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| Frankincense tree (Oman) Wiki Commons |
“Lydia?”, a raised eyebrow seemed utterly unnecessary as Robert presented his dirty hands. Lydia could hear her Master's light sigh. From beneath her cloak she presented a small jug of clean water and a towel which was followed by a beaming smile of satisfaction. But alas no gratitude was reciprocated, just a purposeful cleaning of his extremities followed by a progression towards the small building at the front of the yard.
“Can I tell you my diagnosis, Robert?” Silence. “Can I?”. Silence. The buildup of learning and understanding were like lava in the magma chamber of a volcano. “Gout!” Came a yelp. And now Robert could hear Lydia’s sigh. It was out. Lydia had assessed and diagnosed the visitor and required Robert to validate the diagnosis. The long strides Robert had made towards the building suddenly stopped. So quickly that Lydia ran into the back of him and with so much force that she bounced back. Robert turned and glared. His head turned back and his long strides resumed.
Robert sat in his chair. The pressure on his feet slowly dissipated and the earlier sigh of annoyance had been replaced by a restful sigh. He finished drying his brow and face and handed his towel back to Lydia. “And who is my first patient for the day?” he politely enquired of Lydia. “But Master, I have diagnosed the patient”. Lydia blurted again. Confidently she continued, “I simply need you to verify me diagnosis”.
Robert nodded his head and smiled. Lydia was uncertain whether he was being sympathetic or dismissive and then reality set in. It was dismissive. “But Master!” an exacerbated Lydia implored. But Robert was not moved. His head was bent down and in a near meditation. Robert had given his towel back to Lydia and she spun around on her heels and headed into the next room flinging the towel into the corner approximately near the washing basket.
Lydia returned to the room with the old man, her arm leading him to a wooden stool. It was seating that was unlikely to support a small child. The old man happily took Lydia’s arm as he limped gingerly towards the stool. In front of him, Robert was sitting in his comfortable armchair. Robert looked up slowly, gradually making eye contact with the old man. “Name?”. Robert demanded. The old man did not reply, blissfully unaware that he was being asked a question. “Name?” Robert repeated himself looking directly at the old man then looking to Lydia. The patience of Robert’s short thread had now reached its end. His eyebrows seemed to rise incredibly high. His eyes seemed incredibly wide. His open palms were now directed at Lydia demanding an answer, “Name? What is this man’s name?”. The volume of the question elicited a response.
Lydia suddenly comprehended the situation, shook off the fog and offered the old man’s name. “Andrew. Andrew of Pauliac”. Lydia looked out of the corner of her eye towards Andrew to double check she got that right. One eyebrow rose. She paused and with no additional response from anyone else in the room, her eyebrow slowly lowed.
Robert lit a small incense candle and leaned forward, looking Andrew directly in the eyes. He stared deeply into Andrew’s eyes. Uncomfortably into Andrew’s eyes. Andrew fidgeted in his seat and was no longer able to withhold Robert’s stare. He leaned back demanding some action. “Young man. Are you going to look at me all day or are you going to fix my crippled knee?”. Robert did not respond. He continued to stare into Andrew’s eyes unflinching and continued to make everyone in the room uncomfortable. “Young man”, Andrew repeated himself, “Are you going to fix my crippled knee?”. But Robert merely responded, “I’m not young” and continued to stare into Andrew’s eyes.
“Well you can’t grow a beard I see’, Andrew quipped. Robert ignored him. Lydia smirked. Andrew had an overwhelming need for Robert to stop staring directly at him. Robert had started to lean in, getting closer and closer. So close he could smell the rotten tooth Andrew had on the left side of his lower jaw. But Robert continued to stare. Andrew glanced his eyes towards Lydia looking for an exit strategy. “Look forward!”, barked Robert. Andrew responded to the command and quickly realigned his gaze back to Robert. Lydia thought it was hilarious and began to laugh a hearty, youthful cackle. “Child. Silence.” Robert quietly requested silence. “Don’t worry Andrew, father often does that”. Lydia promptly corrected herself, “Sorry Master. Robert the Doctor does like to do his work in silence”.
Robert pushed his armchair back, stood to attention and headed over to his work bench. A collection of mortars, clay jars and small baskets sat atop of the bench. To the untrained eye, this was a rabble and even to some with a trained eye this was still a rabble. “Child, where is the Oriental Pot? I left it right here” pointing to some random pile of herbs and baskets. Lydia looked back to Robert blankly like he had asked for the King’s throne. She nervously glanced towards Andrew, back to Robert and moved forward towards the work bench. ‘Beside Robert’s right hand was a pot with markings of Greek script. Lydia picked it up and offered it to Robert. “You know in the Orient they speak Greek father”. He silently accepted the offering, opened the lid and took a deep breath taking a sensory inspection of the contents.
Removing a small piece of resinous amber, Robert gently shaved it into a powder onto a small cloth, wrapped it and firmly placed it in Andrew’s hand instructing the old man on how to use the remedy. “Add some to your wine in the morning”. Andrew looked back at Robert and saw the doctor looking at Lydia. Robert’s eyebrows were raised, “His eyebrows always seemed to raised”, Andrew thought to himself. Robert’s eyes widened, still looking directly at Lydia. He nodded at her. He nodded his head again, followed by a long sigh. Much longer than the previous one. Lydia jumped forward and helped Andrew to his feet. Guiding the old man to the door, Lydia could see Andrew was flummoxed by what had just happened and how it would help with his crippled knee. “Do not worry Andrew. Add this the powder to your wine before you go to bed. Your knee will be much better in the morning”. Lydia would have written him a reminding note, but Andrew couldn’t read anyway. The old man stood on the dusty road outside of Robert the Doctor’s surgery. “Not in the morning?” Andrew asked, seeking clarification. “Before bed will make it work better”. Andrew looked back at the young woman. Lydia smiled at him but Andrew had a fearful look on his face. “I do not have the funds to pay for this remedy”. Lydia took Andrew’s hand that was holding his remedy and brought it to her lips and kissed it. “It is a gift Andrew. Take it with your wine tonight. Perhaps Robert would like some bottles of wine from your special cellar next time you visit the city. Travel safely home Andrew”.
And with this she turned, closed the door gently and then stormed back to the observation room where Robert was shuffling through clay pots at his work bench. With a cry of exasperation Lydia berated him, “Father! Why didn’t you let me administer the remedy?”. Robert did not turn back to acknowledge the berating. “Anyone can shave some Frankincense and send an old man on his way!”. Lydia was looking for acknowledgement, but none was forthcoming. “Father! You are impossible!”. With a lack of acknowledgement from Robert, the young woman turned on her heels and headed for the exit. Lydia finally received her acknowledgement before she had left the room. “Call me Master when you are at the workplace please” said Robert quietly, not looking back. Lydia looked back to Robert and bit her lip and a gave him a stern frown. This was not going to be resolved today. “Father. It is time to go home for dinner. The sun is going down”. Robert put his pot down and headed for the door.
Chapter 3
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