Marching With Caesar-Final Campaign, page 62
"Y-yes, Prefect, and I apologize, I do most sincerely," he stammered. "I didn't realize who they were. And you're right, of course; they certainly do deserve more respect than I gave them."
I released my grip, and gave him a smile that I hoped conveyed the right balance between good humor and the message that his disrespect would not be tolerated.
"That's right, but I know that you won't make the same mistake again. And," I indicated Scribonius, "my friend Fronto here is going to accompany me to this Tribunal. Now," I patted him on the shoulder, "I'll leave it up to you to work out how you're going to make that happen."
I will say that Piso was a nimble thinker; when we entered the Praetorium, he informed the guards that Scribonius was his scribe, and needed to record the proceedings. However, it was apparent the guards had been given strict instructions, and no amount of Piso's wheedling or my blustering would sway them, and Scribonius was left standing outside. Before we parted, we clasped arms once more, then I drew him into a hug to kiss him on both cheeks, whispering my thanks for all that he had done. I made sure not to meet his gaze, knowing that I would start weeping as he already was. Turning, I caught up with Piso and his slave, passing through the doors into the Praetorium. Entering into the room that is used for larger briefings, conferences, and banquets held by the senior officers, I did so with my head erect, staring straight ahead and trying to send a message to the four Tribunes sitting at a table that had been placed a short distance from one wall. Facing the table was a pair of a shorter tables, separated by several feet. At one was a pair of young men wearing togas, one of them with the stripe that signified his status as a Tribune. He, I assumed, would be in charge of the prosecution. The other man's role I was unsure about, and I asked Piso, who looked over and then frowned.
"I'm not sure what he's doing here," he told me, then gave a shrug. "Perhaps he's going to assist Sulpicianus." He gave me a grin. "Frankly, he's going to need all the help he can get."
I did my best to keep my expression neutral, but inside I felt a flare of something that I did not want to think of as hope, if only to keep my emotions under control. In case you have not surmised, this was the very same man that Agrippa had warned me away from, because of a lack of intelligence. Could Agrippa be doing whatever he could to help me? I wondered as we sat down at our table. Despite the fact that this was a closed proceeding, there were other chairs, and it was to one of these that Piso’s slave and Diocles went, sitting behind our table. Before he sat next to Diocles, Piso's slave placed the wax tablets on the table, and I could tell just by the way they were arranged, the order was significant. Taking off my helmet, I placed it on the table. More accurately, I dropped it on the hard wood, the sound causing the Tribunes at the table to jerk a bit. Which, I will admit, is precisely what I intended. I took my seat next to Piso and, with that, the Tribunal began.
"This Tribunal has been called to determine whether or not Camp Prefect Titus Pullus, of the Army of Pannonia, was complicit in the waging of the unauthorized campaign by Marcus Primus, formerly Praetor of Macedonia, who has been found guilty and executed for his crimes."
This statement was intoned by the Tribune of the broad stripe, who was going to be presiding over the Tribunal, and I cannot deny that just hearing the words sent a chill up my spine, even as much as I had prepared myself. The broad stripe Tribune, typically haughty, with a weak chin and protuberant eyes that reminded me of a fish, looked over at our table.
"What does the Prefect say in response to this charge?" he intoned.
I had been told by Piso about this formality, and that, aside from my testimony, was all that I was required to say.
"I pronounce that I am innocent of the charges brought against me," I replied, keeping my tone just below the kind of bellowing command I would have given outside.
"Then the Tribunal will proceed," the Tribune pronounced, turning to Sulpicianus, signaling him to begin his case.
