by Assaph Mehr
“Are you prepared for your testimony?” She asked. “Do you need to review your notes?”
“There is nothing in them I don’t already know by heart,” I smiled at her. “According to the gossips here, Aquilius is doing a remarkable job. With anyone but Cicero for the defence, our victory would have been assured. We must trust in our preparation and in the gods.”
“Humph.”
The way she looked at me, though, gave me the distinct impression she was asking something else, something I didn’t quite answer. By her body language, she was keen to sit down next to me, but was wary of how that might be seen by the crowds observing the trial.
“Well, just make sure you groan and limp on that leg of yours when you go up. I want Numicius to pay for what he did to you. And to Lucius Valerius, of course.”
She was gone before I could respond, which was just as Aemilia came back with the snacks and wine.
Chapter XXXIX
The next testimony was mine.
I climbed the few steps to the dais with visible difficulty, leaning on a walking stick and stumbling. Aquilius was swift to come to my aid. I sat down on the witness bench with a groan and adjusted my casted leg with both hands into position. Only after straightening my toga did I turn to the judge with an expectant look.
At a wave of his hand, I began. Readers of my memoirs up to this point are already familiar with the facts of the case — I filled the previous two scrolls with them. I had, as per the discussions with Aquilius and Valerius, focused my testimony on two aspects: the vileness of the deeds, and the links to Numicius.
“I shall tell you, dear jury, that Aburius before me has done a disservice to his employer, the virtuous Valerius. Out of respect to your august selves, out of respect to the positions of leadership you hold for our city, he perhaps thought to spare you from the vivid descriptions of the consequences of Numicius’ nauseating enterprise. With his grubby, grabbing greed, the accused had brought death and destruction to many Egretian citizens. I shall describe to you the atrocious, heinous horrors this man has committed inside the sacred city limits, so you can appreciate the gravity of his crimes.”
I proceeded to do just that. I recounted all my encounters with the various neighbours and denizens, described in gory details the stories of the survivors and the remains of those left dead behind. Riling the jury up with horrid tales of atrocities would motivate them to condemn any man before them to appease the public, rather than sink into fiscally-motivated doubts. When I reached the part about the babe’s half-eaten corpse, Cornelia swooned loudly and theatrically, with Aemilia fussing and wailing, all catching the jury’s attention. Whether real or acted, it provided an emotional underscore to my testimony.
The next part of my speech was about the curse tablets. “It may seem, at this point, as the counsel for the defence has alluded, that the gods have shown their displeasure of Valerius. And yet I maintain the esteemed Cicero has done a disservice to the man in whose defence he speaks, and to his profession, by omitting to question the previous witness. For someone whose very name is synonymous with courtroom oratory, and, indeed, from his consular days, with defence of our republic, I can only assume that he is aware of Numicius’ guilt, and, being true to himself, cannot stomach his acquittal.” I caught Aquilius’ eye at that point and saw him exhale and smile as he realised where my improvisation was going.
“What I am about to show you, O brave Egretian citizens, will shock and dismay you! Cicero, a pious man, cannot imagine such vileness would come from anywhere but divine retribution. But that is not the case before you today. Today we are dealing with the atrocities of depraved men. For who but the most depraved, the most perverted, the most deviant of degenerates, would use potent magia to power such corrupt tabulae defixiones as these!” With this I withdrew one of curse tablets from the sinus of my toga and waved it emphatically.
It had the desired effect.
There were gasps from the crowds and uncomfortable shifting from judge and jury who did not appreciate being in proximity to such an item of evil purpose. I went on to expound on the power of real curse tablets, as opposed to the garden-variety ones. I built up the case of how all the effects and horrors previously described appeared in the symbols etched and scratched into the lead. I made it clear this was all the work of one man, aimed at mimicking godly displeasure, and committing sacrilege. Aemilia’s research notes had helped me here, her literary allusions aiding me in building up the case in a way even laymen could understand. As I talked, I waved the tablet around, hypnotising the watchers who could not stop staring at it, however much they wanted to avert their gaze.
