Roma

by Steven Saylor

  “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.

  Appius Claudius squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Despite his hotheadedness, the young Icilius is correct: Until she is determined to be his property, the female cannot be left in the possession of Marcus Claudius. Pending the return of Verginius, when an informed judgment can be made regarding the female’s status, I myself shall take her into custody. In the meeting hall of the Decemvirs, I have a private chamber. The girl will be perfectly safe there. Citizen, hand me the rope.”

  Marcus, bowing and cocking his head, handed the tether to Appius Claudius.

  The Decemvir bent down to touch Verginia’s cheek, which was wet with tears. “On your feet, girl. Come with me.” He took her arm to help her up. Few saw just how hard he gripped her, digging his fingers into her flesh until she whimpered in pain. Quaking with fear, Verginia stumbled forward. Appius Claudius put his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear. An onlooker might assume he was speaking words of reassurance and comfort. In fact, no longer able to restrain himself, he was saying the things he had long dreamed of saying to her, telling her exactly what he intended to do to her as soon as they were alone in his room. Verginia stiffened and opened her mouth in shock, but no sound came out.

  As Appius Claudius led her into the building, Verginia gripped the doorway and managed a faint cry for help. Lucius gave a cry of anguish and ran after them.

  The lictors converged on him. They knocked him to the ground and struck him with their cudgels. Angered at seeing one of their own receive a public beating, a group of young plebs in the crowd rushed at the lictors and helped Lucius to his feet. Screams rent the air and blood was spilled on the paving stones.

  More lictors emerged from the building. The crowd quickly dispersed.

  Shaken and bleeding, Lucius limped home, assisted by his mother and sister. Verginia’s mother followed them, weeping uncontrollably.

  The actions taken by Appius Claudius that day, and in the days that followed, would be speculated upon long afterward.

  When the full story came to light, it was widely thought that the Decemvir must have fallen prey to a kind of madness. Surely no reasonable man would have thought that the ruse put forth by Marcus Claudius would withstand scrutiny, or that the people of Roma simply would not care about Verginia’s fate. And yet, at all times, Appius Claudius exercised a kind of reasoning, for each step of his scheme had to have been planned in advance and carefully executed; even the order calling Verginius to military service, it turned out, had originated with the Decemvir. Appius Claudius had not merely taken advantage of a situation that arose, or submitted to a sudden temptation that overwhelmed his better judgment; he deliberately orchestrated the situation and exploited it with unswerving ruthlessness.

  Within an hour of Verginia’s abduction, Lucius sent a messenger to the military camp outside the city where Verginius had been posted. Verginius rode through the night and returned to Roma the next morning.

  The two men, Verginia’s father and her betrothed, at once set out for the Forum, where they told their story to any who would listen. Overnight, word of the incident had spread throughout the city, making Verginia’s plight the talk of Roma. When people learned that Lucius and Verginius were speaking publicly, they flocked to hear them.

  The two men presented a pitiful sight. After an anxious, sleepless night of riding, Verginius was haggard and hoarse. Lucius had received a severe beating from the lictors; his head was wrapped with a bloody bandage and his face was badly bruised, with one eye swollen shut. His right shoulder had been dislocated and his arm was in a sling.

  “Citizens!” cried Verginius. “Many of you know me. Many more have heard my name. I’ve fought in many battles for Roma. I fought the Aequi under Cincinnatus! If any man has earned your respect as a soldier, it’s me. But what is it that we fight for when we risk our lives in battle? We fight to keep our wives and our children safe! Yet look what’s happened. Even while I was in the field, preparing for battle, the very thing I fear most took place, right here in the Forum—my daughter, a virgin as pure as any Vestal, was taken from her mother and kept overnight against her will. Was it done by some savage invader? No! She was taken by a patrician, a man many of you admire and respect, although you wouldn’t be far wrong if you called him a Sabine invader. Attus Clausus was his grandfather’s name, and I curse the day that Sabine pig was admitted to the Senate!”

  Some cheered at this, but others booed. One man shouted, “The girl isn’t even your daughter! She’s another man’s slave!”

  “That’s a lie! There is no question whatsoever about my daughter’s identity. She was abducted, in broad daylight, and for one purpose only—to satisfy the lusts of the Decemvir Appius Claudius. Citizens, can you imagine how painful it is for me to even speak of this, the shame I feel, that I should have to beg for your help in such a matter? Are there no fathers among you who can imagine what I fear?”

  “This is ludicrous!” shouted another man. “I was there. I saw what happened. For you to suggest that the Decemvir plotted the whole thing—it’s too far-fetched. A man like Appius Claudius has too much to lose to ever behave in such a reckless fashion. Now, it’s possible this shady character Marcus Claudius was perpetrating a scheme—”

  “Or maybe Marcus’s story is true,” said the man who had first interrupted Verginius. “Stranger things have happened! Romulus and Remus were princes, but they were raised by a swineherd. What’s to stop a stolen slave girl being raised as a citizen’s daughter?”

