CHAPTER 53

“I was going to suggest a gladiatorial death match between Mansuetus and Caepio Crispinus to decide this case,” I said, “but I see that’s already been tried.”

Caligula didn’t smile, and I didn’t expect him to. I just wanted to demonstrate a little irreverence to signal that I was not afraid. Even though, in truth, I felt like I could barely stand.

I tried to imagine myself on the banks of the Aegean. I took a deep breath so I could use my diaphragm and better project my voice.

“Our case is simple,” I said. “The charges are false. My clients are innocent. Lucian Aurelius is mistaken.”

I moved forward so that I was even with Flavia and Mansuetus. I had no intention of turning this into theater the way Crispinus had. My approach would be far more subtle.

“Mansuetus will testify that he did not have an improper relationship with Flavia. I would respectfully suggest to Caesar that this man has proven his valor and that his word can be trusted.”

I turned and made a sweeping gesture toward the crowd. “He has no shortage of fans. I am sure that many of the unmarried women here would be happy to spend a night with Mansuetus. Does Your Excellency really believe that somebody this popular needs to chase a Vestal Virgin?”

The question was really about Caesar, not Mansuetus. But the implications seemed to be lost on the emperor.

“Caepio Crispinus has the audacity to call this man a liar,” I said, feigning disbelief. “A man who has already earned the respect of all of Rome.”

Mansuetus was still on his knees, but he lifted his head and looked at Caesar. Caligula had already shown he was not afraid to take on the popular gladiator. But I was hoping that Caligula would at least understand that if he freed both prisoners it would boost his popularity.

“We will not dispute, Your Excellency, the testimony of Adrianna that Flavia spent all night away from the House of Vestal on June 9. We are well aware that the testimony of a Vestal is sacrosanct and should never be questioned unless there are compelling reasons to do so.

“The truth is that Flavia was someplace else that night. But I would ask Your Excellency not to be too hasty to conclude that it was for illicit purposes.”

I paused and slowed down. I didn’t want Caligula to miss this.

“Allow me to suggest another explanation, one that is entirely legal and even laudable. What if Flavia had a meeting with a very prominent citizen of our city? What if there was a medical emergency because this man had an attack of parliamentary disease that required immediate medical attention?”

I watched Caligula’s eyes narrow as I painted the scenario. Veins spiderwebbed on his temples, and I hoped that he was even now recalling the attack he had as a young boy and his family’s determined attempt to cover it up. Nearly three years ago, when I heard that Caligula was sick, I knew immediately what the illness was. But again he hid behind a shroud of secrecy because of the stigma associated with parliamentary disease. Caligula considered himself a god. He couldn’t allow anyone to think he had such a dreaded weakness.

“What if she saw this person writhing on the ground, paralyzed, his mouth agape and his eyes rolled back in his head? What if she had to hold his tongue until the attack was over so he wouldn’t swallow it, wedging his mouth open with a piece of wood? What if she stayed there late into the night to make sure he would survive until morning?”

Caligula pressed his lips tightly together, blood rushing to his face. He was seething, and I could see his devious mind racing, trying to figure out how to condemn my client without exposing himself.

“As I mentioned earlier, the word of a Vestal is entitled to great weight. But I would also corroborate her testimony with other witnesses who have seen the same thing with this man. Perhaps not that night, but on other occasions.”

I didn’t stoop down and write the names in the dirt, but my list had the same effect. I named the emperor’s private physician and his close bodyguards. I named Marcus Serbius, my childhood friend who had seen Caligula’s first episode of parliamentary disease when he was fourteen years old. I said that Marcus, as a physician, would testify about the effects of parliamentary disease on those who suffered from it and whether Flavia’s description fit the symptoms. For good measure, I also listed Seneca.

When I finished listing the names, there was a stony silence inside the hall. Caligula gave me the same look he had years earlier, the slit eyes harboring a smoldering desire to exact revenge. I could tell he wasn’t sure whether any of the witnesses would actually have the courage to testify about the emperor’s bouts with parliamentary disease. In truth, the only one I had even talked to was Marcus.

And even if Flavia testified about spending the night with Caligula, he could still reject her testimony and the testimony of any witnesses I paraded forward to talk about his parliamentary disease. But once the words had been spoken in front of such a vast audience, he would never be able to undo the damage. People would put the big picture together. Caesar would be stigmatized. I was gambling everything, including my own life, on the belief that he was too prideful to call my bluff.

“Flavia full well understands her sacred vows as a Vestal Virgin,” I continued. “Those vows are no less sacred than the vows Your Excellency swore when you were named Princeps. She has faithfully performed her duties as a Vestal, and I would respectfully submit that she has been every bit as faithful to her vows and her office as the most noble and high-ranking officials of this great empire. May Your Excellency exercise great wisdom as you consider the fate of one of Rome’s most revered priestesses.”

I stared down Caligula for a moment before I returned to my seat. The applause started behind me, near the back wall, and then rippled around the room until a frustrated Caligula again demanded silence.

