CHAPTER 50
The day before trial, I was finally allowed to see my clients. I first visited Mansuetus, who was locked away in a dungeon on the outskirts of Rome. The small, dank cell smelled of excrement.
“Watch where you step,” Mansuetus said as the guards clanged the iron gate shut behind me. The gladiator’s wrists and ankles were shackled. The guards had used a short chain on his ankles, forcing him to walk with small steps.
I had never been this close to the man. He was an impressive specimen. He was at least three inches taller than I, and his powerful muscles rippled. But he also looked like he was at death’s door.
He hadn’t shaved in six days. His blond hair was long and gnarled. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was covered with grime, sores, and black soot. His right foot, the one that had been speared by the trident four months ago, was red and swollen, with pus seeping from the wound on top. When he spoke, his voice had the gruff sound of a man fighting off a serious illness. If we won, I knew I would have to get my friend Marcus to treat him immediately.
“Are they feeding you?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t call it food. But I eat it.”
“We need to talk about your case,” I said. I removed my wax tablets and stylus to take notes. I found a place to sit against one of the walls. I noticed a few rats on the other side of the room, and my eyes watered from the smell.
I’m not sure what I expected heading into that dungeon, but it wasn’t this. The place was so foul it seemed to have broken even the resilient spirit of Mansuetus. There was no defiant smile in the face of death, no resolute assurance that he knew we would win the case. Even when I told him I had a witness who would testify that Flavia had never left the House of Vestal on the night in question, he hardly reacted.
I watched him shiver, occasionally wrapping his arms across his chest in a futile effort to keep warm. His eyes blinked slowly as if it were a struggle to keep them open.
This man was sick. It made me wonder if they were poisoning his food.
He denied ever having sex with Flavia. As his advocate, I encouraged him to tell me the truth. I was sworn to secrecy. I just needed to know the facts so I could deal with them.
“That is the truth,” he insisted.
Flavia had certainly implied otherwise. I jotted a note, hoping the silence would pry loose a more forthcoming response, but it didn’t seem to affect him.
“Have you seen Flavia?” Mansuetus asked.
“Not yet. But I will later this afternoon.”
He squinted —with some effort, as if trying to focus.
“Do you have a message for her?” I asked.
I watched him think about this for a moment. I had seen the two of them exchange looks at the games. And even now, just from watching the man’s bloodshot eyes, I could tell how desperately he wanted her to know that he loved her. Yet he had learned all too well that you couldn’t trust anyone.
“Tell her that I am doing fine,” he said, measuring each word. “Tell her I hope that she’s doing well.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and Mansuetus asked questions about the trial. Would he be shackled? Where would he be standing? Where would Caligula be? He didn’t come right out and say it, but I knew he was dreaming about getting his hands around the emperor’s spindly little neck. Even though he was sick, I knew Mansuetus could kill Caligula in a second.
I also knew that the noble gladiator would never get that chance.
Flavia’s first question was about Mansuetus. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes. A few hours ago.”
I wanted to lie and reassure Flavia. But she would see the man tomorrow, and I didn’t want her to be shocked just before the trial.
“He appears sick. He’ll make it through the trial, but it’s been a long six days.”
“Are they torturing him?”
“I don’t know.”
The Tullianum, where Flavia was being held, was located on one end of the Forum, at the top of the Gemonian Stairs. Prisoners were dropped in through a hole in the ceiling, and I had been lowered the same way so that I could have this private meeting with my client.
I only had a few seconds of light to appraise Flavia before they placed the large carved stone over the opening and the place became entombed in darkness again. Her cut hair stuck out in short, jagged strands. Her eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying. Her face looked even more drawn than it had six days earlier. Her cheekbones were protruding, and her eye sockets were hollow. Her skin was blackened with grime, and there were welts on her collarbone and arm. It was a picture I seared into my mind in the brief moments we were given.
After the darkness descended, she reached out and took my hand, and we both sat down on the cold stone.
“Are you eating anything?” I asked.
“No. I thought they might try to poison me.”
