Lindsey Davis - A dying light in Corduba

I reached the forum, with its modest basilica, tempting foodshops, and an open area dedicated to honorary monuments. It was here I saw Claudia. She was leaning against one of the fine local sandstone Corinthian columns in the temple, anxiously looking out for me.

My arrival had made her hysterical – which did nothing for my own peace of mind. I calmed her down enough to let her blurt out what had happened: 'We stopped here because Helena was about to have the baby. We were told they had a decent midwife – though it seems she has gone to deliver twins on the other side of the mountain. Aelia Annaea has rented a house and she's there with Helena. I came to find you if you arrived today.'

I tried in vain to compose myself. 'What are the tears for, Claudia?'

'Helena has gone into labour. It's taking far too long, and she's exhausted. Aelia thinks the baby may have too big a head -'

If so, the child would die. And Helena Justina would almost certainly die too.

Claudia led me as fast as possible to a modest town house. We rushed in through a short passage to reach an atrium with an open roof and a central pool. A reception room, dining room and bedrooms led off it; I could tell at once where Helena was because Nux was lying at full stretch outside the bedroom, with her nose Pressed right against the crack under the door, whining Pitifully.

Aelia's rental was clean and would have been prepossessing, but it was full of strange women, either clamouring dolefully – which was bad enough – or doing routine needlework as if my girl's suffering merely called for attendance by the civic sewing circle. A new spasm of agonising pain must have come over Helena, for I heard her crying out so dreadfully it shocked me to the core.

Aelia Annaea, ashen faced, had met us in the atrium. Her greeting was merely a shake of her head; she seemed quite unable to speak.

I managed to croak, 'I'll go to her.'

At least this male forwardness silenced a few of the wailing women. I was weary and hot, so as I passed I rinsed my face in the atrium pool – another sacrilege, apparently.

The needles had stopped stabbing, while the hysteria increased.

I scooped up Nux, whose only reaction to me was a slight tremble of her tail. All she wanted was to reach Helena. So did I. I dumped the whining dog in Aelia's arms then I grasped the door handle. As I stepped inside, Helena stopped screaming just long enough to yell at me, 'Falco, you bastard! How could you do this to me? – Go away; go away; I never want to see you again!'

I felt a wild surge of sympathy with our rude forefathers. Men in huts. Men who really were capable of anything. Men who had had to be.

Behind me Aelia gasped, 'Falco, she can't do it; she's too tired. The baby must be stuck -'

It was all out of control. Helena looking ghastly as tears mingled with perspiration on her face; Aelia wrestling with the frantic dog; strange women fluttering uselessly. I let out a roar. Hardly the best way to regain calm. Then, infuriated by the noise and fuss, I seized a broom, and with wide sweeps at waist height I cleared the room of women. Helena sobbed. Never mind. We could panic and suffer just as well on our own; we could manage without interruptions from idiots. I strode to the door after them. Aelia Annaea was the only sensible one present so I rapped out my orders to her:

'Olive oil and plenty of it!' I cried. Adding thoughtfully, 'And warm it slightly, please.'

To L. Petronius Longus, of the IV Cohort Vigilorum, Rome:

Lucius Petronius, greetings from the land of the Laeitana vintage, which I can assure you lives up to its reputation, especially when drunk in quantity by a man under stress. I solved the Second Cohort's killing (see coded report, attached: the cross-hatch stands for 'arrogant bastard' but in the prefect's copy it should be translated as 'misguided young man'). For the time being I am delayed at this spot. As you no doubt surmise, it's a girl. She's beautiful; I think I'm in love… Just like the old days, eh?

Well, old friend, anything you can do three times, I can manage at least once. Here's another report, which with any luck you will not be reading in the Forum in the Daily Gazette:

Hot news just in from Tarraconensis! Word reaches us from Barcino that the family of a close associate of the Emperor may have a reason to celebrate. Details to follow, but rumours that the baby was delivered by the father while the mother yelled 'I don't need you; I'll do it myself just like I have to do everything!' are believed to exaggerate. M. Didius Falco, an informer, who claims he was present, would only comment that his dagger has seen a lot of action, but he never thought it would end up cutting a natal cord. The black eye he acquired while attempting to ministrate has already calmed down. His finger was broken entirely by accident, when the noble lady grabbed his hand; relations between them are perfectly cordial and he has no plans to sue…

Helena and I both feel completely exhausted. At the moment it seems as if we'll never recover. Our daughter is showing signs of her future personality; she closes her eyes on the crisis and goes fast to sleep.