anything you need that we may bring to you? Water? Incense? Sweet oils?"
She met his eyes for an instant, then looked down. She must not forget that this eunuch was one of the most senior courtiers in Byzantium. "Water would be helpful, and whatever sweet oils the emperor most favors," she replied.
Nicephoras gave the order to a servant waiting in a farther doorway almost out of sight. Then he dismissed the official who had brought Anna, and the guards, and he himself led the way forward.
Outside the emperor's room, he stopped. Anna felt as if he must see through her disguise and was about to tell her so. She wondered for a hideous moment if they might actually search her before allowing her into Michael's presence. Then she had an appalling thought as to where his skin rash might be, and after she looked at it she would never be forgiven for the intimacy. It even came to her in a wild instant to confess now, before it was beyond recall. The sweat broke out on her skin, and the blood beat so loudly in her ears that it almost deafened her.
Nicephoras was speaking, and she had not heard him.
He realized it.
"He is in some pain," he repeated patiently. "Do not ask him anything unless it is necessary for you to know it, and address him formally at all times. Do not stare. Thank him if you wish, but do not embarrass him. Are you ready?"
She would never be ready, but it was too late to run away. She must have courage. Whatever lay ahead, it would not be as terrible as turning back. "Yes... I am." Her voice came out as a squeak. This was ridiculous. Suddenly she wanted to giggle. It welled up inside her like hysteria, and she had to pretend to sneeze to hide it. Nicephoras must think she was a simpleton.
Nicephoras led the way into the bedchamber. It was huge, and unlike the official room, this was barely refurnished even after more than eleven years. Michael lay on the bed with a loose tunic on the upper part of his body and linen bedding over his thighs up to the waist. He looked flushed, his face and neck mottled red. His mane of black hair, threaded with gray, was damp and bedraggled.
"Majesty, the physician, Anastasius Zarides," Nicephoras said distinctly, but keeping his voice lowered. He gestured for Anna to approach the emperor. She obeyed as confidently as she could. The more afraid you were, the more important it was to carry yourself with courage. Her father had told her that over and over.
"Majesty, may I be of service?" she asked.
Michael looked her up and down curiously. "The Jews don't have eunuchs, yet Zoe Chrysaphes said you know Jewish medicine."
The room swam in her vision, heat burning up her cheeks. "Majesty, I am Byzantine, from Nicea, but I have learned as much as I could of all forms of medicine." She almost added, "from my father," and realized just in time that that might be a fatal error. She bit her tongue, hoping the pain would remind her of her lapse.
"Born in Nicea?" he asked.
"No, Majesty, Thessalonica."
His eyes widened fractionally. "So was I. If I wanted a priest, I'd send for one. I have hundreds at my beck and call, all of them more than willing to tell me my sins." He smiled bleakly and winced. "And give me due penance, I'm sure." He pulled his tunic apart at the neck, showing the red, blistered weals across his chest. "What is wrong with me?"
She saw the anxiety in his eyes and the sweat beading his brow.
She studied the rash, memorizing the pattern of it, the frequency of the blisters, and the degree to which they were raised. "Please cover yourself again, in case you get chilled," she requested. "May I touch your brow to gauge your fever?"
"Do it," he responded.
She did so and was unhappy with how hot he seemed. "Does the rash burn?"
"Don't they all?" he said tersely.
"No, Majesty. Sometimes they only itch, sometimes they ache, others are very painful, like lots of little stings. Does your head ache? Have you any difficulty in breathing? Does your throat hurt?" She wanted to ask him also if his belly hurt, if he had vomited or suffered diarrhea or constipation, but how could she ask an emperor such things? Perhaps she could ask Nicephoras later.
He answered all her questions, mostly in the affirmative. She asked for permission