Doctor Who_ Byzantium! - Keith Topping [76]
'That is exactly what it says,' countered Rayhab, defensively. `Word for word.'
'No, it doesn't!' spluttered the Doctor, laughing at their foolishness. 'It says, "And forthwith when they were come out of the synagogue, they entered into the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. But Simon's wife's mother lay sick of a fever, and anon they told him of her. And he came and took her by the hand, and lifted her up; and immediately the fever left her, and she ministered unto them".'
`What is the difference?' asked Reuben.
`What is the difference?' repeated the Doctor, with a girlish shriek. 'There's a whole world of difference. Dear, dear, dear, I can see I'm going to have to go back through all of the work you've already done and double-check it.'
Amos, Rayhab and Reuben stared at the Doctor, unable to believe that their carefully translated texts were being ridiculed in such a way. And by such a strange person.
`But, but...’ stammered Amos. 'We translated it accurately.'
`Perhaps,' said the Doctor, testily, ‘but your version is as dry as stale bread. It is a chartered accountant's version of the scripture. It ignores the nuances and the flair for language and poetry of the author. The flow of the sentences. The brilliance and sparkling energy of the piece."And she served them food"! I ask you, who on Earth is going to get inspired enough to join your religion with phrases like that?! This,’ he said rattling the recently translated piece. 'is soulless.'
`So you are suggesting what, exactly?' asked Rayhab.
That you follow your inspiration, not your sense of accuracy,' the Doctor told them.
It had taken Barbara over a day to pluck up the courage to finally confront Hieronymous again. And in that time she had done a lot of thinking as to exactly how she was going to phrase what she needed to say.
What it was necessary for her to say.
She had practised and practised until her little speech was word-perfect. But all of that fell flat on its back the moment that she saw the hurt in Hieronymous's face.
'I think we really need to have a chat,’ she spluttered, completely destroying her carefully worded opening gambit about how time can be a great healer.
'Say whatsoever you have to say, woman,' spat Hieronymous.
'I have decided that it would be best for all concerned, myself included, if I simply left. Not just your home, but also Byzantium,' she said, flatly, ignoring a multitude of ways of cushioning of her dramatic announcement.
Barbara didn't have to be a mind-reader to know that Hieronymous was bitter and furious at her rejection of him.
'Without my intervention,' he snarled, facing away from her,
'you would have been denounced as a spy and stoned unto your death.'
It was impossible for Barbara to do anything else but agree with this. 'That is certainly true,' she began, 'but do you expect that I should spend the rest of my life groveling on my knees, thanking you for one act of kindness? I am grateful, as I've already told you. But you seem to require that I am something more...'
Her voice trailed away and she shook her head sadly as Hieronymous continued to ignore her. 'Although destiny brought us together,' Barbara added quickly, 'it will also be destiny that tears us apart. We were and are not meant to be so, Hieronymous.’
What tense is this? Past tense? Present tense? Future tense?
'And we shall continue not to be meant for each other.
You surely must see the logic of that?'
Finally, Hieronymous turned to face Barbara, and she could see that the priest was crying. His dignity was in grave danger of being swept away and shipwrecked, lost in a swelling sea-storm of emotions.
'I am sorry, Hieronymous,' Barbara said softly did not mean to hurt you. That is the last thing that I would have wished for.'
'Go,' said Hieronymous in an barely audible whisper. 'No Jew will molest or mistreat you within the limits of this city. I will personally