SiWren of the Patriarchs | Page 3

still keen of ear, and ate and drank as freely as any rash youth.
He suffered no impairment of bone, limb, or mind, and had suffered no
ailment since the day of his birth.
His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated, and he craved a good
physical match or a hard bet as much as any man 500 years his junior.
It was morning, and Nelatha labored steadily beside Si'Wren. Nelatha
had been originally sold into slavery at birth for the unfortunate offense
of having been a firstborn female, and her first owner had been fond of
tatoos and ritual scars, of which Nelatha had received many all over her
body.
Nelatha was accustomed to making no little ado of her mere five years
seniority over Si'Wren, though not in an unkindly way. Nelatha's limbs
were tireless and unfailing, for she was a large woman of short stature
and powerful girth. The plenteous flesh of her upper arms rippled to an
odd meter as she worked, grinding successful handfuls of spices and
herbs in the stone pestle and mortise, to be portioned out into equal

shares for each lot of balm.
The balm was made with fresh olive oil, pressed and drained out of a
great wooden casement and ram located in the back yard of the
compound. The ram was comprised of a flat, wheel-like lid, with many
heavy stones laid on over the top of the lid by two powerful male slaves,
crushing it down onto the open-topped barrel of olives. As the slaves
piled on the stones, the progressively increasing weight of the ram
steadily crushed out the fresh, strong-smelling olive oil which was
drained through a bung hole at the casque's base.
This was a most pleasant time for Si'Wren, who, not having had any
tatoos, not so much as one, applied anywhere on her body like Nelatha,
and neither desiring any, yet greatly admired and envied Nelatha for
her expert ability and wealth of worldly experience. Si'Wren always
looked on with beaming countenance as the piles of freshly sorted and
washed olives were slowly crushed down under the weight of so many
heavy stones. She would watch the pooling olive oil in the collection
bucket, diligent to pluck forth the bugs from the fresh pressing. Then
the oil would be covered to settle out any remaining bits of dust, twigs,
and dead insects.
Finally, the oil would be sieved through several layers of coarsely
woven cheese cloth, to be stored in tall slender vases with narrow
bottom ends into which the finest pollen grains and motes would
eventually settle out during storage. She knew of no other method to
obtain the olive oil, but this way worked quite well, and Si'Wren was
faithful to obey all, and question nothing that she learned.
Pharmacopoeia was a noble trade to work in, and well-praised by all for
a multitude of reasons, of which several might be mentioned.
Firstly, because of the wonderful, aromatic scents which lingered in the
spice tent and were so soothing to mind and soul.
Secondly, because of constant skin contact with the salves, balms, and
countless varieties of resins and floral concoctions used to make
incense, which were prepared by her and Nelatha on an almost daily

basis, which had a most beneficent effect, giving perpetual advantage
to good health by virtue of being so frequently in direct contact with
the ingredients.
There were but few drawbacks to the natural enjoyment of her work.
The purgative herbs, for example, could be powerful and curiously
disturbing to the bowels in their effects, and their dry powders
sometimes drifted in the air in the confines of the spice tent, having a
drastic effect upon her breathing passages and causing her to gasp,
wheeze, and sneeze in a most extraordinary fashion sometimes.
But that was only because of their natural purging qualities, and she
was soon over it with no harmful aftereffects. One of the herbs was
poisonous to consume whole, whereas the oil of the seeds, pressed out
in it's own little separate bucket and ram and imbibed in small
quantities, acted as a safe and effective purgative to the bowels.
Yet by and large, Pharmacopoeia was interesting and rewarding work,
and was pleasant enough to do. Work in the spice tent forbade the
intrusion of flies or bugs, and except for the sun-drying process, there
must be no direct exposure to the natural elements, lest the product
become spoiled.
A well-trained Pharmacopoeist was worth much money, and merited
the perpetual good favors of the Master for all of his or her days. Praise
for the worker would assure eventual success and praise for the work.
Compared to this, the backs of those working the harvest fields, the
threshing floor, and other more common