The Sacrilege(62)

“A pertinent point!” said one of the lawyers, unable to help himself. The distinction between honorable and dishonorable weapons was a strict one in Roman law. The glare Octavius gave the lawyer boded ill for the progress of the trial.

“What have you say for yourself, Publius Clodius?” the praetor demanded.

“I am a serving Roman official and cannot be charged with a criminal offense!” he said, gloating.

Octavius gestured with his baton toward a white-gowned figure seated near him. It was one of the Vestals.

“You realize,” he said, “that had one of you killed the other in this lady’s presence, the survivor would have been taken outside the walls to the execution ground and there flogged to death with rods. There are few capital offenses left on the tables, but that is one of them.”

“In that case,” I said, nodding to the lictors, “I wish to thank these fine citizens for preventing me from killing that loathsome and deranged reptile over there.”

“It is lucky for you,” Octavius said, “that you intruded upon a court for extortion. Had this been the court for crimes of violence, I might have had you charged, tried and judged on the spot.” He exaggerated. Actually, there was a good deal of oath-taking and posting of sureties before a trial could begin. “This is not the first time the two of you have been charged with public riot. You are a menace to the safety of all citizens.”

“I protest!” I cried. “I was just minding my own—”

“Silence!” Octavius barked. He raised his eyes and gazed out over the Forum. “Where is the Censor Metellus?” He gestured to a lictor. “There he is, over by Sulla’s monument. Fetch him.” The man ran off and a few minutes later returned with my father. I could tell by the way he was glaring at me that the lictor had been giving him a colorful account of recent events.

“Noble praetor, what is your wish?” Father said.

“Cut-Nose, I am going to charge your son with public riot and bearing arms within the pomerium. I am also going to check the law books and see if a charge of crime against Maiestas is appropriate. I would like to do the same for Publius Clodius, but there is some question whether his quaestorship protects him. Will you stand surety for Decius the Younger if I release him to you?”

“I will,” Father said.

“Then take him away. I will send to Pompey’s camp for Clodius’s elder brother, Appius. Perhaps if we can keep these two separated, we need not fear for the destruction of Rome and the sanctity of her courts.” He truly had a gift for sarcasm.

“I will see to it that my son arrives for trial on the appointed day. No Roman is above the law.”

“These two least of all,” Octavius said wryly.

The lictors released me and I stooped to pick up my weapons. The charge had been made, so it didn’t matter if I had them in my possession now. Clodius and I exchanged a final, mutual glare, and I turned to walk away with my father.

“You have always been an idiot,” my father began as we walked across the Forum, “but this surpasses your previous enormities by a wide margin. Whatever possessed you to try to murder Clodius in a Roman court under the nose of the senior praetor?”

“I thought I might never get another chance!” I said.

“You were specifically instructed to keep away from him.”

“I’ve done my best,” I protested. “He sought me out. He set a dozen men on me. I had to run and I had to fight.”

“Am I to take it, then, that the blood on your dagger is neither yours nor Clodius’s? I thought it best not to ask in front of the praetor.”

I shrugged, sending a dart of fire through my wounded shoulder. “Oh, there may be a body or two in the streets back there. Nobody who amounts to anything, just Clodius’s hired scum.”

“Good. I would hate to think I had raised a coward as well as a fool. How bad is that shoulder?”

“Kind of you to ask. It’s painful and bleeding freely. I think it will need stitching. I’ll go see Asklepiodes in the Trans-Tiber. He’s sewed me up before.”

“The question is, can I trust you to go there without getting into more trouble?” Of course, it never occurred to him to accompany me there.

“One fight a day is enough even for my glory-lusting spirit, Father.” We were out of the Forum by this time, and passersby ogled at my wild appearance.

“I think you should leave the city for a while,” Father said.

“But I just got back!”

“Rome can take only so much of your presence. A stint managing the estate at Beneventum might settle you a bit. The realities of farm work could only improve you.”