Finally, I settled back into my chair and put the tabula away. I let the crowds murmur, and release their pent-up emotions before continuing. The sight of Araxus sitting next to Valdrius and Statilius — looking like another greybeard — gave me pause. I could not hear what they were saying, but all were nodding heads in agreement with each other, which I took as a good sign. Any good feelings I might have had were mitigated by Numicius, who, from his bench at the other side of the dais, stared at me with unadulterated hatred.
Time for the last part of my testimony — implicating Ambustus and Numicius. “Tracking the one who crafted the curses was no mean feat. These people, and those who support them, know full well what they are doing does not belong within the sacred perimeter of the city, or in civilised society. They cling to the shadows, make their deals in dank alleys and windowless rooms. They walk amongst the underbelly of our noble society, with the criminal element, hidden from upright and innocent citizens, hidden even from the aediles and rhones administering our city.” I stuck to Aquilius script with those words, trusting to his better judgement about influencing juries.
“And yet, like all animals, they leave tracks for those who know where and how to look. At great personal risk — and at great personal cost, as my broken leg here testifies — I braved these pests of the state, these vermin that skitter underfoot, to find the most corrupt and evil of men, who would carry out such heinous crimes. Like a fox that hunts the weasel, I found all those who, unwittingly or not, have aided in the creation of the curse tablets. And all pointed at one man — one man so vile, that the gods had already punished him once with a monstrous visage. The man with half his face burned in divine retribution for his impious acts, his affronts to our sacred mos maiorum, the man named Gaius Hirtuleius Ambustus.”
With the preliminary character assassination out of the way, I could then move on to show how I linked the man to the curse tablets. I listed all those who have identified him to me, from the lead merchant to the guards and neighbours at the insulae. “One would assume, but would be wrong, that this skulduggery is carried out at the dark of night, hidden from sight. No! The man, the loathsome toad, confessed it all to me in glee. Over a cup of wine, as though in civilised discussions, the man intimated the most horrific of crimes. He would bribe a mere babe with sweets, get them to bury the tabulae for him at the central courtyard of the insulae, and thus seal their own fates, and the fate of their beloved families. He kept visiting the buildings, observing the effects of his deplorable curses, claiming himself a philosopher advancing the study of magia, but, in reality, deriving sickening pleasure in the misfortune of his victims. All this he was proud to admit.”
Now Aemilia’s research helped me again. Not only in the references she found, but also, in forcing me to explain it to her, I found the words to use in my testimony. “And, if some of you be naive and consider his boasting the act of a charlatan, taking credit for skills and acts far beyond his ken, know you this. Studying the art of incantation is no different to learning the arts of the muses. As one studies, grows in understanding, perfects his techniques, one acquires a signature, just like on a signet ring. Each incantation has the mark of the incantator who effected it, just as surely as each picture has the brush stroke of the painter, each sculpture the chisel marks of t
he sculptor.
“I analysed the curse tablets for such marks. Later, in circumstances I shall relate shortly, in which I, a free Egretian citizen, was unlawfully imprisoned by the defendant and an attempt made on my life, I had the displeasure to examine Ambustus in action. I witnessed him perform his craft — his art — I heard him speak again of himself as a philosopher advancing our understanding of the numina and their magia, while performing horrendous, proscribed incantations. There is a good reason why our revered ancestors declared it nefastum scientiam, forbidden knowledge. Ambustus used the powers of the gods that permeate our world to meddle with the very boundary between this world and the next. He was using his incantations to decay living tissue unto death, and then infuse that dead matter back with life. Sacrilege of the highest order, an execrable deed by a deranged man. And yet, in his actions he sealed his own fate. Not only did it confirm the incantator’s signature embedded in the tabulae defixiones was his own, the gods had also chosen me at that moment to deliver their divine retribution.”
