An Echo in the Darkness(60)

“We will need hot water, my lord,” Hadassah said to Habinnas.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Habinnas said, prying his hand free of his young wife’s grasp.

“Don’t leave me,” Antonia said, sobbing. “Don’t leave—”

“He won’t leave you, my lady,” Hadassah said, taking her hand. “He’s sending Livilla for water.”

“Oh, it’s coming again! It’s coming,” Antonia moaned, her back arching. “I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it anymore. . . .”

Habinnas didn’t return to the bed but stood with his fists pressed against his temples. “Artemis, almighty goddess, have mercy on her. Have mercy.”

Hadassah placed one hand on Antonia’s forehead and found her skin hot. Antonia held her breath, her eyes filling with tears as her face reddened. The cords in her neck stood out, and the tears ran from her eyes. She gritted her teeth and let out a deep moaning cry. Her hand tightened until Hadassah thought her own would be crushed.

When the contraction eased, Antonia sank back exhausted, sobbing. Hadassah’s eyes blurred with tears, and she stroked the girl’s forehead, wishing she could comfort her more. She glanced back at Alexander. “What can we do?” she whispered, but he merely stood watching grimly.

“Make it stop,” Antonia whispered hoarsely. “Please, make it stop.”

When Alexander said nothing, Hadassah leaned down. “We will not leave you,” she said softly and dabbed the sweat from Antonia’s forehead with a cloth.

“I must examine her,” Alexander finally said. When Antonia tensed, he spoke quietly, explaining what he was doing and why. Antonia relaxed, for his hands were gentle. Her ease was short-lived, for another contraction was upon her. She groaned in agony as it built. Alexander did not remove his hands from her until she sank back, weeping. He straightened, and the look on his face filled Hadassah with anxiety.

“What’s wrong?”

“The child is in the wrong position.”

“What can you do?”

“I can perform an operation, take the baby out through her abdomen . . . but there are risks. I’ll need Magonianus’ permission to do it.” He left the bedside.

Hadassah was filled with doubt as Alexander spoke to Habinnas Attalus Magonianus in a voice too low for her to hear.

“No!” Magonianus suddenly said in alarm. “If you cannot guarantee me she will survive, I will not permit it. She is what matters to me, not the babe. I will not allow you to risk her life!”

“Then there is only one other thing I know to do—” Alexander broke off, glancing at Hadassah as though hesitant to continue. Then, his face drawn and tense, he looked again at Magonianus and spoke quietly. Hadassah saw the older man’s face turn even whiter, and he shook his head as though dazed.

“Are you sure? You can do nothing else?” Alexander shook his head, and Magonianus nodded slowly. “Then do what you must. But, by the gods, do it quickly so she doesn’t suffer more.”

Heart pounding, Hadassah looked at the instruments Alexander took from his leather carrying case. Her stomach knotted. She watched as he had Rashid move the table to the foot of the bed. He glanced up at her. “Give her a strong draft of white mandragora, and then go outside. Rashid will assist me.”

“Mandragora will put her to sleep.”

“It’s best if she is asleep for what I have to do.” Alexander placed a hooked knife, a decapitator, a cranioclast, and an embryotome near at hand.

Hadassah rose and blocked his way. “What do you mean to do to her that you would send me from the room?” she whispered, her hand on his arm as she looked at the fearsome instruments.

He leaned close, speaking in her ear. “She will die if I don’t remove the child.”

“Remove it?” she said weakly. She looked at the surgical instruments again and realized with a sickening jolt that he meant to dismember the child and extract it from the womb. “You can’t do this, Alexander.”

He caught hold of her arm and drew her firmly aside. Holding her in front of him, he spoke in an earnest whisper only she could hear. “Would you have them both die, Hadassah? The child is wedged inside her. Do you understand? The way it’s positioned, it can’t be born.”

“Turn the child yourself.”

“I can’t,” he said firmly. He held his hands out for her to see how large they were. “Can you?”

“You can’t do this, Alexander.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said in a low, fierce voice, his eyes full of desperation. “But there’s nothing else to be done. Besides, the child is probably already dead. She’s been lying in for two days. The mother is more important than the child.”