Julius glanced over to where Cato sat and found the heavy gaze fastened on him with interest. Bibilus was there at his side, as always, and Catalus. Julius saw that Suetonius was sitting with his father, with the same supercilious smile on each face. Their expressions would have marked them as kin even if he hadn’t known it already.
Julius looked away rather than show his anger after the revelations from Cornelia. Cato’s supporters would learn to fear in time, as he removed the pillars of their influence, one by one.
Quintus patted Julius’s shoulder and sat down with the other jurists. The crowd shuffled and whispered as they sensed the trial was about to start. Julius glanced again at the shields, checking that the drapes hadn’t slipped to reveal even a part of them.
The praetor stood slowly, his hands smoothing the folds of his toga. With a motion, he ordered the torches snuffed and everyone present waited as each light was covered, leaving the gray dawn to light the forum.
“This august court is convened on the ninety-fourth day of the consular year. Let the records be marked. I charge all present in the sight of the gods that they shall speak only truth here, under penalty of banishment. If any man declares falsehood in this court, he will be denied fire, salt, and water and sent far from this city, never to return, in accordance with the edicts.”
The praetor paused, turning to catch the eye of first Antonidus, then Julius. Both men dipped their heads to show understanding, and he continued, his voice a sharp ring across the silent rows.
“In this case of rei vindicatio, who is the plaintiff?”
Antonidus stepped forward onto the floor of the court. “I am, sir. General Antonidus Severus Sertorius. I claim wrongful possession of my property.”
“And who will speak on your behalf?”
“Rufius Sulpicius is my advocate,” Antonidus replied. His words created a buzz of excitement in the crowd, causing the praetor to look sternly at them.
“Step forward the defendant,” he said loudly.
Julius stepped off the platform that held the shields, and faced Antonidus across the floor.
“I am Gaius Julius Caesar, the defendant before this court. I claim possession of the property. I speak for myself.”
“Have you brought a part of it for the symbol?”
“I have, your honor,” Julius replied. He turned to the row of draped cloths and deftly twitched one away, revealing the first bronze shield to the court. A gasp went up from the crowd and a pleased whispering commenced.
The shield was all Julius had hoped. Alexandria had given everything to its creation, fully aware that in front of the court and Senate, she could make her name in a single day.
The shield was ringed in bronze beading, but all eyes were fixed on the face and shoulders of the main figure of Marius, a life-size relief that glared out at those assembled. The whispering went on and on and then a cheer started in the crowd as they tried to show their approval for the dead general.
Antonidus spoke in fierce conversation with his advocate, and the man cleared his throat for the attention of the magistrates. The noise from the crowd was too much for the praetor, and he sent a flat hand signal to the centurion of the court guards. As one, the soldiers crashed the butts of their staffs into the paving and the crowd settled, wary of attack. Rufius stood forward, a bony vulture of a man dressed in a dark robe. He pointed with a sneer at the shield.
“Honorable Praetor. My client insists that this . . . item was not part of the house in dispute. It cannot qualify as the symbol unless it was part of the property.”
“I know the law, Rufius. Do not presume to lecture me,” the praetor replied stiffly. He turned his head to Julius. “Can you answer?”
“It is true that while Antonidus was in unlawful possession of the house of Marius, no such shield hung on the walls, but it was hanging this morning and will do as well as anything as the symbol of disputed ownership. I can produce witnesses to attest this,” Julius said smoothly.
The praetor nodded. “That will not be necessary, Caesar. I accept your point. The shield will be used.”
He frowned as a fresh cheer came from the crowd around them, and almost raised his hand for another signal to the guards. At this, the people fell silent, knowing better than to push his patience too far.
“Plaintiff and defendant, approach the symbol and complete the rite of dispute,” he said loudly.
Antonidus crossed the court floor, a slender spear held in his hand. Julius stepped up onto the platform with him, keeping his face blank of any triumph that would offend the magistrates. Julius touched his spear to the shield with a tiny ring of metal, then stood back. Antonidus brought his own point down and his mouth tightened as someone in the crowd jeered the act. Then he turned his back on Julius and walked back to his station by Rufius, who stood with his arms folded, relaxed and untroubled by the exchange.
“The property has been marked for dispute. The trial may now begin,” the praetor intoned, settling himself in his seat for comfort. His part of the proceedings was now over until the time came to dismiss the court. The three magistrates stood and bowed to him before one of them cleared his throat.
“As plaintiff, your advocate must speak first,” the magistrate said to Antonidus. Rufius bowed to him and took three steps out into the floor to better command the space.
“Praetor, Magistrates, Senators,” he began. “This is a simple case, though the penalties incurred involve the extremes of our law. Five weeks ago, the defendant brought armed men into the city for the purpose of violence. Such a crime is punishable by death or banishment. In addition, the defendant employed his men in breaking into a private house, that of the plaintiff, General Antonidus. The punishment for that is a mere whipping, but after death that may be seen as unnecessary cruelty.” He paused while a titter of laughter ran along the benches of the court. The crowd outside remained silent.
