Enemies of the Empire (11 page)

Wherever the money had come from, though, it had been well spent. Advocates know all the details of the law, and this advocate was an impressive one.

Marcus acknowledged him without a smile. ‘Very well. What is he charged with and who are the witnesses?’

The lean-faced man set out the accusations one by one. He did it expertly. I had murdered Lupus and stolen the wooden cash box from the shop. Only I had any opportunity; the woman herself had seen me there within a moment of his death, and – as the guards were prepared to testify – I had been carrying a knife, in contravention of civilian law. And later I had been seen escaping from the scene with haste and secrecy. A dozen witnesses could be brought in to confirm this evidence.

‘Do you deny this?’ Marcus said to me again.

‘Only that I killed the man and took the chest. The rest of it is true.’ I could scarcely deny my hurried departure from the scene, though I longed to ask who all these witnesses might be. The streets had been quite deserted as far as I could tell, apart from the footsteps which had followed me. However, I dared say nothing I was not asked to say.

The lean-faced man had rounded on me now. ‘And look at his tunic. It has obviously been sponged. What was he cleaning off it? I say that it was blood. Blood from the wounds of the helpless victim he robbed.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘We want restitution, Excellence, and the full severity of the law.’

The mood of the spectators was getting ugly by this time, and there were cries of ‘throw him to the beasts’ – although I told myself that, since Lupus was not a citizen himself, this was not a likely punishment. More probably I would face a life exile on some barren island where I would gently starve to death, and – after a swingeing compensation paid to Lupus’s wife – my possessions would be forfeit to the state. That was the good news. The charge of carrying a knife might carry a death sentence of itself, but Marcus was fair, however furious he was, and I was confident he would not find me guilty of possessing arms on the basis of a dining knife he’d given me himself.

The advocate was quite an orator and he knew how to play on the emotions of the crowd. He made a long, impassioned speech about how, if honest tradesmen could be robbed and cruelly killed . . . ‘butchered, with fountains and rivulets of blood’ . . . the whole authority of law was undermined. The crowd was listening to his every word. He finished by calling on Marcus to make an example of me, for the sake of Rome, and sat down to tumultuous applause.

Marcus nodded slowly. My heart sank to the pavement. He looked at me sternly. ‘Have you anything to say in your defence?’

I had, of course, though I had decided that it was not a good idea to voice my suspicions about Plautus in the open court, nor to mention how the town appeared to be parcelled up between the rival gangs. Better to sound like an ignorant stranger, if I could. That way there was at least a chance that my unseen enemies would be lulled into security, supposing that I was frightened into silence by events and would just hold my tongue and go away. Otherwise, I had very little doubt, my life would be in danger if I was released.

My only hope was to convince the court that I was
alibi
– elsewhere. It would not be an easy plea to prove, since there is no way of telling time in most establishments, no water clocks or anything, and – since it had already been dark – there was not even a public sundial I could appeal to. But I did have one idea.

I kept my account as simple as I could. I had come out of the thermopolium when Lupus was alive, at the moment when his wife had entered carrying a new taper to be lit. She would attest to that?

A hurried consultation with the advocate. She would.

‘When I went out into the street I thought that somebody was on my track – a thief with designs upon my purse, perhaps. I did not think of taking out my knife at first, but simply ran away and tried to hide. There are three young men in the town who could attest to this.’

‘Their names?’ Marcus was still curt and businesslike.

I gave their nicknames, which was all I knew, and an usher was sent out to summon them, while I continued with my narrative: how I had gone back to the mansio but the guard on duty would not let me in, and so I had returned to the thermopolium to seek a room. I didn’t say anything about Promptillius or the note, or about my plans to find a brothel for the night.

At this point there was an unexpected interruption, as spotty Laxus was brought into the dock. I was astounded that he had been found so quickly, but the reason was soon pretty evident. He had been crowding round the doorway of the court and boasting of having spoken to me the night before. Now I was glad of the carelessness that had evidently earned Laxus his nickname. When I mentioned him by name and called on him to testify for me he took fright and tried to make off into the town, but the bystanders had laid hands on him and handed him over to the guard.

