by Laura Dowers
Sextus pretended he wanted an early night, much to the derision of Elerius and his other drinking companions, and made a pretence of retiring to his tent. Once out of sight, he mounted his horse and set off on the road to Collatia. He didn’t spare his horse, so eager was he to arrive. He kicked the mare’s sides whenever she seemed to slow and she was foaming at the mouth when he drew up in Lucretia’s courtyard.
Sextus threw his reins to a slave who hurried forward to meet him, demanding to another that he be taken to their mistress. The slave, recognising Sextus, hastened to obey and led him through the house to the tablinum where Lucretia was busy tidying her husband’s desk.
She looked up, startled, at his entrance. ‘Prince Sextus! Why… I was not expecting you. Is my husband with you?’
‘No, my lady,’ Sextus said courteously, his heart hammering as he gazed on her beauty, ‘I am alone. I was passing through and thought I would do myself the honour of calling on you. I hope it is not inconvenient.’
Sextus could see from her expression that it was inconvenient but Lucretia was too polite to say so. Instead, she assured him she was honoured he felt able to call as a friend. She dutifully played the hostess and gave him dinner, a really quite miserable meal for it seemed she ate simply when her husband was from home. As the slaves cleared the table, Sextus asked if Lucretia could give him a room for the night.
Lucretia hesitated, which angered Sextus a little. He had expected her to agree immediately, pleased a prince of Rome would be content to rest his head under her roof. Lucretia’s hesitation lasted only a moment. She said he was welcome to sleep in her home and ordered a servant to make a room ready for him.
When the oil lamps were lit, Sextus decided it was time to retire. He wanted to have some time to himself, to work out how he was going to proceed. His ardour had not diminished in the hours he had spent in Lucretia’s company. Quite the opposite, in fact, he wanted her even more. But she was so damn virtuous. He had flirted and complimented, and she had accepted the flattery with a shy smile but had resolutely not played the game. She had shown him to his room, and he had watched her walk away, slipping into her own bedroom at the end of the corridor.
Sextus lay down on the unfamiliar bed still wearing his tunic. His eyes focused on a crack in the ceiling, his mind on his hostess. There was only one way he would have Lucretia tonight, he decided, and that was by force. He closed his eyes and imagined her naked body next to his. It was delicious, just the imagining of it. How much more satisfying it would be to experience it for real.
Sextus waited until the noises in the house ceased. Then he crept out of his room and tiptoed down the corridor to Lucretia’s bedroom door. He lifted the latch and, hardly daring to breathe, stepped inside. An oil lamp burned on a table by the bed and in its flickering light, Sextus saw Lucretia lying asleep.
She would be startled when she awoke and saw him. She would cover herself with her sheet and tell him, perhaps beg him, to leave her room. She would call on his honour, remind him of hers and her husband’s. Those were words he didn’t want to hear.
Sextus took out the small dagger he had put in his belt and saw its blade shimmer in the lamplight. He sat down on the edge of the bed and the small movement of the mattress woke Lucretia. She blinked, the dark lashes gently brushing the delicate skin beneath her eyes. Her eyes fixed on Sextus. The cry she made excited him and without thinking, he pointed the dagger at her throat.
‘Don’t speak, Lucretia,’ he whispered. ‘You know what I want. If you fight me, I’ll kill you and put a dead slave in your bed. Everyone will believe you rutted with a slave who killed you before I killed him for the dishonour you both did to your husband.’
Despite the blade at her throat and his instruction to be silent, Lucretia spoke. ‘Prince Sextus,’ she gasped and there were tears in her eyes, ‘please, don’t do this. I beg you.’
Sextus pulled away the bed sheet she was trying to hide behind, the blade digging into her throat, making a shadowy indentation but not breaking the skin. He switched the dagger to his left hand, leaving his right free to explore the naked legs showing beneath her nightdress. He felt her trembling beneath his touch but she did not kick out at him. Perhaps she wants this too, he thought, and only needs to make a show of resisting. The thought urged him on. His hand moved up under the thin linen and squeezed her thigh. He felt her legs press together and he smiled to himself. He edged his hand over the top of her thigh and pushed his fingers down between her legs. She cried out but didn’t move, and he saw her eyes were shut tight, her face constricted as his fingers forced her legs apart.