By the time that Sulpicianus had finished presenting his opening statement and announced what evidence he would present, I found it difficult to believe that there was not some sort of secret being withheld that the prosecution planned on springing at the last moment. I will say that the Tribune presented his case competently enough, although I must admit that even I, as vested as I was in the outcome, found it quite boring. Nevertheless, by the time he was finished, it appeared that the evidence consisted only of what we had been told beforehand; the testimony of Lucullus, and the statement from Marcus Primus that had been extracted under torture, although that was not how it was phrased. As I recall, the term Sulpicianus used was "extensive interrogation," and as much as I despised Primus, I felt a sliver of pity for what his last days must have been like. It was a very, very small sliver, I grant you; I never lost sight of the fact that my whole reason for sitting at this table, in front of a Tribunal, was because of his wanton greed. His incompetence, as I saw it, was a separate issue, but it was his avarice and belief that money would provide the ultimate forgiveness for his overstepping his authority that put me, Scribonius, and two Legions into a position of jeopardy because of his complete ineptitude in military matters. Consequently, my sympathy for the pain that Marcus Primus clearly suffered lasted the span of a few heartbeats at most. With his opening statement over, Sulpicianus then announced that he would call for his first, and at least at this point, only live witness. The first indication I had that something was not as it should be was when one of the slaves that had been hovering in the background came forward with a chair that he placed in the space between where the Tribunes sat and our tables. That was not unusual; the fact that he placed the chair so that its back was turned toward our table was. My initial thought was that this was simply a mark of carelessness on the part of the slave, and I waited for the senior Tribune to order the chair to be oriented so that we would be able to see Lucullus' face as he gave his testimony. When no such order was forthcoming, I looked over at Piso, who looked as nonplussed as I felt. Before he could say anything, a door that I knew led to what is normally the private office of the commander opened, and the Tribune Lucullus appeared. Although that was expected, what I was not prepared for was that he was not alone. Following immediately behind him was his cousin, and presumptive adopted brother, Claudius. When I glanced over at Piso, he seemed too stunned to speak, so I elbowed him in the ribs.
"Are you going to say something?" I hissed.
That spurred him into action, and he stood, the action that signals a man is about to address the Tribunal.
"Forgive me, Senior Tribune," Piso began, and I was pleased to hear that he at least sounded confident. "But I don't recall my colleague Tribune Sulpicianus," he bowed his head in the direction of the prosecutor, "listing this other man who enters with Tribune Lucullus as a witness."
"He's not." Sulpicianus stood, waving his hand as if it was not even worthy of discussion. "Tiberius Claudius is here only to provide support for his cousin."
"Support?" I thought Piso's arched eyebrow was a nice touch to his tone of surprise. "I didn't realize that this was an option available to participants in this Tribunal. The Prefect here," he swept his hand in what I recognized as an orator's gesture in my direction, "in fact has more than a hundred men outside, comrades in arms that without any prompting have shown up here to show their support for a man they respect and admire, and have shed blood with. Perhaps they should be allowed to witness these proceedings as Tiberius Claudius is doing? Wouldn't that be fair?"
While I had been cautiously pleased at what I had seen in young Piso before, this raised him even further in my estimation. Now, whether or not he knew that when he said this demonstration was spontaneous, this was not exactly the truth, I have no way of knowing, but there was no question about his sincerity, or at least the appearance of it. I turned my attention to the seated Tribunes, focusing on the Senior Tribune who would ultimately decide, and I was happy to see that he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Tribune Piso, while I appreciate your sentiment, and applaud your zeal in making sure that the interests of the Prefect are protected, surely you can't equate one man's presence with those...men." His nose wrinkled in distaste, presumably at being forced to award my comrades with a title that described all of these perfumed members of the upper class. "Besides," he apparently decided to try and win on practical grounds, "surely this room couldn't accommodate every man out there, which means we would have to exclude some of them, which would be unfair in itself. Better to deprive all, equally, than deprive some of their right to show their support for the Prefect, wouldn't you agree?"
"No, I don't agree," Piso replied calmly.
I do not know who was more shocked, me or the Senior Tribune, whose mouth fell open. Apparently, I thought, he is under the impression that anything he decides is supposed to be accepted without argument. Perhaps that was due just to his own presumption, enamored of his status as the ultimate judge; or, could he have been given instructions to that effect? Without moving my head from looking in the direction of the Senior Tribune, I studied Piso out of the corner of my eye, trying to determine if he had just gone off an already agreed upon script, or I was being too suspicious.