He confessed all this in sullen tones. He was looking frightened, too, and far more anxious to justify himself than be of any assistance to my cause. I had been skulking in a doorway, claiming to be a Roman citizen, and it was not his fault if I’d accosted them. He had no part in any homicide. He and his two friends had been at the public games all night, like model citizens, and in the tavern afterwards in full sight of everyone, where they’d had a skin or two of wine. They’d simply shown me to the mansio, as I had asked them to.

They had drunk a good deal more than a skin or two, I guessed, but I did not question it. His evidence supported me, if anything. It was easy to get him to agree that I had met them not long after the ending of the games.

‘You see,’ I said, to Marcus and the court, ‘here is a witness who will swear that I was near the wine shop shortly after dark, and walked down to the mansio afterwards – there will be a guard there who can testify to that, as well. Now – follow this carefully – a home-made candle burns down in an hour or two at most. Agreed?’

There was a general murmur of assent.

‘Yet, when I got back to the thermopolium, that new taper in the shop was not even half consumed. Ask the town guardsmen who arrested me. I noticed one of them had picked it up to view the corpse. You see what that suggests? Far from having time to kill the hot-soup seller and dispose of all his gold, I must have hurried directly through the streets to meet these people when and where I did. There was no gold in my purse when they arrested me – a small sum of silver only – as this young man can also testify. He saw me take it out to pay for some honey cakes from the pastry-cook. So what became of Lupus’s treasure chest? I am a stranger to the town. Where could I hide a great big wooden box?’

The advocate was on his feet again. ‘The fact that he hasn’t got the money now is no proof that he didn’t have it then. There is no doubt that it was taken, Excellence. I say he stole it, and he stabbed the shopkeeper.’

‘That is another thing,’ I said, turning to Laxus and looking him firmly in the eye. ‘About the charge of carrying a knife.’ The youth turned pale. He was guilty of that crime himself, and he was clearly terrified that I was going to accuse him of it now. ‘Did you see me with a knife at any time?’ I went on.

I saw him visibly relax. ‘I didn’t, citizen. I didn’t know you had one. If I had—’ He stopped, and was very anxious to be helpful, suddenly. ‘Though it would hardly be surprising if you did – there are a lot of thieves and rogues about. People have been set on in the outskirts of the town a dozen times this year. Especially travellers or anyone with Roman ties. My own uncle disappeared a moon or two ago—’

‘May it please Your Excellence,’ I interrupted him. I did not want him to raise the matter of the rival gangs and perhaps divide opinion in the court. ‘I am a stranger here, and did not know about all these unfortunate events. However, one possibility does occur to me. Perhaps the unhappy victim in this case was robbed and killed by the same band of criminals that did these other things. I thought I heard footsteps pursuing me, as I have explained. It all suggests there might have been a murderous thief about.’

There was uneasy muttering among the audience at this. One or two people began to look unsure – including one of the magistrates, I noticed.

The advocate for Lupus’s wife was on his feet again. ‘Then why has the wretch sponged his tunic, as he evidently has? Look at the dark stains and marks on it.’

The unexpected sally brought another hiss of discontent from some parts of the gallery. I thought of calling in the warder to speak in my defence – but Laxus was now firmly on my side. Before I had time to say another word, he volunteered, ‘There was no blood on his tunic when he spoke to us. I can swear to that.’

‘So, Excellence,’ I said, seeing a chance and seizing it at once, ‘if the killer was drenched with Lupus’s blood, as by the advocate’s account he must have been, then I am clearly innocent.’

There were louder rumbles now. The mood was beginning to swing in my favour, and, seeing this, the advocate began another tack. ‘There is still the question of the knife.’ He produced it with a flourish. ‘Here it is. The town guards took it from him at the scene. Carrying a weapon is a capital offence, and so is his claim to be a Roman citizen, if that is proved untrue. As I understand the matter, that is in dispute. He has brought no proof of it, of any kind.’

There was only one possible response to that. ‘As to those charges,’ I replied, ‘I call upon my patron – His Excellence himself.’

