Julia sat behind the dais, accompanied by Antonia and Circe and their whole gaggle of handmaids and pages. At the foot of the dais to my right Tiro and Gelon huddled with Cicero and his brother, getting some last-minute coaching. To my left, Vibianus stood with a group of men, doubtless some of the town's leading legal minds.
We began with the ritualistic denunciations, in which Tiro and Vibianus execrated each other and their respective clients, accusing them of all manner of crime and degeneracy. This is a traditional practice using many stock phrases and is so familiar that I will not bother setting down the vituperative details. Once this was over, the serious part of the trial began. The lots were cast and Tiro got to speak first. Since there were no other cases to be heard that day, I dispensed with the water clock and allowed each advocate to speak as long as he liked, stipulating that the proceedings must be concluded by sundown.
Tiro came forward, his toga draped in the simple, ancestral fashion favored by Cicero. Tiro's posture and assurance of bodily address were so dignified that no one would have guessed that he had ever been a slave had he not freely admitted to that state.
"Citizens of Baiae," he began, "I am here before you to prevent a gross injustice from being done. Gelon, the newly bereaved son of the late
Gaeto of Numidia, has suffered grievously. In the first place, he lost the young woman to whom he was paying court." There were angry mutters from the crowd, but he bore on. "Yes, I know that many of you judged him to be unworthy to approach so highborn a lady, but on what grounds do you judge him? Because his father dealt in slaves? It is a legal business of great antiquity, else how could he practice it openly among you? And this young man has never worked in that trade. Indeed, his dearest wish is to return to Numidia and take up the life of a gentleman of that land." He wisely forebore to mention that this life was, by Roman standards, one of banditry.
"As you all know," he went on, "I have been a slave for most of my life, yet I find no fault in this young man. And, not only did he lose the maiden he loved but also now finds himself unjustly accused of her murder! There is no justification for this calumny! The only reason he finds himself suspect is the spite of Diocles, priest of Apollo. I sympathize with Diocles. Who would be so hardhearted as not to feel the grief of a father for a beautiful and blameless young daughter? But in his grief he has made an unjust accusation. His only cause for believing Gelon is the murderer is that he deemed the boy unworthy to approach his daughter.
"He forbade the girl to associate with Gelon, and he barred Gelon from the temple and its precincts. Gorgo, dutiful girl that she was, obeyed her father. Gelon persisted in his suit." Here Tiro gestured gracefully toward that imperiled young man. "And yet, can one expect otherwise of high-spirited youth? Since the earliest tales of the Greeks it has been acknowledged that the impetuous affections of youth are proof against the rancorous disapproval of parents.
"Behold him!" Here Tiro swept his hand up and down, indicating the totality of the boy's comely form. "Is he not as handsome as a god? Has he not the dress and bearing of a young prince? In the days of his freedom, did not all here see him riding in splendor upon his caparisoned steed, followed by his tribal guards, beautiful and noble as Alexander riding into Persepolis?"
He won applause for his eloquence. There were nods and even
shouts of agreement that the boy was indeed a fine sight, and how could one so comely be adjudged guilty? I have long noted that the prettier you are, the more likely you will be found innocent. There is something in us that wants to believe that ugliness signifies guilt and beauty is proof of innocence. Yet it has been my experience that lovely women and handsome men can be the foulest criminals. Nonetheless, it made an effective argument in court.
"To add to his sorrows," Tiro went on, "while under arrest, his own father was murdered! Attacked by an unknown assailant, while his son was unable to protect or avenge him, and only through the kindness of the praetor who held him in custody was he allowed to carry out the obsequies for his father. Is this justice?" Many seemed to agree that the boy had been done a bad turn.
"And it does not end there!" Tiro cried, trembling with lawyerly indignation. "While riding back toward the praetor's villa, the party was set upon by bandits, at the very gates of this city! The clear object of these desperadoes was the death of Gelon. Indeed, two of his loyal tribal guards died defending him! Are we to believe that this attack and the murder of the blameless Gorgo are unconnected?" Here there were growls of agreement. I glanced at the jury. They didn't seem greatly impressed.