Sextus lifted his body over hers and settled himself between her legs. He pressed the dagger a little harder against her throat as he pushed into her.
Lucretia cried as she wiped her thighs with a damp sponge. Sextus had used her roughly and her private parts ached, the delicate skin rubbed sore.
But the physical pain was nothing to the anguish she felt. She could not forgive herself for allowing her violation to take place. She had understood Sextus perfectly when he had flattered her during dinner, had comprehended his meaning and decided to ignore his remarks, secretly flattered a prince should find her beautiful. And so, it was her vanity that had led to her terror of the night before. She had been to blame.
Sextus had left her bed before dawn, thanking her for her hospitality as he dressed and sheathed his dagger. She could smell him on herself and no amount of washing with rose water seemed to be able to cleanse her skin of him. What was worse was the knowledge that he might have left a part of himself inside her, something that couldn’t be wiped clean. The thought of bearing Sextus’s child made her vomit.
Lucretia knew what she had to do next. She dressed herself and tied her hair back simply, not waiting for her maid to attend her, and made her way to the tablinum. She sat down gingerly at her husband’s desk and wrote to Collatinus, beseeching him and a friend to come home to her, but not telling him why. He would come, without question, he would come, Lucretia knew.
And when he came, Lucretia would restore his honour to him the only way she could.
Collatinus had received his wife’s message later that day. His mind frantic with worry, he didn’t ask for leave from Lucius. He jumped on his horse and made for his home, remembering only too late that Lucretia had asked him to bring a friend. Why, he couldn’t fathom. Fortunately, he met Iunius Brutus on the road, himself having left the Roman camp a few hours earlier after delivering a message from the senate. Collatinus begged Iunius to accompany him to Collatia and Iunius agreed without hesitation.
When they arrived at Collatinus’s home, they found the servants and slaves unusually quiet. They eyed their master curiously as he demanded the whereabouts of his wife. ‘In her cubiculum,’ the slaves replied, and Collatinus hurried there, telling Iunius to follow.
‘Lucretia?’ Collatinus asked, opening the cubiculum door. ‘What is it, what’s the matter?’ Lucretia burst into tears. Collatinus started towards her but she cried out with such fervour that he halted in the middle of the room. ‘My love, what is it?’
‘Iunius Brutus,’ she said through her tears, seeing him hesitating at the door, ‘you must hear this too so you can confirm what I say and do.’
‘Anything for you, lady,’ Iunius said, stepping inside.
‘Husband,’ Lucretia said, turning her eyes to Collatinus, ‘you have been dishonoured. If you were to examine this bed, you would see the evidence of your disgrace. But please believe me, only my body has been the cause of your dishonour, not my mind, nor my heart.’
Collatinus looked with horror from her to the bed on which she sat. ‘What do you mean, Lucretia? Have you lain with another man?’
‘I have, husband,’ she confessed, ‘but not through lust or desire. He came here, claiming the rights of a guest, and as my prince and your friend, I obliged. I gave him dinner, I provided him with a bed. No, listen, hear me, Collatinus. I did all this for him so as not to dishonour yo
u in his eyes. And he took advantage of me. He stole in here by night, held a knife to my throat and vi…,’ she stumbled over the word. She took a deep breath. ‘He violated me, threatening to kill me and put a dead slave in our bed to shame me further. Forgive me, but I allowed him to have me.’
‘Lady,’ Iunius said, ‘rest easy, there is nothing to forgive.’ He appealed to his friend who had not spoken. ‘Is there, Collatinus?’
‘You see, Iunius,’ Lucretia said miserably as Collatinus covered his mouth with his hand. ‘My husband is dishonoured and cannot forgive me.’
‘Collatinus,’ Iunius pleaded, ‘say something.’
‘I’ll kill him,’ Collatinus growled.
‘No, you must not,’ Lucretia cried, falling to her knees and clutching her husband’s hand. ‘The King will kill you and I couldn’t bear to be the cause of your death. Please, Collatinus, just say you forgive me.’
Collatinus knelt and took Lucretia in his arms. He buried his face in her hair and Iunius heard him murmuring his forgiveness. They stayed that way for a few minutes and Iunius shuffled his feet, wanting to leave and afford them some privacy.
