Jack Whyte - The Singing Sword

"Would you agree that a rule is a relatively mild, informal guideline prepared by, say, a society or a guild for the governance of its members? Nothing too formal or demanding, except that refusal to abide by it might result in the member's being mildly disciplined or even, in the last resort, being asked by his peers to withdraw from the society?"

I nodded in agreement.

"And then, as a soldier, you know that a regulation is a much more stringent form of rule, laid down by the army, and disobedience to the regulation involves physical disciplining of the culprit under martial law. And the guarantee of punishment is supplied by the authority of the imperial legions? Agreed?"

Again I nodded.

He continued. "A law, on the other hand, is an absolute rule, drawn up by the State, and failure to abide by it draws down absolute punishment, administered resolutely and with the full power and majesty of the State behind it?"

"Agreed. That sums it up." My voice was very quiet.

"Very well, then, Publius. You were talking of making new laws for our Colony. Let's stay with the definitions we agreed upon. Now, did you mean rules? Regulations? Or were you really talking about laws? And whichever of them you meant, had you given any thought to how they might be drawn up? Or implemented? Or enforced?"

"Good God, Cay," I whispered, "I see what you mean."

"Do you, brother?" He took a deep swallow from his cup. "I wish I did."

I drank from my own cup, and suddenly the wine seemed flat and tasteless. "We don't have that kind of authority, do we?"

"No, Publius, we do not. Nor, I think, would we want it. We have power, in that we own this land, in common with the other villa-owners. As such, we control the Colony and are accepted as its leaders by the people who live here, but would we want those powers extended to embrace the power of life and death? I submit that neither you nor I, nor any of the others, would, or could, be comfortable with that kind of power."

"How so?" I was surprised again. "We've all held that power before, in the legions."

"Yes, but only as deputies."

"That's true, you're right. But we have to do something, if what you suspect is the truth. So what can we do? Where do we start?"

Caius got up and moved to the brazier to feed the fire. "We have begun. All we can do is talk about it and try to see some way to draw up a set of rules that all of us can live by. We have to assume the responsibility for being the catalytic force behind the movement, for while I have reason to fear what we are contemplating, there is no doubt in my mind that we are correct. And we will not be able to do this alone. The enormity of such arrogance would be self-destructive." He turned back to face me. "The laws exist already, that goes without saying. No need to invent new ones. But we lack the means of prosecution. We must have some means of enforcing the laws, Publius... and that is going to be a fearsome responsibility and a dreadful and daunting task."

"We'll have to set up some new kind of governing body."

"Absolutely. But it will also have to be a representative body. It can't be just you and me. The colonists would never accept that, nor would I wish them to. We could, however, extend the powers of the existing Council to cover legislation."

"You mean found a real Senate, along Roman lines?"

He grimaced. "Possibly. Something like that. That was our original intent, when we first talked of establishing a Council to govern the Colony."

I stood up now and moved closer to the brazier, extending my hands towards the heat. "I remember, but we decided against that degree of sophistication. Do you really believe we could go back to that now? It would be a major departure from all we've done since those days, Cay. A really big change. You think it could be done?"

"Of course it could, but it would have to be done in the right way, with the proper preparation and spirit."

"But what about enforcement? We'd still have to set up some form of disciplinary force. Our own soldiers?"

"Hardly, Publius. A military dictatorship?"

"What, then?"

"No idea. As I said, it's going to take a lot of talking and a lot of sober thought... But a strengthened Council, endowed with the bona fide senatorial authority to apprehend transgressors might be the answer... particularly if it were backed up by some form of tribunal..."

I could practically hear his mind clicking as he pursued the pros and cons of what he was saying.

"Yes, that might be it, Publius ... a tribunal... a systematic method of exercising the voice and judgment of the colonists, in conjunction with the Council. Public trials, and accountability for persons accused of public — even private — mischief. But no powers of life and death, none of that nonsense. Banishment only. The ultimate punishment would be banishment."

I was dubious. "You really think that would be enough of a deterrent to criminal behaviour?"

He grinned at me. "Today? Probably not. But in five or ten years from now, when the world has gone to Hades, who knows? Let's bring Luceiia in on this now. We could use her common sense."

I think none of us could really have suspected that the discussions begun that evening among the three of us would become the basis for the entire system of law throughout our growing domain in the years that stretched ahead, although that is exactly what happened.

Luceiia, when she joined us, dismissed most of our concerns about lawmaking as being premature. Cay, she pointed out, was the owner of the villa and its lands and ipso facto had an absolute right to determine the code of conduct for everyone living on those lands, as did the other villa-owners on theirs. The Council was a relatively new body and was functioning reasonably well in its current form. Best to let it continue as it was and to let its authority and its functions determine themselves with the passing of time. As the population of the Colony grew, the scope of the Council would expand naturally to reflect that growth. Cay and I exchanged glances and agreed with her; she was right again.

At one point she stopped talking quite abruptly and sat deep in thought for some time before glancing shrewdly at her brother and then at me.

"Both of you are concerned about interfering with the rights of other people, aren't you? You can't see clearly where moral supervision, for the want of a better expression, stops, and plain interference and meddling begin. Am I correct?"

She was, as far as I was concerned, but as I cleared my throat to answer her, Caius began to speak.

"Yes, Luceiia, you are, as usual. I am particularly concerned about the carpenter Publius mentioned. It is an appropriate case, in this context. You say he is a drunkard. He would probably respond that he is a hard worker who enjoys a jug of ale or wine, or both, after he has finished his day's work. I do, too. So does your husband. We may simply be able to hold our drink better than this carpenter. Should we condemn him for that? Can we? You suggest he bullies and terrorizes his family, and that he is incestuous with his daughters. That latter is only hearsay, is it not? Is there any proof that he does?"

Luceiia shook her head.

"I thought so. So there is nothing to be done about that, at the present time. We can do nothing until someone complains. Nothing at all. On the matter of beating and terrorizing his family, however, he could respond that he disciplines them. How am I to react to that?" Cay was frowning, a deep line of thought creasing the space between his eyebrows. "I believe in discipline, and I believe that discipline has to be harsh if it is to have any effect. How am I, what right have I, to tell any man how to govern his own household? Could I have told Domitius Titens to discipline his wife? Or to look to her chastity? By what right, other than that of an officious and interfering neighbour? He would have drawn his blade on me, and who would have blamed him? His domestic life was none of my concern; it could never have been any of my business, simply because it was his and his alone. You know the laws governing adultery. He could have whipped the flesh from her bones with complete impunity and no man would have thought the worse of him ... As it was, he went berserk and slaughtered his entire household."