A Week in the Life of Rome

by James L. Papandrea

  In addition to the private rights, landowners also had public rights, which meant that they could hold political office. Foreigners living in Rome had none of the rights of citizenship, which means that at this time most Christians were probably not citizens.

  The freedmen of citizens received citizenship (private rights) upon manumission, and their children were considered free citizens, even if they were non-Italian. Therefore, slavery could actually be an avenue to citizenship and social mobility that was not available to the free poor. Roman law was written to protect citizens, especially those with public rights (landowners).

  The Praetorians pulled Stachys and Urbanus from the edge of the cliff and pushed them in the direction Narcissus was walking, across the Capitoline Hill and down into the Old Forum. At the edge of the Old Forum, the Praetorians walked Stachys and Urbanus to the dungeon known as the Tullianum, an underground prison created by the previous emperor, Caligula, especially for political prisoners. Stachys was suddenly filled with regret for all his doubts and silently prayed to Iesua, begging him to save them. The Praetorians replaced the ropes around Urbanus and Stachys’s wrists with iron shackles and put their feet in irons. Then Stachys and Urbanus were lowered into the dungeon.

  When Sabina heard that her husband had been arrested, she tried to find out where they were holding him, but no one would help her. Even some of her friends, the wives of senators, refused to receive her in their homes. Sabina felt betrayed by her own social class. Then she remembered Prisca. Another noble lady, but a Way-follower. Not knowing what else to do, Sabina made her way to Prisca’s awning shop. Her heart sank when she saw the storefront closed, with the boards across the front and the door locked.

  A familiar voice came from behind her. “Hello, Sabina.” Sabina turned. The voice belonged to Sabina’s newest Way-follower friend, the elderly Susannah.

  “Susannah, I’m relieved to see you. I was hoping to find Prisca.”

  “Ah. She’s at Maria’s house. I’m on my way there now. Everyone is meeting to pray for Stachys and your husband.”

  Sabina could not help being struck by the contrast between her friends’ response to her situation and the response of the Way-follower women. “Really? They’re praying for my husband? I don’t understand. They hardly know us, but they’re willing to be associated with us, even now? I’m grateful for that, because my friends have abandoned me. I want to go with you, but first let me go to the magic dealer and buy some curse tablets.”

  Susannah smiled. “My dear, I’m glad to see that you are disillusioned with Roman high society. But a curse is not our way. It’s easy to hate, I know. But what you really need is to pray and hope.”

  “Hope.” Sabina sighed. “Hope is yesterday’s venison. Only one day away from being spoiled. No, I must do something,” Sabina choked on her words as she fought the urge to break down.

  “Prayer is doing something,” Susannah said. “Come. Let’s go to the prayer meeting.”

  Julia kept interrupting Marcus’s prayers with the sounds of unsuccessfully trying to hold back her sobs. She and Maria held each other as Marcus led the desperate prayer.

  Prisca wiped her eyes. “We were at the theater yesterday. They sang this song, it was something like, ‘Life is brutal, but at least it’s short.’ How do we live like this?”

  Marcus tried to answer the question. “Prisca, we have to focus on our hope—the hope of eternal life. Peace comes from keeping our minds focused on that. Eternal life is bigger than this life.”

  Maria started to cry openly. She was worried that if Stachys died before being baptized, he would not be able to look forward to eternal life. She tried to dry her tears and change the subject. “Where’s Rhoda?” No one seemed to know. “Johnny . . . I mean, Marcus . . . tell us a story about Iesua—something that will give us hope.”

  “Mother, you knew him better than I did. I was too young to be a disciple.”

  “Tell them about the time you were praying in the garden with the disciples.”

  “No, Mother, no one wants to hear that story.”

  “Come on, it will make everyone smile.”

  “It’s not a funny story. It was the night Iesua was arrested.”

  “Please tell it,” Prisca said softly.