He stood and called for a recess.

“Bring the advocates,” he ordered. He left the dais and disappeared behind the gold-plated doors. Two guards came and escorted me back to join him.

I stood next to Caepio Crispinus, staring straight ahead, while Caligula paced around the room and berated us. We had turned these proceedings into a farce, Caligula said. Crispinus had goaded the prisoner and turned the crowd against the prosecution. Caligula accused me of soliciting perjured testimony and said I ought to be whipped to death along with Mansuetus.

“The entire city is in an uproar because you two imbeciles don’t know how to do your jobs!” Caligula screamed. He knocked over a small statute and sent golden goblets flying off the shelves. It was a temper tantrum of unrestrained proportions, and I feared for my life.

At one point, he stopped directly in front of me. “Do you remember what happened to your hero Cicero?”

“He met an undeserved fate,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

“He got exactly what he deserved,” Caligula shot back. “And I have half a mind to do the same thing to you. Display your head and hands on the Rostra, and we’ll see how that silver tongue dances then.”

His face was red with rage, spittle spraying from his lips. “I could kill you right now.” He motioned to the guards around him. “I have plenty of witnesses who would testify that you attacked me first.”

I stared past the man and tried not to flinch. He was smart enough to realize that he would have an outright revolt on his hands if he reappeared in the judgment hall having killed the advocate for Mansuetus. At least I hoped he understood that.

He turned to Crispinus. “And you. I give you a simple job to do, and you turn it into a mockery.” He looked at us both, back and forth, and for the first time in my life I felt a certain kinship with Crispinus. Even the best advocates were powerless in front of the tyranny of a madman.

“Mansuetus and Flavia are both guilty. I should have all four of you executed together.” He turned his back on us. “Get them out of here.”

The guards escorted us back into the judgment hall, where the crowd was in a state of agitation. There was a lot of murmuring and restlessness and soldiers casting wary looks at the mob behind them. If Mansuetus was convicted, there would be a massive amount of bloodshed.

A few minutes later, the trumpets sounded, a lictor called the court to order, and Caesar reemerged. He took his seat, and a hush fell over the vast hall. His face was still clouded with anger, and I felt like I might explode with tension.

The emperor sat there for a moment as if deep in thought, then surveyed the crowd and stood. He looked at the two prisoners —Mansuetus kneeling and Flavia standing beside him. The emperor took his time and let the drama build.

“I have conferred with the advocates, and I see no need to hear testimony,” Caligula said at last. “The prisoner Mansuetus has proven himself to be a courageous warrior in the arena, and I get the sense that more than a few citizens would love to see him fight again.”

The emperor smirked. “And perhaps someplace other than in this judgment hall.”

People laughed nervously while a few shouted their agreement.

“As would I. At best, the testimony against this prisoner would consist of one member of the Praetorian Guard who believes he saw the prisoner having sex with a Vestal Virgin on the ninth of June. But it was dark, and the witness was watching from a distance. Against that testimony, the advocates have told me that I would have the sworn word of Mansuetus that it was not him.”

Caligula looked down at Mansuetus. “Would that be your testimony?”

The gladiator raised his eyes to Caesar. “It would.”

“Very well. Because I am inclined to believe a man like you, a man who has displayed unsurpassed valor in the arena, I see no need to take formal testimony. I am declaring Mansuetus not guilty of the charges presented against him.”

The place erupted, and Caligula made no effort to stop it. The roar echoed through the hall and spread outside. For a few glorious minutes, the entire Palatine Hill resounded with the glee of a crowd who had just witnessed a miracle.

Mansuetus slumped forward as if overcome with emotion. Flavia reached down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

But Caligula wasn’t done. When the crowd’s hollering and backslapping and embracing had stopped, he spoke to Flavia. “I find your proffered testimony about spending the night with a man who had parliamentary disease to be preposterous. My suspicion is that you have violated your vows as a Vestal Virgin with some man other than Mansuetus.”

As he spoke, the jubilant crowd tensed up again. They cared most about Mansuetus, but they also loved the Vestals. I got the feeling that, having tasted victory, they would not settle for half a loaf.

“However, I have already determined that Mansuetus did not engage in an illicit relationship with you on the night of June 9. And because those are the only charges before me today, I must therefore dismiss the charges against you as well.”

Flavia bowed her head in appreciation, and another roar rose from the crowd, though not as loud as the first. Patiently, Caligula again waited for the cheering to subside.

“Ten days from now, at the games in honor of Caesar Augustus, we will all celebrate by watching Mansuetus fight again. May the gods be with you.”

Caesar raised his scepter, and the trumpeters in the balcony brought their trumpets to their lips.

“Set them free!” Caligula ordered. Then he spun on his heel and headed out of the judgment hall.

The trumpets blared, or at least they must have. But from where I stood, every note was drowned out by the loudest cheering I had ever heard.