Elisha Barber by E. C. Ambrose

Author:E. C. Ambrose [Ambrose, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 0756408350
Amazon: B00B1FGESU
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 2013-07-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“Brigit!” a voice called suddenly. “Where have you got to, my lady? I thought you needed only a moment.”

Peeking out from the shadow of the bridge, Elisha saw Lucius descending the bank, his elaborate robe lifted as delicately as a lady might carry her gown. He ducked back again, but the physician turned, scowling, and Elisha could not be sure if he’d been spotted.

“Here I am, sir—and I’ve found the roots I wished to show you.” Brigit trotted up along the bank, holding out her basket.

Still scowling, he said, “It was not necessary that you should come out just now.”

“Sorry, sir.” She gave him a glowing smile. “I do tend to get carried away. But look, can you see how the root divides?”

With a glance to the gathered plants, Lucius put an arm about her shoulders. “Come, I have many more questions better discussed over supper. You will, of course, join us.”

“Certainly, if you serve again such a feast as we had last night. Since the battle began, we’ve had little commerce here for spices and the like. Still, I’d best wash first. This root can be deadly if you handle it wrong.”

The grin on Lucius’s face revolted Elisha as he watched them go off side by side. He emerged from his hiding place and walked over to where he’d left his ointment to cool in an eddy of the river. As he retrieved it, he noticed the assistant Benedict standing not far off, his face impassive as he watched. With a precise movement, he turned and followed his master back into the monastery.

What could they have seen? Nothing—Brigit splashing in the stream, himself resting in the shade; they had even come from opposite directions. And they could not be overheard, at least not by such men. Brigit tutored him in forbidden arts beneath their very noses, and they had not the slightest suspicion.

Elisha allowed himself a grin of his own as he mounted the bank and returned to the hospital. The screams of cauterization had died away, but it was not hard to find the men who had suffered it and apply his ointment. His own pain flared again to life, now that he did not have Brigit’s distracting presence. Perhaps he could presume upon her charity and claim she must stay by him, to let him heal. He tried to sharpen all of his tools, but the welts protested his steady movement, and instead he taught Ruari how to do it; a skill that came easily to his woodworker’s experience.

When another day was finally done, Elisha bid his assistants good night and returned quickly to his room, removing the packets that hid the sealed pot. In an instant, his optimism drained away. What right had he to feel joy or hope after what he had done? Although he worked hard in the hospital every day, and men went home to their families who might have been buried in the yard if not for him, it was not enough.

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