"Those outlaws were set upon that party in which Gelon rode, and only the valor of Roman arms and the loyalty of the fierce Numidians saved him! Nor did Gelon seek to take advantage of the situation to escape. Mounted on his splendid horse, such a course was quite feasible. Yet he meekly submitted to the authority of the praetor, trusting that Roman justice would prove his innocence. Is this the act of a murderer?"
He went on in this vein for some time, extolling the virtues of his client, stressing his splendid appearance, that he just did not look like a guilty man. Even the impassive equites of the jury at last seemed to be swayed, perhaps more by the obvious wealth of the accused than by his appearance.
Tiro summed up with a few more oaths as to his client's innocence, then it was the prosecutor's turn.
Vibianus strode to the front of the dais and adjusted the elaborate draping of his toga with studied absentmindedness. "People of Baiae," he began in a splendid voice, "our esteemed Tiro, known to you all for many years, has done well by his client, as any lawyer should. He has pointed out to you the boy's greatest asset, which is his fine figure." Here he paused and flicked some imaginary dust from his toga. "Well, I have a very handsome horse. Nonetheless, it has kicked me more than once." This got him a good laugh.
"So let us dispense with these irrelevancies and examine the realities of the matter at hand, shall we?" Head high, he scanned the crowd in lordly fashion, seeking and finding approval. The man knew how to conduct a prosecution, I had to admit. I hoped the rest of his performance would not be as competent.
"First, I would like to eliminate from consideration the lurid incident of the bandit attack. By the way, in case you have not heard, those rogues have been exterminated, thanks to the swift action of the young horsemen of Sextus Pompeius!" Here the crowd cheered. I wanted to shout that I'd done for two of those bandits myself and my men and Gelon's had killed most of the others and that I'd sent for the turma myself and they'd only killed four. But it would have appeared churlish to say so, and I held my tongue.
"As for the motives of the bandits," he went on, "what motive do bandits ever need save robbery? How were they to know that this was a well-armed band on that foggy day? The Numidians quite rightly placed themselves between their master and the attackers, some of whom most certainly assaulted the slaver's son. And why? Was it because they were hired to do away with him?" He paused and waited, looking around and timing his next line. "No! They went for him because he was riding the finest horse! The beast itself was a desirable prize and who would be riding such an animal save a man with a fat purse, one who would fetch a rich ransom!"
There were loud cries of agreement at this, and that it only stood to reason and why hadn't someone thought of this before?
"This man knows his business," Hermes muttered.
"Studied under a master, so they say," I commented.
"Why," Vibianus said when the hubbub died down, "would anyone go to such lengths to kill Gelon, a man destined for the cross already? If someone put those bandits up to their attack, might the intended victim not more likely be our esteemed praetor peregrinus?" He did not point at me in vulgar fashion but merely indicated me with a wave of his hand.
"Explain yourself," I said.
"Noble Praetor, you seem to us the most just and blameless of men, and who can deny your valor, when you took a personal part in the fighting despite your praetorian dignity? Yet yours is a very great family, one i
mportant in the public life of Rome for many generations. What family of such eminence lacks enemies? We all know very well that yours does not. Some years ago you personally investigated the death of the illustrious Metellus Celer, your kinsman, and did you find any lack of suspects with motive to slay him?"
He did not wait for an answer but whirled to face the crowd. "Citizens, these are perilous times in Rome, when lines are being drawn and sides taken. In such times great men always walk in danger, often only because of their family affiliation. A Caecilius Metellus like our praetor, scion of one of the most powerful senatorial families, has many such enemies. Thus I feel confident in dismissing that unfortunate attack from serious consideration as indication of some sort of criminal conspiracy toward the defendant. Let us look rather into the circumstances of the murder itself."
