The Physician

by Noah Gordon

  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 Alā 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,” Alā 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,” Alā said peevishly.

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  Alā 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 Alā. 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 Alā 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 Alā 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,” Alā 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 Alā 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,” Alā 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?” Alā 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,” Alā 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,” Alā 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 Alā and that, at any rate, his presence in the raiding party was a command. “Needl
ess 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

  It would have been a small force for an army but it was large for a raiding party, six hundred fighting men on horses and camels and twenty-four elephants. Khuff commandeered the brown horse as soon as Rob rode up to the mustering place on the maidan.

  “Your horse will be returned to you when we come back to Ispahan. We will use only mounts that have been trained not to shy at the scent of elephants.”

  The brown horse was turned into the herd that would be taken to the royal stables and to Rob’s consternation and Mirdin’s great amusement he was given a scruffy gray female camel that looked at him coldly as she chewed her cud, her rubbery lips twisting and her jaws grinding in opposite directions.

  Mirdin was given a brown male camel; he had ridden camels all his life and showed Rob how to twist the reins and bark a command to cause the single-humped dromedary to bend its front legs and drop to its knees, then fold its hind legs and fall to the ground. The rider sat sidesaddle and jerked the reins as he voiced another command, and the beast unfolded itself, reversing the order of its descent.

  There were two hundred and fifty foot soldiers, two hundred horse soldiers, and one hundred and fifty on camels. Presently Alā came, a splendid sight. His elephant was a yard taller than any of the others. Gold rings adorned the wicked tusks. The mahout sat proudly on the bull’s head and directed his progress with feet dug in behind the elephant’s ears. The Shah sat erect in a cushion-lined box on the great convex back, a splendid sight in dark blue silks and a red turban. The people roared. Perhaps some of them were cheering the hero of the chatir, for Karim sat a nervous gray Arabian stallion with savage eyes, riding directly behind the royal elephant.

  Khuff shouted a hoarse, thunderous command and his horse trotted after the king’s elephant and Karim, and then the other elephants fell into line and moved out of the square. After them came the horses and then the camels, and then hundreds of pack asses whose nostrils had been surgically slit so they could take in more air when they labored. The foot soldiers were last.

  Once again Rob found himself three-quarters of the way back in the line of march, which seemed to be his customary position when traveling with large assemblages. That meant he and Mirdin had to cope with constant clouds of dust; anticipating this, each had exchanged his turban for the leather Jew’s hat, which afforded better protection from both dust and sun.

  Rob found the camel alarming. When she knelt and he settled his considerable weight on her back she whined loudly and then grunted and groaned as she clambered to her feet. He couldn’t believe the ride: he was higher than when on a horse; he bounced and swayed, and there was less fat and flesh to pad his seat.

  As they crossed the bridge over the River of Life, Mirdin glanced over at him and grinned. “You shall learn to love her!” he shouted to his friend.

  Rob never learned to love his camel. When given a chance the beast spat ropy globs at him and snapped like a cur so that he had to tie its jaws, and aimed vicious backward kicks at him such as are employed by an uglytempered mule. He was wary of the animal at all times.

  He enjoyed traveling with soldiers in front and behind; they might have been an ancient Roman cohort, and he was pleased to fancy himself part of a legion bringing its own kind of enlightenment where it went. The fantasy was dispelled late each afternoon, for they didn’t make a neat Roman camp. Alā had his tent and soft carpets and musicians, and cooks and hands aplenty to do his will. The others picked a spot on the ground and rolled up in their clothing. The stink of the excretions of animals and men was ever present, and if they came to a brook it was foul before they left it.

  At night, lying in the dark on the hard ground, Mirdin continued to teach him the laws according to the Jewish God. The familiar exercise of teaching and learning helped them forget discomfort and apprehension. They went through commandments by the dozens, making excellent progress and causing Rob to observe that going to war could be an ideal environment for study. Mirdin’s calm, scholarly voice seemed a reassurance that they would see a better day.

