through the eyes of a young girl.

Here she is, drawing a picture of herself

in the atrium of her father's enormous house.

Her name is Domitia,

and she is just 5 years old.

She has an older brother who is fourteen,

Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus,

named after her dad.

Girls don't get these long names that boys have.

What is worse is that Dad insists

on calling all his daughters Domitia.

"Domitia!"

His call to Domitia drawing on the column,

Domitia III.

She has an older sister, Domitia II, who is 7 years old.

And then there's Domitia I, who is ten.

There would have been a Domitia IV,

but mom died trying to give birth to her three years ago.

Confused?

The Romans were too.

They could work out ancestry through the male line

with the nice, tripartite names

such as Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus.

But they got in a real mess

over which Domitia was married to whom

and was either the great aunt

or the great stepmother and so on to whom

when they came to write it down.

Domitia III is not just drawing on the pillar,

she's also watching the action.

You see, it's early,

in the time of day when all her dad's clients and friends

come to see him at home to pay their respects.

Lucius Popidius Secundus, a 17 year old,

he wants to marry Domitia II

within the next five to seven years,

has come as well.

He seems to be wooing not his future wife,

but her dad.

Poor Lucius, he does not know that Domitia's dad

thinks he and his family are wealthy

but still scumbags from the Subura.

Afterall, it is the part of Rome

full of barbers and prostitutes.

Suddenly, all the men are leaving with Dad.

It's the second hour

and time for him to be in court

with a sturdy audience of clients

to applaud his rhetoric

and hiss at his opponent.

The house is now quieter.

The men won't return for seven hours,

not until dinner time.

But what happens in the house for those seven hours?

What do Domitia, Domitia, and Domitia do all day?

Not an easy question!

Everything written down by the Romans

that we have today was written by men.

This makes constructing the lives of women difficult.

However, we can't have a history of just Roman men,

so here it goes.

We can begin in the atrium.

There is a massive loom,

on which Dad's latest wife is working on a new toga.

Domitia, Domitia, and Domitia are tasked

with spinning the wool

that will be used to weave this mighty garment,

30 or more feet long and elliptical in shape.

Romans loved the idea

that their wives work wool.

We know that because it's written

on the gravestones of so many Roman women.

Unlike women in Greece,

Roman women go out the house

and move about the city.

They go to the baths in the morning to avoid the men

or to separate baths that are for women only.

Some do go in for the latest fad of the AD 70s:

nude bathing with men present.

Where they have no place

is where the men are:

in the Forum,

in the Law Court,

or in the Senate House.

Their place in public is in the porticos

with gardens,

with sculpture,

and with pathways for walking in.

When Domitia, Domitia, and Domitia want

to leave the house to go somewhere,

like the Portico of Livia,

they must get ready.

Domitia II and Domitia III are ready,

but Domitia I, who is betrothed to be married

in two years to darling Philatus,

isn't ready.

She's not slow, she just has more to do.

Being betrothed means she wears the insignia of betrothal:

engagement rings

and all the gifts Pilatus has given her -

jewels,

earrings,

necklaces,

and the pendants.

She may even wear her myrtle crown.

All this bling shouts,

"I'm getting married to that 19 year old

who gave me all this stuff I'm wearing!"

While as they wait, Domitia II and Domitia III play with their dolls

that mirror the image of their sister

decked out to be married.

One day, these dolls will be dedicated

to the household gods on the day of their wedding.

Okay, we're ready.

The girls step into litters carried by some burly slaves.

They also have a chaperone with them

and will be meeting an aunt at the Porticus of Livia.

Carried high on the shoulders of these slaves,

the girls look out through the curtains

to see the crowded streets below them.

They traverse the city, pass the Coliseum,

but then turn off to climb up the hill

to the Porticus of Livia.

It was built by Livia, the wife of the first emperor Augustus,

on the site of the house of Vedius Pollio.

He wasn't such a great guy.

He once tried to feed a slave

to the eels in his fish pond

for simply dropping a dish.

Luckily, the emperor was at the dinner

and tamed his temper.

The litters are placed on the ground

and the girls get out

and arm in arm, two by two,

they ascend the steps

into the enclosed garden with many columns.

Domitia III shot off and is drawing on a column.

Domitia II joins her

but seeks to read the graffiti higher up on the column.

She spots a drawing of gladiators

and tries to imagine seeing them fighting,

something she will never be permitted to do,

except from the very rear of the Coliseum.

From there, she will have a good view

of the 50,000 spectators

but will see little by way of blood and gore.

If she really wanted a decent view,

she could become a vestal virgin

and would sit right down the front.

But a career tending the sacred flame of Vesta

is not to everybody's taste.

Domitia I has met another ten year old

also decked out in the insignia of betrothal.

Home time.

When they get there after the eighth hour,

something is up.

A smashed dish lies on the floor.

All the slaves are being gathered together in the atrium

and await the arrival of their master.

Dad is going to go mad.

He will not hit his children,

but like many other Romans,

he believes that slaves have to be punished.

The whip lies ready for his arrival.

No one knows who smashed the dish,

but Dad will call the undertaker

to torture it out of them, if he must.

The doorkeeper opens the front door to the house.

A hush comes over the anxious slaves.

In walks not their master

but, instead, a pregnant teenager.

It is the master's eldest daughter, age 15,

who is already a veteran of marriage and child birth.

Guess what her name is.

There is a five to ten percent chance

she won't survive giving birth to her child,

but, for now, she has come to dinner with her family.

As a teenage mother,

she has proved that she is a successful wife

by bringing children and descendants for her husband,

who will carry on his name in the future.

The family head off to the dining room

and are served dinner.

It would seem Dad has had an invite to dinner elsewhere.

With dinner concluded, the girls crossed the atrium

to bid farewell to their older sister

who is carried home in a litter,

escorted by some of Dad's bodyguards.

Returning to the house,

the girls cross the atrium.

The slaves, young and old,

male and female,

await the return of their owner.

When he returns, he may exact vengeance,

ensuring his power over the slaves

is maintained through violence and terror,

to which any slave could be subjected.

But, for the girls, they head upstairs for the night,

ready for bed.