Icilia at first assumed it was Titus’s poverty, or simply his patrician status, that offended her father, and hoped these barriers might be overcome. It was her brother Lucius who had explained to her the reason for the declining fortunes of the Potitii-the fact that Titus’s grandfather had fought alongside Coriolanus. No wonder her father had reacted so violently! The name of Coriolanus was accursed in their house, and so would be the name of any traitor who had been his ally. Never would her father agree to let her marry a Potitius; nor would Titus’s father approve such a match, for it had been an Icilius who engineered the exile of Coriolanus and, by extension, the ruin of Titus’s grandfather.
The situation was impossible. These brief, stolen moments were all she would ever have with Titus, yet her craving for these encounters was almost more than she could bear, and in the days between them she thought of little else. When Titus began to lift the hem of his tunic as well as her own, and to press his hardness between her legs, she offered no resistance. Instead, she clutched him as hard as she could, praying that the gods would stop time and make this moment last forever.
Titus entered her. He moved inside her. His breath was hot in her ear. A fire was ignited at the very core of her being and radiated outward, building toward an ecstatic release. The rapture reached its pinnacle; the pleasure was so intense, so perfect, how she could doubt the rightness of their union? That she should love Titus must be the will of the gods, which superseded the objections of all petty mortals, including her father.
Afterward, as he was gasping for breath, Titus whispered in her ear. “We must try again. We must go to our fathers and beg them to let us marry. There must be a way to convince them.”
“No! My father will never…” Icilia left the sentence unfinished and shook her head. The sensation of ecstasy quickly waned and was replaced by hopelessness and despair. “Even if he did approve, it wouldn’t matter. The new laws…such a terrible rumor…”
“What are you saying?”
“My brother heard it from his tutor. The new laws from the Decemvirs-they want to outlaw marriage between patricians and plebeians. If that happens, there’s no hope at all!”
Titus clenched his jaw. “I’ve heard the rumor, as well. The whole world conspires against us!” He sighed and kissed her lips.
Icilia stiffened. “Titus, I have to go.”
“Now? Are you afraid Verginia will tell on you?”
“No, but our mothers are with us. They’re probably missing me right now. If-”
Titus silenced her by pressing his mouth over hers and drawing her breath away. But when she pushed against him, he released her. She slipped away from him. Her final touch was a fingertip pressed to the talisman at his breast, and then she was gone.
“Go away, you horrible man!”
Back in the market, Verginia found herself accosted, not for the first time, by the wheedling little man who called himself Marcus Claudius. The creature certainly hadn’t been born a Claudius, she thought; he must have been a slave who took his master’s family name when he was manumitted, as was the custom. Marcus Claudius had the cringing, ingratiating manner of a slave, continuously titling his head to one side as if to duck a blow, licking his lips, and giving her a sidelong leer.
“But why won’t you come, dear girl? He merely wishes to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to Appius Claudius.”
“But there’s so much he wants to say to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it!”
“It will take only a moment. He’s just over there.” The man pointed to a building on the far side of the market.
“In the spice shop?”
“He owns it. There’s a cozy little apartment in the upper story. Do you see that window with the shutters ajar? He’s watching you even now.”
Verginia gazed above the awnings of the market, at the building across the way. Bright sunlight made her squint and shield her eyes. Not much of the dark interior of the room could be seen, but she thought she could discern, just barely, a shadowy figure standing at the window.
“Please, go away!” she said. “I shall tell my father-”
“That would be unwise. The Decemvir would not wish it,” said Marcus, emphasizing Appius’s Claudius title. “The Decemvir is a powerful man.”
Verginia was suddenly short of breath. “Do you threaten my father?”
“Not I, young lady, not I! Who is lowly Marcus Claudius, to think he could ever do harm to a great warrior like Verginius? Oh, no, it would take a powerful man to bring about your father’s ruin, a very powerful man, indeed; a Decemvir, perhaps.”
Verginia looked at the window. She could definitely see the shadowy figure of a bearded man.
“Look, do you see?” said Marcus. “He has a gift for you!”
The figure drew closer to the window; its outlines became clearer. The man was holding something. When he extended his hand, a bit of sunlight glittered on the object.
Marcus whispered in her ear. “Do you see it? A pretty gift for a pretty girl-a silver necklace with baubles of lapis lazuli. How pretty those blue jewels would look against your white throat!” The man giggled. “I think he has another gift for you, in his other hand!”
While the figure at the window held up the necklace, his other hand appeared to be pressing and kneading something beneath his tunic, near the middle of his body.
Verginia stifled a cry and tore herself away from Marcus. She ran headlong into Icilia.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “I looked and looked for you, and then that horrible man-”
“Ah, there they are!” Icilia’s mother, standing on tiptoe, called out and waved to them from across the crowd.
“What man?” whispered Icilia.
Verginia looked behind her. Marcus had melted into the crowd. She looked at the window above the spice shop. The shutters were closed.
Then their mothers were upon them, and even if the two girls had wanted to confide in each other, they could not.
