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Oracle of the Dead(72)

By:John Maddox Roberts


“I am sure that I can, providing all the legal forms were followed in the sale.”

I sighed. “Legality is about the last thing I expect to encounter in this Gordian knot of a case, but see what you can turn up.”

“I am at your service. Surely this is not all?”

“By no means. Would any records be kept around here concerning the priesthood of the Oracle? By this I mean names, the dates when each took office and left it, that sort of thing?”

“Naturally there should be records here at the sanctuary of Hecate. Have you looked for them?”

“I have. It seems there are no such records on the premises and the priesthood are not inclined to cooperate with me.”

“I see. If there are such records to be found, I will locate them.”

“Very good,” I commended. “If you can do these things for me, and do them as quickly as possible, I will be forever in your debt.”

“I shall do it at once, Praetor,” he said.

“No, stay here and finish your lunch. It will be two or three days before I am ready to make my presentation. Will that be sufficient time?”

“A day should be sufficient, Praetor. The matter of the slave’s sale should take little time. As for the priests, if such records are to be found at all, I should be able to turn them up quickly.”

“Excellent.” It was good to know that I could delegate a task to someone who knew his business and could be trusted to carry it out quickly and efficiently. I had often thought that it would be a good thing if the state could employ a permanent staff of such people to be at the disposal of the magistrates. Slaves could not be trusted to do the work. It would have to be done by free men, but who would pay them?

Shortly after the historian departed, Hermes rode in with the woman Floria, under heavy guard. She looked numbed with fright, not an uncommon thing in a powerless person who finds herself suddenly in the grip of the Roman legal system.

“I tried to tell her nothing is going to happen to her,” Hermes said, “but she wouldn’t believe me.”

“Come down, Floria,” I said. “You have nothing to fear. The guards are for your own protection. I just want you to repeat to a court what you told me.”

“I just have to talk?” she said in a weak voice.

“That is all. You’re free now, you can’t be tortured.”

“Of course she can’t be tortured!” Julia said, pushing me aside. “Come, my dear, you’re safe here. You will stay in our own quarters. Let me help you dismount.” Julia and one of her girls helped the woman down, and already she looked vastly relieved. Julia had that way with people. She could put a man about to be crucified at ease.

“Naturally there should be records here at the sanctuary of Hecate. Have you looked for them?”

“I have. It seems there are no such records on the premises and the priesthood are not inclined to cooperate with me.”

“I see. If there are such records to be found, I will locate them.”

“Very good,” I commended. “If you can do these things for me, and do them as quickly as possible, I will be forever in your debt.”

“I shall do it at once, Praetor,” he said.

“No, stay here and finish your lunch. It will be two or three days before I am ready to make my presentation. Will that be sufficient time?”

“A day should be sufficient, Praetor. The matter of the slave’s sale should take little time. As for the priests, if such records are to be found at all, I should be able to turn them up quickly.”

“Excellent.” It was good to know that I could delegate a task to someone who knew his business and could be trusted to carry it out quickly and efficiently. I had often thought that it would be a good thing if the state could employ a permanent staff of such people to be at the disposal of the magistrates. Slaves could not be trusted to do the work. It would have to be done by free men, but who would pay them?

Shortly after the historian departed, Hermes rode in with the woman Floria, under heavy guard. She looked numbed with fright, not an uncommon thing in a powerless person who finds herself suddenly in the grip of the Roman legal system.

“I tried to tell her nothing is going to happen to her,” Hermes said, “but she wouldn’t believe me.”

“Come down, Floria,” I said. “You have nothing to fear. The guards are for your own protection. I just want you to repeat to a court what you told me.”

“I just have to talk?” she said in a weak voice.

“That is all. You’re free now, you can’t be tortured.”

“Of course she can’t be tortured!” Julia said, pushing me aside. “Come, my dear, you’re safe here. You will stay in our own quarters. Let me help you dismount.” Julia and one of her girls helped the woman down, and already she looked vastly relieved. Julia had that way with people. She could put a man about to be crucified at ease.