His sons, the prefect's men informed him, were in the central Guard station, in the cells. The prefect deeply regretted that this had proved necessary. However, given the gravity of the charges, he had no choice. He assumed that Basso would want to come over straight away.
Basso thanked the prefect's men politely, and said it could wait till morning. Then he sent for Cinio, Sentio and the Secretary of the Interior, a new appointee by the name of Furio.
"Basically it's up to you," Furio said. He was a young man, chosen mainly for his energy and appetite for administrative trivia; short, thin, pale-eyed, with unusually large feet. "If you give me a direct order, I can have them out of there and the charges torn up in half an hour. If you want my opinion, politically, I think you can get away with it. As far as I can tell at this stage, the girls are nobody special; your people can make it sound like they're just a couple of tarts, and things got a bit out of hand. Then I assume you'll bury it with war news."
"Or," Basso said.
Furio frowned. "Or," he said, "they'll be remanded in custody while the complaint is processed, and within three days they'll appear in front of the investigating magistrate. I can make sure he knows the score. We'll have to make him a judge, but that's easy enough."
Basso shook his head. "That'd be begging the Optimates to make him a better offer," he said. "I have a deep-rooted objection to giving hostages."
"Well," Furio said; he sounded slightly bewildered. "If the complaint goes in front of an impartial magistrate, on what we know at the moment there's a case to answer, and it'll go to trial. By that point, your best bet would be to choose a good jury." He shrugged. "I suppose a straight acquittal would be better than anything that could be interpreted as the case being dropped through undue influence. But there'd be a risk of something going wrong, and then you'd have to arrange for them to be let off on appeal. Apart from anything else, there's the matter of timescale. Under due process, it could drag on for the best part of a year; and they'd be in jail all that time, remember. Bail's never given in rape cases, without conspicuous leaning on the magistrate."
"I suppose they did do it," Basso said.
Cinio interrupted. "That's hardly the point."
"True." Basso sighed. "For two pins I'd leave them there," he said. "Of all the bloody stupid inconsiderate things to do, just when I'm about to embark on a substantial war and the Opposition can't touch me."
"That's not a serious suggestion, is it?" Sentio said nervously. "I'd hate to have to put a positive angle on the First Citizen's sons being tried for rape."
Basso frowned. "I don't know," he said. "You couldn't do much better for proof of integrity. What about all the old stories about great statesmen of the past, who executed their own sons for treason?"
Sentio decided not to answer. Cinio said: "People like integrity, but they don't much like heartless bastards. At best, I think it'd be neutral."
"Rape's different," Basso said. "Very emotive. Treason you could smooth over as an irreconcilable clash of principle, which doesn't sound at all bad if you pitch it right. Rape's just nasty. I have to admit," he went on, "I'm disappointed in them, if it's true. Sort of thing my late brother-in-law might have done. Right now, I'm inclined to let it go to trial." He frowned. "I've always had an unpleasant suspicion that the twins took after their mother in some respects." He scratched his head, looked down at his hands. "All right," he said. "You three go home, and please bear in mind that you were never here. I'll let you know what I decide."
He didn't have long to wait.
"This is splendid," he said. "All those years when we never saw each other, and now two visits in as many months."
His sister gave him a patient look. "I'm glad you can still make jokes, Basso. I'd have thought that after this latest business, you might have lost your sense of humour."
"Please sit down," he said. "Can I get you anything?"
She remained standing. Naturally, the opposite of what he said. If only it was that simple. "I've been expecting something like this, of course."
"Really? It came as a complete surprise to me."
"What, that your sons take after their father? Hardly surprising."
Basso nodded slowly. "That thought has occurred to me a few times over the last two days," he said. "You see, I've often wondered who the twins' father really was. I suppose this could be taken as circumstantial evidence."
She gave him a cold stare. "If you try and hush this up," she said, "I'll make sure you don't get away with it."
"Really?" He smiled encouragingly. "How?"
