Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 50

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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 crowd, 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—”

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