  For a week they used their own stores and then all provisions were gone, according to plan. One hundred of the foot soldiers were assigned as foragers and moved ahead of the main party. They scoured the countryside with skill and it was a daily sight to see the men leading goats or herding sheep, carrying squawking fowl or laden with produce. The finest was chosen for the Shah and the rest distributed, so that each night there was cooking over a hundred fires and the raiders ate well.

  A daily medical call was held at each new encampment; it was within sight of the king’s tent to discourage malingerers, but still the line was long. One evening Karim came to them there.

  “Do you want to work? We’re in need of help,” Rob said.

  “It’s forbidden. I’m to stay close to the Shah.”

  “Ah,” Mirdin said.

  Karim gave them his crooked smile. “Do you want more food?”

  “We have enough,” Mirdin said.

  “I can get what you want. It will take several months to reach the elephant pens at Mansura. You may as well make your life on the march as comfortable as possible.”

  Rob thought of the story Karim had told him during the plague in Shīrāz. Of how an army passing through the province of Hamadhān had brought a bitter end to Karim’s parents. He wondered how many babies would be brained against the rocks to save them from starvation, because of the passing of this army.

  Then he felt ashamed of his animosity toward his friend, for the raid into India wasn’t Karim’s fault. “There is something I’d like to ask for. Ditches should be dug on the four perimeters of each new camp, to be used as latrines.”

  Karim nodded.

  The suggestion was implemented at once, along with an announcement that the new system was an order of the surgeons. It didn’t make them popular, for now each evening weary soldiers were assigned to ditchdigging, and anyone who awoke in the night with cramps gripping his bowels had to stumble about in the darkness seeking a trench. Violators who were caught received canings. But there was less of a stench and it was pleasant not having to worry about stepping in human shit as they broke camp every morning.

  Most of the troops viewed them with bland contempt. It hadn’t escaped general notice that Mirdin had reported to the raiding party without a weapon, requiring Khuff to issue him a clumsy excuse for a guardsman’s sword, which usually he forgot to wear. Their leather caps also set them apart, as did their habit of rising early and walking from the camp to don prayer shawls and recite benedictions and wind leather thongs around their arms and hands.

  Mirdin was bemused. “There are no other Jews here to scrutinize and suspect you, so why do you pray with me?”
He grinned when Rob shrugged. “I think a small part of you has become a Jew.”

  “No.” He told Mirdin how, on the day he had assumed a Jewish identity, he had gone to the Cathedral of St. Sofia in Constantinople and promised Jesus that he would never forsake Him.

  Mirdin nodded, no longer grinning. They were wise enough not to pursue the subject. They were aware of things about which they could never agree because they had been raised in differing beliefs regarding God and the human soul, but they were content to avoid these pitfalls and share their friendship as reasoning men, as physicians, and now as bumbling soldiers.

  When they reached Shīrāz, by prearrangement the kelonter came to them outside the city with a pack train laden with provender, a sacrifice that saved the Shīrāz district from being indiscriminately stripped by the foragers. After he had paid his homage to the Shah the kelonter embraced Rob and Mirdin and Karim and they sat with him and drank wine and remembered the days of the plague.

  Rob and Karim rode back with him as far as the city gates. Turning back, they succumbed to a flat, smooth stretch of road and the wine in their veins and began to race their camels. It was a revelation to Rob, for what had been a rolling, cumbersome walking gait turned into something else when the camel ran. The beast’s stride lengthened so that each step was a pushing leap that carried her and her rider through the air in a level, hurtling rush. Rob sat her easily and enjoyed various sensations; he floated, he soared, he became the wind.

  Now he understood why the Persian Jews had coined a Hebrew name for the variety which the general populace had adopted—gemala sarka, the flying camels.

  The gray female strove desperately, and for the first time Rob felt affection for her. “Come, my dolly! Come, my girl!” he shouted as they sped toward the camp.

  Mirdin’s brown male won but the contest left Rob in high spirits. He begged extra forage from the elephant keepers and gave it to her and she bit him on the forearm. The bite didn’t break the skin but it was nasty, a purpled bruise that gave him pain for days, and that was when he gave the camel her name, Bitch.