He picked up his doctor’s bag and they followed the man to one of the low tents.
Emily crawled inside behind the man and Sabri. It was warm here; it smelled of people and smoke. A boy aged no more than eight or maybe ten lay next to a small fire. Emily had often seen him in the saffron fields and knew him to be a happy, cheeky rascal. Together with André Jr., he liked teasing the little girls. But at this moment, he was lying under a blanket, his face tearstained, his right arm stretched away from him, whimpering with pain. His mother hovered next to him, stroking his hair. As soon as she saw Sabri, she began a tirade, sounding alternately concerned and angry.
“The boy fell when he was fleeing from the intruders,” Emily translated, omitting the countless curses the woman uttered against the attackers. “Since then he hasn’t been able to move his hand and his arm is getting more and more swollen.”
Sabri smiled at the little boy and kneeled down next to him. But as soon as he tried to touch the arm ever so gently, the boy howled with pain.
“It does seem as though his arm is broken,” Sabri said. “It would be good, therefore, if I could really examine him.”
I would fight back too, thought Emily, if there were so many grown-ups around and I were in terrible pain. “Is there nothing you can give him to calm him down?”
Sabri thought hard. “I have neither ether nor chloroform with me and I don’t really have much experience in the dosing of anesthetics.” Suddenly, his face lit up. “But what I could do is give the little one some greatly diluted laudanum to help him sleep through the treatment.”
However, when Sabri approached the boy with the beaker, he pressed his lips together and turned his head to the side.
“Would you let me try?” Emily took the beaker and squatted next to the child on the floor. “Why won’t you let the hakim help you?” she asked in Tachelhit. “He can make your pain magically disappear with the drink he has mixed for you.”
“So the hakim is an asahhar?” the boy wanted to know, half wary, half interested.
“That’s it.” Emily nodded. “He’s a magician.” She slowly extended her hand with the beaker. “All your friends will admire you for being so brave.”
“You were fantastic!” Sabri exclaimed when the boy fell asleep. Emily blushed with happiness and was glad for the dim light.
He turned his attention to the boy and carefully palpated his arm. “It’s a simple fracture of the radius. Quite common in falls like this. I have to set the bone and apply a firm bandage to immobilize it. Would you assist me, please, Miss Emily?”
“What do I need to do?” she replied warily.
“What we have here is two parts of the bone positioned next to each other. Our job is to place them on top of each other so that the pieces of the bone can heal and grow back together at the site of the fracture. To achieve this, I’m going to pull the lower part of the arm. You have to hold on tightly to the upper part. It’s very important that you hold it with all your might in order for the two pieces to fit into each other. Don’t be afraid of hurting the boy. He’s not going to feel a thing.”
“All right,” Emily replied, although she was feeling a bit queasy. But she did exactly as Sabri said and, with a few calm and confident movements, he had the bone set in no time.
“Next I’m going to apply a compression bandage to make sure the bone grows together correctly. Could you go get me some sheets of card paper, as well as a chaff pillow? I’m going to mix the paste in the meantime.”
When Emily returned, Sabri had already prepared the sticky mass. Next to him lay several tin cans and linen bandages.
Emily peered into the bowl. “It looks like icing.”
“Gum arabic with dextrin, a starch mixture. Please stir it until it’s nice and thick while I apply the first bandage.” Sabri handed her the wooden spoon.
As she was diligently stirring, she watched as Sabri pushed the chaff pillow under the boy’s broken arm. He opened a can containing talcum and spread a thin layer.
“This keeps the skin healthy and prevents itching. While I’m bandaging the arm, you’re going to tear the card paper into strips and wet them, but not too much,” he instructed. He applied the bandage with a few deft movements, brushed it with the paste, and splinted the arm with the card paper.
All along, the parents had been watching with anxious expressions. The mother unceasingly stroked her sleeping child’s tousled black hair.
“Finished,” announced Sabri after applying another layer of bandage and card paper. “The whole thing has to dry for one to two days. During this time, the little one must keep his arm still,” he explained to the parents while Emily translated. “This way, the bone can heal under its protective armor and, in six weeks, your son’s arm is going to be fine again.”
“Rabbi akkisellem! Thank you very much, Doctor!” The father embraced Sabri joyfully.
“That was the last patient,” Sabri said as he and Emily walked in the direction of the house. The Ait Zelten’s camp was quiet, the people fast asleep in their tents.
Emily stopped by the smoldering fire in the center of the courtyard. “You are a wonderful doctor, Dr. bin Abdul. People trust you. I would willingly entrust myself to your care if I were ever sick.”
She shivered in the cool wind. Sabri put down his bag, took off his jacket, and placed it around her. “Would you also entrust yourself to me if you were not sick?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Sabri caringly smoothed down the jacket over Emily’s shoulders. “You were a marvelous assistant, Miss Emily. But now you should lie down and rest.” He hesitated, then stroked her cheek.
She leaned against the warm, soft palm. He was right, she was tired. But it was so wonderful to be standing here by the fire with Sabri, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. She could have spent the entire night watching the last little flames dance in his dark eyes.
“Emily,” he sighed softly. “How perfectly your name suits you.”
They were startled when Malika came running out of the house as though all the mountain demons were after her.
Emily froze in fear. Father, she thought.
“Emily!” Malika pressed her sister’s hand. “Dr. Hopkins says that Baba is waking up! Dr. bin Abdul, thank goodness you’re here. You must come as well.”
Three days after the raid on Qasr el Bahia, in the cold, gray light of dawn, Tamra was laid to rest under the broad treetop of the old holly oak in the garden behind the estate. The old woman’s body, draped in a linen cloth and borne on a bier by four Berber men, seemed tiny and light as a feather.