Dear and Glorious Physician by Taylor Caldwell Read Free Book Online

doorways leading to the kitchens and the bedrooms were hung with gay woolen cloth, which swayed in the night air pouring in the small windows and the door. Here and there Diodorus recognized, among the furniture left by the former administrator, chairs and tables from his father’s house, which had been given to Aeneas upon his marriage to Iris. Diodorus looked at one chair in particular, and with pleasure. It was of ebony, inlaid with ivory, and it had been one of his father’s favorites. There was even a little table of precious lemonwood, gleaming in the lamplight, which had belonged to Antonia. It held the silver lamp, with its tongue of bright flame.
     
    “The slave I assigned to you does his work well,” said Diodorus, more and more pleased. He sat down in the ebony chair and stretched his brown and muscular legs before him with all the unaffected movements of a soldier. As Aeneas stood before him uncertainly, formally clad in a long white robe he, the bookkeeper, seemed more the patrician, with his long slender features and narrow face and head, than the frank and unceremonious tribune in his casual short tunic. Why, thought Diodorus, the poor creature even possesses a toga to wear in the secret bosom of his family.
     
    “I have no wine worthy of you, Master,” said Aeneas. But Iris slipped gracefully behind a curtain and brought out a ewer and two silver cups, which Diodorus also recognized from his childhood. Iris, moving like a lovely and animated statue, placed the cups on the lemonwood table and poured the wine. A rosy light reflected back onto her face from the liquid, and Diodorus thought of a marble maiden struck by the sunset. He wanted to touch her miraculous hair, which he had touched so easily in his childhood. He could feel its silken lengths again, and he was all yearning. He thought that his mother, Antonia, ought to have opposed the marriage of Iris to Aeneas with more vigor.
     
    “I am not a connoisseur of wines, thank the gods,” said Diodorus. “One vintage is the same as another to me.” He stretched out his hand for a cup and Iris gave it to him with her ineffable smile, for Aeneas was still too stunned for voluntary movement. “What, are you not drinking with me?” said Diodorus, in a burly tone. Aeneas snatched a cup, and some of the wine splashed on his shaking fingers.
     
    Lucanus, obeying a slight gesture of his mother’s, bowed to Diodorus and bade him good night respectfully. Diodorus smiled gravely, and the boy left the room. Diodorus poured out a small libation to the gods, and Aeneas, still very pale, poured the libation also. The tribune watched as the Greek poured a little more wine, his lips moving reverently. “Ah, yes,” said Diodorus, “the Unknown God.”
     
    “It is a Greek custom,” said Aeneas, apologetically.
     
    “An excellent one,” said Diodorus, and his fierce face became almost bland. He turned his head and saw that Iris had followed her son. He was deeply disappointed, but as an ‘old’ Roman he also approved. “Tell me, Aeneas,” he said. “I am interested in that boy of yours. What are your hopes for him in the future?”
     
    “May I sit, noble Diodorus?” asked Aeneas. He sat stiffly in a chair some distance from his guest. He pondered over Diodorus’ words, and was freshly amazed and humbled by this condescension. “I have thought, Master, that he would follow me in your service.”
     
    “Keeping books and records, that boy?” asked Diodorus, scornfully. “Ah, no. Has he not confided in you that he wishes to be a physician?”
     
    Aeneas, paling still more, could only stare. Certainly the boy had confided in him and in Iris, but Aeneas had severely frowned at the presumptuous thought, and had been offended. “I see that he did.” Diodorus nodded. “Well, then, my good Aeneas, he shall be a doctor.” Again he hesitated ruefully. “I shall send him myself to the school of medicine in Alexandria when he is older. In the