"Rape is an offence against the majesty of the Invincible Sun," she said. "I'm sure the Patriarch could be persuaded to take up the issue, if you try and use your influence to get the charges dropped."
Basso nodded. "I don't think the Patriarch is going to be in any kind of a hurry to pick a fight with me," he said. "I know he's anxious to secure his place in history, but I doubt he'll want to be remembered as the first Patriarch to be executed for conspiracy to murder the First Citizen."
She was perfectly still and silent for several seconds. Then she said: "If you have some sort of hold over the Patriarch, I can have him replaced."
Basso's eyes opened a little bit wider. "Is that right?"
"Oh yes." But, he thought, she always sounds so confident; maybe she could, at that. "Please don't think you can blackmail your way out of this. I intend to see that justice is done."
Basso smiled faintly. "Has it occurred to you that the twins might be innocent?"
"It wasn't their guilt that I had in mind."
"No, I don't suppose it was." Basso frowned. "And if it does go to trial," he said. "I assume you'll try and use the priesthood to manipulate the outcome."
"I feel sorry for you," she said. "You honestly believe that everybody's mind works like yours. As I said just now, I will spare no effort to see that justice is done, by whatever means necessary." She was holding a tiny lace handkerchief in her left hand, he noticed, as though it was some kind of weapon. "I hope you understand that I'm serious about this. I don't make idle threats."
"I never said you did," Basso replied evenly. "Though you could do with reading a good book on tactics. Why warn me in advance of what you've got in mind? If you think I'm going to get the charges dropped, why not let me do it and then come after me with all the priests you can muster? Vestigial sense of fair play, maybe?"
He thought he knew all her expressions, but this one was new. It was disgust, contempt and just a little pity. "You call it fair play. I prefer the word justice. I don't want to catch you out, Basso. I want you, just for once in your worthless life, to watch something coming and not to be able to do anything about it. I want you to realise you're not in control. I think that'd be fair, don't you?"
Basso shrugged. "Only the other day, you just wanted me dead."
"I still do," she said, and left the room.
He couldn't put it off any longer, so he went to see the twins.
They weren't in the general cells. Instead, the guard captain had put them in the tower overlooking the back courtyard. Two hundred years ago, when the building was the headquarters of the Imperial garrison, the tower had been the garrison commander's private quarters. There were worse places.
"Well?" Basso said.
"I swear to you, we didn't do it," Festo said. Basso tried to remember the last time he'd spoken to him--before the Cazar recruits had arrived, but exactly when he couldn't call to mind. "It's got to be some sort of horrible mistake. Honestly."
Basso looked at Pio, but just saw fear. "Please don't lie to me," he said coldly. "You're very bad at it, you always have been. I used to think that was a good thing about you. Now I'm more inclined to think it's because you can't do anything right."
Pio said, "We didn't mean it to happen."
"Really." Basso couldn't be bothered to look at him. "You'll excuse my ignorance, but I didn't think rape was something that happens by accident. I don't want to know," he said, as
Festo tried to say something. "I'm really not interested in the details. I wouldn't have thought my opinion of you could get any lower than it is right now, but maybe you two could manage it."
Pio was sitting on the floor, even though there was a perfectly good chair. But he'd always sat on the floor, Basso remembered, like a dog who's not allowed on the furniture. "What's going to happen?" he asked.
Basso looked at a place on the wall exactly between them. "There'll be a hearing before the magistrate," he said. "If he finds there's a case to answer, you'll go to trial."
It wasn't the answer they'd been expecting. "Surely there's something--" Festo started to say.
"Sorry," Basso cut him off. "I'm afraid I owe you both an apology. If I was just a businessman, I could probably bribe you out of this mess. In my position, however, that luxury is denied to me. If I tried anything like that, my enemies would be down on me like a ton of bricks, and you'd almost certainly be convicted, even with the best lawyers in the City. I'm afraid that because of who I am, you're going to have to stay put and see it through. Any fooling around will just make things worse for you."
