Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire Read Free Page A

winter rays. Snow, at first pure magic, inevitably meant slush and clinging frost. I was miserable.
    Day by day, I watched Agrippina grow larger. Everyone agreed she was carrying a boy. The prospect cheered her, helping to fight off the bone-chilling cold that no fire could hold at bay. Information about the military operation, now hundreds of miles to the northeast, was sporadic and unreliable. Finally it stopped entirely. Where was the army? What was happening?
    Late one night, a shriek like an animal in mortal agony awakened me. When I rose, the stone floor felt like ice. I pulled on my new wolf-skin robe, grateful for its warmth, and followed the awful sounds down the hall to Agrippina's room. As I stood uncertainly, shivering from fear as well as cold, the door flew open and Mother emerged.
    "Oh! What a start you gave me!" she gasped, nearly dropping the basin she carried. "Go back to bed, dear one. It's just the baby coming. To listen to her, one would think nobody had ever had a baby before. This is her sixth."
    Unable to imagine Agrippina ever suffering silently, I said nothing. The midwife, plump like a partridge, moved so fast past us down the hall that her two attendants were hard put to keep up. They trailed breathless, one carrying a basin, the other a tray of ointments. "It won't be long now," Mother assured me. "Go back to sleep."
    The door closed. I turned obediently, but couldn't bring myself to leave the dark mystery inside. Agrippina's cries ceased after what seemed an eternity. Had the baby been born? The scent of hot oil and quince mixed with strong, minty pennyroyal assailed me as I quietly opened the door. Mother and the others, faces white and drawn, leaned over the couch where Agrippina lay.
    "I don't understand," Mother whispered. "She's full-bodied as Venus herself. Such women are born to bear children."
    The midwife shook her head. "She might look like Venus, but best pray to Diana. It's in her hands."
    My breath caught. Was Agrippina's condition so desperate that only a goddess could save her? The midwife looked up, startled. "Go, child, this is no place for you."
    "What's the matter?"
    "A breech birth." Her voice softened.
    Suddenly Agrippina awakened, arching upward, a mass of tangled, tawny hair, eyes wild in a glistening face. "This boy--this boy--is killing--me!" she panted.
    "No!" I heard my own voice as from a distance. "You are not going to die." Without realizing it, I'd crossed the room and now stood at Agrippina's side. A picture was forming before my eyes, blurry as though glimpsed through water. I paused as the image sharpened. "I see you with a baby...it's a girl."
    Mother leaned over Agrippina. "Did you hear that? Take courage from her words." She and the midwife lifted Agrippina, slumped between them. The vision had disappeared. Suddenly, Agrippina's body contorted. She lifted her head, hair matted, eyes like a terrified animal. "Diana!" she shrieked. "My goddess, help me!"
    The smell of blood, fetid yet sweet, filled the room, as the midwife held up something dark and shriveled. Slapping the baby's buttocks, she was rewarded by an outraged cry. "Look, Domina, look. The child spoke truth. You have a fine daughter."
    But Agrippina lay as though dead. Mother was sobbing now, quietly. I touched her hand. "Don't worry, Auntie will be all right. I know it."

     

    "I' LL NEVER HAVE A CHILD ," I INFORMED M OTHER THE NEXT MORNING .
    Smiling, she smoothed back an unruly lock of my hair. "I hope that's not the sight speaking. I shouldn't want you to miss the happiest moment in a woman's life."
    "Happy! You mean horrible. Why would anyone do it?"
    She laughed. "You'd not be here if I hadn't."
    When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful. "Childbirth's a test, the measure of a woman's bravery and endurance, as war is a man's. No woman knows when she lies down to bear a child whether she'll survive."
    I looked up at Mother's brown velvet eyes; Agrippina's screams still echoed in my