  Marcus could not resist Prisca. “All right,” he sighed. “When the soldiers came to arrest Iesua, everyone was running in all directions. We were all afraid, even the older men. Only Peter stood his ground and drew his sword. Took a swing at one of the soldiers, too, but the soldier ducked it and the sword hit this poor slave named Malchus, who was holding a torch for the high priest. Took his ear right off. But Iesua healed it.” Marcus stopped as though the story were finished.

  “Come on, there’s more to the story!” Rhoda was coming in the door with a smirk on her face.

  Marcus sighed again. “So anyway, when we were all running in every direction, trying to get away from the soldiers, one of them grabbed for me. Now, what you have to understand is that it was really hot out that night, so I had taken my tunic off and was wearing just my loincloth. And wouldn’t you know, the soldier grabbed the loincloth, and it came undone. And I was naked. And I ran all the way home naked.”

  The group laughed a little, still wiping tears from their eyes. “You must include that in your biography,” Prisca said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Urbanus and Stachys had no idea how long they had been in the dungeon when the silence of the prison was broken by the sound of young girls’ voices. Stachys lifted his head to listen. He knew those voices. It was Pudenziana and Prassede, talking to the prison guards.

  “We’ve brought food and water for the prisoners,” Prassede said.

  “And this basket is for you,” Pudenziana added, showing the guards that her basket held a pile of bronze sesterces. “You’ll treat them well, won’t you?” The guards nodded as they opened the hatch that led down from the street into the dungeon. A basket of food and a jug of strong wine were lowered down for Stachys and Urbanus.

  “How did you know?” Stachys asked the girls.

  Pudenziana distracted the guards while Prassede whispered. “Slaves from Narcissus’s house. They came and told us. Your wives are beside themselves.” Prassede went on to inform the men what else Narcissus’s slaves had overheard. Stachys and Urbanus were to be marched outside the wall and beheaded in just a few hours.

  Stachys buried his face in his hands, but Urbanus reacted with anger. “No trial?”

  “The emperor is still at the amphitheater. Narcissus means to do this without his knowledge, to appease the Praetorians.”

  “Girls!” Stachys said urgently. “Forget about us. It’s not safe for you to be here. Prassede, where is your sister? You can’t trust these guards.”

  “Don’t worry,” Prassede answered. “We’ve bribed them to treat you well. As far as they know, you could be here a long time, so they’re hoping the bribes will keep coming. And anyway, young Clemens and some of the others are watching from a distance. So we’re safe. But we should go. We’re all having prayer at Marcus’s house.”

  As the girls left, Stachys mumbled, “It’s actually my house. My house.” He shook his head.

  Urbanus seemed surprised. “I can’t believe your friends came here. I can’t believe they’re not worried about being caught and sentenced along with us. I’m grateful for the food, but obviously we won’t be here long enough to starve to death.”

  “There is hope for us, Urbanus.”

  “What hope?”

  “The Way-followers are praying for us. That means something.”

  “But they’re only praying to one god? Shouldn’t we be praying to as many gods as possible?”

  “You can pray to whatever gods you choose,” Stachys said with determination. “But in my experience, the gods of Greece and Rome have never proven themselves to me. This one God of the Way-followers is different. If you had seen the things I’ve seen, and heard the stories I’ve heard . . .
I’m going to pray to the Lord Iesua. Either he will save me or I will die. But I’m certain that without him on my side, I will die.”

  Both men were quiet for a while. Stachys prayed silently—his lips moving but making no sound. Eventually Urbanus said, “It’s not just me. If I die, I die. But Sabina will be disgraced. And my daughters will be ruined. Will they be reduced to prostitution? The gods know they can’t sing, so they won’t be actresses. What will be left for them if I’m gone? I can’t imagine . . . and to think I almost exposed one of my girls.”

  Stachys was thinking of his own family. “Maria, and my stepson Marcus—they’re not citizens, and Marcus is a Judean living in Rome illegally. If they’re connected to me, they’ll be crucified. And Tertius, who will protect him? I thought I could give them security by advancing my career. You were right, Urbanus, advancement is dangerous. It just brings you to the attention of those who stand to lose when you gain. I can’t give them security. Now all I can do is entrust them to the Lord and to the fellowship.”

