What Roman Masters Did to Female Slaves Who Became Pregnant Was Unspeakable

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On a crisp morning in September 1981, Petronia found herself in a small examination room at the Villa Curveillana, just outside Rome. At 22 years old, she was pregnant and aware of the weight of her situation. The physician’s cold hands pressed against her swollen belly, and she had learned long ago to keep her expression blank when men touched her, retreating to a mental space where their hands could not reach her. But this examination was different; it was filled with witnesses, and the stakes were high.

The air in the room was thick with tension. Morning light filtered through a single high window, illuminating the stone floor and the bronze dish burning herbs meant to purify the space. Petronia could hear birds singing outside, their cheerful songs contrasting sharply with the gravity of her circumstances. Her master, Gaas Curvilius Vatia, stood against the far wall, arms crossed, observing the examination with an expression that resembled the one he wore when inspecting livestock at market. He had not looked at her face in the seven months since she was brought to his chamber, only at her belly, calculating the potential return on his investment.

As the physician announced that she was seven months along and that the child was positioned correctly, Petronia felt a mixture of hope and dread. The physician’s words hung in the air, particularly the phrase “should survive delivery without complications.” She was acutely aware of her status as a slave, a woman whose body was seen primarily as a vessel for producing wealth.

Petronia had been a slave since birth, the daughter and granddaughter of slaves. She had never known freedom or imagined a life beyond servitude. But she had also never been pregnant before, and the life growing inside her was a new experience, one that filled her with both anticipation and fear. She had heard stories from the older slaves about what happened to pregnant women in Roman households—some were valued and protected, while others were treated as mere inconveniences.

The examination continued, and the physician’s focus shifted. “What I need to know is whether this particular pregnancy will produce a particular kind of child,” Vatia interjected, his tone revealing his true interest. The physician hesitated but ultimately began assessing the child’s sex, a decision that would carry significant weight in the eyes of Vatia.

After an intense examination, the physician concluded, “I believe she carries a female.” The words brought a subtle shift in Vatia’s posture, a satisfaction that made Petronia’s heart sink. A daughter meant something to him that a son would not. “Good,” he said, “ensure she receives adequate nutrition, but do not coddle her. I need her back at full productivity within three months of birth.” With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Petronia to grapple with the implications of his words.

In the weeks that followed, Petronia navigated the complexities of her situation. She learned that her master’s plans for her daughter were not merely about survival but about profit. Horatia, an older slave, shared the grim realities of what happened to children born into slavery. Petronia listened, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her daughter might be raised to serve wealthy Romans, stripped of her identity and autonomy.

The day of Lucia’s birth arrived, filled with both joy and sorrow. Petronia held her daughter for the first time, naming her Lucia, a name that symbolized light and hope. But as the days turned into weeks, the reality of their separation loomed. Petronia knew that once Lucia was weaned, she would be taken to the training facility, where her identity would be erased, and she would be molded into a product for sale.

The bond between mother and daughter grew in those early months, filled with whispered stories and lullabies. Petronia cherished every moment, knowing that her time with Lucia was limited. She found ways to instill in her daughter the values of resilience and strength, preparing her for a world that would see her as property rather than a person.

As the months passed, Petronia learned about the training facility where Lucia would be sent. She understood the methods employed to condition the children, to erase their memories of family and love, and to mold them into obedient slaves. The thought of Lucia being subjected to such treatment filled her with despair, but Petronia was determined to fight for her daughter’s future.

When the day of separation finally arrived, it was brutal. Petronia’s heart shattered as guards took Lucia from her arms, leaving her screaming in anguish. The pain of that moment was indescribable, a wound that would never heal. In the days that followed, she struggled to find purpose in her own life, grappling with the loss of her daughter and the harsh reality of her existence as a slave.

But Petronia refused to give up. She began to gather information about Lucia’s progress in the training facility, leveraging her connections within the slave community to learn what she could. She discovered that Lucia was intelligent and beautiful, but also that she was struggling against the conditioning imposed by the instructors. Petronia’s heart swelled with pride at her daughter’s resistance, even as she feared for her safety.

Years passed, and Petronia continued to fight for her daughter, using every resource at her disposal to ensure that Lucia remained strong and aware of her true identity. She shared stories of their family, instilling in Lucia the knowledge that she was loved and valued, despite the oppressive system that sought to strip her of her humanity.

Eventually, Lucia reached adulthood, and Petronia’s worst fears came to fruition. Lucia was sold to a wealthy Roman household, leaving Petronia with a profound sense of loss. But even in her absence, Petronia’s love for her daughter endured. She continued to fight against the system that had torn them apart, seeking ways to expose the injustices faced by enslaved women and children.

In the end, Petronia’s story is one of resilience and strength, a testament to the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. Despite the oppressive forces of Roman slavery, Petronia’s love and determination shone through, leaving a legacy of hope for future generations. Her story is a reminder that even in the darkest of circumstances, the human spirit can endure, and love can transcend the boundaries of oppression.