“This trial is now open,” the governor suddenly announced in a loud voice, as he solemnly rose to his feet and turned to gaze around the silent hall. Slowly Bradua extended his hands outwards and turned to face the statue of the emperor. “May we who must pass-down judgement be blessed by the wisdom of Trajan, father of the divine house. May we receive immortal Jupiter’s strength and benefit from the insight of the blind goddess of fortune, her most revered Fortuna. May the gods bless us today as we seek their guidance in this trial, so that the affairs of men may once more be well ordered and in balance.”
As he finished his solemn prayer to the gods Bradua at last turned to gaze at Marcus as around him, the packed hall remained spellbound. As their eyes locked, Marcus gazed back at the governor, his face unreadable.
“Will the defendant state their name before the court,” the governor called out.
Marcus gave his name and, as he did so a spectator suddenly rose to his feet in the public gallery and pointed an accusing finger at Marcus.
“Murderer, murderer,” the man screamed at the top of his voice.
“Silence,” the governor bellowed angrily as he turned around to stare at the heckler up in the gallery. “The next person who makes a sound will be ejected from my courtroom. We shall have silence unless I give you permission to speak.”
As the hall settled down, the governor turned to Otho. “Will the prosecution read out the charges against the defendant in full,” Bradua snapped.
With a grave expression Otho, slowly rose to his feet behind his desk, clutching a parchment in his hands. “The charges against the defendant are these,” Otho cried out in a loud, confident voice. “That at the start of summer last year, whilst residing at his house in Rome, this former senator, this very same man standing before us, did wilfully and with clear intent betray Rome and murder two of his colleagues in his own home. We, the senate and people of Rome charge this man with treason and murder. We demand the death penalty by beheading for these crimes.”
A stir swept through the public gallery, making the governor turn in an annoyed fashion and glare at the spectators.
“How does the defence respond to these charges?” the governor asked as he turned back to look at Senovarus.
Behind his desk, Senovarus rose to his feet and quickly turned to face the governor.
“My client is innocent,” Senovarus replied. “This trial is politically motivated. It is a sham. My client should be set free at once. There is no case against him. He is no traitor, nor is he a murderer.”
Abruptly, the defence council sat back down and busied himself with his papers, as a quick, little anonymous cheer rose from the public gallery. At the bench, the governor paused for a moment as he ignored the brief interruption, and glanced down at the court clerks, who were recording the minutes of the case.
“Very well,” the governor said at last. “Will the prosecution outline their case in detail for the benefit of the jury.”
At his desk, Otho nodded and once more he rose to his feet. Turning to the twelve jury members, the prosecutor took a deep breath and a pained expression appeared on his face.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” Otho began, in a grave voice. “This man who stands before you accused of these heinous crimes was once a senator of Rome. A respectable man who once wore the same toga as our governor over there. A man with many friends, a man who was appointed as prefect of the grain supply for the city of Rome. He wielded power. He had responsibility. He was respectable. He was trusted by his colleagues. He had everything a man could want.” Otho paused, as his sly eyes moved from one jury member to the next. “Except,” Otho suddenly cried out. “Except, it was not enough for him. No, this man, he wanted more, more and more. This man was driven by ambition. He wanted unlimited power. He was conspiring and plotting to kill our emperor and the entire divine family and take over the government of Rome. That is treason! That is rebellion! It is most serious, gentlemen. Now, when his senatorial colleagues discovered this man’s treasonous plotting, one of them - a senator of good standing, called Nigrinus, decided to confront this man. He could have taken his findings directly to Trajan but, because he was a friend, he wanted to give this man a chance to change his mind and repent. So, Nigrinus sent two senators, including his own cousin, to this man’s house. They were there to confront the defendant and put an end to his treasonous plotting. But instead of civilised discussions what did the defendant do? What did he do to these two respectable members of the senate of Rome, who walked unarmed and unsuspecting into his home?”
Otho’s eyes raked through the ranks of the jury members.
“He murdered them in cold blood, stabbed them with his own sword,” Otho cried out. “That’s what he did. He left them lying on the floor in his hall, where we found them several hours later.” Otho paused for a moment, as he glared at the jury. “Now if this man were innocent as the defence claims, he and his family would not have fled; but they did. They ran all the way home here to the province of Britannia. If this man was innocent he would have stayed put and explained himself, but the cold facts of this case are that he cannot explain himself. He is guilty of cold-blooded murder and he should be executed for these crimes. That is what I want; that is what the senate in Rome wants; that is what the spirits of the slain want and that is what the gods demand.”
“Counsel - proceed with your defence of your client,” the governor growled as Otho sat back down behind his desk.