  Urbanus said, “Stachys, you seem to have an advantage over me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You have this extended family who, even though they’re not related to you, will risk their own honor for you. It’s as though they want to be associated with you at the very time when you’re at your least honorable.”

  “That’s the time when I need them the most.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “The Way-followers. The church.”

  “What is the church?”

  “It’s a little like a military cohort—loyal to each other and to our Lord, no matter what. Even in the face of death. Because life is bigger than death. Bigger than this life. The church is the cohort of people who have received mercy from the Lord Iesua. And the cohort is growing. Soon it will be a legion.”

  “I wish I had a chance to become part of a cohort like that,” Urbanus said. “Hmm. Bigger than life, eh? Do you suppose that if we promise to be devoted to your God, he will save us?”

  Figure 6.3. The main Roman road from the city into Ostia

  “I only know that the one true God can’t be bribed. But it never hurts to ask. I’ve heard of the Lord Iesua helping people escape from prison. It’s strange to think that I was considering suicide, but now that I might die, I don’t want to. Now I want to live. Doesn’t matter, though. Even if we escaped, what would we do? We can’t live as outlaws, always looking over our shoulder. How could we ever have any peace?”

  A few hours later, Narcissus and his Praetorian guards returned, pulled Urbanus and Stachys out of the dungeon, and started the procession to the place of execution. Stachys’s wrists were bruised, and every shove from the soldiers sent shocks of pain up his arms. Urbanus shuffled along, his eyes glazed over, a blank expression on his face. From the Tullianum the procession turned eastward on the Sacred Way, heading through the Old Forum toward the Capena Gate and the Appian Way.

  As the group crossed the Old Forum, a gang of men shouting slogans for the green team came out of nowhere and stood in the middle of the path. Another group was waiting for their cue behind the altar of the deified Julius Caesar, and with a nod from Rhoda, they jumped into the mob shouting slogans for the blue team, and a brawl ensued. The Sacred Way was blocked. The Praetorians turned south toward the other side of the Old Forum, and then turned east again, which brought them right past the house of the Vestals.

  Figure 6.4. Remains of the Temple of Vesta (heavily restored)

  As the procession went by the temple of Vesta, the Vestal Virgins filed out of their gardens and onto the street, again blocking the path of the execution procession. Narcissus was visibly agitated, but there was nothing he could do. He could only watch as Julia stepped up and whispered into Claudia’s ear, then Claudia whispered into Vibidia’s ear.

  Figure 6.5. Remains of the garden of the House of the Vestals

  As everyone stood still and watched in silence, Vibidia moved regally, walking slowly up to the soldiers. The only sound now was the rustling of her vestal robes. She stood face to face with Narcissus and looked him square in the eyes. Narcissus met her gaze, but the other soldiers bowed their heads in reverence and looked at their boots. Vibidia cleared her throat as everyone waited for her to speak. “On the authority of the Pontifex Maximus, and by the intervention of the goddess Vesta, these men are pardoned. You are to release them immediately.”

  Narcissus ground his teeth. The law was on her side. There was nothing he could do. He glared at Claudia and vowed to himself that someone would pay for this—maybe not today, but someday.

  Soon both Stachys and Urbanus were back in the arms of their wives.

  As Marcus prepared for the evening meal and worship, Stachys and Maria tried to talk privately, but it was an awkward mix of expressions of relief and mundane platitudes. Although Stachys knew Maria was genuinely happy that he was safe and at home, he could tell she still felt a bit distant.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Tertius will not have a tutor.” Maria let out a sigh that almost turned into tears. She buried her head in Stachys’s chest, grabbed onto his tunic, and pulled him close to her. He put his arms around her. “Anyway,” he continued, “Urbanus didn’t get the job as prefect of the grain supply. But you were right, Maria. You were right. Thank you for being a mother to my son.” Now Maria started to cry into Stachys’s tunic. “It’s going to be all right. We’re all safe now.”

