The King's Gambit(69)

I think that, through the years of dictatorships and proscriptions and civil war, the Roman populace had acquired a faculty of mind or spirit that told them when a man was out of favor with the great men of the state, and they would turn on such a man like dogs upon a crippled member of the pack. It signified to me more than anything else how far down the path Romans had gone toward an Oriental slavery of the populace. My spirits have never been lower than they were on that long walk home from the Forum.

When I arrived at my home the light was dimming. I had not been attacked, a matter of some astonishment to me. Cato opened my door, wearing the scandalized look that had grown almost perpetual these past few days.

“Sir, this fellow arrived an hour ago. He insisted he’d wait here until you got home.”

I walked past Cato and found none other than Titus Milo lounging in my atrium, munching from a bag of parched nuts and peas. He flashed me his grin as I entered.

“Still alive, eh? Word is out on the street that anyone who comes to your defense proclaims himself an enemy of Claudius and his mob.”

“Word is out in higher quarters that anyone who socializes with me risks disfavor from our Consuls.”

“The hazards of power,” he said. “I have something for you.” He held out a scroll and I took it.

“Let’s go into my reading-room. Cato, bring lamps.”

When I had light, I opened the scroll. It was a certificate of manumission for one Sinistrus, a slave of H. Ager. The date was only a few days from the man’s purchase from the school of Statilius Taurus. The ceremony of manumission had been witnessed by the praetor Quintus Hortensius Hortalus.

“How did you get this?” I asked, excited despite my despondency.

“A small bribe to a slave in the Archives.”

“The archives in Baiae?” I asked.

“No, the big one here in Rome.” He grinned again, loving the role of the man with the answers.

“We’ve already established that I probably do not have long to live. I would like to hear the end of this before I die. If he was bought for a farm near Baiae, why was his manumission filed here in Rome?”

Milo sat and propped his feet on my desk. “It’s complicated, that’s why it took so long. Macro’s people in Baiae located the estate and questioned the manager. His name is Hostilius Ager and he’s in debt to Macro’s colleague in those parts—something about a tendency to bet on blue at the races—and so it wasn’t too difficult to get answers out of him.”

"And the content of these answers?” I asked.

“First, the farm is owned by the family of Claudius Pulcher. At present it forms a part of the dowry of Publius’s sister, Claudia, but Publius has the legal control of it until she marries.”

I felt a cold chill washing over me. “And what were the circumstances of this man’s purchase of Sinistrus?”

“Very simple. He came up to Rome to give his annual accounting to the master and was sent to the Statilian school to buy this Gallic brute. He says he was terrified that he might have to take the animal back to Baiae and find work for him, but instead he was told to wait in Rome for a few days more. One morning he took Sinistrus to a praetor and freed him and was on his way home the same afternoon.

“That was when the slave rebellion was at its height. It was difficult to free a slave, and it was absolutely forbidden to manumit a gladiator. Transferring ownership of Sinistrus took a special dispensation from a praetor, and his manumission took an extralegal act by a praetor. Knowing that, the rest was easy. Since the manumission ceremony took place in Rome, the record was in the Archives. And Macro didn’t have to think long to figure out who the crookedest praetor of that year was. I was sent to the Archives to look over manumission records from the praetorship of Hortalus. Since there were so few that year, I found it within an hour. Getting it out of the Archives cost four sesterces.”

“You shall be reimbursed,” I said. “Of course, Hortalus never thought to hide this.” I hefted the manumission record. “It was nothing; just a favor to the Claudians, helping them acquire a bullyboy in a year when that was difficult. He had no idea that Sinistrus would attract anyone’s attention.”

"Does it make your case any easier?” Milo asked.

Disgustedly, I tossed the thing on my table. “No. It’s just more evidence. I no longer think that any amount of evidence will allow me to prosecute the people responsible. But now I would just like to know!” I slapped the unoffending table, rattling the old bronze dagger. I stared at Milo. “I have to have that damned amulet. It must be the key to all this.”