“What are you drinking?”
“The water. I have no choice.”
My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, but no light came through at all. That was the point of the place. No hope. No way out. Only complete and utter blackness while prisoners contemplated their inevitable deaths.
And it was cold. I hadn’t needed a cloak that day, but I could have used one in this damp dungeon.
I stood and unwrapped my toga. “You must be cold,” I said.
I reached over and touched her shoulder. “Stand up for a minute.”
When Flavia stood, I wrapped my toga around her. I could feel the bones of her shoulder blades, the coolness of her skin. The soldiers would laugh at me when they pulled me out in just a tunic, but it would be worth it.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“I know.”
I heard a noise on the far side of the dungeon. “Rats,” she said.
I couldn’t imagine how Flavia kept her sanity down here. We both sat back down on the wet stone.
“At least they’re well fed,” she said. “And the fact that they’re alive means there’s not too much poison in my food.”
When I started talking about the upcoming trial, Flavia placed a hand on my arm. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, interrupting me. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t know if you would.”
I wanted to tell her that nothing could have kept me away. I wanted to let her know the way I really felt about her. But I couldn’t. She and Mansuetus were both my clients. I owed it to both of them to keep my feelings out of it.
I gave Flavia a preview of what might happen the next day. I told her I had some good news. Rubria was prepared to testify that Flavia had not left the House of Vestal on the night in question. I tried to sound upbeat. Rubria would be the unbiased witness we needed.
Flavia didn’t respond.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“You cannot allow her to testify,” Flavia said. “I wasn’t at the House of Vestal that night. You can’t let Rubria lie under oath. If she does, she’ll die too.”
Before I could respond, Flavia let out a shriek and grabbed my arm.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “One of the rats.”
“Let’s stand up,” I suggested.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You get used to them. I’d just forgotten about them for a second.”
I stood anyway. “What do you mean you weren’t there that night?”
She let out a deep breath. “I was with Caligula,” she said. Her voice seemed devoid of emotion. “He told me that if I spent the night with him, he would leave me and Mansuetus alone.”
The confession staggered me. I couldn’t picture Flavia giving in to the emperor’s blackmail. “You believed him?”
Her answer was preceded by a long pause. “I was a fool, Theophilus. But I knew how easily he could destroy us. He had already had Lucian follow us. I knew he would try us, find us guilty, and make me watch Mansuetus die. Then they would bury me alive. I guess I thought . . .” Her voice broke off.
I sat next to her again.
“I thought Caligula might keep his word,” she said.
“But he didn’t?” I already knew the answer.
“No. Once was not enough.” Her voice was stronger now, rage edging out the shame. “No matter how many times I went, it would never have been enough. I refused to go back. A few days ago, he gave me a new ultimatum. If I didn’t return to the palace within two nights, he would have me and Mansuetus charged. That’s when I called for you.”
“So Rubria is willing to lie for you?”
“Some of the other Vestals know that I was gone that night. Adrianna knows, and she would testify against me. You can’t let Rubria get caught up in this.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. My best defense had just been stripped away.
“Let me testify, Theophilus. I’ll tell the entire world about my night with the emperor after the games. At least Mansuetus will go free.”
“And Caligula will claim you’re lying. He’ll make you carry water in a sieve or some other impossible feat to prove your testimony.”
“If I tell the truth about that one night, perhaps the gods will smile at me and the water will stay in the sieve. It has happened before, you know.”
I didn’t believe the myth, and I was pretty sure Flavia didn’t either. But right now she needed a ray of hope, however improbable.
“I know,” I said.
When my time was up, Flavia tried to give my toga back. I didn’t take it. I could survive a few stares and snide comments. But I didn’t know whether she could survive another night in this cold, hard place.
The guards removed the stone cover, and I could see Flavia’s face again. We both stood as the guards dropped down the rope.
“I can’t promise a good outcome tomorrow,” I said. “But I can promise a good fight.”
She stepped forward, placed her hands on my arms, and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.
I put the rope around my waist, and the guards hauled me out of the dungeon.