“Rough hands were laid on the servants and guards of the house, and when the owner returned, he was forbidden entry to his own home by the same soldiers.
“He is not a vengeful man, but the crimes against him are many and grave. As his advocate, I call on you to administer the sternest punishment. Death by the sword is the only possible answer to such a flouting of Rome’s laws.”
A polite clapping came from the men around Cato, and Rufius nodded briefly to them as he resumed his seat, his bright eyes belying the air of relaxation he pretended.
“And now the defendant,” the magistrate continued. Nothing in his manner showed whether he had been moved by Rufius’s words, but still Julius stepped forward with a hollow feeling in his stomach. He had known they could try for death, but hearing it in court made it a reality that shook his confidence.
“Praetor, Magistrates, Senators, people of Rome,” Julius said loudly enough to carry to the crowd. They cheered this, though the praetor frowned at him. Julius ordered his thoughts before continuing. Instinctively, he felt that the defense of Marius would appeal more to the people who had suffered under Sulla than to the silent judges, but playing to them was a dangerous course and could even sway the magistrates against a strong case. He would have to be careful.
“This case has a longer history than five weeks,” he began. “It begins on a night three years ago when the city prepared for civil war. Marius was the legally appointed consul of Rome, and his legion had fortified the city against attack—”
“Your honors, I appeal to you to have him cease this rambling discourse,” Rufius broke in, standing. “The question is the ownership of a house, not the struggles of history.”
The magistrates conferred for a moment, then one stood.
“Do not interrupt, Rufius. The defendant has a right to make his case as he thinks best,” he said. Rufius subsided and sat down.
“Thank you, your honor,” Julius continued. “That Marius was my uncle is well known. He took the defense of the city on himself when Sulla departed to Greece to defeat Mithridates, a task Sulla left rather incom
plete.”
The crowd chuckled at this, then fell silent as the praetor swept them with his glare. Julius went on. “Marius was convinced that Sulla would return to the city with the aim of assuming complete power. To avert this, he fortified Rome’s walls and prepared his men to defend the people of the city against armed attack. If Sulla had approached the walls without violence, he would have been allowed to resume his consular post and the peace of the city would have remained unbroken. Instead, he had left assassins within the bounds who attacked General Marius in the dark in a cowardly attempt at murder. Sulla’s men opened the gates and let their master into the city. I believe it was the first armed attack on her in more than three hundred years.”
Julius paused for breath, looking at the magistrates to see how they were reacting to his words. They regarded him impassively, their expressions giving nothing away.
“My uncle was dispatched by a dagger from Sulla’s own hand, and though his legion fought valiantly for days, they too fell to the invader.”
“This is too much!” Rufius cried, leaping up. “He blackens the name of a beloved leader of Rome under the protection of this trial. I must ask you to condemn him for his foolishness.”
The magistrate who had spoken before leaned forward and spoke to Julius. “You are pushing our patience, Caesar. If the case is found against you, be sure we will consider your disrespect when it comes to the sentence. Do you understand?”
Julius nodded, gulping to clear his suddenly dry throat. “I do, though the words must be spoken,” he said.
The magistrate shrugged. “It’s your head,” he muttered as Julius took a calming breath before speaking again.
“Much of the rest you know already. As victor, Sulla claimed the title of Dictator. I will not speak of that period in the city history.”
The magistrate nodded sharply at this as Julius continued.
“Though he had defended the city under the law, Marius was declared traitor and his possessions sold off by the state. His house was auctioned publicly and bought by the plaintiff of this trial, General Antonidus. His legion was dispersed and their name struck from the honor rolls in the Senate.”
Julius paused and bowed his head as if in shame at the act. A murmur ran through the senators in attendance as they whispered questions and comments to each other. Then Julius raised his head again and his voice rang out over the judges and the crowd.
“My case stands on three points. The first is that Primigenia has been restored to the legion rolls without dishonor. If they have suffered no stain, then how can their general be called traitor? Secondly, if Marius was wrongly punished, then his possessions should have come to his remaining heir, myself. Lastly, my actions to reclaim my house from the thieves within have been made knowing the court would pardon them in the light of Marius’s unjust fate. A great wrong has been committed, but it is against me, not by me.”
The crowd cheered and the guards once again rapped their staffs into the ground.
The magistrates put their heads together for a moment, then one of them motioned to Rufius to speak in reply. He stood, sighing visibly.
“Caesar’s attempts to confuse the issue are admirable for their earnestness, but the law sees all things clearly. I am sure the judges enjoyed the journey into history, as I did, but I suspect they realize that the interpretation is colored by the defendant’s personal relationship with the general. As much as I would enjoy arguing the vision he has presented as fact, I am in favor of reducing the case to its fundamentals in law and not wasting the time of those present.” He looked at Julius and smiled in a friendly fashion, so that all there could see he forgave the young man for his foolishness.
