CHAPTER 38

It didn’t take long for the Senate to dash my hopes. In an hour of debate, only Marcus Lepidus argued in favor of acquittal. When he sat down, a string of senators rose to challenge what Lepidus had said. It was a game of one-upmanship, each senator sounding more indignant than the last. My heart sank as I listened to the men who were supposed to be the leaders of Rome. Apronius handled it stoically, resigned to his fate. He held his head high and turned in his seat, impassively watching each senator as he spoke.

Cato finally ended debate and called for a vote. The senators in favor of guilt were instructed to move to the right side of the great Senate chamber and those in favor of acquittal to move to the left. The senators rose en masse and shuffled to the guilty side of the chamber. Only Lepidus and Apronius crossed over to the other side, surrounded by empty seats.

“The accused will come forward,” Cato said.

Apronius walked to the front and stared straight at Cato, chin held high. I stood next to him.

“The full Senate, having heard the evidence against you, finds you guilty of the charge of crimen maiestatis and sentences you to death by strangulation nine days hence. All of your possessions and titles shall be equitably distributed among those who brought and prosecuted the charges.”

Shouts of protest erupted outside the chamber. The guards moved quickly. They put chains on Apronius’s ankles and wrists and escorted him toward the door. He stopped for a moment and stared at his former friends, Papius Mutilus and Junius Otho. It was a chilling sight. His eyes promised them that the beast they had unleashed would one day turn back and devour them. A guard jerked the chain and moved Apronius forward. Other guards created a human alleyway to escort Apronius through the crowd and across the Forum. He would spend the next nine days in the Tullianum.

He turned and looked at me before he left.

If I read his lips correctly, he said, “Thank you,” and then he was gone.

The scene took me back to the day that the Nazarene had disappeared from the Stone Pavement Courtyard. This time I felt the same despondency the rabbi’s followers must have felt then —an innocent man condemned for political reasons. A fresh stab of guilt ripped the rewoven fabric of my spirit. I had been a coward in Jerusalem. Today I had reaped a coward’s reward.

A few of the senators whom Apronius and I had thought would vote in favor of acquittal looked ashen-faced. I could tell they were wondering who would be next. There was none of the usual huddling and good-natured chatter that typically filled the chamber.

I surveyed the melancholy scene, shaking my head at what had become of Rome. The only senator in the entire chamber who was smiling was the despicable Caepio Crispinus. In his head, he was probably counting the money.

That night Marcus and I shared dinner at my flat, and I was nearly inconsolable. My entire life I had dreamed of a moment like today where I would be called on to muster all my skills of advocacy, arguing in support of a worthy cause. I had stood on the floor of the Senate and acquitted myself well. Accolades from friends and supporters of Apronius made it clear that I had won their admiration. Yet none of that mattered.

In nine days, a good man would be put to death. The Senate had turned the majesty of Roman jurisprudence into a mockery of petty jealousies and opportunism.

To his credit, Marcus was a good listener. He did his best to cheer me up during the first glass of wine. The second and third glasses loosened my tongue and dissolved my inhibitions. I was angry, lashing out at the cowards in the Senate and the greed of men like Crispinus.

Marcus suggested that we go for a walk. I made the mistake of taking the wine flask with us.

It was dark and threatening more snow as we made our way down the narrow streets of Rome. Occasionally we were stopped by people who knew me, and they expressed their condolences about the day’s events. We twice saw members of the Praetorian Guard patrolling the streets and made a point to pass on the other side.

By the time we wandered into the Forum, it was almost midnight, and the wine was nearly gone. Most of Rome’s respectable citizens were no longer strolling around the epicenter of the city, surrounded by temples and the Roman Treasury and the Senate building. But the creatures of the night were out in full force. Prostitutes, beggars, swindlers, and drunkards.

Drunkards like me, I thought, though my mind had long since turned foggy.

A part of me realized I was stumbling on both the cobblestones under my feet and the words tripping off my tongue. More than once, Marcus tried to take the flask of wine from me, but I wouldn’t let it go. Several times he grabbed my arm to keep me from slipping. When we walked by the Senate building, I grew more agitated and finished off a few final gulps from the flask. My voice must have been rising because Marcus kept telling me to keep it down.

“Fat, fat Cato,” I said, my voice hoarse, the words rolling slowly off my tongue. “Gutless, gutless Cato.”

When Marcus steered me away from the building, I had another idea. Clumsily, I climbed the steps of the Rostra. I stood there on the platform and looked out at the blurry figures of Roman night dwellers milling around. I raised my voice to be heard.

“Romans, citizens, listen to me!” I shouted.

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Ignore him!” he said loudly.

“Ignore me at your own peril!” I shot back. I took a sideways step and caught myself. “The evil that men do lives after them,” I hollered, “and today this Senate —” I pointed with a broad, sweeping motion in the general direction of the Senate building —“committed evil on an epic scale.”

I liked the way that sounded. Epic scale. Brilliant. I was really good.

Marcus grabbed my arm and pulled me sideways, but I dug in my heels. “Today was a day for great traitors, men who put Brutus to shame, men who will now claim the wealth of noble —” The name, just for a moment, escaped my memory. I looked at Marcus. “What’s his name again?”

Marcus just shook his head.

“Apronius!” I cried, my memory suddenly replenished. “Apronius is the best senator, but now he is going to be a dead one.”

People had gathered at the foot of the Rostra. They seemed to be swimming in the night air. I could see the soldiers listening to everything I said. Good! Now that I had everyone’s attention, I could finish my defense. The things I wished I had said in the Senate chamber earlier that day.

“And as for Tiberius, let me tell you a secret,” I said, speaking softly for emphasis. Maybe I could be one of those Asiatic speakers after all.

“Don’t make fun of Caesar,” I warned, my voice gruff and low. I shook my head, wagged my finger, and a few people laughed. “You want to know why?”

“Yeah, tell us why!” someone shouted.

I held up my right hand, the pose of a master lawyer. “I’ll tell you why,” I slurred out.

“Shut up,” Marcus said under his breath. “Just shut up.”

But I had no intention of shutting up. I was on a roll. The wine was speaking, allowing me to say everything I had wanted to say all day.

“Because Caesar is —”

I saw a flash on my side and then felt pain crack across my jaw, both sharp and distant, just before the world went black. I didn’t have time to protest, time to ask Marcus why he would punch somebody he considered a friend.

By the time I woke up, I no longer cared.