Inside the wooden hut beside the temple of the river god Cebren, Sergestus lay on a central stone slab. His face was deathly pale. Fresh river water gurgled nearby, its sound threading through the stone walls. It lent a note of calm to the tense air.
Oenone examined the wound carefully. Her light brown braids gleamed softly in the candlelight. The silver mark on her brow shimmered with her movements. Her fingers probed the injury with professional skill. Her frown deepened.
"Gods... that's awful..." Hesperia went pale after one glance. She hurried outside. Leaned against the doorframe, catching her breath.
Her heart hammered. That wound... I'd just be in the way...
Oenone's voice was calm. "The wound is festering. It's on his chest. Amputation isn't an option. We can clean it, apply poultices. Use cauterization if necessary. But..." She paused. Stated the brutal truth frankly. "The chances are slim."
Thaleia's face lost all color. But she remained standing, stubborn. Tears welled in her eyes. Refused to fall.
"Please... Lady Oenone," she said, her voice trembling with heartbreaking earnestness. "Please save my brother."
Aeneas frowned as he studied the wound. His long fingers gently pressed the swollen, reddened area around it.
He thought, This is clearly an ulcer from infection. Incomplete cleaning will lead to sepsis... It needs proper disinfection. Herbs alone won't be enough.
"Just washing it with water isn't sufficient, is it?" Aeneas pointed out. "This pus needs to be scraped away. Or it will kill him."
Oenone raised an eyebrow at him. Her intelligent eyes held both doubt and curiosity.
"Do you have a better suggestion, young lord?" Her tone held a hint of challenge.
Aeneas began explaining in detail. Gesturing with his hands. "First, clean the wound with boiled water. All blades must be sterilized in boiling water. The wound needs air..." He launched into a series of medical concepts unheard of in this era. From debridement to infection control. With each sentence, Oenone's eyes grew brighter.
Oenone was inwardly astonished. I've never heard such ideas... but they sound logical. Her initial skepticism slowly turned to serious consideration.
When Aeneas mentioned, "Even the cloths for the surgery must be boiled," Oenone, unusually humble, asked, "You make sense. But how do we prevent infection during the procedure?"
Her attitude had shifted from initial doubt to genuine inquiry. Her often-teasing eyes were now completely serious.
Inside the hut, a medical dialogue spanning three millennia was unfolding. Outside, Thaleia knelt in a corner. Her hands were clasped tightly. She prayed. To any god who would listen. She would dedicate her life in service if they would only help.
The open-air work area behind the temple was a hive of activity under the midday sun.
A strange device, never before seen in the Bronze Age, sat over a temporarily built clay stove. Aeneas's creation.
"Euryalus, bring all the sacrificial wine from the temple storeroom," Aeneas directed, expertly knocking the bottom out of a clay pot.
"Achates, find me the thinnest copper sheets you can. The bigger the better."
"Young master, what is all this for?" Euryalus asked, lugging over amphorae full of wine while craning his neck curiously.
Aeneas smiled mysteriously. "An emergency. Gotta rush the medical tech tree..."
The three guards exchanged a look. There the young master went again with his strange talk!
He took the copper sheets Achates found. Hammered them skillfully with a stone into curved shapes. Washed them. Fixed them above the spout of the bottomless pot. Next, he filled another intact pot with wine. Placed the strange, bottomless pot on top of it. Then he hung a third, full pot of cold water at the end of the simple copper tube. The whole process was fluid. Like he'd done it countless times.
(Thank the gods for that university chemistry club... I still remember how to make a basic still...)
Aeneas worked quickly. He directed Euryalus to light the fire under the stove. The wine in the pot began to heat slowly.
When the first drop of clear liquid fell from the tube's end, an intense, pure aroma of alcohol filled the air. It was many times richer than the finest wine any of them had ever smelled.
"By the gods!" Euryalus stared at the glistening liquid. His eyes were wide. He swallowed hard. "That... that scent... It's like the nectar the gods themselves drink!"
Even the steady Achates and calm Nisus, though they kept watch, betrayed their longing with flaring nostrils.
Achates murmured softly, "It's like... the essence of an entire vineyard, concentrated."
Aeneas was amused by their reactions. Said with a laugh,
"After he's healed, you can try a watered-down version. This stuff is strong enough to use as fuel right now. Drinking it straight would send you to meet Hades!"
As the distillation continued, using three or four amphorae of wine, they collected a small half-pot of the clear liquid.
Aeneas carefully portioned it out. Led everyone back to the treatment room.
