‘I still accept!’ cried Staphylus, to an even bigger laugh. ‘I accept it right now, in front of all these witnesses.’
Flaccus glanced up at him with a half-smile, then grew serious again. ‘To each of the following citizens of Rome who witnessed this document, I give and bequeath a one-time legacy of 20,000 sesterces from my estate.’
Flaccus glanced up at the chairman. ‘Here follows the names of the seven witnesses, signed and duly sealed:
‘Cn. Helvius Papillio, a decurion of Ostia
C. Julius Primus, centurion of the Legio X Fretensis
C. Messius Fabius, legionary of the Legio X Fretensis
M. Baebius Marcellus, legionary of the Legio X Fretensis
P. Valerius Annianus, legionary of the Legio X Fretensis
C. Artorius Mercator, cloth merchant of Ostia
C. Artorius Megabyzus, exotic animal importer of Rome.’
‘That explains where the other witnesses are,’ said Aristo. ‘One of them is up in Rome and the other four are obviously friends of his from the army. They probably haven’t yet heard of his death.’
‘Further legacies,’ announced Flaccus and the buzzing courtroom grew instantly silent. ‘To those men and women who have so transparently sought my favour – my so-called captators – I leave five sesterces each.’
‘That part’s the same as the earlier will,’ said Aristo with a grin.
‘Finally,’ Flaccus had to raise his voice to be heard above the laughter and catcalls of the crowd, ‘having discovered the true character and motives of my so-called friend Nonius Celer, I hereby leave him a piece of rope with which he may hang himself.’
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then pandemonium broke out among the crowd: cries and curses interspersed with laughter and shouts of triumph.
‘ORDER!’ bellowed Praeco. ‘THIS COURT WILL COME TO ORDER!’
‘SILENCE!’ cried Praeco the court herald, and his bronze staff rang out as he banged it sharply on the marble floor. ‘SILENCE AND ORDER!’
The chairman Gratus added his voice, too: ‘Order!’
When the courtroom was finally quiet again, Flaccus turned to Nonius, who had risen to his feet. The man’s colour had returned, his face was livid with rage.
‘It seems your patron passed judgement on you,’ said Flaccus, ‘as if from the grave.’
‘There is no way you can prove I murdered Dives,’ said Nonius, his good eye glaring. ‘Or that I killed Papillio or Mercator.’
‘I believe I can,’ said Flaccus. ‘Or rather, I believe this tablet can.’ He tossed the will to Nonius, who caught it with his left hand and scowled down at it. ‘How?’ said Nonius, looking up. ‘There’s nothing on this tablet that proves I murdered anybody.’
‘No, but the fact that you caught it with your left hand does,’ said Flaccus. ‘As my friend Flavia Gemina pointed out to me a moment ago, Mercator must have been killed by a blow from a left-handed man. Let me demonstrate.’ He turned and gestured to Aristo.
Aristo stood hesitantly and as Flaccus beckoned again, he came forward into the open space, a faintly puzzled expression on his face.
‘Mercator’s skull was crushed by a single blow here,’ said Flaccus, touching Aristo’s head above the right eyebrow. ‘Look how difficult it would be to do if you were right-handed, like most people.’ He made a fist and swung his right arm across his body in a clumsy blow. ‘Or even from behind. But our friend Nonius is not right-handed. He is left-handed. And look how easy it is if you are left-handed.’ Flaccus made his left hand into a fist and swung it at Aristo, stopping just before it made contact.
In the basilica the crowd gasped with delight and broke into spontaneous applause.
Flaccus sent Aristo back to the bench with a manly pat on the back. ‘Furthermore,’ he continued, ‘Papillio was stabbed by a gladius. But it was a clumsy wound. Why? Because the gladius is designed to be wielded by a right-handed soldier, not a left-handed man.’ He turned to the chairman and judges. ‘It appears,’ he said, ‘that Lucius Nonius Celer is a sinister man. In every sense of the word.’
The crowd roared enthusiastic approval of this witticism while the judges nodded and winked at each other.
But Flaccus was not smiling. ‘Celer.’ He looked around the crowd and waited for silence. Then he repeated the cognomen: ‘Celer. With his dying breath, Papillio uttered the word Celer. He wasn’t trying to say celeriter, “quickly”; rather, he was naming his murderer. That man!’ Here Flaccus swivelled dramatically and pointed at Nonius Celer. ‘That’s why you fainted when you saw that Papillio was still alive and speaking to Nubia. That’s why you tried to get her arrested and tortured, isn’t it? Admit it.’
