ā
said stiffly.

Karim hastily seized the goatskin and splashed wine into their goblets. “Come to India, Mirdin.”

“I’m not a soldier,” he said slowly. He looked at Rob.

“Come with us, Mirdin,” Rob heard himself urge. “We’ve discussed fewer than a third of the commandments. We could study together along the way.”

“We’ll need surgeons,” Karim said. “Besides, is Jesse the only Jew I have met in my life who is willing to fight?”

It was good-natured rough teasing, but something tightened in Mirdin’s eyes.

“It isn’t true. Karim, you’re stupid with wine,” Rob said.

“I will go,” Mirdin said, and they shouted in pleasure.

“Think of it,” Al
ā
said with satisfaction. “Four friends together, raiding India!”

* * *

Rob went to Nitka the Midwife that afternoon. She was a thin, severe woman, not quite old, with a sharp nose in a sallow face and snapping raisin eyes. She offered him refreshment half-heartedly and then listened without surprise to what he had to say. He explained only that he must go away. Her face told him the problem was part of her normal world: the husband travels, the wife is left at home to suffer alone.

“I’ve seen your wife. The red-haired Other.”

“She is a European Christian. Yes.”

Nitka stared pensively and then appeared to make up her mind. “All right. I’ll attend her when her time comes. If there is a difficulty, I’ll live in your house during the final weeks.”

“Thank you.” He handed her five coins, four of them gold. “Is it enough?”

“It is enough.”

Instead of going home, he left Yehuddiyyeh again and went uninvited to the house of Ibn Sina.

The Chief Physician greeted him and then heard him gravely.

“What if you should die in India? My own brother Ali was killed taking part in a similar raid. Perhaps the possibility has not occurred to you because you are young and strong and see only life for yourself. But if death should take you?”

“I’m leaving my wife with money. Little of it is mine, most was her father’s,” he said scrupulously. “If I die, will you arrange travel back to her home for her and the child?”

Ibn Sina nodded. “You must be careful to make such work unnecessary for me.” He smiled. “Have you given thought to the riddle I have challenged you to guess?”

Rob stood in wonder that such a mind still could play childish games.

“No, Chief Physician.”

“No matter. If Allah wills, there will be plenty of time for you to guess the riddle.” His tone changed and he said brusquely, “And now, sit closer,
Hakim.
I think we would do well to talk for a time of the treatment of wounds.”

Rob told Mary as they lay abed. He explained that there was no choice; that he was pledged to repay Al
ā
and that, at any rate, his presence in the raiding party was a command. “Needless to say, neither Mirdin nor I would chase a mad adventure if it could be avoided,” he said.

He didn’t go into detail about possible mishaps but told her he had arranged for Nitka’s services for the birthing, and that Ibn Sina would help her in the event of any other problem.

She must have been terrified but she didn’t carry on. He thought he detected anger in her voice when she asked questions, but that may have been a trick of his own guilt, for deep within himself he recognized that part of him was excited about going soldiering, happy to live a childhood dream.

Once in the night he placed his hand lightly on her belly and felt the warm flesh that was already rising, beginning to show.

“You may not be able to see it the size of a watermelon, as you said you wished to do,” she said in the darkness.

“Doubtless I’ll return by then,” he told her.

Mary retreated into herself as the day of departure came, becoming again the harder woman he had found alone and fiercely protecting her dying father in Ahmad’s
wadi.

When it was time for him to go she was outside, wiping down her black horse. She was dry-eyed as she kissed him and watched him leave, a tall woman with a growing middle who held her large body now as if she were always tired.

57

THE CAMELEER