Chapter 4

5.
“Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” 
—Oscar Wilde

   Everyone at the peasant hut was preparing for the harvest festival. Katie, the mistress of the house, was busy with common chores, which were completely alien to the Empress.

  Daniel, however, spent long hours sitting by the patient’s bed. He read to her, recited legends, and even informed her of medical research papers. He never asked her about her life, afraid that the confessions would erect a wall between them.

  It was easier to believe that this mysterious lady has arrived here from a parallel world than to find out her title and lose the pleasure of simply calling her “Eliz”. Her speech, manners, gestures, sleek hands, silky skin, and well-groomed hair and face indicated that Elizabeth really did come from a distant world which was nothing like Daniel’s.

   He came from a noble family that lost its fortune half a century ago, and now this descendant of a once illustrious dynasty had to earn his daily bread by painstaking work and study. His excellence as a physician was unpararelled in the area. Daniel had more patients than any doctor could manage, yet every evening he found time for Elizabeth, who was bored and getting better.


  She watched the physician when he laid out vials on the table, prepared and poured medicinal mixtures, and then put the vials back into a chest. The Empress grew more and more filled with admiration for his kindness, intellect, austerity and even his unusual appearance. The physician was much younger and more handsome than the Emperor.

  Elizabeth feasted her eyes on Daniel, seeing him as an angel, although in the past she used to think of perfectly beautiful men as flawed. She liked everything about Daniel: his face with its sunken cheek-bones, his eyes, which held no hint of vulgarity or cynicism, and his reserved manners coupled with a slightly careless walk. This contrast tantalized Elizabeth. She scrutinized his long, dexterous fingers when Daniel poured a medical mixture into a syringe. Shots were the only violation of the Empress’ ascetic interaction with the physician.

  She would turn over onto her stomach and lift her translucent cambric blouse. With his precise, skillful fingers, Daniel moved her white lace lingerie aside and thrust the needle into her butt cheek, which flinched so sweetly, and the patient bit her lip in such a heart-stirring manner that the physician lost his customary austerity and kept repeating, “Everything will be all right, my dear girl…”            

  This made Elizabeth flustered but happy. Her femininity was awakening. She wanted to squeeze the physician’s hand to her cheek, and what was more frightening—she wanted to kiss that hand. The Empress pretended that the handsome, young Daniel was nothing more than a doctor to her.

  Yet suddenly, the patient’s blushing rosy cheeks gave away her embarrassment and the doctor, struggling with his own feelings, strictly frowned and shifted to a sententious tone: 

“Elizabeth, you ought to get more sleep. You are still agitated and weak. Do promise to follow my advice conscientiously.”

  The Empress hid her smile. She knew that his cool expression was covering up a quivering, living heart which was eager to love and even suffer. Despite Daniel’s best efforts to conceal his thoughts, Elizabeth felt his excitement when he rubbed a balm on her delicate torso or listened to her heartbeat.    

“Daniel,” Elizabeth said one day, “There is something I would like to ask you. Please send me a trustworthy person. I need to send a letter. I need a fast and faithful courier.”

  A shiver ran down Daniel’s back. He was afraid to hear that which he had begun to suspect a long time ago.

“Excuse me, Eliz, but is this a letter of national significance? You see, there isn’t anyone like that here…”

“No, no,” cut in the Empress, and Daniel’s back immediately regained its blood flow. “It’s a letter to an elderly woman.”



   In the morning, a young peasant followed the physician into the Empress’ room (Katie had categorically refused to accept payment for the Empress’ living arrangements).

“Bob will do anything you ask, Eliz,” said Daniel, and then left the room.
There was still some money left in the Empress’ sack. She handed two coins to the young man, along with a letter to the nurse-maid. It read:

“Dear Emma, I’m doing well, but I still cannot forgive my husband enough to return to the castle. I beg of you, take good care of the boys, as if they are your own. I place all my hopes in your kind heart. You will be rewarded handsomely. I promise that you will never regret raising the sons of the Empire. Wait for my return, Emma. Tell the boys that I love them. After reading this letter, burn it together with the envelope and don’t say a word to Antonio no matter what. I count on your noble spirit and believe in you wholeheartedly. Your madam, E.”