When someone objected that it might be dangerous to invite crowds of foreigners to wander about their strong places the King answered that everything would take place outside the palisade. The visitors would of course come unarmed, and both the city proper and the Capitol would be strongly garrisoned throughout the day. In that case, Marcus wondered, would the Sabines be rash enough to come?
Yet on the 17th of August, when the last of the crops were being carried to the barns where Consus would guard them, it was definitely known that the guests, with their womenfolk, had started and would arrive on the next day. Already keyed up by the annual excitement of harvest, the Romans felt the added excitement of entertaining strangers for the first time in the history of their new city. It was considered only appropriate when King Romulus suddenly proclamed that the evening would be spent in solemn fasting; every spearman was to remain within his hut, tending a sacred fire and praying for the continued fruitfulness of the Roman fields.
In the hut which Marcus shared with five others they kept a jug of wine hidden for emergencies; when all had agreed that this fast was an emergency someone produced a pair of dice, and they settled down to get through the dull evening pleasantly enough. The sudden arrival of a celer alarmed them, for he might denounce them to the assembly as breakers of the fast. But the man came to announce instructions for the morrow, most exciting instructions.
‘You are to watch the horse race with swords hidden beneath your cloaks; if you can hide your spears and shields nearby so much the better. When the King gives the signal you are to seize the unmarried girls among the audience, and carry them within the palisade. That’s simple enough, but there’s more to come, and these instructions are important. You must obey them on pain of death. Listen to me carefully.’
After a solemn pause the celer continued: ‘You are to grab only unmarried girls. No married women may be molested. There must be no bloodshed. Use your swords to frighten the Sabines, but don’t stab them. Finally, and most important of all, we are seeking wives, not concubines. No man may take more than one girl (there won’t be enough to go round, anyway), and he may not lie with her until the King has married her to him in due form. Do you all understand? The point is that we don’t want undying war with the Sabines. If we treat their daughters honourably we may be able to fix up a peace. Now these are the most stringent commands imaginable. Think them over tonight, and tomorrow carry them out to the letter.’
Next day Marcus was surprised to see that more than three thousand men could keep a secret. As the visitors arrived they were welcomed by smiling and peaceful citizens, ostentatiously unarmed. The Sabines admired the frowning palisades which crowned Palatine and Capitol, palisades which looked all the more threatening now that the stakes had been darkened by the weather of four winters; but they did not try to enter the fortifications and showed no surprise at being kept outside. It is not the custom to allow strangers to wander through your strong places.
In the morning all the men, hosts and guests, worked together to prepare the racecourse by the river; in summer the marsh was mostly firm land, and would make good going for horses. The main task was the erection of two masts to mark the turning-points of the oval track, but in the middle they also constructed a platform of turf from which the ladies could watch the sport in comfort. Meanwhile sentries had been posted to keep all males away from the barley fields, where the visiting matrons and maidens performed rites known only to women, rites which would make next year’s barley grow thick and plentiful.
At midday everyone gathered by the racecourse, and handsome young Romans offered wine and cakes to the visitors. But little was eaten, for no one was accustomed to more than one main meal in the day, and the feast would begin after the race had been run and the right-hand horse of the winning pair had been sacrificed to Consus. When King Romulus took his stand on the cairn of stones which marked the finish everybody settled down to watch the chariots.
The spearmen had been eyeing the girls, but no more than was to be expected from warriors notoriously starved of female society. There had been no unpleasant incidents, and after more than six hours of peaceful entertainment the visitors felt at ease and secure. The Romans waited for the King to give the signal. But they knew that first the race must be run and the winning horse sacrificed, lest the gods should be cheated of their due; the excitement of the race was warrant enough for the excitement they could not control.
Marcus had picked a good place near a Sabine family of father, mother, small boy and marriageable girl. He had it all planned in his mind; when the signal was given he would make a dash at the girl, and at once carry her off to the security of the Palatine. If he was quick about it her father would still be busy defending his wife, and it seemed that he had no grown sons to help him. With any luck he would be safely inside the palisade before the fighting started, if fighting there was; and with such a prize to guard he would not be expected to return to the racecourse to help his fellows find wives for themselves. Even with his concealed sword to help him, he did not wish to thrust himself unshielded among a crowd of angry Sabines.
That should do the trick, he told himself. But, really, what a scoundrel was this King Romulus whom he had served, more or less by accident, for the last four years! Was there any chance that his city could prosper, burdened as it must be by the wickedness of its founder? There was the death of Remus, and the death of Faustulus, which was something very like parricide. Murder of a brother, murder of a father: those were the worst crimes known to man, the crimes most severely punished by the gods. Could there be anything worse? His thoughts turned naturally to incest, because that was notoriously the crime most likely to bring down supernatural vengeance. No one had ever accused Romulus of incest; it was not a sin an unmarried man could easily commit. All the same, incest came into the story, for it was probable that Romulus himself was of incestuous parentage. Not everyone in Alba believed the story of his divine descent. The more prosaic explanation was that King Amulius, wearing full armour and with his face hidden by a great helmet, had raped Rhea Silvia as she returned from the holy well. He had planned, of course, that she should be put to death as an adulterous priestess; and thus there would be an end of the race of King Numitor. But after she had persuaded the citizens that she was the victim of divine lust he had not dared to speak out. All the same, that made Romulus the offspring of a union between uncle and niece, which was generally held to be incestuous. Incest, murder, parricide, now the betrayal of guests under cover of a religious festival; was there any wickedness from which Romulus would draw back?
