A Week in the Life of Rome

by James L. Papandrea

  “Only because I overheard him at the baths, talking with some of his men. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I did hear him say something about the Tiburtinian Road.”

  Urbanus was visibly shaken. He fumbled for words, and eventually something like “I don’t know why he would,” fell halfheartedly out of his mouth. Then a slave entered the dining room and whispered to Urbanus. “Ah!” Urbanus seemed glad to have a distraction. “For tonight’s entertainment, I have brought in a troupe of exotic dancers from Egypt.” The center table was removed, and four belly dancers twirled into the room, wearing their traditional wispy costumes. Musicians followed them in and positioned themselves at the end of the room. As soon as they were in position, a drumbeat sounded and the dancers stopped, taking a pose and standing motionless. Another drumbeat and the dance began. Courtesans filed in and took their places near the guests, reclining against the men’s backs as they watched the dancers.

  The slaves moved around the outside of the reclining benches, serving assorted desserts that included cakes, pastries, cheeses, nuts, grapes, apples, pears, oysters, and snails, along with strong wine, warmed and sweetened with honey. Stachys didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and he didn’t like the look of the oysters and snails, so he stuck with the cheeses, nuts, and fruit. He marveled at the exotic nuts, including some kinds he had never seen before. The courtesan at his back pulled herself closer and stroked his arm, which made him feel self-conscious and a little guilty.

  Stachys didn’t see Urbanus leave the dining room, so he was surprised when Urbanus’s slave tapped him on the shoulder and told him he was wanted in Urbanus’s atrium. Stachys knew the time had come when he would have to pay for his dinner. Not in money, of course. If only that were an option. He got up and went to the atrium, where Urbanus was waiting for him.

  “Stachys, what do you think Geta was talking about?”

  “I don’t know.” Stachys shook his head, surprised to be asked about his offhand comment.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and there is no reason he should have mentioned the road outside my door unless it had something to do with me.” Urbanus paced. “Stachys, I think he means to do me harm.”

  Stachys didn’t know what to say, so Urbanus got to the point. “I need to know whether you’re going to agree to my request, because if you refuse me, I will be dishonored.” The volume of Urbanus’s voice started increasing. “That will put me in a weak position with Geta, and he will certainly take the opportunity to move against me. If he can convince my creditors to call in their loans, I could lose my land. And then what? I’d have to work for a living.” He thought a while and sighed. “I would have to kill myself, of course, which would solve the problem for me, but it would leave my daughters to become prostitutes.”

  Stachys spoke quickly to try to reassure Urbanus and get him to lower his voice. “I understand. If all of that happens to you, it will be bad for me too—I would lose my patron. I have no intention of putting you through that.”

  Urbanus was visibly relieved. Stachys continued, “It’s just that . . .”

  Urbanus stiffened again. “Just that what?”

  “It’s just that . . . my wife.”

  “Stachys, I can’t believe you would let her tell you what to do like this! And I can’t believe that she would want you to throw away your career, not to mention the normal, expected lifestyle of a Roman man.”

  Stachys was confused. Part of his confusion was over why he should be so confused about this. He found himself saying, “Although . . . there are some in the senate class who are Way-followers.” Urbanus raised his bushy eyebrows. Stachys continued, but his voice tapered off into a mumble. “There’s Pudens, and Marcellus, young Clemens . . .”

  With a sinking feeling, Stachys realized that he lacked the courage to take a stand with Urbanus, and Urbanus seemed to take his inability to give him a direct no as an implicit yes. Urbanus put his arm around Stachys’s shoulders. “Let’s go back into the dining room. Tomorrow we’ll tell Narcissus the good news.” With that they walked back to the desserts, the dancers, the musicians, and the courtesans.