In the treatment room, candlelight flickered. The newly distilled alcohol gave off its potent scent.
All the surgical tools had been boiled as per Aeneas's instructions. They lay neatly on a clean linen cloth.
Oenone carefully washed her hands and the tools with the distilled alcohol. Her movements were hesitant at first. Grew more confident with Aeneas's encouragement.
"Yes, like that. Scrape away all the rotten flesh. Until you see fresh blood."
Aeneas assisted. Gave quiet pointers now and then.
He held a candle to light Oenone's work. The flame danced across his focused face.
In the corner, Thaleia prayed with clenched hands. Her nails dug into her palms, but she didn't notice.
Brother, you must live... This young lord's method is miraculous. They say he has wisdom from the gods. Maybe... maybe he can live...
Her eyes never left her brother's pale face.
During the procedure, Sergestus moaned in pain. Aeneas immediately signaled Achates to gently hold the patient steady.
When the distilled alcohol touched the wound, Sergestus jerked violently. Then fell back into unconsciousness.
By evening, the operation was complete.
Sergestus's wound had been thoroughly cleaned. Disinfected with the distilled alcohol. Dressed with the herbal poultice Oenone had prepared.
The priestess wiped sweat from her brow. Gave a tired but satisfied smile.
"Now he needs rest. And regular dressing changes," Oenone announced. Her voice held a note of wonder. "I've never seen a wound cleaned so thoroughly. It's as clean as a newborn's skin."
Thaleia finally unclenched her hands. Deep crescent moon marks were left in her palms.
She looked at Aeneas. Her eyes shone with tears and gratitude. She said softly, "Thank you, my lord. I... I don't know how I can ever repay you..."
Aeneas shook his head gently. He carefully sealed the remaining distilled alcohol.
"Use this to clean his wound every day," he instructed softly.
The evening sun slanted lower. A peaceful quiet filled the space after the operation.
Sergestus slept soundly on a cot spread with clean linen. His breathing was even. He looked like a different man from the fever-ridden patient of before.
Aeneas looked around. His gaze settled on Oenone and Thaleia. He spoke earnestly.
"Please, all of you, return to the manor with me. Supplies are better there. It will be easier for Lady Oenone to care for her other patient, Lady Puduhepa, as well."
Hesperia, a physician-in-training not yet twenty, stood nearby and brightened at once.
She quickly tried to compose her face into a serious mask. Pressed her lips together to look professional. But the uncontrollable upward curve of her mouth betrayed her completely.
"I'm coming too!" Hesperia said eagerly. Her voice rose slightly with excitement.
"I'm a physician-in-training! I can help change dressings, prepare medicines, and I know over thirty different herbs!"
She clutched Oenone's sleeve tightly. As if afraid she'd be left behind.
Aeneas and Oenone exchanged an amused look. The priestess shook her head in fond exasperation. Reached out to tidy Hesperia's slightly messy braids.
"The manor is better for long-term recovery," Oenone thought, "and it will be good to see Aresya again..." A smile of anticipation touched her lips at the thought of her friend.
On the mountain path back to the manor from Maple Ridge, the last of the sunset cast dappled light through the dense trees. Nisus and Euryalus carried the stretcher. They moved steadily, one in front of the other, along the narrow trail.
Euryalus muttered under his breath without pause. His usually joking face was a picture of complaint.
"The manor's really becoming a hospital..." Euryalus sighed dramatically. His voice was clear in the quiet forest. "One stray yesterday, another today... At this rate, we should hang a sign out front. 'Dardan Valley Infirmary'!"
Nisus didn't respond to his companion's grumbling. He just silently adjusted the angle of the stretcher. Kept the patient comfortable.
Thaleia walked close beside her brother's stretcher. Her eyes moved from Sergestus's pale but peaceful face to the back of Aeneas, who walked at the head of the group. Complex emotions swirled in her gaze.
"This young lord is not just noble by birth... His heart is so kind..." Thaleia thought quietly. "My brother is saved... This must be a blessing from Aphrodite."
Hesperia, meanwhile, bounded along like an excited fawn. She was curious about everything. She stopped now and then to examine herbs by the path. Stood on her toes to peer at the distant manor lights.
"Oenone, Oenone... Sister! Look, is that basil?" Hesperia pointed to a clump of plants.
"Will the manor gardens have more herbs? Last time I only visited briefly. Can we plant a proper herb garden this time?"
Aeneas smiled and nodded. He thought, with quiet satisfaction, No problem at all! Just become our resident physicians, both of you, and you can plant as big a garden as you want.