The acrid smell of burnt oil slapped my nostrils. I breathed in on instinct and a sharp stab in my side folded me in half, tearing a rasp from my chest that made my ribs vibrate. I coughed, and my palm darkened with deep red. Blood.I shut my eyes, trying not to fall back into the void. Then—voices. From the next room.
"And thou call thyself a doctor? This one almost died on the table!""I am the finest physician humanity ever produced. I studied the Plague of Athens, in my lifetime."
Silence. Then the first voice, marked by a faint Teutonic accent, softened.
"…And thou cure it?""Of course not, but I recorded its symptoms with admirable precision."
A harsh curse followed."Knew it! Never trust the Greeks. I should have found a medieval one.""Is he alive or not?""Yes, but he almost—""Alive, or not?""…Yes.""Good. Then I expect my fee."
The clink of coins ended the discussion.
"Give him a willow-bark decoction if fever takes him," the doctor added. Then silence.
I floated in a bubble of torpor until the door opened again. Light footsteps tapped across wooden planks. A chair scraped—knifing straight into my skull.A cold hand brushed my forehead.
"Scheiße!" the man growled.
I half-opened my eyes: a copper cauldron hung over a blackened hearth. My saviour, crouched by the fire, sparked the tinder with nervous hands. Every flame drew a stream of German curses.When the fire caught, he sighed and tossed in a handful of herbs.
"Fear not, my friend. Good Carl Wilhelm knows how to bring down a fever."
The water began to boil. He filled a wooden cup and, without warning, pressed it to my lips.
The scalding liquid forced its way down my esophagus. I twisted, eyes blown wide in a breathless cry.
"Thou shalt feel better, thou shalt see! I am Carl Wilhelm Becker, at thy service."
"…What?" I managed.
He enunciated carefully."I said: Carl Wilhelm Becker. At thy service. And it is proper that thou introducest thyself.And address me as Master Becker, if thou please."
"I… am Rodolfo Cremaschi. Pleased to meet you, Master Becker."
He smiled, very pleased with himself."Wunderbar. Thou were in dreadful shape when I found thee by the roadside. And it cost me no little—in care, in time, and… in compensations."
"I… I don't know how to—"
"And so thou stay in my service until thy debt is paid."
My eyes widened. "What?"
"Come now. Thou think I saved thee out of some Samaritan whim? People die here by the dozen, and I don't stop to mourn each one. I have my work, and by it I endure."
"Then why did you choose me?"
"Master Becker, please."
I exhaled. "Why did you choose to save me, Master Becker?"
"A fair question. I walked beneath the scarlet downpour, shielded by a useless rice-paper umbrella, when I found thee in the middle of thy misery. And since my last assistant had perished… well, opportunity makes the thief."
"You often use others' gratitude for your own advantage?"
"Almost always. As Master Macula Velli said: the end justifies the means. And we both have a purpose—one that asks for my protection."
The decoction was beginning to dull the pain. My mind cleared.I studied him closely. Not yet sixty. Short hair, clean-shaven face carefully made up, thin lips, perfect eyebrows. A dandy obsessed with detail and the aesthetics of form.
"What makes you think I need protection? I already have lodging."
He pointed sharply at me."Thou were robbed, beaten, stitched and bandaged. And yet thou talk of leaving on thine own? Let's not fool ourselves."
The image of the Viking who had brutalised me flashed like lightning.I couldn't go back there. Belle, the ravenous innkeeper, would finish the job.I thought of my coins; pride swelled in my chest.
"I have to… get them back," I whispered.
Becker fixed me with eyes like an eagle's."Then first, thou answer two things with honesty: who thou were before thy demise… and how this trinket found its way around thy neck."
He drew from a pocket the gold chain with Tiberius' aureus.
Instinctively I touched my chest. Only bandages."Give it back!" I cried; the fresh stitches tore painfully.
Becker raised an eyebrow."Thou take me for a thief? If I wished, I could have kept it as payment. Or said nothing, letting thee believe thy assailants stole it. Instead—here it is."
He held out the coin. Shame burned in my face."You're right. Sorry."
"Excellent!" He clapped his hands three times. "Now—delight me. Thy story… and that of thy imperial aureus."
"Are you a numismatist?"
His smile thinned."All in due time. Let us begin."