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  Aulus looked at me defensively. ‘It’s very modest, and it makes working in Rome much easier.’

  I looked behind me to check that Silo was managing to keep up whilst carrying the heavy leather bag, frowning when I saw he was dropping back. ‘It’s fine by me, Aulus. Will you be able to provide for both me and Silo?’

  Aulus shook his head. ‘I can get one of my slaves to fix something for him, but he’ll not join us at table.’

  Aulus and my sister were both sticklers for slaves and their masters keeping their rightful place, so I wasn’t surprised by this stipulation. However, I was surprised he kept slaves other than in his home and looked at him quizzically. ‘How many slaves do you keep there?’

  Aulus pulled his toga straighter as he walked on. ‘Just four. Salah is my head scribe. The others help with his work and look after the place, as well as cooking my meals and such stuff.’

  I chuckled. ‘I only keep four in my house on the Caelian. And truth be told, they pretty much look after themselves. My father owns them, not me. Well, except for Badriyah, but that’s a long story.’

  Aulus shook his head. ‘Antonia is always telling me you have a lax attitude to your slaves. You should instruct them in their duties daily.’

  ‘I would if I knew what they were.’ I signalled to Silo to catch up when we reached the edge of the Forum, taking the leather bag off him. ‘Let me lighten it a bit. I can carry some of the wooden sheaves.’

  Aulus looked on in annoyance as Silo gave me an angry look. ‘I can manage it,’ he whined, but he didn’t try to stop me taking the bag – a sure sign he was finding it too heavy. I took out about half of the sheaves, enough for me to carry under my arm, and handed the leather bag back to Silo.

  Silo slung the leather bag back over his shoulder. ‘Do you want me to run ahead and announce your coming?’

  Aulus nodded and added, ‘It may help us through the busy streets.’

  I shook my head. ‘No, Silo. You just keep an eye on the contents of that bag. No need for anything else.’

  Aulus gave a slight shake of his head as we left the Forum, making our way through the busy thoroughfares of Rome. As soon as we were away from the Forum the roads were filled with street traders and other merchants shouting their wares, enticed to Rome by the promise of riches, eager to convince everyone who passed of the quality of their goods. After we crossed one road, over the raised paving stones that kept our togas from being soiled in the dirt of the road, one extremely keen street vendor shouted out ‘Best garum! Best garum!’ and tried to place an amphora of the strong-smelling fishy sauce under my nose, spilling some in the process.

  Luckily it missed my toga, but I shot the street vendor a filthy look and he backed away, the colour draining from his face as he noticed the purple fringe to my toga. I told him angrily, ‘Be more careful with that stuff. I have no wish to smell of rotten fish all day.’

  Aulus came to the merchant’s rescue. ‘It’s no good blaming him. I told you we should use Silo to announce our coming.’

  I nodded and moved past the frightened man, giving him a slight grin to reassure him he wasn’t in trouble. Many senators’ families would be less forgiving than I, so his fear wasn’t completely misplaced.

  I turned to Aulus as we crammed past a group of heavy sweaty bodies that were congregating outside a popular street-side stall selling hot food. ‘I haven’t really liked asking Silo to announce me, lately. Not since Germany. I feel it’s too ostentatious.’

  Aulus shook his head in annoyance, scrunching his nose at the strong smells coming from one of the vendors that many of the plebeians used for their daily meals. ‘Nonsense, Cassius. Your status in Rome should be recognised. If my man Salah wasn’t unwell, I would be having him clear a path for us.’

  I chuckled. ‘He probably ate something from that place,’ I said, nodding towards the unclean-looking restaurant.

  Aulus huffed, ‘You’ll never get me eating from one of those.’ He batted away a fly that buzzed out of the venue. ‘But I don’t understand why you should be ashamed to flaunt your status, Cassius. Your family is worthy of the highest respect.’

  I frowned. ‘I guess I’m still angry. Of the survivors of the disaster in Germany, only Marcus and I have been able to return to Rome. Flaunting my wealth as if it never happened seems wrong to me.’