But in its fifth year the new city was still standing; which showed either that the gods are very patient, or that Romulus enjoyed such powerful supernatural protection that he could break all the divine commandments with impunity. The second explanation was the more encouraging, and Marcus hoped it was the true one.
Now the chariots were pulling up at the end of the race, and a muscular young man pushed through the throng bearing a pole-axe, ready to sacrifice the winner. Marcus fingered the hilt of the short sword concealed under his left arm; then rubbed his sweating hand in the dust, to make sure that his grip would be firm when the trouble started. He wore his cloak wrapped round his waist, with the end thrown over his left shoulder. That left his right arm free for fighting, and at the same time would mark him in the crowd as a Roman; for the King liked every Roman to wear his cloak in this fashion.
Suddenly Romulus leapt down from the cairn, shouting a warcry. The Romans hurled themselves on their astonished guests. Snatching at his sword, Marcus ran to the family he had marked down.
All fell out exactly as he had planned. The stocky, solid Sabine father faced him with doubled fists, and never flinched when the naked sword flashed before his eyes; but his broad back was not broad enough to shelter two women. Marcus dodged, and the blow aimed at his face landed on his shoulder; then he had seized the girl by her hair, and kicked himself free of the little boy who tried to sink his teeth
into his calf. The Sabine, quite naturally, devoted most of his energy to defending his wife, who was not in any danger. Marcus hauled his prize into the middle of the racecourse. Gripping his sword in his teeth he twined both hands in her hair and dragged her up the hill to the Palatine.
As he entered the palisade a celer directed him to wait with his captive in the central square. The celer helped him to bind the girl’s hands behind her back; when he had also tied her ankles he could be sure of keeping her until the King arrived.
From the middle of the flat-topped Palatine he could not see what was happening in the plain below; but fresh arrivals, streaming in through the gate with their spoils, brought word that the woman-stealing had gone off without a hitch. The first thought of the unarmed visitors had been to get away before they were all enslaved; they fled up the left bank of the river towards the wooded hills of their own country. By great good luck, no one on either side had been killed or seriously injured. Nearly a thousand maidens had been stolen, though some were still too young for immediate marriage. Marcus could not decide whether he ought to be proud of his leader’s cunning or ashamed of his treachery.
Presently King Romulus strode into the square. He came in his full state, a purple robe flowing from his shoulders and an ivory rod in his hand; before him marched twelve celeres, bearing bundles of rods strapped to an executioner’s axe. To the assembled spearmen this was something new; but ever since the foundation of the city celeres had flogged and beheaded at the command of King Romulus, and as a ceremonial escort for the sovereign of Rome it seemed a worthy piece of pageantry.
Standing on a stool Romulus addressed his subjects.
‘Spearmen, you have taken women enough to ensure the continuance of our city. Now we must treat them with such courtesy that they become the proud mothers of worthy Roman citizens. First, these ladies are the wives of their captors, not bondmaids or concubines. My attendants will come among you with baskets of barley-cakes. Each man will break a cake and share it with his lady, at the same time vowing that where he is husbandman she is housekeeper. That is the most binding form of marriage that has ever been devised by learned servants of the gods, and it will endure until death parts you; for it is guarded by the Cornmother who gives us her barley, as well as by Mars my father and by the holy things I have stored in this city. While your wife lives you may not take a second wife, nor may you put her away. If any spearman fears to enter into such a contract with a stranger let him now withdraw, and we shall find some other Roman to take his place.’
No one offered to withdraw; for to these celibate young men a woman was a great treasure, on any terms.
‘Next,’ the King continued, ‘you will treat your wives as friends and partners. You may not set them to work in the fields; such labour is prohibited to Roman wives. If a wife has time to spare from her household duties let her spin wool, indoors. The husband must show deference to his wife, allowing her to go out on her private affairs, recognising that she rules the kitchen. Don’t laugh. I know that at present we live in little round huts; but a time will come when we shall own houses with many rooms. As soon as a family has two rooms, and I hope we shall soon enjoy that luxury, then one room will be the wife’s, and the husband may enter it only as a guest. But’, he paused for emphasis, ‘the husband is the head of the family. He may put his wife to death, and no one may question his reasons. This right is granted you to maintain your authority, and should be exercised only in the direst emergency. Now you all know how wives should be treated.…
‘There is one other practical point. We can’t have a married couple sharing a hut with a crowd of bachelors. When the communal wedding is finished my celeres will allot a house to each husband; and if need be the bachelors will sleep in the open until more huts have been built. Now be silent and cover your heads while I pray to the gods on your behalf. Then remain seated in your places until you have broken and eaten the barley-cakes.’