Giving testimony was parching work. Normally, when I did that much talking, wine was involved in sufficient quantities to lubricate throats. While I was recomposing myself and preparing to launch into the conclusion of my testimony, I glimpsed the watching crowd. Both Cornelia and Aemilia looked at me with mixed emotions. Fleeting glimpses of distress at hearing again about the crimes, concerns for each other’s safety — my safety too, I presumed — and approval of my delivery of the testimony — all these I recognised, as well as other, unfathomable, female emotions.
Valdrius and Statilius were more straightforward in their commentary on my testimony. Their gasps, groans, and exclamations at the right points of my speech were sure indicators that I was delivering an emotional and effective oration. Araxus was with them, and though I have not been able to read him for many years since he brought on himself the curse that afflicted his mind and changed him physically, I felt he was goading them on my behalf. A public outcry is known to affect the jury’s disposition.
“All this is well and good,” I continued, “and even the esteemed Cicero, counsel for the defence, dares not deny the horrid nature of the crimes. So, allow me now to get to the crux of the matter, of why Numicius is sitting here before you, wearing a moth-eaten toga, as though this prosecution is a great wrong, when all know of his fabulous riches acquired through unscrupulous acts. And this, this atrocity, this abominable act, this transgression against the laws of both men and gods, are just the peak of his depravity, his sacrilege in the name of greed.”
I went on to describe Ambustus’ confirmation to me that he was acting on commission by Numicius his patron, that all his acts were done with full knowledge and upon instruction from him. I went on to describe how I approached Numicius, and while I glossed over the finer details of attempted entrapment — those did not concern the jury — I was explicit in repeatedly stressing the close relationship of the two men.
For the finale, I told of my imprisonment of Numicius’ ship and the attempt on my life. In our society, the punishment for severe crimes was execution or exile. The carcer Tullianum, the one public prison, barely had doors or guards and was used for detention of debtors sold into bondage or wayward politicians during trying times. To deprive a citizen of his freedom to move about was anathema to our republican society — a thing for kings, not for a republic of free men. To kidnap and assault a man was a crime, albeit hardly as serious as using forbidden magics to cause deaths and mayhem within city limits. It gave me the opportunity to vilify Numicius even more, complain and moan about my broken leg at his hands, and the damage to my property — namely Borax.
I was careful with this, though. I had to be. I was testifying under formal auspices at a trial and would be swearing upon my deposition at its conclusion. These things have a meaning, both in earthly and divine records. Stretching the truth was expected, and, outside of consecrated proceedings, truth had an even more fluid nature, but doing so under oath was borderline blasphemy. My existing record with Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus was already dubious and I didn’t want to give the judges of the dead another excuse to send me to Tartarus.
“Ambustus had intimated to me that he was acting on behalf of Numicius when he crafted those curse tablets and activated them with puissant magia to doom the inhabitants of the insulae. Yet, I wanted to get the measure of the man himself. By all accounts, Numicius was ruthless in business, relentless in the Senate, remorseless in all his dealings with fellow men. When he had his slave break my leg, he all but admitted aloud his involvement in the nefarious plan to rob Valerius of his rightful property. He may present a persona of piety, wishing a public perception of a devoted son honouring the memory of his mother, but it is my sworn testimony here that in all my observations of the man and his actions, he is the mastermind behind all of Ambustus’ misdeeds. He is naught but a common lawless landlord, a greedy ghoul who would sentence innocents to death even while praying to the Bona Dea to preserve his mother, who surely never wanted such a son!”
This was met with a grating, scraping noise, as Numicius jumped to his feet so forcefully his stool scratched the wooden dais. His face was red, and he was sputtering incoherently. Cicero was quick to rise and restrain Numicius, aided by some of their scribes. I finally managed to get a public outburst out of Numicius, but the shaking heads of Valdrius, Statilius, and Araxus seemed to say I had gone too far.
Chapter XL
When the judge managed to restore order, it was Cicero’s turn to cross-examine me. I knew what was about to happen, so I composed myself and put on a calm smile.
