John Roberts - A Point of Law

“And this is the wound you found on Curio?” I asked.

“It was done with a dagger, and at the precise angle that would be made by a right-handed man cutting himself, but it was the coward’s blow-a trifling laceration done by a man who knew exactly where to cut for the most dramatic effect.”

I nodded. “I saw the boxer’s marks on his face when I first met him, and just now he said that he was a lifelong enthusiast of the sport. He would know how that cut is delivered. He made a quick recovery when you found him out though. He acted as if he had never thought the wound was serious and he carried it off well.”

“Do you think the lady Fulvia was party to the ruse?” Asklepiodes asked.

I was pondering that one myself. “No, I think not. I would certainly never put such a subterfuge past her, but her outburst in the Forum this morning was genuine. It could not have been faked unless she’s an actress of surpassing merit. I believe Curio left her house this morning before daylight, waited until the janitor shut the door, took out his dagger and cut himself, waited until he was well-soaked with blood, then raised a huge noise, as if he were being murdered. The janitor reopened the door, and Curio staggered back inside. He’d probably made arrangements with the Syrian beforehand to keep the true nature of his wound secret.”

“That would have been prudent,” Asklepiodes agreed.

“He probably didn’t expect Fulvia to erupt like Aetna though, or he would have had his supporters in the Forum ready to further his plans, whatever they may be. And, of course, he had no way to anticipate another physician coming to examine him. He had to make the best of it and play the scene to the best effect he could.”

“Just what is his plan?” Hermes wondered aloud. He took from the platter a pastry of mashed figs cooked with honey and nuts.

“I intend to find out,” I told him. “But that isn’t the question uppermost in my mind at the moment.”

“Oh?” Asklepiodes said. “What question troubles you more?” “How did Curio know that Fulvius was killed elsewhere and carried to the basilica steps? That is a detail I’ve mentioned to very few people, and Caius Scribonius Curio isn’t one of them.” I took a slice of fish pie. The way things were going, who knew when I would next have a chance to eat? It is always best to be prepared.

Did Fulvia really strip naked right atop the rostra in front of the whole public?” Julia wanted to know.

“Only half naked. I think stripping to the waist as a display of grief is a Greek custom.”

“When did Fulvia turn into a Greek? She only did it because she thinks she has plenty to show off.”

“Now that you mention it, the condition wasn’t at all unbecoming, though pity wasn’t the reaction she evoked.” Julia and I had encountered one another at our house, where I had gone to get my bath gear. She had just come from Callista’s to change clothes for an afternoon ceremony at the Temple of Vesta. Then it would be back to Callista’s to work on that code.

“You were eager enough to escort her home, I hear.” She looked radiant and deceptively benevolent in Vestal white.

“And a good thing I did. Listen to what I learned there.” As usual, Julia couldn’t stay angry when she was hearing really scabrous gossip and shady intrigue. She seemed thoroughly edified by my recitation.

“What an indiscreet pair,” she said, shaking her head. “And what does Curio intend by this ludicrous charade?”

“Not so ludicrous,” I told her. “He has the whole City believing he was almost assassinated, and I’d believe it, too, if I hadn’t seen the evidence and heard what Asklepiodes had to say. With the elections just the day after tomorrow, the sympathy vote could just push him over the top in a tightly contested election.”

“Sad to say, that is the most innocent explanation you can think of.”

“Unfortunately. And I am now sure that he had some knowledge of Fulvius’s murder. But was it prior or post, and was he personally involved?”

“Would Fulvia marry her brother’s murderer? That would be rich even for her.”

“Not everybody knows what everybody else is doing in this tangle of deceptions,” I sighed. “So far we have Fulvius, the Marcelli, Octavia, Curio, Tribune Manilius, and even Fulvia herself, and every one of them may be playing a different game. Some of them may not be involved at all, although I wouldn’t put any money on that proposition.”

She looked at the satchel of towels, oil flasks, and scrapers on the table. “Which bath are you going to? The Licinia?”

“No, the one near the old Senate house. The other senators will be gathering there, and I want to sample the climate. Have you made any further progress on the code?”

“Two more characters. Some whole words are turning up, though it’s too soon to try to make any sense out of the documents. It’s the most enthralling work I’ve ever done. I’d still be there if I didn’t absolutely have to go to the temple this afternoon. Callista thinks we can have it broken by nightfall.”

“Wonderful. Send word to me as soon as you have them translated. I’m afraid I have no idea where I’ll be.”

“Wherever it is, go easy on the wine. You need all your wits about you just now.” She swept out like a white cloud.

“Big chance of that,” Hermes said, when she was gone.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking of reforming.” Hermes wisely said nothing.

It was still only early afternoon, which seemed unbelievable so eventful had the day been. Men were just beginning to gather at the baths. The one I favored was just off the Forum. Although it was less luxurious than the newer balnea , it was favored by men of power in Rome, the senators and the untitled but wealthy equites .

For a change, I soaked in the hot bath and just listened to them talk for a while. Naturally, almost all the talk was about Fulvia’s performance that morning, and the “attack” on Curio. Naturally, Fulvia got the bulk of the attention. Some claimed to be shocked and scandalized; some were merely amused. All agreed that she had made a fabulous sight, and those few who hadn’t been there were much aggrieved at having missed the show.

“What’s this about Curio being a champion of the plebs?” asked a crusty old senator. “I thought he was one of us!” Us being the aristocrats, the optimates , the men who sometimes styled themselves boni , the best.

“That’s what I thought,” said another. Apparently, Curio’s defection to Caesar’s camp was so recent that many senators hadn’t gotten the news yet.

“Oh, yes,” an eques affirmed. “It seems he’s as two-faced as Janus. He’ll spend his year pushing Caesar’s interests if he gets elected.”

“And now it looks as if he’s marrying Clodius Pulcher’s widow,” said a young senator, who wore a dreamy expression. “It’s going to be a little hard on his dignity when he gets up to interpose his veto, knowing that we’ve all seen his wife naked.”

“He doesn’t seem to be a man easily embarrassed,” said the eques .

“Who tried to kill him?” I threw the question out at random, my eyes half shut, as if I were almost asleep. I didn’t want to take part in the conversation, but I was curious to hear opinion taken from the common store. Sometimes this sort of thing can be more revealing than the informed opinion of insiders.

“Same bunch who killed that fellow, what’s-his-name, Fulvius,” the young senator opined.

“I’ll wager it’s Pompey’s doing,” said the eques . Pompey was not at all popular with men of his class, who tended to favor Caesar.