The Body in Forum Tauri

Rome. 363 A.D.

She stood naked. Her wrists were bound to a short pillar, her hands even with her shoulders. She fingered the cold links of chain and the rough stone beneath them. Her eyes closed, and bowing her head, she let her hair fall down over her face. She began to shake, not knowing whether it was out of fear or anger. Perhaps it was just the cold from the cool morning breeze that whipped across her skin.

She looked through her hair and saw the Roman soldiers. They spoke casually and laughed to one another, pointing at her, looking everywhere but her eyes.

She wished she could have her mother nearby and feel the warmth of her protecting embrace, the assurance in her glance, the sweet smell of her garments, a sense of home. Her mother wouldn't come. She was beheaded months ago. Her father was tortured and exiled, left to die of his wounds. Her sister dropped dead inexplicably before the emperor after renouncing the Roman gods. The gods. Had the gods done this? She was left alone. Alone.

Alone, cold and exposed. And they laughed at her.

A soldier approached her. He stepped lightly, but she heard him. She watched his feet stop in front of her, and felt his hand under her chin as he slowly tilted her face upwards to look into his own. He brushed her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, rubbing her earlobe gently between his thumb and index finger. Her face was young, beautiful. He saw the clear brown of her eyes peer through a glassy, bloodshot shell of fresh tears. She was pale and her lips were blue and purple from the cold, stress and tension. Beautiful.

"Are you going home?" He asked quietly. She stared at him. He was strong and attractive. Clean-shaven. His black hair was cut short like the rest of the soldiers. Everything about him was sharp and noble... and he honored the gods.

"Am I going home?" She whispered. Her eyes fell to the side and began nervously tracing the cracks in the pavement. Suddenly her shoulders began to shake with heavy sobs. She couldn't breathe. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but a sharp tug on the chains reminded her that she was bound. The soldier ran his hand through her thick brown hair and kissed her on the forehead, then he stepped away toward the others.

"What was that about?" She mumbled to herself. "What the hell was that about?" She bit her cheek, her whole body shuddering. Bending down, she rested her head against her hands. She heard jingling from where the soldiers had stood and, looking up slowly, saw them coming toward her. Whips with balls of lead at the end of each tassel hung swaying in their hands. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine joining her family. Tried to find hope and meaning. Nothing came. No consolation. Nothing. "Am I going home?" she groaned.

A warm teardrop fell into her hand. She rubbed the moisture between her fingers, suddenly becoming aware of a physical sensitivity rushing over her whole body. The wind between her knees. The paving stones under her soft feet. Her hair brushing against her bare back. The cold, sharp iron tight around her delicate wrists.

She thought she was supposed to feel strong. Her mother looked strong when her head bounced. Her sister looked strong when she renounced the pagan gods. Then again... their limp bodies fell. Their eyes were hollow and empty. She didn't feel strong. She felt weak and exposed. Was she going home?

"There is no home." She said to herself. But it was too late to accept the gods. She was already condemned. Death by scourging. Even if she cried out, they would just laugh, and she would die an apostate. Panic tore through her. Her heart burned in her breast. Tears streamed.

An older soldier sat at a thin wooden table and read the verdict in Latin. "Bibiana. Nineteen years of age. Atheist. Christian."

She pounded the pillar with her bound fists when she heard the word... Christian. She wished she could believe in something. She couldn't. She didn't. It was all over, and unbearably empty as it drew to a close. She closed her eyes and tried to believe. She didn't.