Vestal Virgin: Chosen For Rome

CHAPTER 1

August 60 AD

On the day of my tenth birthday, the Festival of Diana, a loud knock resounded on the vestibule door. Who could be knocking? I thought my neighbors had presents for me.

My parents spoke with me about exciting news a few weeks before. Cornelia, you may be a part of a grand celebration soon. We know not when, but we must be prepared. For you might be chosen.

Chosen for what? I asked.

But I never received an answer. Maybe today.

I was overjoyed to celebrate my birthday. Visions of rag dolls in silk dresses, toys, a new tunica, and a pair of sandals filled my mind. I thought of all the honeyed figs and dates I’d get to eat today.

My family and my neighbors indulged me. My father always presented me with gifts from his travels: trinkets from Judea, a small North African drum made of camel’s hide, a cedar box from Lebanon, and dyed scarves from Phoenica were among my favorites. I had them neatly lined up in my room.

As the youngest child in the family, when I demanded something, Father made certain I got my wish. Even my older brother Cornelius, fourteen, gave in to my every whim. Who do you think you are, Queen Cleopatra? he would ask me.

Of course, I am Queen Cleopatra. And you are my slave, I’d reply. Cornelius would roll up his eyes, mumble under his breath, and shake his head.

Taltos, please answer the door, my mother ordered, pointing toward the vestibule. Taltos was one of our slaves and he was the family favorite. Father had traded for him in North Africa years ago. Taltos was seventeen years old, but he was still short, thin, and very dark of complexion. His ringlet curls bobbed about his forehead and hung like little scrolls around his face. His round, brown eyes seemed to spin like marbles when he became nervous. Taltos, like my family, paid me all the attention I desired and made certain my temper was rarely aroused. I loved him like a brother.

My father and mother waited in the atrium for our visitors. They both twisted their hands together and kept wiping and fanning their faces with a cloth. My father wore his best linen toga today. His thick, dark hair was oiled and curled. When he oiled his hair, it made his blue eyes look bigger and brighter. My father was the most handsome of men, more handsome than even the gods!

Over her tunica, Mother had worn her finest sleeveless stola—emerald green with stripes of yellow on the hem. Her dark hair was pulled tightly in a knot, and her brown eyes were outlined in kohl.

I hid behind the pleated folds of my mother’s stola, peeking out to see who would bring me gifts. Taltos opened the door, politely bowed to our guests, and led them toward the atrium. Light poured into the room from the open dome onto a rectangular pool filled with red, white and gold fish. A fountain with a statue of Neptune splashed with waters that overflowed into the pool. The sea god’s trident—sharp and pointed—glittered in the bright sunlight.

Neptune was my family’s patron god. Descended from a long line of merchant seamen, my father traded in wine and Cosa’s famous fish sauce.

Taltos escorted our visitors into the atrium where we all waited. Little brown sparrows fluttered about the pool, dipping their wings in for a bath. Two men I didn’t know stood before my parents’ gazes. They wore the tunics of messengers with the Emperor’s seal on their belts. Each carried a messenger bag slung over their shoulders. They both removed a wax tablet with a stylus to write with from their pouches.

Greetings, Dominus, Domina, they said to my parents.

One of them, a tall thin man with a kindly smile, encouraged me to come out from behind my mother’s stola. He bent over, crooking his finger toward me. His chin was long and pointed. His cheeks looked like little red plums. Where’s Cornelia? he asked as if this was a game. He looked up and down, pretending he couldn’t find me. Does he think I am still a baby?

Cornelia, this is not the time for shyness, my mother announced.

I stepped out.

I am Cornelia Cosa, and it is my tenth birthday.

Yes, Cornelia, there you are—and such a pretty child, the tall man murmured, patting my head. My hair was washed, scrubbed, dried, and hung loosely down my back. Mother still had to curl it. My relatives told me my hair was the color of the grapes that grew in Etruria—black with streaks of red or blue-violet, depending on the way the light fell on it. My hair was my pride.

Mother loved curling it with hot tongs and pinning it in ringlets. Your hair complements your eyes, the color of the Tyhrrenian Sea, she’d murmur. My blue eyes had specks of yellow in them. I had inherited my father’s eyes and long, black lashes.

But when you are angry, Cornelia, your eyes are no longer blue with specks of color. They are flames of ice and fire, Taltos once told me shaking his head. The same way all my family shook their heads when it came to me. Especially after I stamped my foot hard or tossed my hair around like a horse demanding I get my way.