Swiftly Senovarus rose to his feet and came around his desk to face the jury. For a moment he said nothing, as he stared down at the fine mosaic patterns set into the floor.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” Senovarus said at last, as he looked up at the jury. “The case presented against my client by the prosecution is a load of bullshit. This trial is not about treason or murder. My client is an honourable man, a decorated soldier, a war hero and one of our most valued veterans. He served for twenty-three years in the 2nd Batavian Auxiliary Cohort. He fought at Mons Graupius in Caledonia. He saved his entire unit at Luguvalium, during the great northern uprising. He served on the Danube where he lost two fingers and later, he served Rome faithfully in the senate personally leading the response to last year’s grain riots.” Senovarus paused. “This is not the kind of man who would even think about overthrowing our divine imperial family. He is a soldier and he has sworn an oath of allegiance, which he will never break. That is the kind of man my client really is. The accusations of treason are laughable. I could bring forth a hundred witnesses, who know the defendant and have served with him. All of them would back up what I am saying. So, do not listen to that cheap prosecution lawyer over there,” Senovarus exclaimed, raising his hand and pointing at Otho. “It doesn’t matter whether the prosecutor cheats on his wife and is cruel to his dog. What matters is that he is lying. This case upon which you are asked to judge is not about treason or murder. It is simply about politics. My client is being persecuted for his politics. The prosecution is trying to dress this case up to look like a murder trial, when it is really about my client’s support for Hadrian and the Peace Party, something which they, as members of the War Party, deeply resent. This case should be thrown out. Do not be fooled. I am not fooled. My client is not fooled. The people of this city are not fooled, and neither are the gods.”
“Prosecution, you may reply,” the governor snapped, as Senovarus returned to his seat.
“If I am trying to fool you all,” Otho bellowed, rising to his feet, as he gave Senovarus a quick, furious glance, “and this is all just about politics as the defence suggests; then how do you explain the fact that the two senators were found murdered in the defendant’s house? That is not normal, but the facts do not lie. How do you explain the fact that the defendant fled the scene with his whole family? How do you explain the fact that I have a witness, who was there and saw the defendant murder these senators in cold blood?”
“You have witnesses to the crime,” Bradua exclaimed.
“I do,�
� Otho growled.
“Then show them in,” the governor replied. “I would like to hear what they have to say.”
Standing in the middle of the hall, Marcus turned to glance at Kyna, but his wife quickly shook her head.
At Otho’s desk one of his assistants got up and hurried away and, as he did, up in the public gallery the onlookers broke into muttering amongst themselves. Sitting on his bench, the governor seemed to have given up trying to silence the public and was instead staring down at his feet, as he waited for the witness to be brought forth. Marcus turned, as he heard one of the doors open. Then his face darkened, as he saw the prosecution assistant returning, leading one of his former household slaves by the arm. The freedman looked nervous and frightened, as he shuffled along towards the prosecution benches, refusing to look in Marcus’s direction. As the man approached, Marcus saw that half his face was covered in bruises.
“Who is this man?” the governor called out, glaring at the witness.
“This man,” Otho replied in a triumphant voice as he rose to his feet, “this man was a former slave who worked in the defendant’s household in Rome. He was present Sir on the day that the two senators were murdered. He saw everything.”
“Is this true?” the governor called out, fixing his eyes on the freedman. “You must answer me.”
Standing beside Otho, the wretched-looking freedman seemed to be trembling with fear and for a long moment, he did not answer.
“Tell the governor what you saw that day,” Otho interrupted, turning to the freedman. “It is important that this court hears what you have to say. You were there. Just tell us what happened and what you saw and what happened afterwards.”
“I was a slave in the master’s household,” the freedman stammered at last, in a miserable sounding voice. “I served them for many years. The master and his wife were kind to me. They treated me well.”
“What happened on the day of the murders?” the governor called out.
“The two senators came to the house,” the freedman replied, as his hands trembled. “They were shown into the hall where my master met them. They talked. I didn’t catch what about, for I do not listen to such conversations. Then my master and his bodyguard killed the two senators. They stabbed them with knives. After that they made me a freedman and fled the city. That’s all I know. I swear by all the gods above and below.”
An excited stir swept through the hall and, from the public gallery abuse was suddenly hurled at Marcus, who was standing in the middle of the hall with his hands tied behind his back. At the prosecution desk Otho, looked triumphant.
“What does the defence have to say to this,” the governor called out turning to look at Senovarus.
“Really Sir,” Senovarus said, angrily rising to his feet. “Does the prosecution really think that this man is a reliable and credible witness. Look at his face. Look at how he trembles. They have beaten him black and blue to force him to make these outrageous lies against my client.”
“Do you deny then Sir,” Otho interrupted. “That this man was a slave in the defendant’s home in Rome? Maybe we should ask the defendant himself. Surely he knows what his slaves looked like.”
“Well Marcus,” the governor said, turning to look at Marcus. “Is this witness who he claims to be? Was he a slave in your household?”
“He was one of my slaves,” Marcus replied in a calm and clear voice. “And yes, I did set him free, after the two senators were killed in my house. But he could not possibly have seen or heard what went on in my hallway, for the simple reason that he was out in my garden watering my flowers when the incident took place.”
“You see he confesses,” Otho cried out in triumph, raising his hand and pointing straight at Marcus. “He confesses to having killed the two senators. You heard him say it. He is guilty.”