Oblivious to my quandary, Piso continued, "While I agree that it's too much to expect that we allow every comrade of the Prefect to attend, at the very least I think that he should be allowed to pick one representative."
The Senior Tribune said nothing for a moment, eying my defender with open suspicion, clearly trying to determine what ulterior motive Piso might have. Frankly, I did not know if he was thinking of anything specific, but I was fairly certain that he had someone specific in mind, as did I. Given how matters played out, although Piso and I never discussed it later, this would be another moment that I would grudgingly ascribe to the intervention of the gods, if I still had congress with them.
Finally, he gave a wave of his hand, "Very well. I can see no reason to deny this request. Do you have any objection, Sulpicianus?"
I was about to leap to my feet to object on my own, a serious breach of regulations covering Tribunals, even if Piso did as well, because this was a sign of blatant favoritism; we had not been asked about Claudius' presence, after all. Fortunately, I did not need to do so, because Sulpicianus shook his head, and in fact did not even look up from a tablet that he was reading as he prepared for the testimony of Lucullus.
"Go get Fronto," I told Piso who, although he clearly did not like being ordered in such a peremptory fashion, left immediately.
While he was gone, it gave me the opportunity to watch Lucullus and Claudius, and while I was not surprised that Lucullus refused to meet my gaze, I was when Claudius actually did. His face showed no emotion, but he did nod his head slightly, which I answered with the same gesture. Then I heard the door open, and Piso returned, Scribonius right behind him. I pointed to the chair that the slave had produced once it was determined there would be another spectator, which I had ordered placed immediately behind me so that Scribonius could easily lean forward a bit and whisper something to me.
He wasted no time, asking me quietly even as he was sitting down, "What's this about?"
"Fairness," I grunted, then nodded my head over in the direction of Lucullus and Claudius, the latter sitting in a spot not much different from that of my friend. "If he can have someone supporting him when he lies, then I can have someone here when I tell the truth."
"That will be quite enough, Prefect," the Senior Tribune said sharply, startling me and making me realize that, as usual, my voice had carried. "I can assure you that if any witness is found to be lying, that will not be allowed. This proceeding is being conducted with the utmost fairness and impartiality."
I did not answer, just giving a nod as I stared down at the table while Piso seemed unperturbed.
"You never could whisper for cac," Scribonius muttered, prompting a very undignified snort as I stifled a laugh, prompting another glare from the Senior Tribune.
"It would seem that this is hardly an occasion for levity, Prefect Pullus."
I know he was trying to sound severe and very judicial, but that was more than I could take from a young pup, and as had happened so many times before, my temper ruled my tongue.
"This isn't the first time I've faced death, Senior Tribune." I made sure to look the boy in the eye, and my voice was as cold as I could make it. "And this isn't the first time I've laughed at it. I've had quite a bit of experience...at both," I finished.
Color rushed to the Senior Tribune's face, and it pleased me to think that I had scored a telling blow. As it turned out, I was the only one.
"That was a foolish thing to say, Prefect," Piso said, so that only I could hear him.
And Scribonius, who felt compelled to add his own opinion on my wit.
"By the Furies, Titus," he hissed, and I could easily hear the anger there, "will you never learn to keep your mouth shut?"
"Apparently not," I muttered, furious at myself because I knew they were right.
Fortunately, there were other matters for all of us to turn our attention to, when Sulpicianus, now that the brief disturbance in the normal proceedings were concluded, told Lucullus to go sit in the chair to give his testimony. Watching as carefully as I would a man with a sword about to launch his attack on me, I followed Lucullus, dressed in his own purple-bordered toga, as he walked over and took his seat. For the briefest instant, his hand reached down to the seat of the chair in the kind of move one makes when they are going to reposition the facing of a chair, but then he withdrew it. I had not even finished turning my head to urge Piso to object, when he came to his feet to do that very thing.
"Senior Tribune, with all due respect, I must ask why this witness is being allowed to sit with his back to the Prefect and me? After all, one of the most basic precepts of our system of justice, that is hundreds of years old," he added, "is the right of a Roman citizen to face his accuser to hear the accusations being made."