I knew I was pretty. My eyes were big, my nose was long and straight, and my skin a deep olive color. I was tall for my age and thin as a reed. I loved the dance and told Taltos someday I would dance for the Emperor.

One day when mother was curling my hair she said, When you are older Cornelia, men will line up to ask Father for your hand in marriage.

I squealed with delight, thinking about all my suitors. But Mother, tell me about men. Are they all like Father? I asked.

Mother stepped back after pinning another curl around my face. Giving me a grave look, she held a finger to her chin and shook her head.

"Of course all men are not like Father. All men are different. Some are loving and some—She paused. Never mind such talk, Cornelia." She sighed, shook her head, and continued pinning my hair in ringlets.

I pray I find a loving husband just like Father, I said.

Please Cornelia, keep these thoughts to yourself. There will be time enough for marriage.

I believed her words.

She looks to be perfect. The Pontifex Maximus will be pleased, the short fat messenger said. His extended stomach made his belt stretch out; he was panting and out of breath.

The two messengers began to speak to one another in whispers. The short man began to scribble words on his wax tablet. What was he writing?

Then the tall man removed a scroll from his bag and unraveled it. Let us now review the requirements, he said. First, the physique. Slave, bring us a stool. He motioned to Taltos.

Taltos quickly found a stool by the sidewall of the atrium. Then with a gesture from the fat man, Taltos lifted me to stand on it. To my surprise, the tall man examined my eyes, ears, mouth, arms, underarms, legs, even my teeth for defects, as the short man wrote. Not to my surprise, no defects were found. Next they made me read and enunciate words to ensure my voice was clear and strong. They noted no shortcoming with my speaking and reading ability either. I could have told them this!

Pleased to be deemed perfect, I tilted my chin up with pride.

The tall man continued. Next, that both parents are alive. Check. That both parents are Roman by birth. He stared at my father.

Do you have evidence of this? I know your family hails from Cosa, the short man stated, then puffed out his chest and began to wheeze.

My father offered him a small scroll that was hanging from his roped belt. Here is my proof. I am a true citizen of Rome. My parents left Etruria years ago. Rome is my only home.

The messengers hovered over the opened scroll and scrutinized its contents. Then they handed it back to Father.

That is good. Check.

She is obviously between the ages of six and ten?

"It is her tenth birthday today," my father announced. Check.

Cornelia has one sibling, yes? the tall man asked.

That is correct, my mother replied. She gestured toward the library. Taltos, find Cornelius. Bring him here immediately. She added, And bring me Cornelia’s cedar box from her room. She clapped twice.

One thing was certain. I seemed to have met all the qualifications; for what I didn’t know. But all eyes were on me, and after all, it was my birthday. So it had to be something good.

Cornelius stumbled into the atrium with his nose buried in a scroll. He saw me and quickly turned away, then pulled a small wrapped gift from his pocket and handed it to me. "Happy Birthday, Cornelia. Bonam Fortunam!"

Good luck! I felt I already had the most fortune in the world.

Taltos returned with my cedar box. Carry this for luck, Cornelia, he said, and handed me the small box filled with my most prized possessions. I slipped my brother’s gift into my cedar box.

The two men huddled together conferring. We are pleased to report that Cornelia qualifies for the lottery today, the tall man decreed. Let us ready ourselves to depart.

Depart? my mother asked. I thought this was not planned until—

Emperor’s orders, Domina. We must depart. Other girls await, the fat messenger exclaimed, huffing for another breath. He stretched out his belt before snapping it back in place.

Depart for where? Other girls awaited as well? I wondered. The wondering only got me more excited. And nervous!

Mother started flitting about like the sparrows, patting her coifed hair and pinning up the palla that would cover her head, using a turtle-shaped gold brooch. There would be no time to pin and curl my hair. Father paced about like a caged beast. When he stood still, he tapped his foot up and down and kept greasing back his hair.

First, let us pray to the Lares, Mother said. The family gods will continue to bless us with good fortune."

We gathered in front of the family shrine in a corner of the atrium. Small statues of Neptune and of the fleet-footed god of messengers, Mercury, stood in the small alcove on the shrine. My father would pray to Mercury for safe travels and prosperous business trades. Another statue of Diana, with her bow and arrow arched and ready, stood in my honor. After all, I was born on her feast day!

For some reason, perhaps for luck, I grabbed my bulla to make sure it was still around my neck. Given to me at my naming ceremony when I was but nine days old, the round gold necklace had Neptune’s trident carved on it. All of Rome’s children were given a bulla at birth.