  When Ampliatus arrived at Apelles’s flat, bringing the Thanksgiving Bread from Marcus’s gathering, he could barely squeeze into the apartment. He pushed his way to the front of the room and handed the basket to Apelles, who took the bread and set it on a small table. After the prayers and the sharing of the bread and wine, the cramped tenement echoed with joyful singing:

  He existed in the form of God

  He did not consider equality with God something to cling to

  But he emptied himself

  Taking the form of a servant

  He came to be in the likeness of humanity

  He was recognized as a man by his appearance

  He humbled himself

  Becoming submissive, even to the point of death

  And therefore God exalted him to the highest

  And gave him the name above every name

  So that at the name of Iesua every knee would bend

  And every tongue admit that Iesua the Christos is Dominus

  4

  THE DAY OF JUPITER

  AS STACHYS WALKED TOWARD URBANUS’S HOUSE, through the Esquiline Gate, up the Esquiline Hill, through the neighborhood of the paint sellers, around the slave cemetery, past the potsherd dump, and into the quiet neighborhood, he just kept repeating to himself, Vinus mihi in cerebrum abiit, Vinus mihi in cerebrum abiit (the wine has gone to my head). Eventually he stumbled over Urbanus’s threshold and was shown to the front of the line of clients, where he was relieved to find that Urbanus looked as bad as he felt.

  “First day of the games!” Urbanus said, a little too loudly.

  “Yes. Three days off from work. A welcome reprieve.”

  “Stachys, you look like merda!”

  “So do you, my friend.”

  Urbanus’s smile faded. “You forget your place—must I remind you that you are my client, and I am your patron?!” Stachys swallowed hard, his heart racing. He looked down at the floor to avoid eye contact with Urbanus. But then he heard Urbanus laughing, and when he looked up again, Urbanus said, “You must bow to me when you tell me I look like merda!” Urbanus laughed some more, slapping Stachys on the back, and with a gesture invited him to sit down.

  Stachys was relieved but still feeling awkward, so he tried to move the conversation on to something new. “Once again, thank you for the invitation to dinner last night. I truly am grateful, and it was the best banquet I’ve ever been to. I only hope my comment about Geta didn’t upset you.”

  Stachys immediately wished he hadn’t brought it up.

  “Not to worry, my friend.” Urbanus seemed optimistic. “There is good news. I have been summoned to an audience with the emperor today.” Stachys’s eyes widened. “Narcissus sent a message first thing this morning requesting my presence at the palace at the third hour. I believe he means to name me as prefect of the grain supply.”

  “That is good news. Congratulations, Urbanus!”

  “There is also bad news. Not bad so much as . . . complicating. Lucius Geta has also summoned me to meet him at the camp of the Praetorian Guard. Now, such a meeting could not possibly end well for me, but Fortuna has smiled on me today, because my appointment with the emperor gives me a reason to send a representative in my place.”

  “That is fortunate. Who will you send?”

  “That would be you.”

  Stachys’s heart sank again. “Me? But wouldn’t it be better to send a slave? As a freedman, I can’t legally represent you.”

  “Exactly. Geta cannot force you into any binding oath on my behalf. It’s the perfect solution. Sending a slave might seem like an act of disrespect, but sending a successful freedman, well, in that I’m only following the example of the emperor himself.”

  “Yes, but you know how the senators—and equestrians—resent Claudius for making them deal with former slaves. I’m not sure that’s the best sol
ution.”

  “Nonsense. And anyway, this is not a negotiation. So before you really do forget your place, Stachys, accept this assignment I’m giving you and be at the Praetorian camp at the third hour today. All you have to do is explain to Geta that I cannot meet him because I will be at that same hour with the emperor Claudius.”

  Stachys knew it was not going to be that simple. He found himself hurrying back home to try to be present for as much of the morning prayer gathering as possible. Having determined that the old gods of Rome had never done anything for him, Stachys reasoned that Maria’s God was the only one he had left. And with his meeting at the Praetorian camp looming, he figured he needed a celestial patron about now. He walked into his house out of breath and quickly joined the gathering, avoiding eye contact with Maria.

