Marcus and the Stolen Denarius

Now, I’m going to tell you a story about a boy called Marcus who lived a very long time ago in Rome, when the streets were paved with stone and the great Colosseum stood tall and proud in the center of the city. Marcus was ten years old, which might be exactly your age, or perhaps you’re a bit younger or a bit older, but either way, I think you’ll like Marcus very much.

Marcus lived with his father, who was a baker, and his mother, who wove beautiful cloth, and his little sister Julia, who was always getting into mischief (as little sisters often do). Their home was a small apartment above the bakery, and every morning Marcus would wake to the wonderful smell of fresh bread baking in the ovens below.

Now, Marcus had a Very Important Job. Every afternoon, he would deliver bread to the houses of wealthy Romans who lived on the Palatine Hill. His father trusted him completely with this task because Marcus was careful, polite, and – most importantly – honest.

‘An honest boy is worth more than all the gold in the emperor’s treasury,’ his father would say, ruffling Marcus’s hair.

One particular afternoon – a hot, sunny afternoon when cicadas buzzed in the olive trees – Marcus was making his deliveries as usual. He carried a large basket of bread, still warm from the oven, and his leather pouch jingled with the coins customers had paid him.

As he walked through the Forum, the great marketplace where people gathered to talk and trade and discuss important matters, Marcus noticed a crowd around a merchant’s stall. Being a curious boy (as most boys are), he moved closer to see what was happening.

The merchant, a red-faced man with a loud voice, was shouting: ‘Someone has stolen a silver denarius from my table! A whole denarius, disappeared! There was a group of boys here just moments ago, and one of them must have taken it!’

Marcus’s stomach dropped like a stone down a well. He had been near that stall just a few minutes ago! And there, pointing directly at him, was the merchant’s assistant.

‘That boy!’ the assistant cried. ‘He was here! I saw him looking at the silver coins!’

Now, this is where things get interesting, because Marcus knew three things: First, he absolutely had not taken the denarius. Second, there were several other boys who had been near the stall, including a boy named Gaius who everyone knew was a bit of a troublemaker. And third – this is the important bit – Marcus had seen something that might help solve the mystery.

The crowd pressed closer, and Marcus felt his face grow hot. The merchant strode up to him, looking very angry indeed.

‘Empty your pockets, boy!’ the merchant demanded.

Marcus could have run away. He could have pointed at Gaius and said, ‘It wasn’t me, it was him!’ He could have lied and said he’d never been near the stall at all. But Marcus remembered what his father always said about honesty/” title=”More stories about honesty”>honesty.

With steady hands (though his heart was beating rather fast), Marcus emptied his pockets. Out came: one smooth pebble he’d been saving, a piece of string, and a small wooden top. No denarius.

Next, he opened his money pouch and poured out the coins. The crowd leaned in to look. There were several copper asses and a few small coins, all accounted for from his bread deliveries. But no silver denarius.

‘You see?’ Marcus said quietly. ‘I didn’t take your coin, sir. But I think I might know what happened to it.’

The merchant frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well,’ said Marcus, speaking clearly so everyone could hear, ‘I was here a few minutes ago, looking at your beautiful coins because I’ve never seen so many all together in one place. While I was looking, a large black crow landed on your table. I thought it was funny so I watched it. The crow pecked at something shiny on your table – I think it might have been your denarius – and then it flew away, over toward the Temple of Vesta.’

The merchant’s eyes widened. ‘A crow?’

‘Yes, sir. A big one, with very shiny eyes. Crows like shiny things, my mother says. They steal them and hide them in their nests.’

Now, the merchant could have not believed Marcus. But there was something about the way Marcus spoke – calm and clear and truthful – that made the merchant pause.

‘Why didn’t you tell me right away?’ the merchant asked, though his voice was less angry now.

‘You didn’t ask, sir. You told me to empty my pockets, so I did. My father says always to be honest and to answer questions truthfully.’

An old senator who had been watching stepped forward. ‘This boy speaks with honesty,’ he said in a voice used to being listened to. ‘I suggest we look where he indicates. Crows do indeed favor shiny objects.’

So the whole group – Marcus, the merchant, the senator, and several curious onlookers – walked to the Temple of Vesta. And there, in a cypress tree beside the temple, they found a crow’s nest. The merchant’s assistant (who was younger and better at climbing) scrambled up the tree and, after some searching, let out a cry of triumph.

‘Found it!’ he called down. ‘A silver denarius, right here in the nest with some other shiny bits!’

When he climbed down and handed the coin to the merchant, everyone cheered. The merchant looked at Marcus with new respect.

‘Boy,’ he said, ‘I owe you an apology. I accused you wrongly. You could have been angry, could have run away, could have lied to protect yourself. Instead, you told the truth and helped me find my coin. What is your name?’

‘Marcus, sir. My father is Quintus the baker.’

‘Well, Marcus, son of Quintus,’ said the merchant, pressing a small coin into Marcus’s hand, ‘you have taught me something important today. Honesty is indeed worth more than silver. This is for you, and please take some of these dates for your family as well.’

The senator also stepped forward. ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘Rome needs citizens like you. Citizens who tell the truth even when it might be easier to lie, who stay calm when accused, who help others even when wronged. You will go far.’

Marcus’s face turned pink with pride, but he remembered his manners. ‘Thank you, sirs. I only did what my father taught me – to always be honest, because honesty builds trust and respect.’

When Marcus got home that evening, he told his family the whole story. His father listened carefully, and when Marcus finished, he hugged him tight.

‘You see, Marcus? The truth might be difficult to tell sometimes, but it always serves you well in the end. That merchant will trust you now, and so will others who heard what happened. Your honesty has built something more valuable than any coin – it has built your reputation.’

From that day on, whenever Marcus made his bread deliveries through the Forum, people would nod to him respectfully. The merchant always greeted him warmly and sometimes gave him extra fruit or nuts to take home. Other merchants began requesting that Marcus deliver their goods too, because everyone knew he was honest and trustworthy.

And Marcus? Well, he continued to be exactly who he was – an honest boy who understood that telling the truth, even when it’s hard, is always the right choice. He grew up to become a respected merchant himself, known throughout Rome for his fair dealing and truthful words.

Years later, when he had children of his own, he would tell them this very story. And he would ruffle their hair (just as his father had done to him) and say, ‘An honest person is worth more than all the gold in the emperor’s treasury.’

And you know what? He was absolutely right.

The end.

(Now, wasn’t that a good story? I think next time we might tell the story of Julia and her mischief, but that’s for another day.)