  As the gathering was beginning, there was a knock at the door. Prisca opened it and welcomed Urbanus and Sabina into the room, with their two daughters. Sabina noticed the humble status of most of the people at the gathering. She bowed to all of them and said, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Marcus responded with a smile. “We were all once wanderers and strangers to the truth. But Truth herself has given us hospitality and made us citizens of her own city, so now wherever we go we are her ambassadors.”

  The door swung open again. It was one of the slaves of the house of Aristobulus. He came in just far enough to say, “It’s time. He’s here.”

  Marcus nodded to Stachys. “Are you up to this?”

  “Yes, I’m ready,” Stachys said with conviction.

  “Good, then go now—find Clemens and tell him it’s time.”

  The slave was still standing in the doorway. “There’s a problem. One of our friends said Peter’s name out loud and someone heard it. We’re not sure, but they may have recognized him. Our friends have him hidden for now, but it’s not going to be easy to get him out of Ostia and into the city.”

  “All right,” Marcus said. “Go with Stachys, and when you find Clemens, make sure he understands the situation.” Stachys nodded, and he and the slave left. Marcus turned to Urbanus. “Urbanus, I hate to ask, but did you come in a litter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we borrow it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. Philologus, Ampliatus, go with Urbanus’s litter bearers, and take them to Ostia. Along the way, I want you to talk to the empty litter as if there is a noble lady inside. If anyone says anything to you, tell them to get out of the way and make way for the noble Sabina.”

  Some hours later, the litter bearers, led by Philologus and Ampliatus, arrived in Ostia at the Seven Sages Tavern. Philologus and Ampliatus went in, trying to look inconspicuous as they scanned the main room. Merchants drinking, sailors singing and playing drinking games, a row of small tables at the back where men played and bet on illegal backgammon games. Then they spotted Bito, one of the Way-followers from the imperial household, who was sitting alone in the corner. He pointed out the men who had recognized Peter. They had heard someone say his name when he first came in, and now they were sitting at a table, waiting to catch another glimpse of him. But Peter was nowhere in sight.

  “Where is he?” Philologus asked.

  Bito answered with a smile and a shake of his head. “He’s in one of the hourly rooms, telling a prostitute about Iesua.”<
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  Then young Clemens burst through the tavern door with a group of men, singing and stumbling, pretending to be drunk. Clemens pointed to Ampliatus and shouted, “Peter, my friend! It is so good to see you! We’ve come to see you off to Greece! Come! We will take you to your ship and say our goodbyes there.”

  The men who had heard Peter’s name earlier looked confused and started second-guessing themselves. So when Clemens’s gang surrounded Ampliatus and took him out of the tavern, they followed the group. They followed them down a dark narrow street, taking the long way toward the harbor and away from the tavern.

  Peter cautiously emerged from a back room. Philologus looked at him with admiration. There he was—the apostle. Full face. Strong jaw. With a full head of curly white hair and a white beard. Peter smiled and hugged Philologus as they kissed each other’s cheeks.

  They left the tavern, and when no one was looking, Peter got into the litter. Philologus and the litter bearers made their way back to the road that led to Rome, and Clemens and his gang circled back to follow at a distance and make sure they were safe. By morning, the whole group was back in the city, and Peter was in Rome.

  As dawn approached, a group of Way-followers was waiting near the pyramid-shaped mausoleum of Gaius Cestius. The group was ecstatic to see Peter again, though they tried to be quiet and keep a low profile. Peter got out of the litter to walk the rest of the way, and Urbanus’s litter bearers took their leave. Philologus led the joyful group through the Raudusculan Gate, in the direction of Pudens’s house. But as they made their way around the curved end of the Circus Maximus, they were stopped by a group of retired gladiators, hired muscle for Claudius’s freedmen.