"I don't believe that is meant to be literal, Piso," the Senior Tribune replied genially, smiling at my defender like an indulgent older brother. "You and the Prefect will be able to hear the testimony of Tribune Lucullus quite adequately."
"Well, I do," Piso shot back, and I could see that he was no less infuriated than I was, even if it was for completely different reasons. "It's a well-known principle of rhetoric that much of oral communication is non-verbal in nature. How else can a man read another man's face and divine that what they are saying is true or not, if they can't look him in the face? Your allowing Lucullus to keep his face averted is patently unfair!"
"Enough!"
What surprised me was not that Piso was told to shut up, but that it did not come from the Senior Tribune, but the Tribune to his right. Turning my attention to him, I saw just by his demeanor that he was probably resentful that he was not the Senior Tribune, and was attempting to establish his own authority on the Tribunal.
"The Senior Tribune has ruled," he continued, "and that is the end of it! Now, can we proceed? I, for one, would like to get this over and done with as quickly as possible."
"Forgive me." Piso made a bow in the direction of the second Tribune, but it was easy to read the contempt and disdain in this supposedly deferential gesture. "I realize that the fate of one of the most decorated and renowned soldiers of our beloved Republic doesn't mean much to those who can barely be bothered to take their exercises on the Campus." I had to suppress a grin at the sight of the second Tribune, whose face turned a bright shade of red. "But I believe that Prefect Pullus has earned at the very least the time it takes out of our respective schedules, however busy they may be, to give him the fairest Tribunal possible."
I wanted to jump up and applaud, but the Senior Tribune banged his hand on the table, warning the second Tribune with a look as he opened his mouth to undoubtedly fire back at Piso.
"That's true," the Senior Tribune broke in, "and that's why I am ruling that Lucullus will remain seated the way he is, and that Sulpicianus begins his questioning of the witness. Now," he glared over at us, "that is all that I will hear on this matter." Turning to Sulpicianus, he nodded his head. "You may begin."
By the time that Sulpicianus was through, there were a couple of things apparent, to me, anyway. The first was that the prosecutor and the witness had rehearsed their performance at least as much as any play by Sophocles, down to gestures and dramatic pauses.
Piso reinforced my impression when he whispered, "By the gods, this is like watching a really, really bad play."
The second impression I took was that there was an underlying reason for their rehearsal, because Lucullus' testimony went into such fantastic detail, down to what he was wearing and eating when we had our supposed conversations, it not only rang false, but it gave Piso ample opportunities to trip Lucullus up. There was one point in particular that got my attention, which I whispered to Piso.
"That," he looked at me with a raised eyebrow, "is a very, very good point. In fact," he continued, "I think that's going to give me what I need."
Glancing over at Scribonius, I could see he looked hopeful as well.
"That was a good catch, Titus," he whispered as Piso scribbled notes. "I missed it myself."
"We'll see what good it does." I could not bring myself to feel optimistic.
Under our system of Tribunal, the defender is not allowed to interrupt the testimony of a witness for the prosecution, and vice versa. Also, the prosecution is required to present its entire case before the defense can call the prosecution witnesses back to be questioned. That meant that we had to endure the other piece of evidence, the testimony of Marcus Primus, being read into the record. As I listened, I realized why Piso had refused to allow me to read it beforehand. He was probably afraid, quite rightly, that I would fly into such a rage that he might have been damaged when I indulged my anger. Sitting there in the Praetorium, this was the hardest part of the trial and I felt my fingers digging into the surface of the table as I tried every trick I could think of to keep that battle madness from descending on me. As Sulpicianus' voice droned on, if Primus were to be believed, not only did I know beforehand that the campaign was not authorized, but we were boon companions, collaborating in every decision that emanated from the Praetorium during those months in the field. It was when Sulpicianus reached a part in Primus' fantasy, where the two of us spent a long night discussing in detail the riches that awaited in Serdica and he supposedly told me how he acquired the knowledge of the gold, then went on to at the very least to intimate that our relationship reached a new level of intimacy, that it was only Scribonius' hand grabbing me that kept me from doing something incredibly stupid.
