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.There had been times in the past when he had had to resort to a hired astrologer—when Timonides was ill—but he had never thought Timonides would cease reading the stars altogether.Out of the old man's hearing, he said to Ulrika, "I will find a star-reader in Babylon, who will do for now, but I cannot be certain that I can find one who is willing to travel to Rome! Especially an astrologer of excellent reputation.I cannot rely on someone who is second-rate.What can we do to bring Timonides around? I dare not move this caravan without consulting the stars.""I will talk to him."After Sebastianus left, Ulrika said to Timonides, "Come and sit in the sunshine with me, dear friend.The daylight will make you feel better.""Nothing will make me feel better," he said, but he joined her on a stool in front of his tent.Eyes that used to focus on the stars stared moodily at the ground.Ulrika poured him a cup of wine and placed it before him, but he did not touch it.Timonides dwelled in thought while life and industry went on about him.The sun climbed and breezes blew from the Euphrates.Presently, he said, "Do you know.I am not even sure I am Greek.I was abandoned as a baby and a Greek widow took me in.She gave me my name and taught me her language and culture.She apprenticed me out to an astrologer when I was six, and when she died, I was sold into slavery.Sebastianus's father bought me and I have been serving his family ever since.Nestor was the only human being in this whole world that I was connected to by blood.He was more than my son.He was my universe.And now I am lost."He reached for the wine and when Ulrika saw how his hand trembled, she thought: He is a tangle of dark emotions.He cannot think straight.And an idea came to her."Timonides, when I taught myself the skills of meditation in order to tap into my spiritual gift, I found that a side benefit was a feeling of peace and serenity afterward.Perhaps if I showed you how."He squinted at her."Meditation?""It is really very simple and requires little effort, only concentration.And it is not unlike the way I have seen you prepare yourself before you read your star-charts.A clearing of the mind.A way to focus.Would you like to try it?""To what end?""To bring peace to your soul, Timonides.""My soul does not deserve peace.""Then do it as a favor to me.I have never taught the technique to someone else.I want to know if it is possible."He shrugged."Have you an object that is precious to you? Something you can grasp in your hand and hold onto, like an anchor."Timonides did not have to think about it.He was inside his tent and out a moment later, holding a long wooden spoon that Ulrika recognized as Nestor's favorite.When he resumed his place on the stool, Ulrika saw, for the first time, a spark of hope in his eyes, as if just holding Nestor's spoon brought consolation."Now hold an image in your mind," she said, "a familiar and comforting one."A faint smile curled his lips."A bubbling pot of stew.It is how I remember my son best.""Create that image in your mind as you hold onto this spoon.Focus on it.Make it real in your mind.Now whisper words that hold meaning for you.Repeat them, over and over."Timonides studied the spoon in his hands, his shoulders curved and bent.Then he nodded, as if he had come to an agreement with himself."Stars are destiny," he murmured.Ulrika showed him how to breathe, to sway, to focus.She spoke softly, instructing him, her simple words and subdued voice guiding him into a sensitive realm."As you hold onto the anchor, send your spirit out."But even as she spoke, she saw his eyes moving behind his eyelids, the creases growing deep in his forehead, and she knew he was struggling."I cannot!" he finally cried in exasperation."Dear child, this is not going to work!"But she saw how lovingly he caressed the spoon, and she sensed the hope within him.Timonides did not want to kill himself, he did not want to join his son in an imagined hell
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