He made a gesture indicating an invitation to calm and rational discourse. "All know that Gelon was infatuated by the beauty of Gorgo. No one has claimed that she in any way encouxaged or acknowledged this attention. Her father disapproved in the strongest terms. As a good and dutiful daughter, she agreed that these unwelcome advances must not be allowed. Therefore, she went out on that fateful night to tell him that he must cease his futile courtship." He paused and surveyed his audience solemnly. "Citizens, it seems that the boy did not take this rejection calmly."
He straightened and readjusted his toga. "Now, in similar circumstances, you or I might take such news ill. In fact, I daresay many of us have been the recipients of just such unwelcome tidings, when we were young men courting ladies who perhaps did not share our youthful passion. How did we react? Certainly with chagrin. Perhaps with anger and harsh words. But with violence? Never! We behaved as gentlemen and as Romans. At least, I hope we did.
"But over there"-he leveled a beringed finger at Gelon-"you do not see a Roman or a gentleman. Look past those pretty features and you see a foreigner, a barbarian! Ignore his princely airs. For all his wealth and fine horses he is still just a primitive tribesman with no more concept of civilized behavior than a caged beast! He could ape the manners of his betters, but he is nothing but the son of a barbarian slaver! He could imitate the graces of a wellborn youth courting a lady of his own class, but when she rejected him, he behaved like the savage he truly is: with rage and the lust to punish and kill one who had insulted him!"
The crowd growled and shouted. My lictors pounded the butts of their fasces on the dais for order, but the crowd was in no mood to pay them any attention. I snapped my fingers and one of Julia's pages came forward with a lituus: a long, straight, bronze trumpet sharply curved at its sounding end, so called for its resemblance to the hooked augur's staff of the same name. It is the horn used for signaling in the cavalry. He placed its mouthpiece to his lips and winded a long blast. At the eerie, high-pitched note the crowd stilled. Then amid a clatter of hoofs, the glittering turma rode into the forum with the even more glittering Sublicius Pansa in the lead. They ranged themselves before the dais, facing outward.
"Praetor!" Vibianus cried. "This is not necessary! There is no danger."
For the first time I stood. "I intend to see that there will be no danger. I will have order in this court and I will enforce it. All spectators will keep their voices down." It was quite futile to demand that Italians of any sort keep entirely silent. "At the first call for violence or mob action, I will set these men on you. If you think that I speak idly, recall that I have carried through on everything that I have said during my stay among you and that I do not shrink from taking the strongest action." I gazed around and saw discontent but no open defiance. "Now, Vibianus, please continue, but I abjure you to refrain from inflammatory rhetoric."
He inclined his head. "As the praetor commands," he said coldly. He adjusted his toga again. "Now, where was I before the troops were called in? Oh, yes, the plain and evident guilt of young Gelon here. I have already demonstrated that he had the motive to murder Gorgo. I will now demonstrate that he had ample opportunity.
"On the night that Gorgo was murdered, many of the most distinguished men of this district, including the praetor, were attending a banquet held at the house of the duumvir Norbanus. Even the late Gaeto, the defendant's father, was there. Diocles, father of the victim, was in Cumae. The coast was clear, so to speak, for a meeting between the two; Gelon hoping to consummate his lust for the girl, Gorgo to forbid him her presence. Praetor, I wish to question the woman Jocasta, widow of the slaver Gaeto."
"Proceed," I said.
Jocasta came forward, dressed in a modest Greek gown and discreet jewelry. Today only her streaming hair was flamboyant. She took the usual oath and waited calmly. Her face was unreadable.
"Jocasta," Vibianus said, "on the night in question, where were
your
"In my town house in Baiae."
"And was your stepson there as well?"
"He was."
"He was there the whole night?"
"He was there early in the evening. We had dinner together. After that I retired to my bedroom."
"And did Gelon remain in the house after that?"
"I–I cannot say. I assumed so."
"Assumptions are of very little weight in a court of law," Vibianus said. "Can you testify that Gelon was there the entire night?"
"No. No, I cannot." This raised a murmur.