“Do you or do you not want to know what happened that day,” Marcus roared as the courtroom erupted in shouts and cries.
“Silence, silence,” the governor bellowed, as he rose to his feet and raised his hand. “Silence in my courtroom.”
Then quickly Bradua turned to look at Marcus. “You wish to make a confession? You wish to make a statement?”
“I do Sir,” Marcus growled.
“Then proceed,” the governor said sharply.
Marcus was suddenly conscious that every eye in the hall had turned to stare at him and, as he paused, the silence in the courtroom grew more and more pregnant with expectation.
“I do not deny that two senators were found dead in my home,” Marcus said, lifting his chin and gazing directly at the governor. “I do not deny that I and my family fled Rome shortly afterwards. We had good reason to flee. Our lives were in danger. The two senators did come to my house, but they did not come because of what the prosecution would have you believe. They came to kill me, to force me to kill myself because they believed I had been disloyal to the War Party, to their leader Nigrinus. They came to kill me because they believed that I had exposed their role in the plot to murder Hadrian, three years ago in Athens. They came because my son, Fergus is a close ally of Hadrian, and they suspected me of working with him to the detriment of the War Party’s interests. But they and Nigrinus were wrong, for I am still a supporter of the War Party. I never betrayed my colleagues. I gave the War Party my oath of allegiance and I will not break it now for that would be dishonourable. If a loyal man can be convicted because powerful men are not interested in the truth, then Rome truly had lost her way.”
Marcus paused, as he gazed at the governor, his face hard as nails.
“Yes, I killed those men, but I did it in self-defence. I did what any of you would have done, faced with the same choice. I do not regret what I did. What should I have done, die for a lie? Nigrinus gave me no choice. It was Nigrinus who sent these senators to my home. It is he who is responsible for their deaths. It is Nigrinus who bears that responsibility. This is all his fault.” Marcus paused, and took a deep breath. “Sir,” he continued; “if I have been disloyal, then it is only because that man is not fit to lead the War Party. He does not deserve to sit in the senate amongst such distinguished men as yourself Bradua. Nigrinus is a fucking loser and no honourable man will follow him. I was acting purely in self-defence. I never wanted any of this. I am a soldier of Rome, not a politician or a farmer or a lawyer. I am a soldier and I swore an oath of allegiance to our emperor. I have served Rome all my life as my father did before me and my son does right now. Do with me what you please, but if I am guilty of treason and murder, then so is every man who defends himself and his family.”
As Marcus fell silent the courtroom too remained silent. Then abruptly, loud cheering broke out across the public gallery and several onlookers rose to their feet, clapping and shaking their fists.
“Marcus. Marcus. Marcus,” the chant went up, as the court officials tried in vain to silence the crowd.
In his seat, the governor was slowly shaking his head, as he gazed down at the ground and around him the tumult grew. At the advocates desks, Otho was on his feet shouting and pointing at Marcus, but his words were lost in the uproar. At last Bradua raised his hand, calling for silence and order.
“This trial is closed,” the governor bellowed. “The jury will retire, to consider their verdict. We shall reconvene here when they have come to a decision. Take the defendant away.”
As the two guards seized Marcus by his arms and led him away, the courtroom erupted once again. From the seats behind the prosecution desks, Cunomoltus suddenly leaned forwards and reached out to slap Otho over the head. In the ensuing chaos, jostling and shouts of outrage, Marcus caught a brief glimpse of Kyna. She was staring in his direction and, as they made the briefest of eye contact she smiled bravely and tears formed in her eyes.
***
As the court reconvened and Marcus, under guard, his hands still tied behind his back, was marched back into the hall, the mood of expectation in the public gallery seemed to have reached fever-pitch. Leaving him sta
nding in the middle of the hall, the two guards stepped backwards and took up position on either side of him. Directly ahead the governor was lounging in his chair, surrounded by his officials and advisers. For a moment Bradua turned to gaze at Marcus, then he looked away with an unhappy, troubled expression. In their seats, the twelve jury members were still talking with each other in urgent, hushed voices. Looking composed, Marcus turned in the direction of the advocates benches and the section of the courtroom reserved for family members. The tension on everyone’s faces, as they awaited the verdict, was plain and clear to see. At his desk Senovarus was fiddling nervously with a pen, whilst close by Otho was staring moodily down at the floor.
“Has the jury come to a verdict?” the governor called out at last.
Amongst their seats one of the jury members solemnly rose to his feet and turned to face the governor.
“We have Sir,” the jury member replied in a clear and loud voice.
“Will the jury read out the verdict,” Bradua snapped, as a hush descended on the great hall.
“Yes Sir,” the jury member replied. For a moment the man paused, looking down at his notes. “We the appointed jury members for this trial have not been able to come to a verdict,” the man announced, turning to look at the governor. “The jury is split Sir. Six find the defendant guilty. Six find the defendant innocent.”
Veterans of Rome (Book 9 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 28
