“There,” Publius said, “he proves his own guilt.”
Petronius, his eyebrows furrowed, said, “This is no proof, Alexander.” I’ve always been fond of Petronius. “Lucius Curio says he found a draft of the letter in your room. It is possible for you to have read the letter and committed it to memory.”
“You are a good man, Petronius,” I said, “and I wish you and every legionary in the army of Crassus a safe and speedy return home. What folly it would be for me, however, to find the note, and instead of returning it immediately to its owner, which you know I would do, to read it, commit it to memory, crumple it up once more and drop it onto the floor of my room. Additionally, I think you will find that the crumpled draft is incomplete. The excerpt I recited can only be found on the final letter.”
There was some additional bickering, several more well-meant attempts to undo what was perceived as my self-sacrifice, but in the end there could be no doubt, and with a crowd that smelled and demanded blood, Crassus was forced to give it to them.
He rose and walked to the edge of the dais. “Alexander, slave of house Crassus,” he said, in a tone that disturbed me almost as much as the words themselves. He spoke as if this were merely another intellectual game played between us, where as usual, I was outmatched. “I find you guilty of forgery, manifest theft of the identity of a Roman citizen, with intent to subvert another citizen. According to the Law of the Twelve Tables, the penalty is death.
“So that all present may know that Rome is a fair and equitable administrator, even within its own house, I pronounce sentence upon you. Tomorrow, two hours before the setting of the sun, you will be taken to the hill outside the northern gates of the city. There you will be crucified.”
Publius rose to address the crowd, who having received the portion of Roman justice for which they hungered, now found themselves a little queasy at the thought of having to swallow it. “Below your feet let a sign be posted: ‘Roman Law Prevails in Antioch.’ Let no man remove the body upon pain of taking its place. All must know that fairness has returned to Syria.”
My legs, having decided they preferred the Great Hall to any place I might now be taken, had ceased to function. My old arrow wounds chose this time to twinge and trip me up. I was trying to cooperate, trying to be the model condemned prisoner, but Publius’ guards were forced to practically hoist me off the ground with each step. We had therefore traveled only as far as Curio’s place on the bench when he stood up. “Before we conclude these proceedings, may I make a brief statement?” The way Lucius said it, with his upturned chin and pursed lips, he made it sound more like a demand than a request.
Crassus told him to be brief. “I have noted,” my replacement began in high nasal form, “the reticence of these good officers to find negative intention harbored in the bosom of the accused. I would like to set their minds at ease by submitting a further piece of evidence proving the prisoner’s attempt to subvert my lady Tertulla many months before the general’s arrival in Antioch.”
Publius said incredulously, “How many times would you like to see the man executed?”
“I act solely to assuage the peace of mind of those who may have any lingering doubts.” Curio handed Publius a piece of parchment, who in turn handed it to his father.
Crassus held the letter at his side, making no attempt to read it. “Did you write this letter…curse my memory…Curio!”
“Yes, dominus, Lucius Curio. I am your atriensis.” The strength in my legs was returning, and I was becoming vaguely aware of my surroundings, enough so that my bruised face registered a half smile.
“Yes, I know full well what you are. Answer me.”
“No, I am not it’s author. It was written by the condemned.”
“And to whom was the letter written?”
“Why, your lady, general. It makes most foul accusations, it undermines your authority. If you would just read it.”
“I have no intention of reading my wife’s private correspondence. Octavius, return this property to lady Tertulla.” The legate took it, face down, crossed down the steps and handed it to domina who put it quickly out of sight. Had I been more aware of my surroundings, I would have taken note of how unshaken my lady was by the revelation that my letter to her had gone missing. Crassus continued. “How and when did you come by this note?”
Curio said, “I found it on her reading table approximately two weeks before we departed for Syria.”
“Did you ask your lady’s permission to remove this letter from her things?” Curio’s brow frumpled, but for once he said nothing. “Then you stole it, is that what you are saying?”
“No! I…my intent was to reveal this supposed hero of the household for the traitor he is.”
“Did you discuss the matter with lady Tertulla? I cannot hear you. No? Why was that?”
“Well, it was…, I did not want to-”
“Let me help you,” Crassus said. “Not only are you a thief, you wish to impugn the character of one of Rome’s most respected matrons in a deceitful plot against her paterfamilias.”
Long before Crassus finished speaking, Curio had begun to cry. His broad nose leaked, he sniffled loudly and his, “That was never my intent,” was barely intelligible.
“Did you not think a lady of your mistress’ character would bring the matter to me at the earliest opportunity? You are a thief, sir, and untrustworthy. Normally, I would have you flogged and put you back into service, but frankly, I cannot endure the sight of you. You will join the man you are so happy to condemn in custody.”
Crassus flicked a finger and nodded at the guards, who took hold of the former atriensis. He was standing within reach of me. There were so many things I could have said to him, but I decided to let dominus speak for me. “Lucius Curio, freedman of house Crassus, I find you guilty of manifest theft from a Roman citizen. According to the Law of the Twelve Tables, the penalty is scourging and enslavement. I pronounce this sentence upon you.”
“For pity’s sake!” Curio cried.
“Tomorrow morning, you shall be taken to the fort courtyard to receive your thirty lashes. Normally, your duty would then be to the house from which you had stolen, but lady Tertulla has told me she cannot abide that habit of yours, the thing you do with your knuckles. There are many fine houses in Antioch; I’m sure several will come to bid on you at the local market, which is where you will be sold at the next auction.”
Till that moment, I had never seen a man faint without some physical provocation. I wondered if it was typical for the eyes to roll up in the head as Curio’s had done just prior to collapsing.
“Octavius,” dominus continued, “as to Alexander. I want no nails, no scourging, no bloodletting of any kind. No beatings. He is to be bound with ropes. His legs are not to be broken. And a foot rest is to be provided.”
The legate of Legion I gathered his courage, made more audacious by his youthful appearance and said, “General, the men are fond of Alexander. These measures you require will prolong his agony. It will take hours, perhaps days for him to die. I cannot deny the severity of his crimes, but ask only that you consider his past service. Let me to help him on his way with a quick thrust of a spear. I know I speak for many when I beg you to show leniency. Allow me to give the man a faster, less painful death.”
“Take my arm,” Crassus replied. They grasped each other’s forearms and shook once. The commander saw the paternal smile on his general’s face and took hope. “Gaius Octavius,” Crassus said, lowering his voice, “do not question my orders in public. I have my reasons. Now do as I have asked.”