“They are both important in God’s sight.”
“Go outside and wait until I call for you. I know you’ve no stomach for this part of medicine. It’s best if you don’t have to stand and watch. You can tend her afterward.”
He started to step past her, but she caught his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Please, Alexander!”
“If you have a suggestion, Hadassah, I’ll listen. Otherwise, stay out of the way. She can’t wait.” Seeming to confirm his words, Antonia cried out again.
Hadassah could see Alexander was not eager to do what he had said, but he had set his mind on what he thought must be done to save Antonia. She shook her head. “We must pray.”
“Prayer isn’t going to save that girl! I know what has to be done.”
Hadassah knew only too well the low value placed upon a baby’s life. Even when a child was born, there was a high chance of death. So high, in fact, that no law forbade the burial of an infant within the city walls, nor was a name given for the first week or more. Infants were disposed of in villa gardens and tossed into rubbish heaps. There was even a custom of placing a newborn infant in the foundation of a new building!
Hadassah glanced at Habinnas and knew she would gain no help from him. His only concern was for his young wife.
Seeing her glance at the idol maker, Alexander grasped her arm in a painful grip. “I can’t let that girl die, Hadassah. Do you have any idea who this man is? He’s one of the wealthiest men in Ephesus. He eats at the table of the proconsul. If his wife dies in my care, my medical career is over. Do you understand? Over! Finished before it’s even begun. I’ll have to leave the city and hope I can start somewhere else.”
Hadassah met his eyes unflinchingly. “Do not be so eager to destroy a human life. Ask for help from the one who created Antonia and her child.”
Alexander drew back. He could not see her face behind the veils, but he heard the conviction of her words. “I beseech him then, and you. Call upon your god. I beg you to do so,” he said in a hushed voice. “But pray hard and fast, and may he hear you quickly because I can’t give you any more time than it will take me to get everything ready for the surgery.” He turned from her, a cold fear taking hold of his heart. If there was any other way to save Antonia, he would take it. But time had left him no choice. He would have to cut the child in half and crush its skull in order to extract it from the girl—and if he didn’t do it carefully and soon, she might die. No one would care that he hadn’t been brought here until the last moment. The blame would fall on him.
As Alexander returned his attention to his instruments, Hadassah’s heart cried out in anguish. All of Alexander’s faith was in his own knowledge, in what other masters had taught him. And that was not enough.
Hadassah returned to Antonia. Another contraction had already begun, and she was whimpering pitifully, her hands twisting in the damp linens as the pain increased. She had no more strength to even scream. “My baby,” she moaned. “Save my baby.”
“O God, please . . . ,” Hadassah said and placed her hands on Antonia’s distended abdomen. Her lips moved, though no sound came as she cried out to the Lord for his intervention.
O God, you are the Creator of this woman and child. Save them both! Turn things aright that they both might live. Turn things aright that Alexander will not do what’s in his mind to do and bring sin upon himself. Please, Jesus, let them see your power and your love.
Antonia gave a deep cry, and Habinnas started toward the bed. “Leave her alone! You’re hurting her more!”
Rashid stopped him. Habinnas fought to free himself, and Rashid slammed him up against the mural of sprites, uncaring how rich and powerful he was.
At the sound of Antonia’s moans, Hadassah wept. “Please, Jesus, oh please,” she whispered, moving her hands in a gentle caress over the child held captive in the womb. “Please, Lord, hear us. Please have mercy on her and her child. Turn the babe aright and bring him forth.”
The child moved.
Hadassah left her hands lightly on Antonia and felt the baby turn, slowly, smoothly, as though invisible hands had gently taken hold of him. She wept harder, filled with joy, and her tears dripped onto the taut skin.
Antonia cried out again, but differently this time, and Alexander, standing close by with the hooked knife, saw what was happening and dropped it.
Habinnas had stopped shouting and fighting against Rashid’s hold. “What’s happening?” he cried.
“The baby has turned,” Alexander said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. There was no time to place Antonia in the birthing chair. He braced himself with one knee on the end of the bed and leaned forward. Another contraction had already begun, and as it did, the babe slid smoothly from Antonia’s body into his hands. She gave a gusty exhalation and sank back.