Nonius glowered at Flaccus for a long moment.
Suddenly something fluttered from the sky and thumped softly at Nonius’s feet. He shrank back and a woman screamed. The lawyers on the prosecutors’ bench shuffled to the ends of their seat.
‘It’s a dead pigeon!’ cried someone.
Flavia looked up and saw Lupus gazing innocently heavenwards, as if to see from where a dead bird might have fallen.
‘It’s a bad omen,’ shrieked a woman.
‘The gods are angry with him!’ shouted someone else.
Flaccus shook his head. ‘How long, O Nonius, will you abuse our patience? How long? Come, sir. Admit your crime!’
Nonius looked down at the bird and then up at Flaccus. Finally he threw the tablet onto the marble floor.
‘Yes!’ cried Nonius. ‘I killed them! I killed them all!’
‘I killed Dives!’ cried Nonius. ‘I smothered that fat hypocrite with his own greasy pillow! He deserved to die!’
The court vigiles ran clanking towards Nonius, but Gratus waved them down with a command: ‘Guard him,’ he cried, ‘but let him have his say. I want to hear this.’
The vigiles stood to attention either side of Nonius, but he seemed oblivious of them.
‘That estate belongs to me!’ he cried. ‘My father died so that Dives could become rich.’
‘Why don’t you explain?’ said Flaccus. His dark hair had flopped over his forehead and his eyes were bright.
Nonius turned towards the chairman on his dais. ‘My father was the companion and tentmate of Gaius Artorius Dives. Brutus, as he was known in those days. Brutus the brute,’ said Nonius with a sneer, ‘not Dives the rich. They served together in the Tenth Legion, called Fretensis. They knew the temple in Jerusalem was filled with enough gold to pave the Via Ostiensis, and they were part of the very contingent sent to guard it. During their guard duty, the two of them hatched a plan. One of them would slip into the Temple and steal some small but valuable article. The other would keep watch. Artorius told me later that it was a bejewelled incense shovel he stole. It would never be missed. But it was solid gold and would make them both rich. Dives – or Brutus, I should say – quickly slipped this treasure into the neck of his tunic, then hurried outside again.
‘Within an hour or two, some of the Jewish rebels set fire to one of the porticos. Meanwhile, my father had been ordered down to the lower level, but Artorius was trapped twenty feet high on the burning portico. He saw my father down below and he tapped his chest, so that it made a metallic sound. “Lucius” he cried out to my father, “If you catch me, then I will make you my heir!”
‘As Artorius jumped, my father ran forward to receive him,’ said Nonius, ‘but the weight of Artorius’s body crushed him.’ He turned his tear-streaked face to the crowd and stretched out his hands. ‘Dives lived, but my father was killed. I should inherit. It should be me! The riches are mine. It’s not fair!’
Some of the spectators applauded but most were booing and a rotten lettuce narrowly missed Nonius and fell to the ground near the dead pigeon.
On his podium Gratus rose to his feet and gestured for silence.
‘It is nearly noon,’ he said, ‘and time to adjourn this court. However, I believe we have heard enough. The judges will now vote on whether this w
oman is guilty or not.’
‘How can he call for a vote?’ whispered Flavia to Flaccus as he resumed his seat on the bench. ‘Nonius just confessed to triple murder!’
Flaccus’s jaw clenched. ‘This hearing is not to pass judgement on Nonius, but on Hephzibah.’
‘But they must vote not guilty!’ cried Flavia.
‘Dum spiro, spero,’ quoted Lynceus. ‘While I breathe, I hope.’
And Flaccus muttered. ‘If they don’t acquit her, I swear I will lose my faith in the Roman legal system.’
Flavia watched a court official pass out small tablets to the thirty judges sitting on their tiered marble benches.
‘What are those?’ Nubia asked Flavia.
‘I’m not sure.’ Flavia looked at Aristo.
‘Those are voting tablets,’ he said, and when Nubia frowned: ‘Small wooden tablets with wax on each side. The letter A for absolvo – I set free – is inscribed on one side. On the other is a capital C for condemno – I find guilty. Each judge rubs out the letter he does not agree with, leaving the letter for the judgement he wants.’