I could not have caused more of a sensation if I had conjured up Jupiter in person. All eyes turned to Marcus, and even the soldier who had been guarding me allowed his sword to drop and swivelled round to stare.

Marcus cleared his throat and raised a hand. His face was mottled scarlet and I knew that he was raging inwardly, but he simply rose to his feet and said with dignity, ‘What the man says on both these points is true. He is a citizen, and one of my clients. He is accompanying me to Isca, where – despite his present woeful lack of
gravitas
– he is to be an honoured guest. It is also true that I presented him with that dining knife in appreciation for a service he once rendered me.’

The advocate was obviously nonplussed by this, but he did not give up. ‘Then what was he doing at that shop last night? Not once, but twice. He does not deny that he was there. And at the crucial time. He also had a knife, whether it is a legal one or not, and it is proved that he came back to the scene.’

Marcus ran a ringed hand through his tousled curls. ‘There is no blood on that knife that I can see,’ he said. ‘You prove he had the opportunity—’

‘And the means and motive – he took the treasure chest,’ the man insisted.

He had interrupted Marcus, and that was a mistake. Marcus looked at him coldly. ‘Do not attempt to give me lessons in the law. Mere opportunity is not sufficient proof – and the man has witnesses to say he had no blood or money on him afterwards. So, I will ask the question for the third and final time – Libertus, did you kill this man and steal his goods?’

The third time of asking was required in law, and I replied as firmly as I could, ‘I did not, Excellence.’

‘Then by the power invested in me by this court, I give my verdict. He appears not to have done it.’ That was the official formula, and I found myself grinning helplessly, even before he uttered the final words. ‘I’ve half a mind to fine him for improper dress – he has failed to wear his toga in a public place, which is an affront to his status and the name of Rome – but otherwise I find no fault in him. Let the prisoner go.’

There was a little stir which the herald quelled by shouting, in a high-pitched monotone, ‘And that concludes the business of this court.’

Marcus turned and led the way majestically through the basilica, down the steps and into the official litter awaiting him outside. The other magistrates and officials trailed out after him.

I took a deep breath. I was free to go.

The soldier who had been guarding me throughout all this now put his sword away. ‘Seems you are a lucky man,’ he said. ‘Now, do you want me to escort you out of here? Always a crush when someone’s been released.’ Without waiting for an answer he began to force a way back through the throng. ‘Stand aside, there. Let us through.’ The spectators reluctantly complied.

He was right about the crush. Now that the official party had departed and the spectacle was over, most people had lost all interest in the court and were simply anxious to get out themselves. There were a few people jostling at the door, to greet me as I passed with cheers or cries of ‘Shame’, but most did not give me a second glance. If anything, their attention had now turned to the gallery instead, where there was clearly some sort of altercation taking place. I was being borne along by the movement of the crowd and it was hard to see, but I managed to move sideways from the crush and get my back against a pillar for a moment so I could look up and glimpse what was happening overhead.

The disturbance seemed to be an argument between one of the young veiled women that I’d noticed earlier, and a skinny slave with acne who was waving a purse of coins in her face. He was shouting so loudly that I could hear his words, and so could all the others in the court.

‘You tell your mistress that she is a cheat. You can’t pay less because we lost the case. I don’t care what you think we agreed. Just wait until the next time you come to court. You’ll be sorry that you tried to cheat us then.’

I was wondering what all this was about when to my surprise the slave turned on his heel and bounded down the steps. He didn’t join the departing multitudes but walked the other way, to join the advocate and Lupus’s wife, who were still loitering beside the rostrum steps. When he reached the lean-faced man he bowed, handed him the purse and gestured fiercely to the women up above. I couldn’t hear now what was being said, but Lupus’s widow glanced at the gallery and I saw a look of fury cross her face. When I followed the direction of her gaze I got a shock myself.

The girl who had led the argument had now thrown back her veil and I realised that the group were not the modest maidens I’d imagined them to be. Nor were they a bunch of Christian matrons, come here to support Lupus’s wife because she was a member of their sect, which had been my other guess.