The Long Task

Ianuarius a.d. v Id. Ian. (January 9, 10 B.C)

Dawn

It was early; no one noticed. I hid behind a pillar and heard father speaking to a young man. They were speaking of marriage. This young man is the best I've seen so far; he looks familiar. I can tell that father is very pleased, more than usual. Am I missing something? He is intelligent, articulate, pleasant, handsome, and wealthy, which is most vital in Father's criteria of a suitor. But what's the big deal? Nobody smiles like that. I even saw Father bow earlier, which I've never seen before. We are amongst the wealthiest in Rome. Why is he special? He has a solid yet slender build, like a gladiator, and long luscious locks that rested on his shoulders, vibrant with health. His eyes were a hickory brown, as rich as the earth's soil. I could see it in his soft gaze as he spoke. He was different from the others that Father turned down for Claudia. This man is perfect for Claudia.

I have four sisters and one brother. Domitilla is already married, making Father proud. She was fourteen when she got married; twenty now, and is expecting her third child. She has proven to be a successful wife, giving her husband children and further descendants to carry his name in the future. But Claudia is the most skilled, intelligent, and beautiful of us all.

I couldn't quite hear all the contents of their conversation, so I began to lose interest and got lost in my thoughts. Claudia is getting married, and the betrothal will soon be announced. What a surprise it will be. I was in a state of euphoria; however, that feeling diminished as soon as I felt it. Would I be next? I am sixteen now, and it may be a Roman girl's duty, but I want to be different and independent. I don't want to get married. I could feel my blood boil and the anger radiate from my being. I wonder if Father could feel it. I began to back away. Crash. I pivoted around. The vase! An ominous silence seized the room. That's when I bolted out of sight.

Midday

This was my entire fault. The slaves were all lined up, awaiting the punishment for a crime that none of them committed. Their gazes full of trepidation fell to the floor. The whip was ready for their master's arrival. Father would never hurt us, but he is not a merciful master. Suddenly an overwhelming sensation of pity grabbed my heart, no, not pity, guilt. I couldn't bear it. They didn't deserve this, but Father could never learn the truth. The tension grew in my face and limbs, my mind replaying the moment I bolted. My breathing became more rapid, shallower. I closed my eyes, tried to breathe slowly, anything to stop the primal urge to flee. I can't believe I'm already out of papyrus.

Dusk

I was spinning the wool for a toga that was to be made, but my mind was somewhere else. The sky was painted an array of pink, orange, and yellow. My eyes were focused on the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars, and the pale glow of the moon was beginning to show. How majestic it was! I wish I could drown in the horizon with the sublime sun; fly by Apollo's side. But no, that could never be. I have my duties as a Roman girl. I longed to be there, free from this chain that is binding me here. Once again, I focus on the wool, for I know how easily the father gets displeased.