Free Emperor: The Death of Kings E#2 by Conn Iggulden

Clodia as the sponge and cloths were placed next to the wooden birthing chair, ready for the last stages of the labor.
    Clodia reached out and took Cornelia’s hand, rubbing it tenderly. A door to the room opened quietly and Aurelia entered, moving quickly to the bed and taking the other hand in her own tight grip. Clodia watched her covertly. Tubruk had told her all about the woman’s problems so that she would be able to deal with any difficulty, but Cornelia’s labor seemed to focus Aurelia’s attention and it was right that she should be present at the birth of her grandchild. With Tubruk gone from the house to complete the business they had discussed, Clodia knew it would fall on her to remove Aurelia if she began her sickness before the birth was over. None of her own servants would dare, but it was not a task Clodia relished and she sent a quick prayer to the household gods that it would not be necessary.
    “We think it will be a daughter,” Clodia told her as Julius’s mother took up station on the other side.
    Aurelia did not reply. For a moment, Clodia wondered if her stiffness was because she was the lady of the house and Clodia only a slave, but dismissed the idea. The rules were relaxed during a labor and Tubruk had said she had trouble with the small things that people took for granted.
    Cornelia cried out and the midwife nodded sharply.
    “It’s time,” she said, then spoke sharply to Aurelia: “Are you up to helping us, dear?”
    When there was no answer, the midwife asked again, much louder. Aurelia seemed to come out of a daze.
    “I’d like to help,” she said quietly, and the midwife paused for a moment, weighing her up. Then she shrugged.
    “All right, but it could be hours. If you’re not up to it, send in a strong girl to help in your stead. Understand?”
    Aurelia nodded, her attention again on Cornelia as she got into position to help take her weight over to the chair. As Clodia too began to lift, she marveled at the confidence the midwife showed. Of course, she was a freedwoman, so the days of her slavery were long behind, but there was not an ounce of deference in her manner. Clodia rather liked her and resolved to be as strong herself as was needed.
    The chair was built solidly and had arrived on a cart with the midwife a few days before. Together, they walked Cornelia to where it stood, close to the bed. She gripped the arms tightly, letting her whole weight fall on the narrow curve of the seat. The midwife knelt in front of Cornelia, pushing her legs gently apart over the deep crescent cut into the old wood.
    “Press yourself against the back of the chair,” she advised, then turned to Clodia. “Don’t let it tip backward. I’ll have another job for you when the baby is showing her head, but for the moment, that’s your task, understood?”
    Clodia took up position with the weight of her hip braced against the chair back.
    “Aurelia? I want you to push down on the abdomen when I say, not before. Is that clear?”
    Aurelia placed her hands on the swollen belly and waited patiently, her eyes clear.
    “It’s starting again,” Cornelia said, wincing.
    “That’s as it should be, my girl. The baby wants to come out. Let it build and I’ll tell you when to push.” Her hands rubbed more oil into Cornelia and she smiled.
    “Shouldn’t be long now. Ready? Now, girl, push! Aurelia, press down gently.”
    Together, they pressed and Cornelia wailed in pain. Again and again they tensed and released until the contraction had gone and Cornelia was drenched in perspiration, her hair wet and dark.
    “Getting the head out is the worst of it,” the midwife said. “You’re doing well, dear. A lot of women scream all the way through. Clodia, I want you to press a piece of cloth against her bottom during the spasms. She won’t thank us if there are grapes hanging there at the end.”
    Clodia did as she was told, reaching down between the chair back and Cornelia and holding the pad