Without conferring and in absolute silence, the thirty judges rubbed their tablets, then stood and filed past an urn. Each dropped his tablet into this urn. They all resumed their seats while a clerk tipped out the contents of the urn.
A deafening babble filled the basilica as two clerks checked and double-checked the vote. But an immediate hush fell as one clerk finally ran up to the podium and handed Gratus a scrap of papyrus.
The chairman stood and Praeco banged his staff. There was no need, for the basilica was now utterly silent.
‘Stand to receive your sentence, Hephzibah bat David,’ pronounced Gratus. Then he looked at her. ‘You have been found not guilty by a unanimous vote. You are hereby absolved of all charges. This court also recognises you as a Junian Latin, henceforth to be known as Artoria Hephzibah. Let no person say that Roman justice is not blind to race or background: you may claim your legacy.’
‘ARTORIA HEPHZIBAH IS ACQUITTED!’ pronounced Praeco as the basilica erupted into cheers of joy.
‘Finis coronat opus!’ Lynceus clapped his hands gleefully. ‘The ending crowns the work.’
‘ORDER! ORDER!’ cried the herald. ‘THE CHAIRMAN HAS NOT FINISHED SPEAKING.’
The crowd grew quieter, though a low buzz continued.
‘Lucius Nonius Celer,’ said Gratus, ‘you have confessed to premeditated murder in the presence of nearly a thousand witnesses. But unless a Roman citizen brings suit against you, I have no choice but to let you leave this basilica. Does any man here want to summon Celer to court? If so, the case must be heard in Rome.’
Several men ran to the base of the podium and waved wax tablets, with their formulas already sketched out.
‘What have they got to gain by taking him to court?’ Aristo asked Flaccus.
‘Justice, of course,’ said Flaccus, over his shoulder. ‘It’s not always about money.’
As the gongs began to clang noon, Aristo patted Flaccus on the back. ‘Come on, friend,’ he said. ‘Let’s get Hephzibah and Miriam back to Green Fountain Street. We all have some celebrating to do!’
Flaccus nodded and turned to Flavia, smiling. He was tousled and handsome and as he took a step towards her, she wondered if he was going to kiss her again.
But she never found out.
His smile had turned to surprise, for he was rising up into the air.
‘Flaccus! Flaccus!’ shouted the crowd.
Laughing, he twisted and tried to look back at them, but in a moment he was gone from sight, borne aloft on the shoulders of his adoring fans.
‘The biggest mistake that Dives made,’ said Flaccus later that afternoon, ‘was trying to keep his latest change of will secret.’
They were all back at Flavia’s house, drinking hot spiced wine in the triclinium. The children sat at the marble table with Hephzibah, while Mordecai, Aristo and Flaccus reclined on the dining couches. Lynceus stood discretely at the foot of his master’s couch.
‘And the biggest mistake Nonius made,’ said Aristo, ‘was assuming he knew what the new will said, and not bothering to find out.’
‘I wish I’d been there this morning,’ said a man’s voice from the doorway.
‘Pliny!’ cried Flavia, and jumped up to greet him. Her father was still at his patron’s house, so she was acting as hostess.
‘I understand celebrations are in order,’ said Pliny, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Flavia saw Caudex disappearing into the kitchen with a small barrel under one arm and an amphora under the other. ‘I’ve brought chilled oysters and mulsum.’
Flavia clapped her hands. ‘Alma!’ she called towards the kitchen. ‘Warm up Pliny’s mulsum and serve it in our best silver goblets. Caudex, bring in the oysters as soon as you’ve opened them.’ She turned to Pliny. ‘Come in, Gaius Plinius Secundus,’ she said, ‘sit beside Flaccus in the place of honour.’
Pliny’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘I would be delighted to recline beside the great orator Gaius Valerius Flaccus,’ he said, ‘but I would not claim one iota of his honour,’ he said.
Flaccus laughed and grasped Pliny’s outstretched hand.
‘Do you know each other?’ asked Flavia.
‘Only by sight,’ said Pliny.
‘And reputation,’ said Flaccus. ‘I’m a year older than you, but I fear you’re going to overtake me on the ladder of honours.’
‘After today that won’t be true,’ said Pliny, stretching himself out on the couch. ‘I hear you won a famous victory.’
Flaccus inclined his head modestly but Flavia noticed the tips of his ears were pink with pleasure.
‘Tell me what happened,’ said Pliny.
