Under Vesuvius

He sputtered. 'What sort of evidence would satisfy you, Praetor?'

'You don't have to satisfy me,' I told him, 'but you must satisfy this jury.' I waved a hand toward the eighty or ninety men who sat on benches looking bored. Under the Sullan constitution these were all equites with a minimum property assessment of four hundred thousand sesterces. In reality, I suspected that they would rather see a bribe than evidence, but I wasn't going to let it be that way.

'Perhaps,' I said, 'you might produce some of this fake perfume and explain to us how it differs from the real thing.'

'I–I did not come prepared for this!'

'That was thoughtless of you.'

'Besides, Praetor, you are not a perfumer. How would you know the

difference?'

'If it takes a professional to tell the difference between real and fake,' I demanded, 'why are we paying so much money for this stuff?'

He almost yelled an answer, caught himself, then went on in a reasonable tone. 'Praetor, we have wandered rather far from the matter of this lawsuit.'

'I suppose so,' I admitted. 'I could bring my wife. She has an infallible nose for perfume.'

'Praetor-' Just then the ball fell into the dish with a resounding clang. 'This is not just!' he squawked. 'I did not get to present my case!'

'We'll let Diogenes have his say anyway,' I said. 'If you're in luck, he'll bungle it worse than you did. Silva, have you engaged an advocate?'

He stood and adjusted his toga grandly. 'Hardly necessary, Praetor. If it meets with your approval, I shall speak on behalf of my friend Diogenes.'

'You don't need my approval. If you are prepared, speak up.' I nodded to the timekeeper and he restarted the water clock.

'First, Praetor, judges of Baiae, and good men of the jury, allow me to point out that this man Celsius is a jealous business rival of Diogenes, so his testimony is suspect from the first word. Why would he bring suit against Diogenes unless he was losing business to my friend?

'The truth is that Diogenes offers these famous perfumes to the public not at an inflated price but rather at a lower price than other perfumers can profitably accept. They imagine that he can do this only by counterfeiting, but in fact it is because he is a far better businessman than they.'

He made an expansive gesture toward the audience. 'While these men sit here in Baiae, overseeing their slaves and enjoying the comforts of our lovely city, Diogenes spends a full half of every year in perilous travel, braving the wine-dark sea, the wind-driven sands of Ethiopia and Arabia, the savage inhabitants of far-flung lands, all to seek out the best purveyors of rare and costly perfumes and those obscure ingredients that go into the scents we blend, quite openly and honestly, for our domestic production.

'By thus taking the dangers, privations, and hardships upon himself, by not trusting middlemen and not paying their exorbitant fees, he is able to effect a considerable saving in each year's outlay, savings he is able to express in lower prices for his wares. Is this dishonest? No, the dishonesty is in the envy and resentment of his rivals and these, Romans all, hope to sway the jury by attacking his Cretan origins. But I know that my fellow citizens are not persuaded by this calumnious slander.

'And as for those 'persons in his employ,' as he so delicately puts it, will a slave not lie for a few coins? Will a slave not sell out his master if offered the chance? Does the old saying not warn us, 'You have as many enemies as you have slaves'? That Celsius even stoops to such a practice is proof of his villainy!'

With the last word the ball clanged into the dish and the audience applauded, jury included. He'd done extremely well. I might have been persuaded myself, had they not already tried to bribe me.

'There we have it,' I announced. 'There is no solid evidence in this case, just the arguments of two business rivals. Diogenes may be guilty of counterfeiting, but to this I say, what of it? As far as I am concerned, if you can't tell the difference between one scent and another, and you pay an exorbitant price just for its name, then you're an idiot and deserve to be fleeced.

'As for Celsius, any Roman citizen who can't outwit a Cretan is a poor credit to the descendants of Romulus. All in all, this whole case is an unworthy waste of time. That's just my opinion, though. The decision rests with you worthy equites of Baiae, who, I am certain, will render judgment in the highest traditions of Roman justice. Do keep in mind that, if Diogenes has tried to bribe you with samples of his perfume, he may have used counterfeit.'

With this I sat back in my curule chair while everyone gaped, then chattered in low voices. Apparently I had satisfied nobody, and that suited me perfectly. I affected nonchalance while the local magistrates coached the jury and all the rest babbled among themselves. I wondered whether the scents I had been given were real or fake. If fake, Julia was going to be infuriated. The five thousand sesterces had been real, though. I suspected that Diogenes and Silva were wondering whether it had been well spent.

The jury retired into the basilica to debate and, no doubt, to compare bribes. I passed the time in idle conversation with the city magistrates and my own legal experts. My stomach was grumbling, but it would have created a public scandal for a praetor sitting on his curule chair to have lunch right in front of everybody. Sometimes, I think, we carry grav-itas too far.

Where, I wondered, had Hermes got to? He shouldn't have trouble finding one of the district's most prominent, if somewhat notorious, inhabitants.

In time, the jury returned and the bailiff recited a few of the hallowed judicial formulae concerning justice and truthfulness before the gods, then the eldest juror handed him the ballot jar. The bailiff dumped the marked tesserae on his table, and he and his assistants counted them out, ballots for innocent to go in one pile, guilty in another. At the end of it, all the ballots were in a single pile.

'The jury finds unanimously for the defendant,' he announced. 'Diogenes of Crete is innocent.' The audience cheered or made rude noises as their sympathies lay.

'So much for that, then,' I said. 'This court is adjourned. Let's get some lunch.'

Manius Silva came up to me, fury in his face. 'The verdict was just, but it came no thanks to you, Praetor!'

'What of it? Is it my task to guarantee a favorable verdict here?'

'It is when you've accepted-' I gave him a stern look and he paused. The men of my party gave him stern looks. My lictors gave him stern looks, fingering the edges of their axe heads.

'You were saying, Manius Silva?' I asked.

'Nothing, Praetor. Thank you for conducting so fair a court.' He whirled and stalked off.

In truth, I was happy that Diogenes had been found innocent. I didn't care about his business practices, and the man had been good company. As far as I was concerned, a fine judge of fighting men was far preferable to some disgruntled scent merchant.

There came a clatter of hoofs and I saw Hermes and a couple of the young bloods of my party ride into the forum. Indignant looks went their way, for mounted and wheeled traffic were forbidden during the daylight hours, but as special assistants to the praetor they had a dispensation. Hermes slid off his mount and strode to the judicial platform.

'Have you found him?' I demanded.

'I did. He's dead, Praetor. Murdered.'

7

My litter carried me to the edge of the town, where my horse was waiting, saddled. I got out of the litter, tossed my toga into it, and ordered the bearers to return to the villa. Mounted and free of the cumbersome garment, I felt invigorated, even younger. Boredom and the trappings of power can be a deadly combination. I was eager for some excitement and I was getting it.

'How?' I demanded as we rode.

'You'll have to see for yourself,' Hermes shouted above the clatter of our horses. The splendid road was