Roma.The novel of ancient Rome - Saylor Steven - Страница 53

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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 eyebrow.

“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.

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