For a moment he felt sorry for them; but then, there had been times when he'd felt sorry for rats, when the stable hands blocked up all the holes but one and poured in boiling water. "So that's it, then," Festo said, and it was the first time Basso had heard anything like anger in his son's voice. "They'll put us on trial, and--"
"Shut up," Basso said, "you're upsetting your brother. Nobody's going to hang you."
Probably true, he reflected, on the way back to the House. Two overprivileged young men, drunk, and a barmaid. They think she's just playing hard to get. No real malice in them, gentlemen of the jury; just profound stupidity, thoughtlessness, worthlessness--if those were hanging offences, gentlemen, the City would be pretty empty. There were two alternative punishments for rape, both designed to make sure the offender never did it again. No great loss, Basso couldn't help thinking. After all, some of his best friends were eunuchs.
But there was the question of reasons, the issue that seemed to dominate his life. Why does Basso do what he does? Basso, always so quick to tell you a good reason, always a different reason, depending on who he's talking to. Talking to himself (first sign of madness, they reckoned), what reason would he offer? Because they did it now, with the war almost ready, the grand design, Bassano's inheritance; now, of all times, as if they'd thought hard about it and chosen the worst possible moment. Hard to forgive, even if he was fond of them, which he wasn't.
If they were Sentio's kids, or Aelius', or even some off-relation's, that reason wouldn't stand the strain. If they were my sons, he thought; but, probably, they were. Never thought of them like that, though. Always thought of them as her sons. Would that be the reason?
Or maybe he simply didn't hold with rape. Just as likely. A disgusting offence, he'd always thought, and what good did it do? Theft he could understand; murder, in certain circumstances. (I've done both, he remembered; it was an uncomfortable thought, though of course he'd never actually broken the law.) Would I really allow the state to geld my own sons because of a principle? He thought about that. Not sure, he found.
There had to be a reason. Maybe, he thought, I'm so used to equivocating that I don't actually know what it is, just that there is one, and it's valid. I could give a convincing reason to somebody else, anybody; just not to myself.
Melsuntha was waiting for him at the House. "Well?" she said. He smiled. She'd learned that turn of phrase from him. Most people who knew him picked it up sooner or later. Then he remembered he'd learned it from Aelius, when he was a boy.
"Get a lawyer," he said, struggling out of his heavy coat. "I want to know what's involved in disowning your sons."
She frowned. "Can you do that?"
"You used to be able to," Basso replied. "Two hundred years ago. I remember reading about it. There was an established procedure. It was a Chancery action, I think. Basically you had to sue yourself in your capacity as the sons' guardian. Find out if it's still legal."
She nodded. "You're thinking of doing it?"
"I like to know what options are available." He sat down, looked at the brandy decanter, decided against it. I'm stupid enough already (one of his sayings) without taking medicine to make me stupider. "Did Furio come by?"
"You just missed him," she said.
"And?"
"They've listed a magistrate," she told him. "Provisionally booked for tomorrow morning, the common sessions. He wanted to know what you intend to do."
"There's a coincidence. I want to know what I intend to do." He looked down at his hands: unhelpful, as ever. "What would you do?"
She thought for a moment. "I'd have the girl killed," she said. "She's the key witness; without her, it's all circumstantial--the doctor and the landlord and so on. I'd make it look like suicide, of course. Probably a note, saying she'd accused them falsely and couldn't live with herself."
Basso laughed. "What makes you think a girl like that can read and write?"
She shrugged. "Before her death she went to a public scrivener. He could give evidence at the inquest; that'd be good." She looked at him, challenging him. "It would solve everything."
He nodded. "The scrivener's a nice touch," he said, "and one which, I confess, hadn't occurred to me."
"So you'll do it?"
"No."
She accepted his refusal without the slightest reaction. "In that case, what do you have in mind?"
He sighed, and felt weak. "Let them get on with it," he said. "I guess, all things considered, I could live with Basso the Just."
"It has a certain ring to it," she said.
"Quite. Only," he went on, "I'm a bit fed up with the notion of justice just lately. Justice is all right, but I'm not happy about the company it keeps."
