Under Vesuvius

Aulus. I looked at the man's sandal and it was red, with the ivory crescent at the ankle, so he was a genuine patrician. I glanced toward Julia and she shrugged. She'd never heard of them either, it seemed.

Julia, of course, had no official capacity, and some in Rome might have thought it rather scandalous that she would even be present at one of my trials. But nothing was going to keep her away from this one, just as no law or custom prevented her from occasionally leaning over to whisper something in my ear. As long as she never spoke aloud, no one could accuse her of female interference, or me of being swayed by my wife's advice.

Julia sat behind the dais, accompanied by Antonia and Circe and their whole gaggle of handmaids and pages. At the foot of the dais to my right Tiro and Gelon huddled with Cicero and his brother, getting some last- minute coaching. To my left, Vibianus stood with a group of men, doubtless some of the town's leading legal minds.

We began with the ritualistic denunciations, in which Tiro and Vibianus execrated each other and their respective clients, accusing them of all manner of crime and degeneracy. This is a traditional practice using many stock phrases and is so familiar that I will not bother setting down the vituperative details. Once this was over, the serious part of the trial began. The lots were cast and Tiro got to speak first. Since there were no other cases to be heard that day, I dispensed with the water clock and allowed each advocate to speak as long as he liked, stipulating that the proceedings must be concluded by sundown.

Tiro came forward, his toga draped in the simple, ancestral fashion favored by Cicero. Tiro's posture and assurance of bodily address were so dignified that no one would have guessed that he had ever been a slave had he not freely admitted to that state.

'Citizens of Baiae,' he began, 'I am here before you to prevent a gross injustice from being done. Gelon, the newly bereaved son of the late

Gaeto of Numidia, has suffered grievously. In the first place, he lost the young woman to whom he was paying court.' There were angry mutters from the crowd, but he bore on. 'Yes, I know that many of you judged him to be unworthy to approach so highborn a lady, but on what grounds do you judge him? Because his father dealt in slaves? It is a legal business of great antiquity, else how could he practice it openly among you? And this young man has never worked in that trade. Indeed, his dearest wish is to return to Numidia and take up the life of a gentleman of that land.' He wisely forebore to mention that this life was, by Roman standards, one of banditry.

'As you all know,' he went on, 'I have been a slave for most of my life, yet I find no fault in this young man. And, not only did he lose the maiden he loved but also now finds himself unjustly accused of her murder! There is no justification for this calumny! The only reason he finds himself suspect is the spite of Diocles, priest of Apollo. I sympathize with Diocles. Who would be so hardhearted as not to feel the grief of a father for a beautiful and blameless young daughter? But in his grief he has made an unjust accusation. His only cause for believing Gelon is the murderer is that he deemed the boy unworthy to approach his daughter.

'He forbade the girl to associate with Gelon, and he barred Gelon from the temple and its precincts. Gorgo, dutiful girl that she was, obeyed her father. Gelon persisted in his suit.' Here Tiro gestured gracefully toward that imperiled young man. 'And yet, can one expect otherwise of high-spirited youth? Since the earliest tales of the Greeks it has been acknowledged that the impetuous affections of youth are proof against the rancorous disapproval of parents.

'Behold him!' Here Tiro swept his hand up and down, indicating the totality of the boy's comely form. 'Is he not as handsome as a god? Has he not the dress and bearing of a young prince? In the days of his freedom, did not all here see him riding in splendor upon his caparisoned steed, followed by his tribal guards, beautiful and noble as Alexander riding into Persepolis?'

He won applause for his eloquence. There were nods and even

shouts of agreement that the boy was indeed a fine sight, and how could one so comely be adjudged guilty? I have long noted that the prettier you are, the more likely you will be found innocent. There is something in us that wants to believe that ugliness signifies guilt and beauty is proof of innocence. Yet it has been my experience that lovely women and handsome men can be the foulest criminals. Nonetheless, it made an effective argument in court.

