Cutthroats of the Coast

Chapter 29 - One Tough Mother!

I do not know why I was so alarmed by the physician's suggestion because I had done my best to engineer my involvement in the patient's treatment.   Perhaps the idea that I could be involved was, when presented with an inescapable fact, very different to the actuality of being an active participant.   Whatever the reason for the familiar sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I could not let it better me.  I had to act with resolution for my nascent plan to bear fruit.  Another bout of Solomon Jones' distant cursing at some unfortunate spurred me on.   I could not relent now.   I believe that was the moment that I began to refer to myself as Doctor Matthew West, and that is the name by which I will forever be known, from Cheapside to the Sublime Porte, from Madagascar to the Spanish Main, and every port in between.  There are many who still quail at the memory of my acquaintance, and have good reason to.

But those are reminiscences for another volume.  For now, dear reader, let us only be concerned with my voyage from timidity and dissolution to bold determination.

Through all of our deliberations, and the journey through the town, our patient had remained senseless to the world.   So pale was his skin, one would have thought that he was dead, but the seeping of his blood, and the shallow rise and fall of his chest, told another story.  The attendant, a giant of a man, packed the wound with a dressing soaked in oil of rose mixed with wine, then gently shaved the man's scalp.   Lastly, he placed a damp, loose bandage over the the raw, exposed flesh as a temporary measure to keep away dirt and flies.

"When did you eat last?" the physician asked, then added as an afterthought, "Doctor West?"  A small smile played upon his face as if unused to being there.  "I cannot have your trembling from hunger if we are to open this man's brains to the world.  It would not do."

I returned his smile, and met his gaze without bobbing my head, as was my wont when speaking to an abid.  "We broke bread at the rise of the sun, but I have had nothing since, Lord Physician."

"Well, we shall eat now, then work.  Oh, and please stop calling me 'Lord Physician'.  It's quite off putting.  My father was a shepherd and I would be too if it wasn't for the charity of a great man, blessings be upon the Caliph, God grant him peace."  He bowed from the waist, seated as we were in the eastern style, cross legged upon a rug.  "You may call me Joseph ben Levi of Fez."

"I am pleased to meet you, Doctor Levi,"  I said, surprised that my new found colleague was of the Hebrew faith, but in those days many Jews resided in Morocco.   "And food would be a great blessing!"

The physician's smile grew a little broader.  He clapped his hands twice, his attendant appeared silently, Levi ordered food to be brought and then directed me to wash by the fountain.  By the time I had washed the dust from my hands, arms and face, a small repast had been laid on a low table that had been brought to the carpet.   Olives, a ground paste made from chickpeas, cheese, figs, halva and bread were served in simple earthenware bowls.  We slaked our thirst with milk and conversed all the while, Levi's attendant glowering at us from the doorway leading to where Jones' voice had emanated from.

At first I was worried about how little I knew of physick but I began to relax when I realised that my learning was not far from that of Levi's.  A great many things have been said about the quality of physicians in the lands of the Turk, and it is true that one might have preferred to have been practised upon by a Moslem physician a hundred years ago, but the great innovations in surgery and anatomy made by Europeans had turned attention to Universities in Germany or France, rather than the madrasas of Constantinople or Damascus.   However, Levi made it clear that he was keen to know more of what was being discussed in Europe than he was of devoting himself to outmoded practices.   Paracelsus, Vesalius and Harvey were of more importance to him than Galen or Razi.  He proved to be a loquacious man once he hitched on to a subject and I was not keen to stop him.  The more he talked, the less I could show of my own ignorance.  In fact it was hard for me to have spoken since my mouth was far too full most of the time to form discernible words.