But Lucretia saw and she pulled away from Collatinus, clambering back onto the bed. ‘No, do not leave, Iunius. Not yet. You must witness this. Collatinus, I have your forgiveness but it cannot undo the shame I will bring on you when this affair is known. There is only one way I can do that and it is this.’
Iunius and Collatinus watched in mute horror as Lucretia withdrew a dagger from beneath her pillow and plunged it into her heart. The cry she gave was small, pitiful. She fell back onto the bed and only then did Collatinus find himself able to move. He pulled his dying wife upright and pulled the dagger from her body. The blood flowed freely, staining her perfectly white dress, and she died in his arms.
Collatinus stared up at Iunius. ‘She used my dagger.’
Iunius could hardly believe what he had been called upon to witness. That a woman so pure, so very lovely as Lucretia had died before him and in such a manner, convinced she had done wrong, all because his wretched cousin had violated her!
Collatinus was in shock, Iunius realised. He hadn’t moved since Lucretia died. The dagger had fallen from his hand onto the floor and Iunius snatched it up. Lucretia’s blood was fresh upon it. The whole affair was monstrous and Sextus’s violation couldn’t be allowed to go unpunished.
‘By the blood of Lucretia,’ Iunius swore, ‘I call on the gods to witness my oath.’
‘Iunius, what are you doing?’ Collatinus croaked, still clutching his wife.
Iunius didn’t answer him. ‘My oath is this. I shall avenge the death of this sweet lady. I shall pursue relentlessly the foul creature that violated her. I shall bring down the proud tyrant, King Lucius Tarquinius, who engendered him. I shall punish the Queen who brought him into the world. They will not escape my vengeance. I make this promise. Oh gods, hear me.’
Iunius thrust the dagger into Collatinus’s hand. ‘Swear the same oath, my friend. Avenge your wife and let us free Rome once and for all from this accursed family.’
Iunius saw a new intensity in Collatinus’s eyes. He felt his friend’s fingers brush over his own as Collatinus gripped the bloody dagger. ‘Swear it,’ Iunius ordered and Collatinus repeated the oath. When he finished speaking, he drew the blade across his palm. Iunius took the dagger and did the same.
Their hands clasped one another, their blood mingled, the oath was sealed.
Iunius and Collatinus took Lucretia’s body to Rome. They laid her out, still dressed in her ripped and bloodied dress, in the forum for everyone to see. The people gathered around her corpse and shook their heads in dismay. The senators came out of the senate house and stared at the body of such a beautiful woman and asked each other what had happened.
Collatinus watched in silence as Iunius mounted the rostrum and called the citizens to attend him. He recounted what Lucretia had told them, of how Sextus had come offering friendship to the chaste wife of one of Rome’s most loving and dutiful sons, Collatinus, how Sextus had dishonoured Collatinus and ravished Lucretia, and how that pure-hearted lady had killed herself to wipe out her husband’s shame.
‘But who is shamed here?’ he cried. ‘It is not this poor lady,’ he gestured at Lucretia’s body before him, ‘nor is it my friend, Collatinus. Prince Sextus is shamed. At last, he is shown to be what Rome has always suspected but not dared to speak. That he is a debaucher, the son of a tyrant, the son of a murderess.’
He turned around to see if the senators were paying attention and they were. They were staring at him in unconcealed astonishment.
‘I know what you are thinking,’ he said to them. ‘You’re thinking what is this idiot doing, addressing us like this? I assure you, Iunius Brutus is no idiot, nor has he ever been. What I have been, I’ll admit, is a coward. For the sake of my mother, I played the fool. She did not want to see me killed as my brother Titus was killed, for nothing more than speaking out against the tyrant, King Lucius Tarquinius. But I cannot play the fool any longer. The time for keeping silent is done. When tyrants can act without impunity, and the sons of tyrants can violate pure woman like Lucretia, then the time to look the other way is gone. We must stare this tyrant in the face and tell him no more. We must say we will suffer no one man to rule over this state of ours. We must not bow our knees to a king any longer. What say you? Are you with me in ridding ourselves of the tyrant?’
