Promises in Silver

She didn’t believe in luck, but that was before she found the coin. It appeared one fateful morning as Livia swept the atrium.

It was 42 BC, and Livia, a servant in the bustling streets of Rome, had never known fortune to smile her way. She was born into poverty, sold into servitude at ten, and spent her days scrubbing floors in the grand villa of a senator who barely knew her name.

That day, the sunlight struck something shiny near a marble pillar. She bent down and picked it up — a silver denarius, its surface worn smooth except for the profile of a man with a laurel crown. The coin felt heavier than it should, as though it carried a secret.

Curious, she showed it to a fellow servant, who gasped. “That’s the mark of Caesar Augustus. It’s said his coin brings luck to those who find it.”

Livia scoffed. Luck? The gods had abandoned her long ago. But she slipped it into her pouch, unable to part with something so precious. That evening, her mistress fell ill, and Livia was tasked with taking her place at the market. There, she met Marcus, a soldier on leave, his armour gleaming as he leaned against a stall. He smiled at her — an honest, warm smile that made her cheeks flush.

Over the next weeks, Marcus sought her out. He told her stories of his campaigns, and his hopes for a small farm one day, far from the chaos of Rome. For the first time in years, Livia felt something stir in her chest. She began to believe the coin had brought her this chance at happiness.

But Livia had ambition born of desperation. She saw Marcus not only as a man but as an escape from her wretched life. When he mentioned he would soon leave Rome, she made a reckless decision. She pressed the coin into his hand one evening and said, “It’s a charm. Keep it with you, and it will bring us both luck.”

Marcus kissed her, promising to return after his campaign. As he marched away, Livia began spinning plans for their future — a life of freedom, far from servitude.

Months passed. No word came from Marcus. Rumours spread of a disastrous defeat in the north, and her heart sank. When a group of battered soldiers returned to Rome, Livia searched their faces in vain.

One day, as she cleaned the senator’s chamber, she found herself staring at his coin collection. Her blood froze. There, among the pristine coins, lay the denarius she had given to Marcus.

“Do you know where this is from?” she asked a fellow servant.

“The master bought it from a trader. Said it belonged to a soldier who’d lost everything in the war.”

Livia’s stomach twisted. Marcus had sold the coin to survive, abandoning the charm — and, it seemed, her.

She pocketed the coin once more, its weight heavier than ever. This time, she understood: the coin was never lucky. It simply revealed the truth people were too blind to see.