  “Verginia is my daughter, my own flesh and blood!”

  “Maybe so,” said the man. “And maybe Marcus Claudius made an honest mistake. In that case, the Decemvir was absolutely right to take charge of the situation. Instead of tearing your hair and making terrible accusations against Appius Claudius, you should be thanking the man!”

  “This is insane!” cried Lucius. “Don’t you see what’s happened? A patrician has taken a plebeia
n girl against her will, and against the will of her father and her betrothed. Who knows what he’s done to her overnight? It drives me mad to think about it!”

  A group of plebeians in the crowd, roused by Lucius’s tears, became so infuriated that they began to strike the men who had argued against Verginius, accusing them of being agents in the pay of Appius Claudius. But, whether paid or not, there were more adherents of the Decemvir in the crowd than the hotheads realized. Once violence erupted, the two sides appeared to be evenly matched. Eventually, lictors emerged from the Decemvirs’ hall and dispersed the crowd.

  All day, Verginius and Lucius remained in the Forum, speaking to all who would listen. Again and again crowds gathered and erupted in violence. The unruly mobs were repeatedly dispersed, but came back in greater numbers each time.

  At last, late in the afternoon, Appius Claudius emerged from the Decemvirs’ hall, protected by lictors. He looked utterly serene; indeed, he looked quite pleased with himself.

  “I am ready to render judgment in the matter of the identity of the female known as Verginia,” he announced. “Erect a tribunal!”

  A platform was set up and a chair of state placed upon it. Appius Claudius mounted the tribunal and sat, resplendent in his purple toga. Lucius pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The Decemvir’s smug expression sickened him. Lictors surrounded the tribunal. One of the men who had beaten him the previous day smirked at him. Lucius trembled with rage.

  Appius Claudius cleared his throat. “I’ve already heard the arguments put forth by Marcus Claudius, privately, in my chamber. His case is persuasive. He mentioned a certain physical characteristic of the slave girl who was stolen from him. I was able to ascertain with my own eyes the presence of this distinguishing mark, by examining the girl myself.”

  “What mark?” cried Lucius.

  “There is no need to reveal that information.”

  “What mark?” demanded Lucius.

  The Decemvir smiled coyly. “I would prefer to be less explicit, but since you insist on knowing, there is a small birthmark on the inside of the girl’s left thigh. The location of the mark is such that no man could possibly have seen it, except a husband, or, as in the case of Marcus Claudius, a citizen who had occasion to intimately examine his slaves.”

  Lucius covered his face and wept.

  “Nonetheless,” said Appius Claudius, “it remains for me to hear what this fellow Verginius has to say for himself. The charge of abducting another man’s slave and trying to marry her off as a freeborn girl is quite serious.”

  “This is a mockery of justice!” cried Lucius. “You stripped her naked! You saw what there was to see, and whatever you saw Marcus Claudius could claim to be the ‘distinguishing mark’ by which he could identify her!”

  “Be quiet, young man, unless you desire another beating. I don’t think you would survive it. In fact, I’m certain you would not.”

  The smirking lictor suddenly struck Lucius’s bandaged head with his cudgel. Lucius screamed and dropped to his knees.

  “Step forward, Verginius!”

  Looking like the ghost of himself, Verginius made his way to the tribunal. Beside him stood an elderly woman wearing a simple tunica.

  “Who is this woman?” said Appius Claudius.

  Verginius’s voice was very hoarse. “Decemvir, this is one of my slaves, the nurse who cared for Verginia when she was a baby. She still resides in my household. As you can see, she is very old, but her memory is sharp. I called her here because…” He hesitated, like a man telling a story who has lost his place. “I brought her because it occurs to me that…that there is a possibility…that perhaps, when my daughter was still very young, she was taken from me and a slave was left in her place. My newborn daughter, too, had a distinguishing mark. If the woman who nursed her could now examine Verginia…as you yourself were able to examine her…” He gritted his teeth. “If you will allow this, Decemvir, then perhaps, after all, I might be persuaded that the girl, whom I thought to be my daughter, is not.”

  Appius Claudius shook his head. “I can’t give you custody of the girl for such a purpose. You might abscond with her.”

  “I don’t ask for custody, Decemvir. If the nurse and I could simply be allowed to see Verginia, briefly, in a private place…”

  The Decemvir stroked his beard and said nothing.

  The crowd grew restive. A citizen cried out, “Let him see the girl!”

  Others joined him: “Yes, let Verginius see her!”

  At last, Appius Claudius nodded. “Very well. You and the nurse may enter my chambers and examine the female. Two of my lictors will escort you.”

  Verginius and the woman made their way to the entrance of the building. Lucius rushed to join them, but Verginius shook his head.