As Alma handed round silver goblets of steaming mulsum and Lynceus helped Caudex serve the oysters, they all took it in turns to recount the events of the morning.
‘Fascinating,’ said Pliny, at last. ‘Fascinating.’ He tossed an oyster shell onto the floor. Under the dining couches the dogs sighed deeply and stayed put; they knew oyster shells were not edible.
‘What I still don’t understand,’ mused Aristo, ‘is how Nonius knew that Nubia’s manumission wasn’t legal.’
‘Bato must have told him,’ said Flavia.
‘But how did Nonius find out that Bato knew us?’ said Jonathan. ‘And so quickly?’
‘Presumably he just asked clerks at the basilica if any of them knew who you were,’ said Mordecai. ‘Most of them know Bato sailed with you last spring.’
‘Marcus Artorius Bato the lying weasel?’ said Alma, as she topped up their goblets with mulsum.
‘Yes!’ said Flavia. ‘Do your fountain-women have anything to say about him?’
‘Indeed they do,’ chuckled Alma. ‘They say Nonius bribed Bato with the gift of a fine new townhouse on this very street. The lying weasel took possession of it yesterday afternoon.’
‘That explains why he betrayed us,’ said Jonathan.
‘Traitor!’ muttered Flavia.
Lupus nodded and angrily threw an empty oyster shell onto the floor.
Pliny sipped his mulsum thoughtfully, then looked up at Hephzibah, who sat at the table between Flavia and Nubia. ‘If Dives had openly freed you,’ he said, ‘and let people know the contents of his new will, this never would have happened.’
Flaccus nodded. ‘But Dives enjoyed the attention and gifts of legacy-hunters too much. He didn’t want to discourage them.’
‘That’s right,’ said Aristo. ‘That was his fatal mistake.’
‘But thanks to Flaccus,’ said Flavia, ‘Hephzibah will always be wealthy.’
Nubia gave Hephzibah a shy smile. ‘I think Dives was loving you very much.’
‘I believe it was guilt rather than love that motivated Dives,’ said Mordecai. ‘All his wealth came from an object stolen from the Temple of the Eternal One. By giving to you and the synagogue and his Jewish bailiff, he was returning what was rightfully ours. He was atoning for his
sin.’
‘I think it was a bit of both,’ said Flavia, nodding wisely.
‘We shall never know.’ Flaccus cheerfully swallowed an oyster.
‘Tell us, Pliny,’ said Aristo. ‘What brings you back from Rome? I thought you had urgent business there.’
Pliny looked round at them, then dropped his head. ‘I was a coward,’ he said. ‘I heard that Quintilian was arguing for the prosecution, and I was afraid to go up against him. It is to my eternal shame.’ He looked up at Flaccus. ‘Do you know that he sought me out in Rome yesterday and said he had seen a promising young lawyer pleading a most fascinating case in Ostia’s basilica.’
‘Oh,’ groaned Flaccus. ‘I was terrible yesterday. I made all the mistakes of a tiro.’
‘But you were brilliant today,’ said Flavia. ‘And guess what? Quintilian was there! He was up in the gallery watching you.’
‘Was he?’
‘It’s true,’ said Jonathan. ‘I was standing right next to him. He kept saying things like “well done” and “brilliant”.’
‘Did he really?’ Flaccus’s ears grew pink again.
‘I wish I’d seen you in action,’ said Pliny. ‘I must confess, I’m sick with jealousy. But I shall do the noble thing. If you like, I will introduce you to him.’
‘To Quintilian?’ said Flaccus, choking on a sip of mulsum.
‘To Marcus Fabius Quintilian himself. I’ll even suggest he take you on as an assistant.’
‘Would you really put in a word for me?’ said Flaccus. ‘To study with such a master . . .’
‘Of course I will. And I insist that you come back with me this evening and spend the night at my Laurentine villa and tell me all about yourself. If your hosts don’t mind,’ he added.
‘I mind,’ said Flavia. Then she sighed and smiled at Flaccus, ‘But I give you permission to depart.’
‘Thank you, Flavia,’ said Flaccus with a heart-stopping smile. He turned to Lynceus. ‘Pack our things?’
Lynceus nodded and disappeared upstairs.
‘Tell me, Artoria Hephzibah,’ said Pliny, ‘What will you do with your new-found wealth?’
‘I hope to buy your Laurentum Lodge,’ she said softly.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 197