  After returning to Rome I had been aghast to find that Augustus had decreed that the few survivors from the XVII, XVIII, and XIX legions were no longer welcome in Rome. My and Marcus’ social status from the senatorial class exempted me from the decree, but the unjustness of it still burned inside me.

  Aulus placed a hand on my shoulder as he helped guide me past a weaver’s shop built into a ground-floor shop-front of a tall tenement building, whose goods were sprawling out into the road. ‘I know you’re still upset by that, Cassius, but you’ve done all you can in that regard.’

  I looked behind me to check that Silo wasn’t getting lost in the crowds. ‘Well, I’m pleased we sent that money to your contact in Gaul. Setting up a small veteran’s colony for them there was a good idea. I just wish I could do more.’

  There were so few survivors from the disaster at the Teutoburg, less than a hundred all told, that it hadn’t cost much to set up some small landholdings for the survivors. My father’s immense wealth was useful at times.

  Aulus shook his head. ‘You can’t understand the fear that went through the city after we heard what had taken place, Cassius. Augustus needed to hastily conscript citizens against their will just to recruit a few more legions to protect the borders. The people were angry and afraid. We thought the very security of Rome was at risk. After hundreds of years of peace and prosperity, that was difficult for the populace to understand. How could this have happened to us? How could Rome lose a battle of that size? We have all been guilty of thinking the legions unbeatable – finding out that may not be the case was a big shock.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘So Augustus concluded that the soldiers involved must be cursed with bad luck?’

  Aulus tilted his bald head in sympathy. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t believe it any more than anyone else, Cassius, but it was easier to ban any reminders of that defeat rather than have them return home to spread news of our fallibility. Rome needs to reassert its strength, its invulnerability – those survivors remind everyone that we’re not.’

  I couldn’t accept what he was saying. ‘But our borders are secure now. The German army of united tribes will never break past the frontiers of the Rhine now they have been reinforced. Maroboduus of the Marcomanni stayed loyal to Rome, and the Cherusci alliance with them never materialised. No one in Rome is in any peril.’

  Aulus sighed. ‘And thank the gods for that. But Rome can’t forget how close it came to losing her empire. Compared to the peace of Rome itself, the welfare of a few soldiers in a far frontier are of little concern I’m afraid.’

  I spat on the ground. ‘Those few soldiers gave everything to warn of the disaster that had taken place. They lost everything fighting for Rome.’

  Aulus nodded. ‘I know that, Cassius, and I sympathise, but what more can we do? Augustus is the highest authority in Rome. We can’t go against what he has decreed.’

  I knew he was right. There was no point in blaming Aulus for Augustus’ decisions, so I let the matter drop.

  There was an uncomfortable silence as we wandered through Rome’s streets, past the large ugly tenement buildings of the poor and the more picturesque homes of the wealthy – those who hadn’t yet made the move to the higher Roman hills away from the bustle and heat of Rome’s centre.

  Eventually, to avoid that same awkward feeling following us all day, I changed the subject and asked, ‘So, I guess you’ll win tomorrow, Aulus?’

  Aulus looked to be taken aback by the change of topic, but he sounded confident enough when he told me, ‘Win? Oh yes, I should think so.’

  I rubbed the back of my neck and thought about it. ‘But don’t you think there is so
mething awry with Fonteius? He’s not someone I’d trust.’

  Aulus moved out of the way of a fat merchant walking the other way. ‘Well neither would I, but that has nothing to do with it. The law is on his side, and that’s all that matters.’

  I looked at him quizzically. ‘And that is all that matters to you? The law?’

  Aulus sighed. ‘Of course, Cassius. That is all that ever matters. Everything else you need to discard. What remains is the law, and that should be our only concern.’

  Aulus turned down another street and we approached the rooms he kept near Rome’s centre. Aulus’ ‘modest rooms’ was actually a sizeable domus that many a wealthy plebeian would have been proud to call his home. One of the four slaves that Aulus kept there let us in, and Aulus asked him, ‘Is Salah feeling any better?’

  The house slave, who was a thin fellow of middling years with a gaunt tired expression, shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, my lord. His fever hasn’t broken since he visited his cousin in the coppersmith’s. The bad airs there have made many a man ill. We have called for the apothecary.’