"We have just heard, O noble jury, the sworn testimony of the defence’s star witness. A man, by his own admission, who digs amongst the dregs of society. Calls himself a fox, but I ask you would not ferret -- weasel -- be a better term? What need has Aquilius of his assistance? Why, I hear you ask, has Valerius not resisted his enemies with his own resources? Why call upon that ferret, Felix?
"Could it be because he was in so wholly desperate a condition as to consider himself not only safer if he had that man for a protector, and more ready for the struggle if he had him for an advocate? Why is he anxious to lean on the counsel or protection of that piece of comatose cattle, of that bit of foetid flesh? Why does he seek for any support or ornament for himself from that contemptible carcass?"
So far, so good. I held my smile.
Cicero continued.
"This is a case not about personal damages, or property damages, or of anything but mere political vindictiveness. Valerius, upon being defeated in fair and open proceedings of the Senate, sought to blame the divine retribution he had brought upon himself on this, his honourable senatorial opponent. For that he dredged this witness before us, as if an expert. But I ask you, from whence did Aquilius bring him here? He dragged him out of some dark and dirty cook-shop, this saltatrix tonsa of his, to testify against a righteous senator of the Egretian people."
I gritted my teeth and clenched my hand around my walking staff. I’ve been called worse things, but not often. To call a man a shaved dancing girl, to impeach his masculinity like that in open speech, is not a light offence against one’s dignitas.
In the perfect timing he was renowned for, Cicero both avoided the judge’s impatience and capitalised on my upset. “So, let me ask you now, Fox, as you claim expertise in matters of foul curses, where did you gain such knowledge? Are you, perhaps, a qualified incantator, a graduate of our noble Collegium Incantatorum?”
He sure knew how to press where it hurt. “My expertise was learnt and gained twofold,” I answered. “First, in matters of investigations, I had apprenticed under the famous Gordius et Falconius, those two famed detectives whom you yourself have used on many occasions to bring successful suit in our courts. Were they here, they would vouch for my training, my skills, my integrity.” Stretching the truth, as I mentioned, was perfectly acceptable. “As for my education in the arts
of the magia and incantation, I was indeed a student at our Collegium. I know, I know — you are about to say I never completed my studies. True, I did not. My family fell on hard times, and I could no longer pay for the tuition. But the knowledge I acquired in my years there served me well and I can tell the theory and practice of curses.”
“And so, we have here,” Cicero turned to the jury, “a man with dubious understanding of the magia, running errands for two of our esteemed investigators yet claiming to be their equal. A man who, by his own admission, was down on his luck and on his funds, spending his days dealing with foul knowledge amongst the dregs of society, pursuing nefastum scientiam. A fine witness indeed.”
He turned back to me. “Let us move on then, to the details of your testimony. You professed before us that, following clues given to you by nameless, dubious, odious dealers in occult supplies, you have, in your mind, identified Ambustus as the originator of the tabulae defixiones, the incantator responsible for this deleterious delinquency. Even should our fine jury choose to accept such flimsy logic and accusations, you claimed Ambustus confessed to you both his crime and his commission by Numicius. Tell us, please, how you came to extract such a confession by a man who, in your later testimony, you also claimed was so devout to his patron he would take no action without his sanction. How did you trick him to confess and confide in you?”
The bastard. My options: one, emphasise I got Ambustus drunk, thus diminishing the credibility of any confession. Two, hint at his dissatisfaction with Numicius, thus diminishing the bond between them, which was crucial for Aquilius’ condemnation of the patron.
The rule of thumb for a professional witness is: When in doubt stick to the facts and keep things simple. The more you talk, the more material the opposing counsel has to confuse the testimony and lessen the judge and jury’s trust in you. “I tracked Ambustus down, as you noted, by the methods taught to me by those investigators you esteem. One need not be concerned about the dirt on the hand that points the way, when the milestone clearly announces it as the right road. Over a simple glass of wine, the man admitted, nay, took pride, in the way he crafted those tablets to achieve his patron’s bidding.”