courage for taking a stand. Instead, after a few scattered cries of “Hear! Hear!” and some desultory murmurs of assent, the end of his speech was met by a silence almost as deep as that which preceded it.
Gaius Cassius Longinus rose to speak.
“Caesar, and esteemed fellow senators,” he said, “often have I been present in this assembly when demands were made to alter or dilute or do away entirely with the customs and laws of our ancestors. In every single instance, those changes were for the worse. Yes, in every instance the laws made by our ancestors were superior to the innovations proposed to replace them. Yet often I’ve kept my mouth shut and let the majority have its way, wishing not to become known as one of those stalwarts of the law who grows wearisome by always exalting ancient precedent. I was holding my fire, if you will, for a time when my voice truly would be needed to prevent a terrible error by the state. That time is now!
“An ex-consul has been deliberately murdered in his house by one of his own slaves. Not one of the other slaves did a thing to prevent this crime, though the law is clear that this was their duty. Vote to spare them, if you like. But if a city prefect is not safe in his own home, who among us will be? Who will have enough slaves to protect him, if the four hundred of Pedanius were not enough? Who can rely on a slave’s help, if even the threat of death is not enough to make a slave help you?
“I have sat here in silence and listened to the account of the ‘facts’ in this matter, which impute various unseemly behaviours on the part of Pedanius. I ask you, since the dead man cannot speak for himself, how and from whom where these ‘facts’ obtained? From the two slaves present at his murder, of course – the killer himself and the killer’s young paramour. No doubt this ‘evidence’ was obtained as the law prescribes, under torture, but I think we can discount their story as an utter fabrication, concocted to blacken the name of their victim and to elicit sympathy for themselves. Next we will be hearing that this murder was justifiable homicide, and Pedanius got what he deserved! Dust has been thrown in your eyes, Senators, and not by a skilled advocate, but by slaves. Shame on you!
“We also hear the argument that the other household slaves could not have known that their master was threatened. I don’t believe this for a moment. Do you seriously think that a slave plotted to killed his master without uttering a single rash or menacing word beforehand, to someone in the household? Even if this insanely jealous lover kept silent about his intention, how did he obtain a knife without anyone noticing and wondering what he meant to use it for? How did he penetrate to his master’s bedroom, past the watchman, and carrying a lamp, mind you, without anyone seeing?
“But even if some of the slaves suspected that their master was in danger, you may say, surely most of the slaves were ignorant of the fact. Perhaps. But I say that every slave in that household, whatever his degree of complicity, is irrevocably contaminated by the crime. Even a slave born into the household that very morning is contaminated and must be destroyed, like a rabid dog. Imagine a slave growing up, knowing that his first master was brutally murdered by one of his own kind and that slaves like himself went unpunished. Would such a slave have an understanding of his place in the world and of the immutable respect he owes to his owner? Would you want that slave in your household, growing up with the knowledge of a murdered master in his head, inevitably spreading that knowledge to others? I think not!
“Some of you act as if we are encountering such a crime for the very first time and must come to some momentous decision never made before. Even if a similar crime occurred in the past, you argue, this case is somehow unique and requires our special consideration. Nonsense! There is nothing new here, no novel and unprecedented situation that must be debated and settled. Our ancestors saw situations no different from this, dealt with those situations in the best possible manner, and handed their precedents down to us. Are you so ungrateful that you spurn their gifts? Are you so vain that you consider yourselves wiser than they?
“Our ancestors were distrustful of their slaves, even though those slaves were born on the same estates, sometimes even in the same house, as their masters. Lifelong familiarity did not reduce their suspicion of their slaves or induce them to treat those slaves with greater leniency. The situation we face today is far more perilous. Nowadays our huge households are filled with slaves from all over the world. Those slaves speak all sorts of languages – who knows what they say behind our backs? They practise all sorts of religions – or none at all. They form all sorts of cliques among themselves, and even join foreign, secret cults without our knowledge. We must be on our guard inside our own households now more than ever. The only way to deal with this motley rabble is by intimidation and a strict adherence to the law.
“Innocent people will die, you say. But the law has long recognized that the suffering of individuals is justified by the benefit to all. When a Roman legion suffers defeat and every tenth man is clubbed to death for shame, brave men may die along with cowards, but by such strict measures our ancestors built armies that have conquered the world. Those same ancestors gave us the law which we discuss today. Think long and hard before you trifle with it. Dismiss the law, and who knows what terrible consequences will follow. Uphold the law, and your children will sleep more safely in their beds tonight.”
Titus had dreamed of a rousing ovation, but it was Cassius who received it. Amid the cheering and applause, Titus overheard a nearby senator comment to another, “And that’s why Cassius is the best jurist alive!”
“The finest master of the law since Cicero,” said the other senator.
Rebuttals were invited. No one stepped forth.
The Senate voted by dividing the chamber. Those in favour of upholding the law without mitigation were to sit in the seats to the emperor’s right; those who wished to make some exception to the law were to sit on the emperor’s left.
Titus, who was already to Nero’s left, stayed where he was. The senators he had just overheard rose to their feet at once and crossed the chamber, as did Cassius, whose poor eyesight required him so seek assistance; numerous admirers rushed forward to claim the privilege of helping him. There was a great deal of movement back and forth, with groups of senators lingering in the middle of the room, engaged in last-moment discussions.
As always, Titus was amused to see which senators remained undecided until the last possible moment, standing in the middle of the chamber and looking anxiously from side to side to see which way the vote was trending. It was the same senators every time, the ones who had no opinions of their own and invariably voted with the majority, once they could determine which side the majority had taken.
When everyone was finally settled, there was no need for a count. Although a substantial number of senators had voted for leniency – far more than Titus had expected after Cassius’s rousing speech – the clear majority was in favour of the law. Without exception, all the slaves in the household of Pedanius were condemned to death by crucifixion. Preparations had already been made, and the sentence would be carried out that very day.
Nero had stayed out of the argument. It was his prerogative to speak at any time, but though he had listened attentively, he had said nothing. But after the session was formally closed, and the senators began to rise from their seats, a messenger ran to the dais and whispered in Nero’s ear, whereupon he rose to feet.
Seneca banged a staff on the floor. All eyes turned to the emperor.
“Senators,” said Nero, “I am told that the crowd outside has grown more numerous, and that many among them are now brandishing torches and clubs. It seems they have been informed of your judgement, and they are not pleased.”
“But the announcement hasn’t yet been made,” said a senator near Titus. “Who told them?”
“Probably one of the imperial slaves,” said another. “They’re constantly running in and out of the chamber.”
Shouting was audible from the Forum, even though the Senate House doors were closed. When the bronze doors were opened, moving slowly on their massive hinges, the muffled clamour from outside rose to a roar.
Titus followed the other senators onto the porch. He was shocked by what he saw.
The crowd had grown much bigger. The Forum was a sea of angry, shouting faces. Men stood alongside statues, on their pedestals, and on the steps and porches of every building in sight. The crowd had even overrun the venerated speaker’s platform, the Rostra, where men waving torches sat astride the famous ships’ beaks that projected over the crowd.
At the sight of the senators emerging from the Senate House, the crowd surged forward, rushing halfway up the steps before Nero’s Praetorian guards formed a cordon to stop them. They shouted, shook their fists, and brandished clubs. Some farther back in the crowd dared to throw stones at the Praetorians, who raised their shields to protect themselves. The clatter was deafening.
Titus anxiously scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that his bodyguards were right where he had left them. But he would not rejoin them yet; Titus had no intention of attempting to pass through such an angry mob. It