  I was dubious that the coppersmith had anything to do with the malaise. I’d met the slave Salah before and guessed an amphora of wine was more likely the culprit.

  Aulus walked into the large hallway and told his slave, ‘Tell Macedo to bring us the stuffed vine leaves.’ He turned to me. ‘I normally have mine stuffed with smoked fish. Is that alright with you?’

  I shrugged. ‘As long as your cook Macedo isn’t too heavy with the garum. That street vendor put me off.’

  Aulus nodded. ‘You’ll find Macedo never overindulges in anything. It’s why I like him.’ He looked over to the thin slave by the door. ‘Tell him to find the boy something to eat too.’

  I told Silo, ‘You follow him. He’ll look after you.’

  Silo nodded and hurried after the gaunt slave, his evident hunger overwhelming his disappointment at not being able to stay with me. Aulus walked through the hallway and into the large atrium beyond. I followed him into the open courtyard, which allowed rainwater to fill a sizable pool in the centre. The rooms adjoining the atrium were normally made up of bedrooms and other living quarters, but not in this domus. I poked my head in one and saw that one side of the room was filled with papyrus scrolls, neatly rolled and stacked on shelves. The three other walls were all filled with wooden records. ‘By the gods, you’ve filled each room with more of those blasted wooden sheaves! How many do you have here?’ I asked him incredulously.

  Aulus turned around, hands on his hips, obviously annoyed by my nosiness but still prepared to answer. ‘I am trying to collect all the formulae of each past case in Rome. Most of them have been scribed by my slave Salah or me, but due to the number, he is having to teach two other slaves of mine his trade too. We search the records of the Basilica Julia for the more general ones, but some of the more obscure texts we have to find in the other Senate or municipal buildings.’

  I was aghast. ‘What! All of them? What by the gods for?’

  Aulus let out a deep sigh. ‘Each magistrate needs to be satisfied that any case matches the protocols of those that are allowed. If not, he will normally disallow an action.’

  His explanation certainly didn’t make anything clearer to me. ‘What does that have to do with past cases?’

  Aulus continued in the same condescending manner as Badriyah or Patrellis sometimes spoke to Silo. ‘Because if it has been allowed before, it can be again. Otherwise, you need to rely on the praetor to exercise his discretion in departing from published edict and making a new law – something that they are very reluctant to do, trust me.’

  Aulus walked into one of the converted bedrooms that now were full of shelves of the thin wooden sheaves, all no doubt neatly categorised. ‘Here I can view everything that has been allowed before, what evidence is admissible, what verdicts are normally reached, what normally wins.’

  I followed him. ‘So the judges’ verdicts don’t always depend on precedence?’

  Aulus frowned. ‘Well, not strictly, no. The judge is an independent arbiter who can come to any conclusion he likes, but knowing what has worked in the past takes you a long way. It’s a brave judge who wants to ignore tradition and legal history.’

  I looked at the great rows of past cases, eyes wide with amazement. ‘You must be the most well-prepared lawyer in all of Rome.’

  Aulus smiled at me and seemed to preen like a peacock. ‘Well, I am known to be rather thorough.’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘It’s no wonder my father said you were so good.’ Aulus had come to the attention of my family after he’d successfully defended my father from a damaging litigation during an ill-advised venture into property owning.

  Aulus wetted his few remaining strands down over his bald pate. ‘It’s very kind of your father to say so.’

  I smiled. Aulus’ work with my father had also brought him to the attention of my sister Antonia. It was no wonder Aulus thought well of my father; Antonia’s dowry must have been large. ‘But why do you bother, Aulus? You’re beyond wealthy. You don’t need to carry on working in law.’

  Aulus stood up straight. ‘Law is not a profession like any other. It is a calling, and an admirable one. It is what separates us from the barbarian, what makes us who we are.’ Aulus pushed past me and made his way to his ornate dining room. ‘Some people think it is the legions that give us our strength, but really it is our law!’