  “No, Lucius. This task is not for you.”

  “But I must see her!”

  “No! Verginia is my daughter, not your wife. This duty falls to me, and to me alone.”

  Verginius and the nurse stepped inside the building. The meeting room was empty. One of the lictors led them down a long hallway to the chamber of Appius Claudius. The lictor allowed Verginius and the nurse to enter the room alone, but he would not allow them to close the door behind them.

  “Then avert your eyes!” demanded Verginius.

  The lictor glowered at him, but turned his face away.

  The room was small and dark, and far enough from the crowded Forum that no sound from outside could be heard. While Verginius and Lucius had harangued the citizenry all day, this was where Appius Claudius had kept himself shut away, alone with Verginia.

  Verginius wrinkled his nose.

  The lictor grunted. “Smells like a whorehouse, doesn’t it?”

  Verginia was sitting on a couch strewn with rumpled coverlets. She rose and clutched her breasts. Her face was red from weeping. “Papa! Thank the gods, at last!”

  Verginius turned his face away. “Nurse, examine her. Lictor, keep your eyes averted!”

  The old nurse stepped forward. At the sight of her, Verginia seemed to become a child. She stood passively and made no resistance as the woman lifted her tunica and stooped over to peer between her legs.

  Verginius’s voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible. “What do you see?”

  “Master, the child is no longer a virgin.” The old woman shuddered and began to sob. The lictor snickered.

  Verginia stepped back from the nurse and pushed down her tunica. Her lips quivered. “Papa?” she said. She looked at the floor, not at her father, and her voice trembled with fear.

  Verginius moved quickly toward her. She abruptly threw open her arms in the posture of a woman expecting an embrace or surrendering to a blow.

  Verginius reached into his tunic and drew out a dagger. With the last of his voice, he gave a cry of anguish. The sound that emerged was ghastly—a hoarse, stifled croak. It was the last sound Verginia would hear.

  Only moments after he had entered the building, Verginius emerged, carrying his daughter in his arms.

  The red-faced lictor ran out after him. “Decemvir, it happened before I could stop it! I never thought—”

  Appius Claudius rose from his chair of state. He clenched his fists, but his face registered no expression.

  Like a warm wind through a wheat field, a murmur passed through the crowd, traveling from those who could see Verginius back to those who could not. The murmur was followed by gasps and stifled cries as men rushed forward to see for themselves. A few, catching only a glimpse of the girl’s body, thought that she was alive and being carried like a child; they cried out in triumph that Verginius had rescued his daughter. Then they saw how the girl’s arm swayed with each step, as limp and lifeless as her hair; they saw the red stain on her breast. Cries of joy turned to cries of anguish.

  Marcus Claudius appeared, spreading his arms to block Verginius’s way. He glanced over his shoulder at the Decemvir with a look of panic in his eyes. Appius Claudius barely raised an eye
brow.

  “What have you done, you fool?” shouted Marcus Claudius. “The girl—my property—”

  “This is your doing,” said Verginius. “Yours, and the Decemvir’s. You gave me no choice. She was my daughter. I did the only thing a father could do. Let the gods judge me. Let them look down and judge you, as well.” He faced the tribunal and raised the body in his arms. “And let the gods judge you, Appius Claudius!”

  The Decemvir’s face might have been made of stone. Only his eyes showed a flicker of emotion, which some interpreted as fear, but other as derision.

  The crowd was startled by a cry of agony. Lucius appeared, his hands clutching his head, his face contorted almost beyond recognition. He dropped to his knees before Verginius. He seized Verginia’s hand, clutching it desperately. He pressed it to his lips, then let it drop, horrified by the lifeless flesh. He gathered handfuls of her hair, sobbed, and hid his face amid her tresses.

  Up on the tribunal, anticipating what was to come, Appius Claudius called for his lictors to gather around him. All Roma seemed to draw a final breath, and then the riot began.

  All the violence that had come before was as nothing compared to the fury that swept through the Forum and spilled into the streets beyond. The whole city descended into a kind of madness. The mob’s outrage at the fate of Verginia unleashed vast stores of anger and resentment that had nothing to do with the singular villainies perpetrated on her by Appius Claudius. Amid the uproar, men acted on their most reckless impulses and indulged their darkest cravings for vengeance and retribution. Men were chased through the streets and beaten without mercy. Houses were broken into and vandalized. Old scores were settled with unrestrained violence.

  Much blood was spilled in Roma that day—but not the blood of Appius Claudius. Only his death could have satisfied the angry mob; only the sight of his corpse next to that of Verginia could have calmed the riot. The chair of state was smashed and the tribunal was torn down; Appius Claudius was not amid the wreckage. Men pushed past the lictors, broke into the meeting hall and ran through every room; the Decemvir was nowhere to be found. His inexplicable escape was like a spiteful trick played upon the mob, a deliberate insult to their righteous fury.