The response was overwhelming. The people, whom Lucius had treated with contempt, enforcing their labour when they had no money to put bread in their children’s stomachs, who had increased taxes when they hadn’t the money to pay the taxes already levied, roared their assent. The senators applauded. Collatinus hid his face so he could cry.
Someone in the crowd cried out, ‘Let’s kill the tyrant,’ and the cry was taken up.
Iunius held up his arms. ‘Let us not shed more blood. We cannot cleanse Rome of the Tarquins’ foul deeds by more killing. Let us act instead as civilised people. This city has gates. Let us shut them upon Lucius Tarquinius and forbid him entry. Let his right to rule be revoked by law, so he can never legally claw his way back to the throne.’ He paused to catch his breath before delivering his final plea. ‘Good people, let us have no more kings in Rome.’
Lucius could not believe what he was being told. One of his men, whom he had sent to Rome with a letter to deliver to the senate, had returned with a proclamation. Lucius had told him to read it out, knowing his eyesight was too poor to see the scribblings of the senate’s scribes. The messenger had stumbled over the words, his eyes darting warily to Lucius, fearing what the King would do, remembering how roughly he had been treated when in Rome, pelted with mud and filth, simply for being Lucius’s man. He considered himself lucky making it out of the city alive.
‘Prince Sextus raped this woman?’ Lucius asked.
‘That’s what I was told, my lord,’ the messenger replied.
‘Bring him here. Now,’ Lucius barked and the man hurried away, pleased to be out of the King’s reach.
The Sibylline books, Lucius remembered. They had said he would be brought low by a child of Rome through a woman’s virtue. This was that moment. There had been truth in those scrolls after all.
Sextus entered the tent. ‘You wanted to see me, Father.’
‘Did you rape the wife of Collatinus?’ Lucius asked quietly and heard Sextus’s gasp of surprise.
‘I had her,’ Sextus said after a moment. ‘I don’t know about rape.’
‘Don’t lie to me. Did you violate her?’
Sextus licked his lips, then looked his father straight in the eye. ‘Yes. I did.’
Lucius fell into his chair, his hand on his heart. ‘You’ve brought me down,’ he whispered. ‘You, my child, just like the prophecy said you would.’
Sextus frowned, aghast as his father’s reaction. ‘What prophecy? What do you mean I’ve brought you down?’
‘Rome is locking her gates against me. T
he senate has revoked my right to rule. They claim I am no longer king.’
‘But they can’t do that.’
‘They’ve done it,’ Lucius hurled the senate’s proclamation at Sextus. It struck Sextus in the face. ‘They mean to exile me. And that means they’ve exiled you. Oh, by the gods, your mother.’ Lucius struggled to his feet. ‘What have they done with your mother? Have they killed her?’ He pushed Sextus out of the way and hurried outside. Sextus followed. ‘You there,’ Lucius called to one of his guards, ‘go to Rome. Find out where the Queen is. See to it she is safe. If necessary, bring her here.’ He turned on Sextus. ‘I swear, if your mother has been harmed because of your actions, Sextus, I will whip you, and this time, I won’t stop until you’re dead.’
Lolly’s maid had been in the forum when Iunius addressed the people and she had rejoiced in his words. She hated her mistress who was always ready with a sharp word and hard hand to punish her for the slightest mistake.
The maid rushed back to the domus and confronted her mistress, telling her with great delight that she would follow her orders no longer. Lolly raised her hand to slap her for her impertinence but had frozen in shock when the maid grinned at her and told her to go ahead. Soon, she said, it would be Lolly suffering such punishment. Iunius Brutus had spoken against the Tarquins and the people were with him.
Lolly watched in astonishment as the maid sauntered out of the room, marvelling at what the wretch had been talking about. Iunius had addressed the people and the senate? That idiot nephew of Lucius’s? Oh, it was ridiculous; the maid had been wrong.
Then one of Lucius’s secretaries had entered, his face ashen. With a trembling voice, he related what had taken place in the forum and Lolly listened without interrupting, hardly able to believe her ears. But there was no disbelieving the man’s sincerity. There was a move afoot to unseat the monarchy and he was sure, he said uneasily, that it would succeed. Lolly, realising she was no longer safe in Rome, set out for Lucius’s encampment under cover of darkness with only her oldest and most faithful maid for company.