My bulla warded off evil. It protected me against the evil eye or a curse.

You shall wear your bulla until you are married. Never take it off, my mother warned me. Once you marry you will no longer have use of it. Your husband will protect you.

I trusted my bulla would bring me Bonam Fortunam. I jumped up and down, listening to it clank back and forth. I was ready for my birthday adventure to begin.

CHAPTER 2

Taltos had strewn flower petals on the floor of our villa and hung garlands of roses on the walls in honor of my special day. The scent of dried lavender and rose drifted out of the open door. Across the road a white carriage drawn by two white horses awaited us. The seal of the Emperor was displayed on the carriage door. Few people were walking on the road today; many Romans left for the seaside in August to escape the heat.

We lived at the base of the Aventine Hill across from the Tiber River. My father owned a wharf where he received his goods from the Port of Ostia. Nearby stood the cave of the monster Cacus, the fire-breathing beast of legend that Hercules outsmarted. The cave jutted out toward the Tiber, and was now a lookout for people to watch for boats.

I clutched my cedar box to my chest. A few of my neighbors stood outside clapping and wishing me well. Many carried white flowers and thrust them at me as we followed the red-garbed messengers through the crowd. I was waiting for more presents, but I assumed they would come later.

I turned back to look at my family villa; outside stood the stone post with the two-headed Janus on it that protected our household; the head of the New Year stared at me. The other head, the old year, faced our villa.

Where are we going, Father? I whispered.

He watched the gathering crowd with a frown on his face. Why to the Forum, of course, he said, never looking at me. He said this as if it were the most natural way to celebrate my tenth birthday. If you must know, you are part of the lottery today, Cornelia— you and eleven other girls. He smiled and waved at those who gathered around us, but he didn’t smile at me.

Father finally looked at me. Normally, twenty girls are chosen for the lottery. Emperor Nero could only find twelve this year. Cornelia, I was planning on telling you. I didn’t know the lottery would fall on your birthday. Your mother and I had no warning.

What’s a lottery and what’s it for? I asked.

It’s a contest. You may be chosen in the lottery, my father replied.

I love contests, Father. You know that. Now I was hoping that I would win. Who else will be there? I asked.

Perhaps a crowd of well-wishers. Senators. Important people … I’m not sure. Most important, the Emperor himself will be present. Nero will be there in his role of Pontifex Maximus. Father held up a finger. Remember how I explained the role of Pontifex Maximus to you?

I nodded, but at that moment I did not remember what my father spoke of.

Push back, scatter all of you. Emperor’s orders! the messengers shouted to the onlookers.

The two messengers escorted us to the carriage. It was large enough to fit the family, Taltos included. Cornelius slumped in his seat, sullen and bored. He was still carrying his scroll. But I felt like Cleopatra herself, heading up the Nile to meet my fate.

We advanced slowly around the Aventine Hill; we passed Cacus’s Cave, rode up toward the cattle market— the Forum Boarium, and past the Temple of Hercules. I listened to the horses’ hooves click-clop against the paved stones wondering what would happen next.

The carriage began to ascend the Capitoline Hill, passing the great Temple of Jupiter. All along the way, people waved and stopped to stare. Then the carriage slowed and took an abrupt right down toward the Via Sacra. Hot air blew around my face and I fanned myself.

Are we almost to the Forum, Father? I asked.

See for yourself, Daughter.

I stretched my neck out of the carriage and looked down on the great marble pillars of the Senate and the many grand temples to all our gods rising up before me a short distance away.

At last we arrived at the entrance to the Forum, the open plaza surrounded by the grandest buildings in Rome. A few carriages waited ahead of us. My excitement spilled over, and I began jumping up and down in my seat. This is the best birthday ever, I shouted. Will I receive presents from everyone, even the Emperor himself? I had my dance already planned.

Control yourself, Cornelia. The lottery is a serious matter, said my father.

My mother sighed and gave Cornelius a knowing look. Then she glanced sidelong at Taltos, like she knew something I did not. They all knew something!

I didn’t care about the lottery. It was my special day!

Finally, it was my family’s turn to enter into the Forum. A soldier stuck his head inside the carriage window. He handed my father a smooth, round piece of wood with a carving on it. Emperor’s orders, he commanded. Hold onto this marker until it is time for the lottery.

What is that? I asked, poking at the little wooden marker with burnt carvings.

