Fabiola - Part Three

An old beggar woman caught Fabiola's eye. She had wrinkled brown skin, covered hair, and sang a soft song, bowing from her knees. It looked painful. One of the woman's hands had been broken before but never set. Bone jutted awkwardly around the capitate. Fabiola instructed her servants to fetch the woman. When the woman arrived, frightened by the attention of someone above her station, Fabiola attempted to calm her but they did not speak the same language. As Fabiola tried to purchase a new blanket for her, the woman shook her head and waved her hands, speaking as humbly as the language barrier allowed. "She says that robbers will take it from her," the cloth merchant interjected.

Fabiola paused and sighed, seeing now that she had drawn dangerous attention to this woman. Working with the merchant, they settled on a drab brown sack cloth. Fabiola then put some bronze coins in the woman's good hand, clasping it lovingly. "I'm sorry," she said. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment before parting.

Like rats trying to escape a sinking ship, she thought to herself, climbing over each other, leaving the weakest behind. 

Thoughts like this kept her from noticing that she herself had been noticed during this exchange with the beggar woman. He too had visited the market that day. And he too remembered warmly their brief encounter at dinner the night previous.