A few days later, scrolls containing the first portion of the Twelve Tables were nailed to the posting wall in the Forum.
A great crowd gathered, made up of both patricians and plebeians. A man with good eyes and a clear voice volunteered to read the scrolls aloud so that the rest could hear, including the great majority who could not read. He was frequently interrupted by exclamations and questions, and when he was done, the crowd engaged in a lively discussion in which many voices were raised:
“Clearly, the new laws affirm the traditional rights of the paterfamilias. Very good! For as long as there’s a breath in his body, a man should have control over his wife and his offspring, and over their wives and offspring as well.”
“But what of this right for the head of a household to sell his sons and grandsons into bondage, and later buy them back?”
“It’s already being done, every day. A man falls into debt, so he barters his son for a period of servitude. The new law merely codifies the common practice-and sets a limit on how many times a man can do it, which is a good thing for the sons and grandsons.”
“And what about the law giving freed slaves full rights of citizenship?”
“Why not? As often as not, a slave is the bastard child of his master, the offspring of a slave girl in the household; if the master sees fit to free the bastard, then the fellow ought to become a citizen just like the rest of the man’s sons.”
“Perhaps the Decemvirs haven’t done such a bad job, after all.”
“Now, if only they would see fit to lay down their offices, call back the Senate, and let us elect new consuls!”
“And don’t forget the tribunes of the plebs, the people’s protectors!”
“The people’s bullies, you mean.”
“Please, citizens, please! Let us not be drawn into that old argument! The very purpose of the Twelve Tables is to heal the rifts within the city and allow us to move forward…”
Standing a little away from the c
rowd, Icilia strained to hear what the men were saying. It would not do for a young woman to stride into their midst or shout a question, yet she was desperate to know if the rumored ban on intermarriage was among the posted laws. She and Verginia had been on their way to the Temple of Fortuna to consult an auspex who would pick a new date for Verginia’s nuptials. Verginius had abruptly been called away on military duty, and the wedding would have to be postponed for at least a month. Their mothers, chattering away, had gotten a little ahead of them, and when Icilia saw the crowd and realized what they were talking about, she begged Verginia to tarry with her for a moment.
“It’s no good,” she finally muttered, shaking her head. “None of them is discussing marriage; it’s all about slavery and powers of the paterfamilias. We can go, now, Verginia. Verginia?”
She looked about. Verginia was nowhere to be seen.
The two mothers had missed them, and were heading back, looking displeased. “Icilia!” cried her mother. “You must keep up. No dawdling! We have too much to do today. Where is Verginia?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was she not with you?”
“Yes, but we stopped for just a moment. I turned away, and when I looked back-”
Icilia was interrupted by a man who came running up to them, looking alarmed.
“Aren’t you the wife of Verginius?” he said.
Verginia’s mother nodded.
“Where is your husband? He must come at once!”
“He’s not in the city.”
“Where is he?”
“Away, on military duty. What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s very strange. Your daughter, Verginia-”
“What about her?”
“Come and see!”
The man led them across the Forum, toward the building where the Decemvirs met. A small crowd had gathered in front of the building. At the center of the crowd, flanked by the lictors who customarily guarded the entrance, was Marcus Claudius. In his fist he held a rope, the end of which was tied around the neck of Verginia, who stood trembling beside him with downcast eyes and a red face.
Verginia’s mother gasped in horror. “What is the meaning of this?” she cried, pushing her way through the crowd. Men stepped back to make way for her, but when she attempted to remove the rope from her daughter’s neck, the lictors brandished their axes and cudgels.
She shrieked and started back. “Who are you? What have you done to my daughter?”
“My name is Marcus Claudius.” He looked down his nose at her. “And this female is not your child.”
“Or course she is. This is my daughter, Verginia.”
“You lie! This female was born in my household, a slave. Years ago, she disappeared, stolen in the night. Only now have I discovered that she was taken into the household of a certain Lucius Verginius. Apparently, the scoundrel has been passing her off as his daughter, and is even now conspiring to arrange a marriage for her under false pretenses.”
Verginia’s mother was stupefied. “This is madness! Of course Verginia is my daughter. I gave birth to her. This is my child! Let her go at once!”
Marcus Claudius smirked. “Stealing another man’s slave and perpetrating a fraudulent marriage are serious crimes under the new laws decreed by the Decemvirs. What do you have to say for yourself, woman?”
Verginia’s mother sputtered and began to weep. “When my husband-”
“Yes, where is the scoundrel?”
“Away from the city-”
“I see! He must have gotten wind that I had discovered his ruse, and he’s made his escape.”
“That’s ridiculous! This is absurd!” Verginia’s mother looked pleadingly at the crowd around her. Some of the men looked at her with pity, but some with scorn. Some openly leered, excited by the spectacle of a purportedly well-born girl revealed as a slave and exhibited with a rope around her neck, while the woman claiming to be her mother dashed about in a frenzy.