  I followed him through and reclined on a couch next to the one he took. ‘You can’t really believe that, can you?’ Being a veteran of the legions myself, I knew how little lofty ideals meant on the frontier of the empire.

  Aulus wagged one finger in the air. ‘Yes, I do. We are not the first nation to be accomplished warriors you know.’

  I smirked. ‘No, but we’re the best.’

  Aulus nodded, conceding the point. ‘But that alone doesn’t make us unique. In any other nation, or civilisation, its people are at the mercy of the vagaries of their monarch to decide what is right or wrong. Sometimes they will be right, sometimes wrong, but ultimately it is the arbitrary decision of one man who decides. For us, however, the enforcement of Roman law is through the Roman Senate. This makes us all equals under it. It both protects us and preserves us. Even Augustus understands this. That is why he takes such a keen interest in its administration.’

  I gave a wry smile. ‘Augustus takes an interest in it alright, but he makes sure it goes his way too.’

  Aulus shook his head. ‘That is seditious talk, Cassius. I thought better of you. The princeps is undoubtedly the leader of our Republic, but he still respects the rule of law. Even members of his own family are not above it.’

  ‘What about the Greeks, didn’t they start all this?’

  Aulus screwed up his face in reluctance, but agreed. ‘It is true our original Twelve Tables of precedents were based on Corinthian statutes, but we have moved a long way since then.’

  This was new to me. ‘How so?’

  ‘The Greek city states, as advanced as they were, only concerned themselves with their own interests. They were enlightened but didn’t go far enough.’

  I grunted. I’d met more than a few Greeks myself. They always held themselves superior to us Romans, despite our obvious military, political, and economic superiority.

  Aulus waved through his slave who came in with the stuffed vine leaves. ‘Each province we rule, we bring the same laws and civilisation to it. That is what makes us different, Cassius. That’s what gives us our strength.’

  I picked up one of the vine leaves stuffed with smoked fish and cheese, taking a bite. ‘Not bad,’ I told him, before shaking my head. ‘But in Germany the tribes hated our Roman laws and everything they represented.’

  Aulus chuckled. ‘I’m sure all the barbarian nations did at first, until learning the benefits of our way of life. Just as a child resents being disciplined or taught to read and write, he later learns the wisdom of those who taught him.’
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  I ate another vine leaf. ‘And it’s our job to teach them?’

  Aulus nodded and smiled. ‘If you like.’

  I knew that the realities of teaching an uncooperative barbarian were far more difficult than the admonishment of a troublesome child, but held my peace. People like Aulus would never understand the truth of war. ‘So you’re content to work as a lawyer?’

  Aulus sighed. ‘Well, only to a certain extent, Cassius. Much as I love working in the courts, acting as an orator in the Forum for a trial, I feel I can offer so much more. I’d dearly love to be appointed a jurist, then I’d be able to help guide the laws of our great city.’

  I rubbed my chin. The Jurisconsulti were well-respected members of Rome’s legal system, from good families and trained in the best legal schools, but I hadn’t realised they were so important. ‘Why a jurist?’

  Aulus smiled. ‘You’ll find if you’re ever appointed a magistrate that it is the jurii who’ll be telling you how each law should be interpreted. They are the guiding brotherhood that shape and form our laws. The magistrates come and go, but they rarely leave a lasting legacy. Only if I become a jurist will I be able to write and document my own work on the legal questions that have troubled our age. I could make a genuine contribution to the excellent tradition of Roman literature that guides our Republic.’ Aulus raised his hand for his slave to remove the empty dishes and bring on the next course. ‘Most magistrates only serve a few years, a stepping stone to higher office, just as you plan on doing.’

  He was right. I held no genuine interest in law; I was just following the advice of my father so I could later be considered for the Senate. ‘Why does that matter to you?’

  Aulus smiled as his slave brought in the second course of pounded barley stirred with olive oil and some pheasant eggs that had been poached in wine. He thanked his slave before answering me. ‘It matters because if you were ever to serve as a magistrate after your time in office, your involvement in law would be at an end. Nobody wants old magistrates knocking about telling them how they used to do things – that’s the job of the jurii.’