"In fact, my fellow citizens," Vibianus said, "you will find that nobody can testify to seeing Gelon that night. This woman says that she saw him early in the evening. He was not seen again until the praetor's men came to arrest him the next morning. Does no one besides me find it odd that this-this 'princely' young man was not out with friends that night? He had many, you know. Surely it is the rule that socially active men dine at the houses of friends, perhaps even carouse a bit among the manifold delights of Baiae. Does it seem likely that such a one would waste a fine evening having dinner with his stepmother, then retiring early? It certainly wasn't my practice at that age!"
He shook his head ruefully, as if baffled by the deceitfulness of mankind. "No, my friends, this barbarian youth had plans for that evening. Plans that required stealth, and darkness, and privacy. He intended to steal away to the grove of Apollo and meet Gorgo there. I do not say that he intended to commit murder there. But I can say with perfect confidence that murder was exactly what he did there."
With a flourish he dismissed Jocasta and summoned Diocles. The old priest stood there with a tragic face and spoke of the death of his blameless daughter, of how he had forbidden her to see Gelon, how she had agreed and promised to forbid the boy ever to see her again, how he returned home to find her murdered. The crowd showed great sympathy for the old man. Vibianus dismissed him with thanks and turned to me.
"Now, honored praetor, I wish to demonstrate the actions of poor Gorgo on that fatal night. Her personal handmaiden, Charmian, is dead and therefore unable to testify. However, there were two other slave girls with her that night, named Gaia and Leto. I understand that these are in your custody. I wish to summon them to testify."
I stiffened. "You wish to put them to torture?"
He seemed puzzled. "Is that not the custom? Surely I do not need to lecture a Roman praetor on Roman legal practice. The ordeal is quite mild, as such things go."
"I have confiscated these slaves as evidence in this case," I said.
"The girl called Charmian was beaten almost to death before she escaped from the temple. The other two are in poor condition and I will not have them put to the ordeal."
"You refuse to surrender them?" he said, eyebrows going up.
"I do."
"Praetor, I protest!" Vibianus cried. "From the very first day of this case, you have shown the most inexplicable bias in favor of the slaver's boy, the deepest hostility toward our priest Diocles. You have ignored the strongest evidence for Gelon's guilt. Instead of letting the city lock him up in the civic ergastulum, you have kept him in comfort, nay, in luxury, in your own house, as if he were your honored guest instead of
your prisoner! You interfered in Diocles' disciplining of his own household and confiscated his property in the form of two slave girls, Leto and Gaia, in defiance of Roman legal practice and custom. You have gone personally to question witnesses, seeking only exculpatory evidence, never the proof of Gelon's guilt. And now you refuse to surrender these two slave girls so that they may testify in a trial over which you preside! Praetor, we have grounds here for bringing charges of corruption against you in Rome!"
There was a collective gasp from the crowd. They didn't get entertainment like this every day. I heaved up from my curule chair, so enraged that I swayed from dizziness. "Have a care, lawyer! I'm of a mind to have you flogged from this court!"
"Roman citizens may not be scourged," he said haughtily.
"That Metellus Celer you mentioned had a reputation for doing just that," I replied. y
Tiro stepped in smoothly. "Praetor, please resume your chair. Your color is very bad. We'd hate to have you taken from us by apoplexy."
"Listen to him!" Julia hissed.
Slowly, glaring at Vibianus, I sat back down. "You've talked long enough, Vibianus. Tiro, proceed with your defense."
Vibianus retired to his corner with a triumphant smirk. Not only had he conducted a very competent prosecution argument but also had made me lose my temper and probably convinced most of those present that I was a corrupt, bribe-taking magistrate. Since these were a large majority of Roman judges, nobody needed much convincing. This was looking bad. Not just bad for Gelon, bad for me.
Tiro launched into another oration, giving me time to calm down. Wisely, he did not call Jocasta or any of the other witnesses. They had nothing to say that might help to clear Gelon. Instead, he attacked Vib-ianus's arguments as specious, denouncing each point with Ciceronian sarcasm. These arguments held little real weight, but Italians and Greeks have always prized eloquence above logic. He wound up with another round of vituperation.
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