Father sighed and wiped sweat from his brow. He turned the marker over and over in the palm of his hand. Then he carefully inspected it.

Cornelia, you are full of questions today. Please be like every obedient daughter of Rome and stay quiet.

Yes, Cornelia. Your questions disturb me as well, said my mother fanning herself.

I was becoming impatient. Why should I be quiet? It is my birthday, and I want to know if this is a birthday present, I persisted. Tell me, Father. Tell me what it means. Please!

Father shrugged and turned the smooth object over again in his fingers. "This is called a lot, Cornelia."

I want to see what’s on it, I whined, and reached out to try to grab it from him.

He handed it over to me.

Carved on one side was a small image of a cat’s face with pointed ears, triangle nose, and whiskers.

Look, there’s a cat’s face on it. Can I keep it? I thought for a moment. I know! I was born under the star of Leo, the big cat. Remember, Taltos, you told me about my star? Taltos murmured under his breath shaking his head.

I loved all animals, but cats were my favorite. Does this mean I get a cat for my birthday?

My father sighed. We keep this marker for the lottery, Cornelia. If the cat is chosen, you will be the chosen one.

"Chosen for what?"

Now I had angered Father.

Enough of your questions, Cornelia. He held his breath and heaved out another loud sigh. He pinched his lips together before he spoke. You will be obedient and remain silent until I tell you. No more talk.

I looked to the others for an answer. Cornelius just rolled his eyes and shook his head like he always did. Taltos and Mother stayed silent and gazed out the window, pretending they had not heard anything.

My family left the carriage and made our way through the arched porticoes leading to the Forum. The markets and vendor stalls alongside the Forum were bustling with activity. The smell of rosemary, garlic, and roasted lamb filled the air. Merchants hawked their wares, selling busts of Julius Caesar and small statues of Rome’s gods and goddesses. I saw a statuette of the goddess Persephone next to Hades, the Lord of the Underworld. I decided after the lottery, I would ask Father to buy me these statuettes to place in our family shrine.

I noticed my friend Cynthia, who ran up to me and gave me an embrace.

Happy Birthday, Cornelia. Are you excited to be a part of the lottery? Her blue eyes looked so bright in the sun.

Of course I am. Are you part of the lottery too? I asked her.

No. I was not deemed perfect enough. You know my speech gets jumbled up at times. I get confused and nervous when I have to recite out loud.

I felt sorry for Cynthia. I was judged perfect and she was not. We said our goodbyes and she ran back to her family.

The families were asked to come close to the center of the open square. A few senators stood talking on the marble stairs of the Senate building watching the proceedings. They wore togas with purple hems and had laurel wreaths on their heads. The priest of Jupiter, the Flamen Dialis, stood with his beautiful wife to the side; they often led rituals and sacrifices in the city. I also saw an older woman dressed in white who accompanied the pair.

My mother kept fanning herself, and Taltos’s eyes spun like rolling marbles. His head bobbed up and down, taking in all the sights and people.

Then the noise stopped. Everything became quiet. Even the horses seemed to turn to watch the man stomping into the square. He wore a long, white cloth that covered his head. Flames of curled, dark yellow hair stuck out of his mantle. He had round eyes the color of a gray-blue sky. And they seemed to glow with a strange light. Although his arms bulged with muscle, his toga could not conceal his belly. He paced on thin legs around the center of the plaza.

I nudged Taltos. Who’s that? I whispered.

That’s the Emperor Nero, silly. He’s in his role of Pontifex Maximus, the High Priest. You didn’t recognize him because he wears the head covering.

Cornelius put his scroll away. He shuffled his feet and stood there as motionless as a statue. But then he briefly put his hand on my shoulder and shook it. You’ll be all right, sister, he decreed.

Of course, I thought. Why wouldn’t I?

Several slaves stood in the center of the Forum holding a wide, earthenware pot. My father and the other fathers who held lots were called forth and slowly walked to the center. They spoke among themselves for a brief time with the Emperor. Then they dropped the little markers in the bowl. The markers made a dull, clicking noise as the slaves shook them up.

Mother, Taltos, and Cornelius gathered around me waiting for Father to return.

You won’t get picked, Cornelia, my brother said. We’ll be celebrating your birthday at home tonight.

Wait—if I’m picked I can’t go home? Cornelius ignored my question. Confused, I clasped my cedar box. Then I felt for my bulla around my neck. It always made me feel safe.