She knew that his sister had been to see him. She understood. "With friends like that," she said, and pushed her hair away from her eyes. "It would mean that she'd won."
Basso nodded. "Yes," he said. "And to be fair, maybe she's due a victory. Am I very selfish for not wanting it to be this one?"
Bassano said: "So what's the plan?"
Basso explained. The reasons he chose to give were political and ethical. He made a good case and took trouble over his choice of words. When he'd finished, Bassano said, "Integrity."
"What about it?"
"Nothing," Bassano replied. "It's a wonderful thing, and I approve of it. But I can't help thinking of all those stories you get in the popular histories, like the ones they made me read when I was a kid. The three Torquati holding the pass against the Five Thousand, or Caelius divorcing his wife. Or Pacatianus, hanging his son for treason."
"Well?"
"Well," Bassano said meekly, "you're supposed to be inspired and eager to go out and give your life for your country. But I always thought, how selfish."
Basso looked at him. "Strange you should use that word."
"Or Carinus," Bassano said. "Didn't he have his son court-martialled for disobeying orders, even though the charge he led won the battle?"
"That was Popilius," Basso said. "Carinus was the man with the elephants."
"My mistake. But yes, selfish. I suppose heroes have to be. A hero doesn't think, if I go into battle against impossible odds and get myself killed, my wife will lose the farm and my kid'll grow up without a father. It makes you wonder, what sort of a man thinks like that? And I'm prepared to bet, though of course we'll never know, nine times out of ten there was some other reason."
"There's always another reason," Basso said.
"Of course there is."
The evening before the magistrates' hearing, Bassano came home late. He looked very cold and tired, as though he'd been doing a rotten job he hadn't enjoyed at all. He found Basso in his study, a pile of letters on the desk in front of him, the stopper still in the ink-bottle.
"Just thought you should know," Bassano said. "The twins are downstairs."
B
asso stared at him. "What have you done?"
Bassano frowned. "It's like this," he said, and his voice was harder than Basso had ever heard it before. "The girl went to the magistrate and withdrew the charges." When Basso tried to interrupt, he held up his hand; Basso knew where that gesture came from. "She explained that some very bad men came to her and said that they wanted her to lay false charges against your sons. If she didn't cooperate, bad things would happen to her family in the country. The magistrate is considering prosecuting her for perjury. You might want to intervene."
Basso repeated: "What have you done?"
"Do you want to know?"
"Yes."
"Fine." Bassano dropped into a chair and closed his eyes, as though he'd just put down a heavy weight he'd carried a long way. "I went to see her. As you know, she's a barmaid at the Glorious Victory; pretty girl, I've noticed her when I've been in there myself. Oddly enough, she remembered me; it's so rare for one of the fencing school crowd to order just tea or water."
"And?"
Bassano didn't answer straight away. "I put it to her that having the twins hanged would be justice, but it wouldn't do her any good. Fifteen thousand nomismata, on the other hand..."
Basso stared at him. "You paid her fifteen thousand nomismata."
"Yes." He grinned, and for a split second he was himself again. "Cash. I actually carried it up the back stairs at the Victory, in sacks. Have you any idea how much fifteen thousand nomismata weighs? I had to make two trips, and my back's killing me."
"You haven't got anything like that kind of money."
Bassano nodded. "Borrowed it," he said. "From--I guess you'd call him a loan shark, though he was perfectly civil. I had to mortgage my expectations from my father's estate." Bassano looked at him, then burst out laughing. "Oh for pity's sake, Uncle," he said. "You look like you've been given a really expensive present you don't actually want. Anyway," he went on, crisp and firm, as if he didn't really care what Basso thought, "that's that sorted out. The twins are off the hook, the girl's got enough money to buy a good-sized farm or a couple of decent ships, and we can put all the blame on shadowy conspirators, either Optimates or Mavortines or both. I flatter myself that it's the sort of thing you might have done." He paused, then said, "Why didn't you?"
The Folding Knife Page 35
