Herotica 2. Kerry Greenwood

have seen the divine Sappho. You will not have to sit out here all night, surely.’

      ‘No, here comes my relief now,’ said Demetrius. ‘So when you said you were watching Sappho’s maidens...’

      ‘Always escorted by an extremely attentive and delightful guard.’

      Demetrius began to lead Phaon away, toward his own sleeping place.

      ‘With precious and royal perfume,’ he said ‘I will anoint you. There will be no holy rite...’

      ‘From which we will be absent,’ Phaon completed the poem, and they clasped and kissed fervently, leaning against the white pillars of Sappho’s villa, while the company sang of legendary lovers of astounding potency inside the house.

      ‘Some say an army of horsemen,’ said Phaon

      ‘Some say soldiers, some say ships,’ said Demetrius.

      ‘Is the fairest thing on the black earth,’ recited Phaon.

      ‘But I say, it is what one loves,’ replied Demetrius.

      The guard slept in an alcove, screened by a curtain. Phaon descended into Demetrius’ embrace, slotting in beside him in the narrow space: foot, shin, knee, thigh, hip, torso, shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, still half-bespelled by desire and by Sappho’s voice, heard clearly through the curtain; they lay unmoving while the song lasted.

      ‘Glorious Aphrodite, hear our prayer.

      Breathe on us your perfumes

      Cypress, rose and sea-foam

      The blessings of your ocean birth.

      Lie down with us, Lady, here

      In our earthly and tumbled beds

      Smile on our loves, anoint us here

      Where mouth meets hungry mouth.’

      When Phaon at last fully embraced Demetrius, he found that they were both crying.

      THE OATH OF HIPPOCRATES

      I had just finished treating the optio’s massive hangover with a strong infusion of thyme and honey when I became aware of him. A shadow, dressed in the tribesman’s unbleached wool tunic and plaid, standing just outside the door of my surgery.

      ‘Stay off that barley beer, it could fell an elephant,’ I advised the optio, and stood back as he stumbled out, swearing never to touch another drop. By a great effort of will, I believed him. The Brigantes made it by putting a bucket of beer out into the snow to freeze, and discarding the ice. It was as lethal as a blunt instrument at close range. The troops called it Parthian Club for that reason. I used it as an anaesthetic when I couldn’t get a lot of wine. The hangover didn’t matter then, because the patients were always going to feel condemned to Tartarus when they woke up. So far, I hadn’t killed anyone with it. It also made quite a good disinfectant. Only those wearied of living or those with a serious thirst actually drank the stuff.

      The young man slipped inside as I beckoned him, and leaned a little against my wall, leaving a bloody handprint. He was favouring his leg.

      ‘Are you hurt? Let me help you,’ I urged. He shook his head. He was the usual golden man; golden hair and beard and pale blue eyes, astonishingly beautiful. I pushed him down into a chair and found a wound the length of my hand on his thigh. Fresh, still bleeding, and tied up with a rag.

      ‘This needs dressing,’ I told him.

      ‘Him first,’ said the Brigante at last. I was wondering if he could actually speak. He ducked outside and brought in a huge armload of fur. It wriggled and tried to lick his face. I was about to mention that I was actually Demetrios Dioscorides, qualified Greek surgeon, serving with the Roman Army and only allowed to operate on humans, when I stilled my tongue. The young man was stricken; despairing. This dog was significant to him. So I could at least have a look. Anatomy is anatomy.

      ‘What’s his name?’ I asked. ‘Boar hunt, was it?’

      `I am Essa, he is Fierce,’ he replied in halting camp Latin. ‘The boar’s gone to your house,’ said my tribesman. ‘Heal him?’

      ‘Not I but Apollo,’ I said ritually. ‘Put him down on my table. Essa, you sit here, in case he is frightened by a stranger. Now, my good Fierce, what’s come to you?’

      Fierce responded to Essa’s handling and rolled over. The boar’s tusk had caught him in the haunch, ripping up, aiming for the tendons. Which had been spared, but it was an ugly wound. If mortification set in, poor Fierce would die and there was little I could do to prevent it. However, there were things I could try. Essa was watching my face. He drew his knife. Tears ran freely down his face, into his golden beard.

      ‘I must kill him, then, if he will be crippled,’ he said in the most desolate voice I had ever heard.

      ‘No, no,’ I put a hand on his wrist, ‘Have you no faith in your physician? I am Dioscorides from Cos, and I have seen wounds like this before. You will need to hold onto him,’ I warned. ‘I need to wash this wound with salt water, then with vinegar, then I will stitch it. So first I need to shave some of his fur away. Don’t worry, it will grow again.’

      I used my own razor to shave the curly coat. Then Essa held the dog as I washed and tended the wound. When it was all over and Fierce was lapping cool water from my bucket, Essa was pale and sweating. I examined and treated his wound in the same way, and like the dog, he made no outcry, only bit into his lip. Those Brigantes were a brave people. They could teach the Stoics philosophy.

      When all was over I washed my hands and cleaned my table and looked outside. No more patients. I drew a couple of cups of wine and offered one to Essa. We sat down together under my vine. Fierce gave a great sigh and flopped down on Essa’s foot.

      ‘Thank you,’ said the Brigante. He was very good looking now that he was not in pain. ‘And thank you from Fierce as well. You are Greek?’

      ‘I am, from the island of Cos, where I learned to be a physician at the temple of Apollo. And you? Where are you from?’

      He waved a graceful hand. ‘Out there,’ he told me. I understood. The Brigantes did not tell strangers their place names, or even their clan names, unless they were close friends. And there was no reason for them to be friends with any Romans, who had conquered their province. They had also conquered Greece, of course, but I no longer held it against them, since we had conquered them in turn. Every young Roman learned Greek. Greek clothes, Greek philosophies, Greek theatre, and of course, Greek physicians were very fashionable. There are conquests, and there are victories.

      We drank the wine in peaceful silence. Most people talk too much. Essa was decorative, a sunrise man like his own Lugh of the Shining Spear. It was very pleasant just to sit with him. He finished his wine and put down his cup. Essa arose and Fierce woke up.

      ‘Bring him back every day, if you can,’ I said, suddenly not wanting to let this Adonis out of my sight. ‘He’ll limp for now, not forever. Just as you do,’ I smiled at him.

      He darted forward and kissed me. I suspect he had seen Romans kiss in greeting or parting. This was sweet, sweeter than any kiss I had ever had before. And Fierce licked me on the knee. And they went out.

      I closed my door and went back to the Commander’s house, where I lived. I would be required to clean, skin, gut and joint that boar, so that it could be marinated in sour wine, capers and salt, to remove the rank taste. Every bit of it would be used. Including the intestines, which made sausage skins. As camp surgeon, I was also principal carver to the commandant’s household. I supposed they assumed that a man who could repair the tendons in a ruptured knee ought to be able to find his way around any animal.

      The hardest were quail. That is not so much carving as dissecting. And if they want thrushes and sparrows carved, then they can do it themselves.

      I didn’t mind the commander’s household. His wife was a pompous woman who missed