May Divine Jupiter and the Goddess Vesta bless this lottery, announced the Flamen Dialis. And now, the Revered Pontifex Maximus.

My father returned and his hands were trembling. What have I done? he kept murmuring.

The Pontifex Maximus strutted about the square quieting the crowd. Many of the Senators came forth now, gathering around the bowl.

We shall now choose a lot that will be drawn by the Pontifex Maximus, shouted the newsreader from the Rostra, the area of the Forum where announcements were made.

Slaves, hold tight the bowl, commanded the Pontifex Maximus.

The small group around the bowl spoke among themselves in raised, strained voices, as if they were arguing. People in the crowd began to whisper. What was happening? The old woman dressed in white joined the circle of men.

The Pontifex Maximus raised his arm up high, and then I saw his hand plunge into the bowl. He thrust his hand up again, now gripping a single lot high in the air.

I am pleased to announce that the gods have decreed their choice, he intoned. The sign of the cat has been chosen!

My mother fainted right there. Cornelius moaned and stomped his foot. My father crouched to help my mother up. He murmured something to her, asking if she needed salts. Sweat poured down Father’s brow. Taltos’s eyes bulged from his head. Oh dear, he kept mumbling.

I could only watch them, waiting for their congratulations on my triumph. I was the chosen one. The gods had decreed it was I who won the lottery, for what I did not know. But I figured it was only right—it was my birthday.

CHAPTER 3

The Pontifex Maximus shouted for everyone to step back away from the open square. He stood alone now, except for the Flamens and the old woman in white. Pointing to a corner near the Senate steps, he shouted, Slaves, bring us that chair. A wooden chair ornately carved with painted images of fruit, flowers, and birds was carried to the center of the Forum.

I will ask that Cornelius Marcus Cosa, Pater of Cornelia Cosa, come forth to present his daughter, the Pontifex ordered.

Here was my chance. I was ready and prepared to dance for the Pontifex Maximus who was our Emperor. I still clutched my cedar box and would not let it go. Keep silent now, Cornelia, my father whispered as he grasped my shoulder. His hand was shaking. Keep your head held high, daughter. Never forget you are a Cosa.

So I kept my head high and imagined I was Cleopatra sailing up the Nile. I turned back and saw my mother crying, tears streaming down her face. Cornelius and Taltos were trying to console her. Wasn’t she proud of me for winning?

I was proud of myself. I would not let my family down. Especially when all eyes were on me, Cornelia Cosa!

My father and I strode across the square and stood in front of the Pontifex Maximus. What a strange man with those bulging, wide eyes! He grinned down at me and seemed pleased. The corners of his mouth rose up in a half smile. He seemed to be several years older than my brother. But something about the Emperor Nero scared me!

Pater of Cornelia, you shall take this seat. He pointed to the chair. My father followed his orders. Cornelia Cosa, you shall now take a seat upon your father’s lap. Since I had done this many times before, I placed my box on the ground, jumped into my father’s lap, and threw my arms around his neck. I lay my cheek against his cheek and waited for the Pontifex to continue.

He had turned his back to us and was consulting with the Flamens and the old woman in white.

The newsreader shouted from the Rostra, And now the Ancient Rite of Vesta will be conducted.

The Pontifex Maximus turned back around looking angry, as if he was a soldier in battle. He walked around a few paces and stopped. He peered so close to me I could hear him whisper, She’s lovely. and proceeded to tickle my chin.

Then he grabbed my arm. Tight. I tried to move away but his grip kept me there on father’s lap. In a loud voice that echoed through the Forum, he shouted, I take you thus, Amata, as a Vestal priestess, who will perform the rites that a Vestal priestess must perform on behalf of the Roman people.

With that, his stubby hands yanked me away from my father, who sat impassively and did not move.

"Emperor, I’m sorry, but my name is not Amata. You have the wrong girl, I politely corrected him. But I am ready to dance for you if you wish."

He placed his hand on my head and gave me a reassuring pat. I know you are not Amata, Cornelia. You see, Amata was the first Vestal, after Rhea Silvia of course, in a long line of Vestal Virgins. She was pure and good like you will be pure and good. And Amata means ‘beloved.’ He bent over to look into my eyes. You are now a beloved of Rome. You will learn about Amata, Rhea Silvia and the others, Cornelia. And there is none better than the Virgo Maxima, the Chief Vestal, Mother Aurelia, to teach you this sacred history.

The old woman stepped forward. She had bright, kind blue eyes and skin that reminded me of cobwebs. She smiled and her