humours are sanguine, which is hot and wet; bilious, which is cold and dry; choleric, which is hot and dry; and phlegmatic, which is cold and wet. As above, so below, Master, they are the four elements, air, fire, water and earth.'
`Good. As we walk, tell me how to reduce a broken nose.'
I fell in at his side and took his hand. Like those of all physicians, his nails were short and his hands were always clean. To be otherwise would be like leaving blood or matter on a temple floor - displeasing to the god.
`Master, one washes the blood away and feels the cheekbones and jaw for breaks.'
`How do you detect a break?'
`Master, it feels soggy.'
The shadows of the cypress trees which grew all through the temples were black as ink, and their aromatic scent was all about me. As I tried to match my pace to master's stride, the owls of the lady hooted a warning about the coming day.
`Then the suppliant should drink a soothing infusion of poppy, vervain and marshleaf. If there are no other breaks, I would take two rolls of bandage and gently push the nose back into line from inside the nostrils, then leave the bandages in place for three days until the nose begins to heal.'
`What warnings for this treatment?'
`Er... oh, yes, Master, the suppliant must not lie down on his back to sleep, but on his side or front, in case blood fills his throat and he chokes.'
`Your are a good pupil, little Golden One.'
I trotted faster to keep up with him and said, `I have good masters, Lord.'
`Here we are. Now, Chryse, you will accompany the suppliants all the way to the dormiton and tholos. After that, you may come and see me and we will talk again. Do not interject with questions,' he added, smiling at me, `but save them for me when you have seen all there is to see.'
I nodded, and he patted my shoulder and left me.
There were seven people waiting in the reception temple. They were tired and dusty and priests were serving them with the sleepy broth, composed of chicken's flesh and onions, sage, rue and vervain, comfrey, barley and poppy. It nourished those who had fainted on the road and soothed the over-stretched nerves of the anxious.
When I entered the temple the priest hurried over to order me out. `The master told me to follow the suppliant,' I protested.
He cast me a harried look and muttered, `You cannot be seen here, dressed like that! Put this cloak on, boy. The psychopomp must not be visible until the cavern entrance.'
I wrapped and pinned the himation which covered my purple tunic, and sat down against the wall as unobtrusively as I could. I had noticed that if I concentrated hard on not being seen, people's eyes skated over me. Besides, the patients were concerned with their own ills.
There were four men and three women. Milanion, a soldier, with a spear point lodged in his jaw. Cleones, a woman with dropsy, swelled and uncomfortable, her skin so stretched that it seemed about to split. A pregnant girl who could not be delivered, panting and red faced with the effort of staying upright and conscious, her arms cradling her swollen belly.
Mindful that no one was allowed to die or be born in the sacred precinct, I knew that the attendants would carry her out of the tholos as soon as her labour became productive.
A child of perhaps four in the arms of his mother, whimpering in a strange monotonous voice. He had fallen down a cliff, chasing a goat, and hit his head, and now he was blind. His mother would lie down with the god and dream for him.
There was a man seeking help for impotence, a woman hoping to be cured of barrenness and an Achaean with a bandaged foot, which had been broken and healed without setting properly, so that he could hardly walk. A bony man of perhaps forty clutched his belly, complaining that he could not digest his food any more and that his insides had rebelled against him.
As Eos, the goddess of the dawn, trailed her golden draperies over the horizon, the suppliants began to talk, encouraged by the