Household Gods

Julia wasn’t visibly offended. “Not if I can help it,” she said. “I don’t need a fatherless brat dragging at my hem. I smear a twist of wool with pine resin and stuff it up there before I start.” The angle of her eyebrows said that Nicole should know about this rough-and-ready form of birth control, but if Nicole wanted to play at ignorance again, Julia wasn’t of a mind to stop her.

Nicole wondered what the FDA would say about pine resin as a spermicide. Better than nothing, was her guess. She didn’t think a twist of wool would be as effective as a proper diaphragm, either, but it was also likely to be better than nothing. Put them together and they probably made a halfway decent – or perhaps a halfway indecent – contraceptive.

Several times that night, the baby’s crying across the alley woke her from a sound sleep. The first time or two, she lay with all her nerves jangling, ready to leap up and look after her baby. But slowly it sank in even on her sleep-drugged senses that this wasn’t her baby. She didn’t have to do anything about it except listen to it. Fabia Ursa, on the other hand…

Aemilia had left her to it just before dark. Nicole had served the midwife a cup of the two-as wine for the road, as it were, and seen her on her way to a well-deserved rest. “And that’s if nobody takes it into her head to pop tonight, “ Aemilia had said as she headed for the door.

Nicole recalled only too vividly how frazzled she’d been after Kimberley and Justin were born. She hoped Longinius lulus and Fabia Honorata and the wet nurse were giving the poor woman some help. Nicole would look in on her, she thought fuzzily. In the morning.

She woke with the memory clear in her head, and no sound coming from next door. As soon as she’d got the tavern going and set Julia in charge of it again, she went next door to see how Fabia Ursa was doing. She found Fabia Honorata there already, and Longinius lulus fixing the dented pot against which the image of Isis had leaned. With each stroke of the hammer, he winced. He must have the headache from hell, and well earned, too.

The baby lay asleep in his cradle, swaddled like a mummy. Fabia Ursa sat on a stool nearby. Nicole was shocked at the sight of her. She knew what a woman was supposed to look like just after she’d given birth: as if a truck had run over her. Fabia Ursa looked worse than that. Her eyes had a hectic glow that raised Nicole’s hackles. “Are you all right?” she asked sharply.

Fabia Ursa didn’t respond. It was her sister who said, “You see it, too, don’t you, Umma? I’m afraid she’s got the fever.”

Nicole couldn’t see that either Fabia Ursa or her husband had heard a word that either of them said. She crossed the room and laid her hand on Fabia Ursa’s forehead. If the woman wasn’t running a temp close to 102, Nicole would have been astonished. Aloud and in some frustration she said, “She’s awfully warm.”

“She’s burning up,” Fabia Honorata said. Worry made her tactless, or else she didn’t think her sister could hear.

Nicole recalled how often Aemilia had slid her hands inside Fabia Ursa, how much pushing and prodding the midwife had done, and how few pains she’d taken to keep her hands clean. If Fabia Ursa had an infection, what could anybody in Carnuntum do about it? There were no antibiotics here. Aspirin? The willow-bark decoction was the closest thing to it, but it wouldn’t do anything about the actual cause of the fever. Bed rest and hope for the best, Nicole thought. The thought made her uneasy. She hadn’t ever known anybody who’d died in childbirth, but she’d heard enough about the mortality rate before the advent of antisepsis. Puerperal fever was nothing to take lightly.

“Is there something we can – “ Nicole began, without much hope, but she had to ask.

Fabia Ursa interrupted her. “I’ll be all right,” she said.

She didn’t sound all right. She didn’t merely sound exhausted, either. She sounded sick, with the same whining, dragging quality to her voice that Nicole’s kids had when they were coming down with something. It reminded her so vividly of Kimberley that last day in West Hills, her heart contracted. If she could be back there, right now – if she could be right there, with all the troubles she’d had, and the stink of vomit, and every other delight of that awful day – oh, God, what she wouldn’t give to have it all back again.

She’d never wanted it so much. At first she’d been too elated. Later she’d been too busy surviving. Now…

Now she couldn’t indulge herself. “I have some willow bark,” she said with a tinge of desperation. “Wait here; I’ll go get it.” As if they could do anything but wait. They didn’t say so. Both Sextus Longinius lulus and Fabia Honorata nodded gratefully. Fabia Ursa sat mute, sunk again in that frightening lethargy.

Julia frowned when Nicole asked for the decoction. “Fabia Ursa?” she asked. Nicole nodded. “That’s not good,” Julia said. “Fever after you have a baby – that can kill you.”