  Urbanus’s litter bearers crossed the Old Forum, struggling to keep the ride level and smooth as they negotiated the crowds on the Sacred Way. They made their way toward the Temple of Castor and Pollux, where there was an entrance to the palace with a staircase up the Sacred Slope to the top of the Palatine Hill. A gladiator parade was going through the forum, and the litter bearers had to stop and wait for what seemed like an eternity. The gladiators who were to fight the next day, along with the criminals condemned to die in the arena, were on display for the cheers and jeers of the crowd. It only increased Urbanus’s stress to have to sit there in his litter and wait for the parade to go by, worrying that he might be making the emperor wait. He noticed that he was sweating as he spun his gold equestrian ring on his finger, but in the end, he made it to the palace within the appointed hour. He made a mental note to return by the bridge that connected the Palatine Hill to the Capitoline Hill, so that he could make a sacrifice at the Temple of Jupiter.

  A Praetorian guard patted down all the folds of Urbanus’s toga to make sure he was not carrying any weapons. When Urbanus was introduced and led into the audience room, he took in the scene, nervously spinning his ring. Claudius was seated in a large chair with a back and arms—the kind of throne one usually saw only in a statue of a seated god. Urbanus had never seen an emperor this close, and he hoped no one would think he was staring. Claudius sat askew in his throne. He had a full head of white hair, badly in need of a haircut, with bangs falling in front of his bloodshot eyes, and he looked as though he were permanently frowning due to a droop in his mouth on one side. Praetorian guards stood along the back of the room and at all the entrances. Slaves stood off to the side, ready to taste the emperor’s food and wine whenever he was hungry or thirsty.

  Urbanus was surprised to see the emperor’s fourth wife, Agrippina, sitting next to him in a throne of her own. Since the emperor had adopted her young son, Nero, she had taken on the role of a queen—something unheard of in Rome—and people were calling her “Augusta.” On the other side of the emperor stood his trusted freedman Narcissus. Both Claudius and Agrippina were being fanned by slaves with peacock-feather fans.

  Urbanus’s name was announced, along with his social class, and Narcissus gestured to him, indicating that he could speak to the emperor. He spoke in Latin. “Hail, son and father of gods,” he began. “I am fortunate to see you so close at hand and behold your immortal radiance from my humble station.”

  At that same time, Stachys was across town, on the eastern edge of the city at the barracks of the Praetorian Guard, waiting and nervously running his hand through his hair and scratching his head. He had informed the tribune why he was there in Urbanus’s place, and now he could hear Geta yelling at his tribune inside the barracks. He knew that was not a good sign. Geta was not happy to hear that Urbanus had sent someone in his place, and he was even less happy to find out that Urbanus’s excuse was that he was meeting with the emperor.

  The Emperor Claudius and the Julio-Claudian Dynasty

  The Julio-Claudian dynasty refers to the first group of Roman emperors, who were all in one way or another related to the family of Julius Caesar. Julius Caesar was not technically an emperor, and in fact, when he tried to become a de facto emperor he was assassinated, in 44 BC. But in the aftermath of his assassination it became clear that someone was going to be emperor, and the result of the civil war that followed was that Julius Caesar’s grand-nephew, Octavian, became the first true emperor. He won the decisive battle in 31 BC, and by 27 BC he was given imperial power and a new name: Augustus. As we read in the New Testament, Augustus was the emperor when Jesus was born. The next emperor, Tiberius, was Augustus’s stepson. He was emperor from AD 14 to 37 and was the emperor during Jesus’ ministry. After Tiberius came Caligula, who reigned from AD 37 to 41. He is generally regarded as having been insane, and although we don’t know his mental state for sure, it seems clear that he was bullied and abused by Tiberius, and he himself ruled as a bully and abuser.

  Caligula was assassinated by the Praetorian Guard in the year 41. At that time the last member of the Julio-Claudian family was Caligula’s uncle, Tiberius Claudius Drusus, better known as Claudius. He was fifty years old when the Praetorians proclaimed him the new emperor.

