A Point of Law(9)

“This is quite true,” I agreed. “We need to find out who this man is. We haven’t a great deal of time to do it in.”

She glanced at the slant of sunlight pouring through the triclinium door. “It’s not late yet. I think I’ll go pay Fulvia a call. She is still at the house of Clodius, I believe. She is so snubbed by women of quality that she’ll be eager to talk.”

“You be careful around that woman,” I told her. “Take along some of my clients, the ex-legionaries and brawlers.”

“A Caesar needs no bodyguard,” she said contemptuously. Julia always saw her status as Caesar’s niece as a sort of invisible armor protecting her wherever she went. I saw it more as an archer’s mark painted between her shoulder blades.


I ARRIVED AT MY FATHER’S HOUSE just as the sun was setting. Hermes was with me, and I had stopped by the houses of a few friends, men of high rank and good reputation, whose support I could count upon. There was already a goodly crowd outside the gate, servants, clients, and supporters of the important men already gathered within.

As I approached the gate a large litter arrived. It was Hortalus, who had grown too old, stout, and infirm to walk great distances. He was already dressed in his striped augur’s robe and carried the lituus: the crook-topped staff of that sacred office. With him was the eminent Appius Claudius Pulcher, a very distinguished soldier and administrator. He was standing for censor and was sure to be elected. This man was the elder brother of Clodius; but he was a man of entirely different character, and I had never had any but cordial relations with him.

Inside, a sizable chunk of Rome’s senatorial power was assembled. I qualify this because the real power was elsewhere, fighting Gauls and Parthians.

“Here’s Hortensius,” Metellus Scipio said, as we came in. “That was a good stab you got in today about the unspeakable year. Was it true?”

“Oh, yes,” Hortalus said. “I never lie about legal precedents. I wish that sort of opening came my way more often in court.”

“I’ve been wondering about that,” I said. “Aside from the fact that Fulvius steals the words of better men, where was he likely to have learned them?”

“Aulus Sulpicius Galba is the great scholar of the jurisprudence of that era,” said Hortalus. “He used to make all his students memorize the orations of Billienus.”

“Used to?” I said.

“He retired from Roman practice at least twenty years ago. We rarely see him here now. Last I heard he was teaching law in Baiae and has been elected duumvir of the town.”

“If I could be the most important man in Baiae,” I said, “I wouldn’t be in Rome either. Well, that much makes sense. Fulvius is from Baiae, so he must have studied law there under Galba.”

“Nobody here knows much about Fulvius,” Father said. “He’s been in the City only a few months at most.”

“Appius,” said Creticus, who held a huge goblet of wine, “not to dredge up any family scandals, but do you know anything about him? He is a relative of yours by marriage.”

“I never heard of him before today,” Appius Claudius said. “I had little to do with my brother his last few years and even less with his wife. This brother of hers never approached me for patronage and wouldn’t have got it if he had.”

I took a cup from a passing slave. The wine was, mercifully, not as heavily watered as Julia served it.

“Marcus Cato can’t be here tonight,” Scipio said, “but he’s agreed to begin tomorrow’s proceedings with an oration concerning conditions on Cyprus. He saw to the Roman annexation of the island, and he briefed Decius before he went out there. We’ve yet to locate any citizens who were there during Decius’s activities against the pirates, and we’re unlikely to anytime soon. We have, however, a great many important men ready to testify to his splendid character.”

“He’ll have more, swearing what an utter, degenerate criminal and pervert I am,” I pointed out.

“What’s more, his witnesses will be more believable,” Creticus said, raising a general laugh at my expense.

“Your aedileship was the most popular since Caesar’s,” Scipio pointed out. “The plebeians will be solidly behind you.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but virtually all my fines and prosecutions were leveled against crooked contractors, dishonest entrepreneurs, violators of the business and building codes, all of them equites. Guess who will be on the jury.”

“Equites, of course,” Father replied. “In Sulla’s day, a senator was tried before his peers.” I could have pointed out the injustice of that policy, but at that moment I was entirely in agreement with the bloody old butcher.