Rashid carried her through the shop to the residence behind.
“This way,” Livilla said, panting from exertion and running for a marble staircase. Somewhere above them a woman screamed. “Hurry! Oh, please, hurry!”
Rashid followed her into a room on the second floor and stood looking around, Hadassah still in his arms. Alexander was right behind him and halted just inside the door with the same reaction. The lavish surroundings were stunning. The room was resplendent with color. Murrhine glass glistened, and Babylonian coverings draped the east wall. Two murals bespoke of a wealth far removed from the small booth on the street outside the public baths. One covered the west wall and displayed sprites dancing in a forest while two lovers were entwined together in a bed of flowers. Another on the south wall displayed a hunting scene.
Hadassah, however, saw nothing but the young girl writhing on the bed. “Put me down, Rashid.”
Rashid obeyed, staring in amazement at the conspicuous evidence of Magonianus’ prosperity.
Hadassah limped to the bed. “Antonia, we’re here to help you,” she said and laid her hand against the girl’s damp forehead. She was no older than Julia when she had first married. Across from her was a gray-haired man much like Claudius, holding her small white hand between both of his. His weary face was pale and beaded with perspiration. Antonia cried out again as another contraction was upon her, and a look of agony etched his exhausted face. “Do something for her, woman. Do something!”
“You must be calm for her, my lord.”
“Habinnas!” Antonia cried, her blue eyes widened in fear as she looked up at Hadassah. “Who is she? Why is she covered in veils?”
“Don’t be afraid, my lady,” Hadassah said gently, smiling down at her, though she knew Antonia couldn’t see her face. It was best that she couldn’t, for the dreadful scars would frighten the girl even more. “I have come with the physician to help with your lying in.”
Antonia began to pant again and then moan. “Oh . . . ohhh . . . ohhhh, Hera, have mercy.”
As Hadassah stroked the girl’s forehead gently, she saw an amulet around her neck. She had seen many such amulets over the past months. Some, made of stone or hare’s rennet, were meant to make childbearing easier. Others, like this one, were to stimulate fertility. She took the smooth oval hematite in her hand and saw, engraved on one side, a serpent devouring its own tail. She knew without turning it over that on the other side would be an engraving of the goddess Isis and a scarab beetle. Also engraved in minute detail were an invocation in Greek and the names of Oroiouth, Iao, and Yahweh. Wearers believed the combination of Greek, Egyptian, and Semitic motifs and words would bring magical powers. Untying it, she set it aside.
“I’m going to die,” the girl said, rolling her head back and forth. “I’m going to die.”
“No,” Habinnas said in agony. “No, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you. Even now, the priests are making sacrifices in your name to Artemis and Hera.”
Hadassah leaned closer. “Is this your first child, Antonia?”
“No.”
“She’s lost two others,” Habinnas said.
“And now this one won’t be born.” She began to pant, one hand raking the damp blanket while her other whitened on her husband’s hand. “It pushes and pushes, but it won’t come. Oh, Habinnas, it hurts! Make it stop. Make it stop!” She screamed, her body curling in agony.
Habinnas held her hand with both of his and cried.
Still distracted by the opulence of his surroundings, Alexander crossed the room and removed perfume bottles and unguents from an ivory table. He glanced around again at the shining Corinthian bronze bed with its Chinese silk veiling, at the intricate pattern of various colors of marble on the floor, and at the large ornate brazier and gold lamps.
As Alexander methodically laid out oil, sea sponges, pieces of wool, bandages for the newborn, and surgical instruments, he wondered why a man of Magonianus’ obvious wealth would send a slave to the public baths for a commoners’ doctor. Another thought came to him in the wake of the first, a grim realization that filled him with misgivings. If he failed to save Magonianus’ young and clearly beloved wife, he would be driven from the city, his reputation as a physician destroyed.
“I should have listened to you,” he said under his breath to Rashid.
“Say you can do nothing and leave.”
Alexander gave a soft mirthless laugh and glanced toward the bed. “I would not be able to pry Hadassah away from her now.”
Antonia’s screaming subsided, and Hadassah spoke quietly to her and to the distraught Habinnas. “May Asklepios guide me,” Alexander said and approached the bed.