There was a stir and a rustle as the crowd squatted and the men pulled their cloaks over their heads. Romulus prayed aloud, using the old-fashioned pronunciation in which it is proper to address the gods. He spoke first in his own words, begging the Cornmother to look with favour on these weddings; then he continued with the ritual invocation they had all heard as children when marriages were celebrated in their native villages. While he spoke the celeres distributed the barley-cakes.
Marcus jerked once on the rope to make his girl squat beside him; then he untied her. The King had given no definite orders concerning such an obvious matter, but no one would blaspheme against the gods by marrying a woman while she was tethered like an animal. All round him his comrades were freeing their captives.
For the first time he looked carefully at his prize.
She was short and square, like most Sabines, with broad shoulders and clumsy hips. Her breasts were small, for she was not much older than fourteen. Her hair was black and straight, abundant but not very long; but her eyes were grey, and her skin white where it had not been tanned by the weather. She had a straight nose and a small mouth. On the whole her regular features might be called pleasing, though she would never be famous for her beauty. She would do.
He spoke to her, for the first time since he had grabbed her. ‘You heard what our King said. We are to be properly married. My name is Marcus. I am a Latin, and a client of the Aemilian clan. As a free spearman I have been allotted a ploughland and a yoke of oxen; the slaves of the clan help me to look after them. Besides my shield and spear I own an iron sword, and three clay pots. The King will put us in a hut by ourselves. What is your name? Are you content to marry me?’
Anger and disgust showed on the girl’s face, but not a trace of fear. She answered readily, as though she had already made up her mind. ‘I shall marry you, if that’s what you want of me. Now that I have been pawed by Roman bandits no decent Sabine would take me to wife, so I may as well make the best of it. I shall not tell you my name. It is a part of myself, and a part I do not choose to share with you. Besides, it would be better if you do not know the name of my clan. Then it will be easier for my kin to take vengence.’
‘As you wish, wife,’ Marcus answered cheerfully. ‘Keep your name to yourself, by all means. Since I must call you something I shall call you Sabina. Among the neighbours you will be known as the wife of Marcus Aemilius, and that will be enough. By the way, are you a virgin?’
‘That’s a disgusting question!’
‘No, it’s not. A bit direct, perhaps, but I want an answer.’
‘Of course I am. Among the Sabines every girl is a virgin until she marries. But I am old enough to have been instructed in the mysteries, if that is what you mean. I know what will be done to me tonight.’
‘Look here, Sabina. The King has called on the gods to unite us, and until death parts us we shall share a hut. We are more or less the same kind of people. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t get on together. Why not be friends? Then we shall live more comfortably.’
‘So long as I am kept in Rome I want to be comfortable. I shall cook for you as well as I can, and keep our hut clean and warm. Death will part us soon enough, when my kin avenge the wrong done to me. Then I shall be a widow, free to marry some decent Sabine.’
‘That sounds fair enough. You seem to have been properly brought up. But just go on remembering that vengeance is the duty of your kin, and leave it to them. Will you promise not to poison me, or stab me while I sleep?’
‘That much I can promise. The gods punish a wife who kills her husband.’
‘Splendid. In a few minutes we shall be married. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind beginning your household duties straight away? Do you see the rawhide knot on this scabbard? It’s mean to slip through that loop on the baldric, but my clumsy fingers have made it too big. Can you tighten it and make it look neater?’
As he laid his scabbarded sword on her lap Sabina smiled. It had been smoothly done. He had wronged her; but they were partners in the adventure of living and th
ey would never know peace unless they trusted one another.
The celer, coming round with his basket of sanctified cakes, saw with surprise a Sabine captive who held her captor’s sword as she chatted with him.
3. The First Reinforcements
The Sabines were villagers, living scattered among the wooded mountains on the eastern skyline. Those who had escaped from Rome were very angry, but it would take them some time to muster their full strength. But the men of the three half-Etruscan townships, Caenina, Crustumerium and Antemna, could be mobilised by a trumpet-call, and Acron, King of Caenina, had long been a famous warleader. He was not a man to reckon odds when his people had been injured and insulted.
Therefore, from the Roman point of view, the first war of the new city began gently, with small battles against weak foes while the mighty Sabine army was mustering. King Acron marched boldly against them with the few hundred spears that made up the levy of his little city.
The destruction of that little band was the first regular engagement at which Marcus was present. Of course he had often been out with the raiders, but this was not at all the same thing. Raiders want to get home with their plunder, and feel no shame in fleeing faster than the enemy can pursue. For this onslaught the spearmen were drawn up in close ranks, where speed of foot would be of no advantage; and all must fight with no thought of retreat. It was a little frightening.
Founding Fathers Page 4