Icilia’s mother strode forward to try to calm her, but Icilia noticed that her manner was strained and her expression was hard to read. Had the man called Marcus Claudius sparked a doubt in her mind? He claimed that Verginius was deliberately perpetuating a fraud; if that was true, the victims of that fraud were the Icilii. What sort of man would offer a daughter in marriage, and deliver a slave instead, and a stolen slave at that?
Icilia could think of only one thing to do: find her brother. She headed home, running as fast as she could.
Marcus Claudius crossed his arms. “Clearly, wife of Verginius, since you will not confess to the theft of my slave, and instead persist in claiming that she’s your daughter, her identity will have to be determined by a court of law. The court normally in charge of handling such disputes is currently suspended; the Decemvirs handle all such cases. I believe the Decemvir in charge of this particular kind of dispute is-”
“Then call on the Decemvirs, at once!” cried Verginia’s mother. “But in the meantime, give her back to me!”
Marcus stroked his chin and pursed his lips. “I think not. If her purported father were present, I might be persuaded to give her up to him-but not to a woman, who can have no legal standing.”
“I’m her mother!”
“So you say, but where is the man to vouch for that assertion? Since Verginius is not present, I will relinquish possession of this female only to a proper authority.”
A number of men in the crowd, even those who appeared to sympathize with Verginia’s mother, nodded and grunted their approval, swayed by Marcus’s legal reasoning.
“I will give her up only to a Decemvir. Ah, look there! Here’s just the man to take responsibility. This is the Decemvir in charge of deciding such cases.”
Appius Claudius had appeared, seemingly by chance. He wore the purple toga with a gold border which the Decemvirs affected as their official dress, and was accompanied by a bodyguard of lictors. He carried himself with great dignity. His graying hair and well-trimmed beard gave him a distinguished look. With an expression of innocent curiosity, he strode through the crowd.
Verginia, who had stood motionless for a long time, paralyzed by shame, hugged herself and began to tremble violently. The girl’s mother fell at Appius Claudius’s feet. “Decemvir, help us!” she cried.
“Of course I’ll help you, good woman,” he said quietly, reaching down to touch her brow. He addressed Marcus. “Citizen, what’s happening here?” His voice was low and steady; there was the slightest quaver, almost imperceptible, to match the fire of excitement that blazed behind his eyes.
“Let me explain, Decemvir,” said Marcus. “I’ve just retrieved this wayward slave girl, who escaped from my household years ago.”
Verginia suddenly clutched the rope around her neck and tried to bolt away; but Marcus, reacting at once, tightened his grip on the rope, and when she reached the limit of the tether Verginia was wrenched to the ground. Her mother gave a scream of horror.
Appius Claudius raised an eyebrow. “It seems that I’ve arrived just in time. Clearly, this situation demands the wisdom and authority that only a Decemvir can provide.”
At that moment, Icilia returned, accompanied by her brother, both of them breathing hard from running at full speed.
“Let her go!” shouted Lucius.
“And who are you, young man?” said Appius Claudius.
“Lucius Icilius. That girl is to be my wife.”
Marcus grunted and gave him a scathing look. “The female is my slave. A slave cannot be any man’s wife. Now, if I should decided to breed the bitch-”
Lucius ran toward him, bellowing with rage and swinging his fists. The lictors held him back.
“Stop this outrage at once!” shouted Appius Claudius. “You’re disturbing the peace.”
“This man is trying to abduct a freeborn girl!” shouted Lucius. “That’s the outrage! If only we still had tribunes to protect us-”
“Ah, now I know who you are,” said Appius Claudius. “
The scion of the Icilii, a family famous for firebrands and rabble-rousers. Well, young man, bemoan the absence of the tribunes all you like; the Decemvirs are the only officers of state, and it is by a Decemvir that this matter must be decided. Since I happen to be the Decemvir in charge of such property disputes-”
“This is not a property dispute! It’s an abduction!”
“Perhaps, young man; but that is for me to decide.”
“Decemvir, you know this girl. This is Verginia, the daughter of Lucius Verginius. Did you yourself not ask for…” Lucius stopped himself. That fact that Appius Claudius had asked to wed Verginia-a fact revealed by Verginius after drinking too much wine-was not a matter Lucius would discuss in public.
“Young man, if you persist in this agitation, inciting the crowd to violence, I shall have no choice but to order my lictors to stop you. I shall empower them to use all necessary force. Once I give that order, you may be killed on the spot.”
Icilia gripped his arm. “Brother, do as he says. Calm yourself.”
Lucius shook free of her grip. His rage turned to tears. “Decemvir, don’t you see what this man is up to? Don’t you realize what he intends to do to Verginia? The girl is a virgin. She’s to be my bride. For the sake of decency, she cannot spend a night under any man’s roof except her father’s!”
“I see your worry,” said Appius Claudius, who used the opportunity to gaze openly at Verginia. She remained where she had fallen, on her hands and knees with the rope around her neck, blushing and trembling, utterly terrified. The Decemvir’s lips parted. His eyes narrowed. Every man in the crowd was staring at Verginia; no one noticed the look of lust on Appius Claudius’s face. Even Lucius, seeing Verginia in such a shameful position, turned his face away.
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