  Claudius had been kept out of sight most of his life because he was considered an embarrassment to the family. He had several physical disabilities, including a limp and a speech impediment. His health was generally poor, and many people thought him to be mentally challenged. But although he lacked social graces, he was intelligent. Because he had been made emperor by the actions of the Praetorian Guard, Claudius was more loyal to them than to the Senate. He also often gave more power and authority to his freedmen than to the senators, and he regularly executed senators and equestrians at the slightest fear of any plot against him. He felt his freedmen were more trustworthy and more efficient than senators, which may have been true in some sense, but they were also more corrupt, and the palace became a place where favors were traded. People feared Claudius for his inconsistent decisions and punishments on a whim, but they feared his freedmen as well because they believed the freedmen were really in control. This added insult to injury for the senators who resented having to submit to the authority of former slaves.

  At some point before the beginning of our story, Claudius had banished all Jews from the city of Rome. According to Roman historian Suetonius, this had something to do with “disturbances” among the Jews over someone named “Chrestus.” In other words, although the Romans did not yet know about Christianity as something distinct from Judaism, they heard about some conflict between non-Christian Jews and Christian Jews over their difference of opinion about Jesus. This exile of Jews happened sometime around the year 49 or so, though we don’t know the exact date. We also don’t know for sure how many Jews stayed in Rome, since some were slaves, and others probably refused to leave and secretly stayed in the city. We do know, however, that the apostle Paul’s associates Aquila and Priscilla left Rome at this time (Acts 18:2).

  Figure 4.1. Bust of the emperor Claudius (National Archaeological Museum, Naples)

  The intrigue with Claudius’s wives is reflected in our story. Many people saw Claudius as a naive and gullible servant of his wives, and his fourth wife, Agrippina, especially seems to have taken advantage of him. She convinced him to adopt her son Nero, making him the next in line for the throne, even ahead of Claudius’s own son Brittanicus. A few years later, Agrippina would poison Claudius, and her son Nero would became the next emperor.

  Figure 4.2. Remains of the Aqua Claudia, one of the aqueducts built by the emperor Claudius

  Geta marched out of the barracks’ anteroom, stomped right up to Stachys, and looked him square in the face. Stachys fought against the temptation to avert his eyes and held his head up, waiting for whatever might come next. Geta turned around abruptly, shouted “Come!” and marched back into the anteroom. Stachys followed.

  “Name?”

  “Stachys. Freedman and client of Urbanus. At your service.”

  Geta was annoyed. “Greek. Figures. And your patron?” Although Geta had already heard Urbanus’s excuse from his tribune, he was not
about to let Stachys off the hook.

  “My patron, Urbanus, sends his regrets. He was unable to accept your invitation to meet today because he is at this very hour in an audience with the emperor.”

  Geta paused to think about what to do next. He decided to get as much information out of Stachys as he could. “Is the emperor naming your patron as the prefect of the grain supply?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the truth.”

  “People only say ‘that’s the truth’ when they’re lying. Why are you lying to me?”

  Stachys was nervous, which he thought probably made him seem guilty. “I swear to you, in the name of my deceased first wife and the departed spirits who attend her, I am not lying. Indeed, Urbanus hopes to be named prefect, but I have no idea of the emperor’s intentions. And why should I? I have never met the emperor.”

  Geta paced.

  In the palace, the emperor fired questions at Urbanus as he dabbed the corner of his mouth with a damp handkerchief. To make matters more awkward, Claudius suffered from a form of palsy that left his speech muffled and mumbling, so Urbanus constantly had to ask him to repeat himself.

  “I said . . . how do you make your living?!” Claudius yelled, as he leaned on the arms of his chair and shifted his legs. The emperor’s demanding tone was an attempt to mask the fact that he couldn’t remember whether Narcissus had told him anything specific about Urbanus. Claudius usually relished the luxury of leaving these kinds of things to Narcissus, and even when he was informed, the details normally went in one ear and out the other.

  “Forgive me,” Urbanus said, bowing his head. “I am a landowner, with tenant farmers on my land. Mostly olive groves, but also some fruit trees and fish ponds.”

  “Ah, good! A farmer,” Claudius mumbled. “Nothing so noble as farming. Whatever comes from farming comes from the gods, no? As Cato said, the best compliment one can give a man is to call him a good farmer!”