On their first invasion the Gauls… defeated the Romans and their allies in a pitched battle, and pursuing the fugitives, occupied the whole of Rome with the exception of the Capitol; but being diverted by an invasion of their own country by the Veneti, they made on this occasion a treaty with the Romans, and evacuating the city, returned home. – Polybius, The Histories, 2.18
ROMA AETERNA... NOT!
From Valeria, daughter of L. Valerius Potitus, Palatine Avenue, Rome
To Claudia, daughter of Ap. Claudius Arvina
Dearest Claudia, So much has happened since we bade each other farewell. This is the first opportunity I have had to write since our parting, which seems an eternity ago. When you and your family left for your ancestral home last summer, I felt a deep foreboding. Here, the city was aswirl with fear and trepidation, as the barbarian horde swept southwards from its alpine stronghold.
We lined the streets, cheered and wept as our heroic menfolk marched out to meet the foe, banners flying, armour glistening, shields gleaming, trumpets blaring, young hearts pounding with pride, manly chests swelling with bravado, defiant war cries chasing away the dread of impending battle.
Each day we gathered in the forum awaiting news from the front. When it came, our faith and hope turned to horror and despair. Our legions had been overwhelmed, our staunchest warriors annihilated on the banks of some nameless river, the rest of the army scattered. Rome, the glory of Italy and the pride of our race, was left undefended, at the mercy of a fierce and relentless enemy who knew neither mercy nor the arts of civilization.
There was little panic in the streets, just a mute, forlorn desperation. Our loved ones were dead or missing or in full retreat. Rumors abounded that the brave Camillus and his army was regrouping, but there was no relief from our sense of utter helplessness as the barbarians approached, unchallenged by gods or men. They entered our fair city and the worst of our imagined terrors came to be. The killing, the looting, the rapine and the burning swept like a sullen wave across the rooftops. The shouts of dying men, the screams of ravished women, the lurid glow of burning temples filled the air, a foul miasma of desolation, destruction and death.
Those of us in the inner suburbs, shielded from the worst atrocities by the slow progress of the pillage, awaited our fate calmly and with noble resignation. When finally the men from the north reached us, their passion had subsided. Though our home was plundered, my parents were spared, as was my brother, a mere child who posed no threat to the invader. My sister and I were the tribute our family must pay for their deliverance.
What has become of my poor sister I remain in dreadful ignorance. My worst fear is that she has been taken north; but if she is still here in the city, I am determined to find her. The family will be reunited, I swear before Jupiter, Juno and Minerva, the sacred triad.
As for me, I was taken with the other female captives to the market place. Naked and bound, we were mustered like cattle in the sale yards. The older women were apportioned among the lower ranks of the soldiery, and the young girls, weeping, bundled into carts for transport to the slave markets of alpine Gaul. We of the most desirable age were divided up amongst the officers and elders. Our fate, though kinder, was no more certain nor less inescapable.
The prettiest of us - oh, feminine vanity, there is venom in your sting! - were reserved for the fiend himself, the conqueror Brennus. We were taken to one of the mansions still intact near the Capitol, to await our new master’s pleasure. Above us loomed the ramparts of the citadel, where the last defenders of Rome’s solemn dignity held out against the barbarians in futile, magnificent defiance.
It was I who found favour and that evening shared the bed of Brennus himself. I wept and beat at him with my fists. He sneered at my feminine frailty. He threw himself upon me and thrust into my poor body. I writhed in my pain and misery, sobbed with outrage and fear. The coarse fabric of his tunic rasped against my naked breasts like stinging nettles. The pungent odours of sweat and oiled leather assailed my nostrils. The fire in my belly, which had not before known a man, burned more fiercely than the altar flames of our ancestral gods.
The morning came, and over the city a blood-red sun peered through columns of rising smoke. My defiler lay beside me, loudly snoring. Had I a dagger to plunge into his brutal heart, I would willingly have given my life to end his. But he awoke and called for bread and wine. He summoned me to his table, and together we broke the fast. Afterwards, he bade me walk with him, and we conversed. For a time, he appeared to forget the tumult beyond the garden wall.
It was as if this were not the same man who had torn my virginity from me. I was surprised by his sensibility and startled by his erudition. He spoke with the rough-hewn accent of the northerners, but his words were gentle and cultured. This was no rude beast. There was a tenderness in his manner that I could not have imagined in such a man as this. He had become smitten with me. Somehow, during that night of dreadful passion, his heart of flint had begun to soften. The man subdued the monster, as a mere woman had subdued the man.
Oh, Claudia, which auguries could have foretold this?
The hours and days sped by like fleet-footed Mercury, until my Brennus announced that it was time to depart for the north. His homeland beckoned and his army was growing restless.
“Master,” I cried, “You may deprive me of my freedom, stain my honour, steal my chastity, but never shall you take from me the love of my city, queen of Italy. If you carry me away I will surely die.”
I pleaded with him to leave me behind, but I was his. He could not depart without me. The captor was bound to his captive.
Then his ferocious visage softened, and his faraway stare, northwards, betrayed the decision he had made. I had separated the man from the barbarian, and he would not separate me from my beloved Rome.
“Valeria,” he declared, gently stroking my breast, “No greater devotion has any man for a woman than I have for you, and I know that, in time, you will grow to reciprocate my love. I will not abandon you, nor will I tear you away from your family and your city. It had been my plan to march north, to return to the fertile valley of the Padus and the quickening of the alpine snows. My intention had never been to remain here, on the sunny banks of the Tiber. But you have inspired me. This shall be where I plant my banner. Rome shall be my capital. Your beloved city is not to become a wasteland but shall rise again, the heart of a new empire and a great civilization, founded upon the courage, passion and ingenuity of the noble race of Gauls.”
In my heart I rejoiced at his words. I had conquered my conqueror, mastered my master. My precious Rome would not die after all, but would live to fulfill its destiny. A new beginning!
So my dearest Claudia, be safe and happy and prosperous. Perhaps one day you may return......
Editor’s note: The remainder of this letter is missing. The document was found in an inventory uncovered during recent excavations at Tarracina, one of the earliest extant examples of private correspondence between upper class women during the Late Roman Republic. It is noteworthy in shedding important light on the actions of First Emperor Brennus during his conquest and occupation of Italy. Rome was once an important city in central Italy, and a regional capital in the Gallic Empire for several generations following its capture by Brennus. Some scholars maintain that, given its natural advantages, Rome might some day have achieved greatness in its own right. Such “what if” speculation is not taken seriously by most specialists in the field. – Connach o’Gwynoir, School of Classics and Antiquities, University of Albion
