John Roberts - A Point of Law

He grinned. “I thank you.” Then he looked at the consul and glared. “And why are you questioning the right of Decius Caecilius to be here? This is my basilica, Consul!”

“He ought to be in prison awaiting trial,” the consul Marcellus growled. “The man’s a murderer and a disgrace!”

“Not yet proven,” Manilius said.

“Who needs proof?” said Caius. “He’s the logical choice.”

I longed to toss out some remark about that estate in Baiae, just to watch their faces change color. But some things are best kept in reserve.

“The wretch was no loss anyway,” Aemilius Paullus put in. “Did you know that he was trying to usurp my basilica?” He waved a beringed hand, taking in all the lavish adornments. Workmen swarmed everywhere, applying the finishing touches to it: bits of gilding here and there, final polishing of the multicolored marble, buffing the thin mica plates set into the clerestory windows. “He waited until all the major work was nearly finished, then he tried to bring up that old claim that it was a Fulvius, not an Aemilius, who built it!”

“It’s a valid claim,” said the consul Marcellus. “When I was young, I heard it called the Fulvia as often as the Aemilia.”

“Nonsense!” Aemilius Paullus cried, going red in the face. “Base calumny! The Fulvians are a family of nobodies who want to steal the glory of a nobler gens! This building is the pride of my family, and it has always been maintained by us!”

This was excellent entertainment, and I believe I was enjoying it as much as Sallustius was.

Hermes whispered in my ear: “Another suspect.”

I nodded but said nothing.

“Maintained by you!” Caius Marcellus shouted. “Everyone knows that your great restoration project is the result of the biggest bribe in the history of the Republic! Even now, all over Rome, people are beginning to call this place the Basilica Julia!”

Aemilius Paullus went dead white. “And just what, I pray, am I being bribed to do? ”

“It is common knowledge,” Caius Marcellus sneered, “that you and I will be next year’s consuls.”

“The two of you have outspent everyone else,” Tribune Manilius commented.

“And I,” Caius went on, “have pledged to devote myself to recalling Caesar from Gaul and giving his command to a trustworthy man who will draw this endless war to an honorable close. You have been paid handsomely to agitate for an extension of Caesar’s command. Dare to deny it!”

“Deny that I support Caesar? Never!” said Aemilius Paullus “He has brought Rome more glory and riches than all the Claudians back to the days of Aeneas! He deserves all the honors the Senate can bestow upon him! As for his gifts to me, such tokens exchanged between men of rank are an ancient custom, one you have practiced assiduously!” He appealed to me. “Decius Caecilius, did Caesar not help cover the debts you assumed as aedile?”

“Actually,” I told them, “he offered to cover them all. But I accepted no more of his generosity than my family deemed proper.” It seemed that everyone was trying to push me into Caesar’s camp.

“You see?” Aemilius Paullus cried. “A man as upright as our next year’s praetor, Decius Caecilius, is not ashamed to partake of Caesar’s largesse.”

“With more moderation than you,” said the consul, his exaggerated gaze taking in the lavish restorations. “Don’t try to make us out as enemies of the Metelli, Aemilius. We’ve no argument with them.”

The angry, raised voices were attracting attention. People had begun drifting in from the Forum to catch the show. Soon there was a large enough crowd for the infuriated politicians to take notice and moderate their tone. The three Marcelli, accompanied by Manilius, stalked off in a huff.

Aemilius Paullus put a smile back on his face and addressed the minor mob now assembled in the basilica. “Citizens! I welcome all of you warmly, but the workmen are still busy here so I must ask you all to leave for now. But I want you all back here when I rededicate the basilica as soon as I assume office after the election. I shall hold a public banquet to which you and all other citizens are invited.”

This got a cheer from the crowd, with Caesar’s soldiers cheering loudest. No doubt about it, his election was assured. As soon as the crowd dispersed, Aemilius Paullus came to join us.

“It looks like next year will be an important one, eh, Decius?” he said.

“Lively, anyway. The Senate meetings should be noisy.”

“I take it I can count on your support?”

I sidestepped. “I’m just one voice in the Senate. As praetor, I’ll have no voice in provincial affairs. You need to talk to next year’s tribunes. Caesar’s fortunes lie more with the assemblies than with the Senate.”

“All too true,” Aemilius Paullus grumbled, then he turned to Sallustius. “Have you packed to go yet, Caius Sallustius?”

“Go?”

“Yes, go. I’ve been talking with Appius Claudius Pulcher, and he’s already making his list of men to expel from the Senate when he’s censor next year. Your name is on it.”

“Expel me?” Sallustius cried, aghast. “On what charge?”

“Immorality, it seems.”

“Indeed? Am I so much worse than my colleagues in the Senate?”

“You know that better than I, but Appius doesn’t like you, and it’s going to be a hard year for men he doesn’t like.”

“Of what sort of immoralities is Sallustius accused?” I asked. This was something I just had to hear.

“Let’s see-as tribune last year he is supposed to have taken bribes to prosecute Milo and oppose Cicero, he maintains his residence in a whorehouse, he looted the Ostian treasury during his quaestorship there, he seduced the wives of at least twenty senators, he likewise seduced a Vestal, he has appeared in the Senate staggering drunk, he dishonored certain statues of the gods during the Floralia, he was seen using weapons in the annual brawl over the head of the October Horse, he employed blackmail to send a naval cutter to Cirta to fetch him fresh oysters-”

“I haven’t done half those things!” Sallustius protested.

“Which half?” I asked him.

“This is the basest sort of slander, spread by Caesar’s enemies.”

“It’s enough to get you expelled though,” I told him. “If I were you, I’d talk with Calpurnius Piso. He’s almost certain to be the other censor, and he’s Caesar’s father-in-law to boot. If he’s obstructive enough, he might be able to keep you in.”

“Don’t count on that,” Aemilius advised. “Piso’s wife is one of the ones you’re accused of seducing. And you’re just one of a very long list Appius has drawn up.”

“Who else?” I asked.

“Most prominently, young Curio.”

“A serving tribune?” I said. “What does he hope to accomplish?”

“First, he can make Curio’s life miserable,” Aemilius Paullus pointed out, “even though he can’t take immediate action against him. Second, he’ll be parceling out the public contracts. Curio has many friends and supporters among the wealthy publicani . How many of them do you think will get their contracts granted or renewed under this censorship?”

“That’s a powerful weapon all right,” I acknowledged.

“And,” Aemilius Paullus reminded us, “a tribune must lay down his powers at a specific time-next December to be precise. A censor is under no such obligation. He can stay in office until he judges it to be fulfilled. I think I can predict that Appius will stay in office until he’s dealt with all of next year’s magistrates who have displeased him.”

“Not much chance of keeping my stripe with a quick bribe, then,” Sallustius said. “Well, what one set of censors decree, another can set aside. Maybe I won’t even have to wait that long.”