"What hypocrites you all are!" she cried.
"That's the advantage of being the greatest power in the world. You can be a hypocrite, take any pose, say what you like, and everyone has to smile and accept it."
"Power is a wonderful thing. Without it, what are we?"
"It strikes me that you are in a powerless position now, Jocasta. You are a widow; your husband's heir, your stepson, plans to abandon the business here and return to Numidia, where a woman's lot is not a desirable one, and I imagine that of a supernumerary widow is even less felicitous. Gelon may treat his mother with honor, but how will he, and she, treat you?"
"I have no intention of going to Numidia," she asserted, apparently quite unperturbed. "Gelon fancies a life there of living in tents, raiding the neighbors, endless riding and lion hunting, living on the flesh of gazelles, and trapping elephants and so forth. I'm sure it's all quite exciting, all something out of Homer. But while it may be a fine life for a man, it has few attractions for a woman, especially a woman of refinement like myself. I am quite capable of making my own way in the world. When Gelon leaves, I shall wave to him from the dock. Assuming, of course, that he is not executed for the murder of poor Gorgo."
"Speaking of which, that trial is coming up soon. At our last interview you speculated that your husband might forbid you to testify. That is no longer a factor. I shall summon you to speak."
She inclined her head. "As the praetor wishes, of course."
"And will your testimony serve to clear Gelon of the charge?"
"As I told you before, I saw him that evening and again the next morning. I shall testify to that."
"Most conscientious," I told her. "Expect my lictors to call upon you soon."
With a few more formal, meaningless politenesses, I left her and returned to the town house.
"You mean she is not even going to lie in court to save her stepson?" Antonia said, aghast. We were dawdling over lunch and I had given a somewhat abbreviated account of my interview with Jocasta.
"She will be under oath," Marcus said archly. "Perhaps she fears the anger of the gods."
Circe snorted. "She's a Greek. The Greeks think the gods admire a good liar. No, there must be a coolness between stepmother and stepson. Either she doesn't care if he's executed, or she actually wants him to die."
"If Gelon is executed," Julia said, "where does that leave his father's estate? If it passes to his local widow, that might be reason enough for her to want him to be executed."
"I've been considering that," I said. "My legal advisers tell me that the executor of a resident foreigner's will must be his citizen partner. I will have to summon this Gratius Glabrio all the way from Verona. By the time he reaches here, I will be in Bruttium or Tarentum. Then I will have to come back here to hear the case."
"If this Glabrio exists at all," Julia said. "And by then Gelon will be either executed or let go. I don't think much of his chances at the moment."
"What is her motive to lie about the partner?" Hermes wanted to know.
"One," Antonia said, "to cover her ignorance. She says she's been managing Gaeto's affairs in his absence. If he kept the identity of his partner secret, she may not want anybody to know it, so she makes up a fake one who is safely distant. As you say, by the time she's caught in the lie, this matter will be settled one way or the other." She popped a honeyed cherry onto her mouth, chewed, and spat out the pit. "Two, she knows, but she and the partner have an agreement to keep the arrangement secret for the time being."
"Why?" I asked, intrigued at this line of reasoning.
"You'll know that when you learn the contents of the will," she said, "but it will have to be something advantageous to both Jocasta and this partner, and it will require that Gelon be out of the way."
"I'm beginning to be glad that we brought you along on this trip," I said to her. She had a natural grasp of the ins and outs of devious, deceitful behavior. A typical Antonian, really. Her brother, the soon-to-be triumvir Marcus Antonius, was as close to a decent human being as that family ever produced, and even he was a criminal on a world scale.
"By the way," Julia said, "just where is the will and why hasn't it been read already?"
"It's deposited in the Temple of Juno the Protector in Cumae," Hermes reported. "That's the local custom. It won't be released while the dead man's son is under arrest, but the praetor can subpoena it for the trial."
"See that it's done," I said. "I want a look at it."
"Time is pressing," Julia said. "We have fewer than ten days before we must be in Bruttium for the scheduled assizes. When will Gelon be tried? You really can't stall much longer."
"The city council has already notified us," Hermes said. "Tomorrow is the day of a local festival and all official business is forbidden. The next day is a court day, and after that you have to hold court in Stabiae, so the day after tomorrow is the only day Gelon can be tried."
"At least the docket is otherwise clear," I said. "We can devote the whole day to the trial. Who will prosecute on Diocles' behalf?"
"A citizen named Vibianus," Hermes informed us. "He studied law with Sulpicius Galba and has won a number of important cases."
"And who will speak for Gelon?" Julia asked. "It seems that his father didn't live long enough to engage a lawyer."
"I may have to select one myself," I said. "Marcus, you could use some practice before the bar. Would you like to defend Gelon?"
"Impossible!" Julia protested. "For a member of the praetor peregrinus's own party to take part would seriously compromise the trial."
"Why?" Circe asked. "It happens all the time in Rome. Just last year I saw a Claudius prosecute a Claudius with a third Claudius defending and a fourth sitting as praetor."
"Rome is hopeless," Julia said, "but we must set a better example for the municipalities and the provinces."
"I suppose so," I concurred. "Pity Cicero wouldn't consider it."
"What about his brother?" Marcus asked.
"He does what Cicero tells him to," Hermes said. "But what about Tiro? He's a freedman now and a full citizen, so he can plead in court, and as a freedman it would not be a disgrace for him to defend a slaver's son. He's been Cicero's secretary since the beginning of his career, so he must know the law just as thoroughly. Plus, Cicero could coach him during the trial."
"Brilliant!" I approved. "I'll talk to Cicero this afternoon."
I wondered why I had not thought of it already. With Cicero defending through a proxy, Gelon would have a decent chance. Just as important, the trial was sure to be entertaining. A good legal spectacle might be just what was needed to restore the district to its customary mood of slothful good humor.
That afternoon I called on Cicero. He was socializing at the baths with a number of cronies and no few sycophants. In the Baiaean game of social one-upmanship, having the famous ex-consul among your intimates was a coup. And Cicero, for all his superiority of intellect, was not immune to such sycophancy.
The very fact that he was petitioning the Senate for a triumph was a sign of his declining powers of self-criticism. If ever Rome had produced a man of high political capacity who was utterly lacking in soldierly qualities, it was Cicero. His inflation of some trifling successes in Syria to a victory worthy of a triumph was a matter for considerable amusement in high political circles. The man who had saved the Roman situation there was young Cassius Longinus, and he had received no recognition at all.
My arrival was greeted with enthusiasm, for while my highhandedness had rankled the duumviri and a few others, my bloody brawl with the bandits had raised me in the esteem of most. After a long soak I got Cicero aside and made my proposal. He was at first astonished, but quickly came around to my point of view. He summoned his brother and Tiro and we discussed the matter.