“In a wholly legal sale, my client bought the house in question at auction as we have been told. His name is on the deed and the bill of sale. To have armed guards steal his property from him is a return to the use of force to settle disputes. I’m sure you all noted the touching of spears to that attractive shield at the start of the trial. I remind you that the symbolic act of struggle is just that. In Rome, we do not draw swords to end arguments without submitting to the law.
“I sympathize with the points young Caesar has raised, but they have no bearing on the case at hand. I’m sure he would want to go back even further and reveal the history of the house right back to its first foundation, but there is no call for such a widening of the issues. I must repeat my call for the sword, though it is with regret that Rome should lose such a passionate young advocate.”
His expression showed sadness for the harsh penalties to come as he took his seat and conferred with Antonidus, who watched Julius with slitted eyes.
Julius stood and faced the magistrates once more. “As Rufius has referred to a deed and bill of sale, I feel he should produce them for the court to examine,” he said quickly.
The magistrates looked over to Rufius, who grimaced. “If the property was a horse or a slave, your honors, then I could of course produce such items for you. Unfortunately, as a house is in question and one taken by surprise and armed force, the documents were inside it, as Caesar is well aware.”
The magistrate who seemed to speak for the others peered at Julius with a frown. “Are these papers in your possession?” he asked.
“I swear that they are not,” Julius replied. “There is no sign of them in the house of Marius, on my honor.” He sat down again. As he had burned the deed and bill of sale the night before under Quintus’s direction, his conscience was clear.
“So no ownership papers can be produced by either party?” the magistrate continued evenly. Julius shook his head and Rufius echoed the movement, his face tightening in irritation. He stood to address the magistrates once again.
“My client suspected that such key documents would ‘disappear’ before the trial,” he said with a barely concealed sneer in Julius’s direction. “Instead, we have a witness who was present at the auction and can attest to the legal sale to General Antonidus.”
The witness stood forward from his seat by Antonidus. Julius recognized him as one of those who sat near Cato in the Senate house. He was a stooped and fragile-looking man, who constantly pulled a lock of his thinning hair back off his forehead as he spoke.
“I am Publius Tenelia. I can attest to the legal sale.”
“May I question this man?” Julius asked, stepping into the floor as he received permission.
“You witnessed the entire auction?” Julius asked him.
“I did. I was there from the start to the finish.”
“You saw the bill of sale being signed in the name of Antonidus?”
The man hesitated slightly before replying. “I saw the name,” he said. His eyes were nervous and Julius knew he was adding to the truth.
“You glimpsed the document briefly, then?” he pressed.
“No, I saw it clearly,” the man replied more confidently.
“What was the amount the general paid?”
Behind the man, Rufius smiled at the ploy. It would not work, as the witness had been thoroughly prepared for such questions.
“It was one thousand sesterces,” the man returned triumphantly. His smile dropped at a sudden chorus of jeers from the crowd outside the court. Many heads turned toward the mass of plebeians, and Julius saw with the judges that the streets had filled as the trial went on. Every available space was taken and the forum itself was full of people. The magistrates looked at each other and the praetor firmed his mouth in anxiety. Such a large audience increased the dangers of disturbance, and he considered sending a runner to the barracks for more soldiers to keep the peace.
When the crowd was quiet, Julius spoke again.
“In preparation for this case, your honors, I had the house valued. If it was sold this morning, a buyer would be likely to pay in the region of a million sesterces, not a thousand. There is a passage from the Twelve Tables that has a bearing on the matter.”
As he prepared to quote from the ancient script, Rufius raised his eyes
in boredom and the witness fidgeted, not yet dismissed.
“‘Property may not pass from vendor to purchaser unless value has been paid,’ ” Julius said loudly. The crowd cheered the point, with a number of conversations breaking out as it was explained to those around them.
“A thousand sesterces for a property worth a million is not ‘value,’ your honors. The sale was a farce of favors, a mockery of an auction. With not even a bill of sale to prove it existed, no legal transaction took place.”
Slowly, Rufius rose. “Caesar will have us believe that any bargain is in breach of the Tables,” he began.
The crowd hooted him and the praetor sent his runner for more soldiers.
“I say again that Caesar attempts to confuse the court with pointless distractions. The witness proves the sale was real. The amount is immaterial. My client is a shrewd bargainer.”
He sat down, hiding his annoyance at the point. He could not admit that the auction had been mere show for Sulla to reward his favorites, though Caesar had made that clear to everyone there, if they didn’t know it already. Certainly the crowd hadn’t known and many angry stares were turned on Antonidus, who visibly shrank in his seat.
“Furthermore,” Julius continued as if Rufius had not spoken, “as the matter of the value of the house has been raised by Antonidus’s own witness, there is another issue I would like to bring to the attention of the court. If the verdict is with me as rightful heir to the property, I will demand the rent for the two years of occupancy by General Antonidus. A generous estimate of that amount is thirty thousand sesterces, which I add to my claim for the house as money denied my family in his time there.”
Emperor: The Death of Kings Page 36