'To add to his sorrows,' Tiro went on, 'while under arrest, his own father was murdered! Attacked by an unknown assailant, while his son was unable to protect or avenge him, and only through the kindness of the praetor who held him in custody was he allowed to carry out the obsequies for his father. Is this justice?' Many seemed to agree that the boy had been done a bad turn.

'And it does not end there!' Tiro cried, trembling with lawyerly indignation. 'While riding back toward the praetor's villa, the party was set upon by bandits, at the very gates of this city! The clear object of these desperadoes was the death of Gelon. Indeed, two of his loyal tribal guards died defending him! Are we to believe that this attack and the murder of the blameless Gorgo are unconnected?' Here there were growls of agreement. I glanced at the jury. They didn't seem greatly impressed.

'Those outlaws were set upon that party in which Gelon rode, and only the valor of Roman arms and the loyalty of the fierce Numidians saved him! Nor did Gelon seek to take advantage of the situation to escape. Mounted on his splendid horse, such a course was quite feasible. Yet he meekly submitted to the authority of the praetor, trusting that Roman justice would prove his innocence. Is this the act of a murderer?'

He went on in this vein for some time, extolling the virtues of his client, stressing his splendid appearance, that he just did not look like a guilty man. Even the impassive equites of the jury at last seemed to be swayed, perhaps more by the obvious wealth of the accused than by his appearance.

Tiro summed up with a few more oaths as to his client's innocence, then it was the prosecutor's turn.

Vibianus strode to the front of the dais and adjusted the elaborate draping of his toga with studied absentmindedness. 'People of Baiae,' he began in a splendid voice, 'our esteemed Tiro, known to you all for many years, has done well by his client, as any lawyer should. He has pointed out to you the boy's greatest asset, which is his fine figure.' Here he paused and flicked some imaginary dust from his toga. 'Well, I have a very handsome horse. Nonetheless, it has kicked me more than once.' This got him a good laugh.

'So let us dispense with these irrelevancies and examine the realities of the matter at hand, shall we?' Head high, he scanned the crowd in lordly fashion, seeking and finding approval. The man knew how to conduct a prosecution, I had to admit. I hoped the rest of his performance would not be as competent.

'First, I would like to eliminate from consideration the lurid incident of the bandit attack. By the way, in case you have not heard, those rogues have been exterminated, thanks to the swift action of the young horsemen of Sextus Pompeius!' Here the crowd cheered. I wanted to shout that I'd done for two of those bandits myself and my men and Gelon's had killed most of the others and that I'd sent for the turma myself and they'd only killed four. But it would have appeared churlish to say so, and I held my tongue.

'As for the motives of the bandits,' he went on, 'what motive do bandits ever need save robbery? How were they to know that this was a well-armed band on that foggy day? The Numidians quite rightly placed themselves between their master and the attackers, some of whom most certainly assaulted the slaver's son. And why? Was it because they were hired to do away with him?' He paused and waited, looking around and timing his next line. 'No! They went for him because he was riding the finest horse! The beast itself was a desirable prize and who would be riding such an animal save a man with a fat purse, one who would fetch a rich ransom!'

There were loud cries of agreement at this, and that it only stood to reason and why hadn't someone thought of this before?

'This man knows his business,' Hermes muttered.

'Studied under a master, so they say,' I commented.

'Why,' Vibianus said when the hubbub died down, 'would anyone go to such lengths to kill Gelon, a man destined for the cross already? If someone put those bandits up to their attack, might the intended victim not more likely be our esteemed praetor peregrinus?' He did not point at me in vulgar fashion but merely indicated me with a wave of his hand.

'Explain yourself,' I said.

'Noble Praetor, you seem to us the most just and blameless of men, and who can deny your valor, when you took a personal part in the fighting despite your praetorian dignity? Yet yours is a very great family, one important in the public life of Rome for many generations. What family of such eminence lacks enemies? We all know very