XIII
A BURIED LOVE
“How is he?” Clara asked. “Will he survive?” Her voice was laced with concern, so tremulous that Felix put his arm around her.
“Tell us, Medicus,” Felix said in a voice so low one could still hear the flickering of the flames in the brazier near the bed.
The medicus, an older man with black, curly hair that matched his wizened beard, hoisted his long tunica and put his ear to the patient’s mouth. He listened intently, his hand also on the wrist. After a few moments, the medicus stood and looked at Felix and Clara. “He has received quite a trauma to the head. The cuts were not deep, but head wounds do tend to bleed more easily, so you will need to change the bandages I’ve applied, regularly. Can you do that?”
“I can, yes,” Clara said.
“Good. When you do, try to be a
