Fatal Obligation Read online

  “They had been to the well so often, it was impossible to stop them,” Orator Gyratus insisted. “Between the loss from trampled crops and the expense of building the road, Landowner Fidenas was at wit's end. Thus, he constructed a wall and a well house to protect his property.”

  Groans ran through the forum and attendees familiar with the codes were inundated with questions. But Alerio, not versed in law and only having heard references to the Law of the Twelve Tablets, didn’t know the significance of the statement.

  Before he could question the Master Secretary, Armenius asked a question.

  “Orator Gyratus. How many gates are in this wall?”

  “I will check,” Gyratus replied.

  As the Orator walked back to his table to confer with Landowner Fidenas and Jurist Imprecari, Alerio query Zenobios.

  “Why did the crowd react to the last part?”

  “Table VI, Number 3 of the Law of the Twelve Tablets. A beam that is built into a house or a vineyard trellis may not be taken from its place. Add to that Number 5,” the secretary answered. “Usucapio of movable things requires one year's possession from its completion, but estates and buildings require two years before demolition.”

  “In other words, if the Judges side with the plaintiff, the landowner by law can’t remove the wall for one year,” ventured Alerio. “And the building for two years, no matter the ruling.”

  “Per the letter of the law, yes.”

  “I am missing something here,” stated Alerio. “I feel like Senior Magistrate Peregrinus is marching into an ambush and I don’t know the landscape well enough to warn him.”

  Orator Gyratus marched back to his spot, smiled up at the judges, and said, “You asked how many gates are in the wall on Landowner Fidenas’ property? The answer is none.”

  Alerio glanced over at the Plaintiff’s table. Jurist Eustorgius had a sneer on his face as if he knew the answer to a riddle. Then Armenius, or rather Gyratus’ answer, gave Alerio a hint to the danger.

  “What is the location of these farms and the well?” Senior Magistrate Peregrinus questioned.

  “The farms are served by a small village about twelve and a half miles from Brindisi,” the Orator reported. “More specifically, we are discussing farms four miles south of a village and eight miles from the settlement’s central well. A source of water too far away, to impact this trial.”

  “That sounds like the last piece of information I need,” offered Muris Fallax. “I’ve made my decision. Let us confer Armenius?”

  Alerio reached over the Master Secretary’s shoulder and crunched his wrist in the Legionary’s grip.

  “Do not let them deliberate until I return,” warned Alerio.

  “But why?”

  “I don’t care if you have to push both of them down the stairs. Do not let them decide this case until I get back.”

  Alerio didn’t use the steps, he ducked through the portal behind the platform and ran along the narrow bridge. Once in the Governor’s building, he raced for the stairway.

  ***

  At Senior Magistrate’s apartment, Alerio pulled the framed painting of Armenius’ farm off the wall and ran for the door. Skipping treads as he descended, Alerio reached the hallway and ran for the lobby.

  Just beyond the Tribune’s desk, a thought hit him. Sliding to a stop on the tiles, Alerio backtracked.

  “Tribune. I need the forum locked down and a four-man shield around the Senior Magistrate. I haven’t a spare moment to explain but he needs to be separated from everyone as soon as possible,” Alerio directed.

  “If it wasn’t for that little piece of parchment, Corporal, I’d tell you to go…,” the staff officer started to say something rude. Instead, he agreed. “But you have the authority. And if anything happens to the Magistrate, it’ll go badly for the Legion. We’ll lock the forum down.”

  “Thank you, sir. Which way is the records building?” Alerio shouted as he ran for the door.

  “To the South, two buildings over,” the Tribune replied.

  ***

  “Senior Magistrate Peregrinus. Assistant Governor for the Eastern Region,” Armenius shouted. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes sir, you are the second-ranking government official in the area,” a nervous Centurion replied. “But the Tribune ordered you protected and Magistrate, you will be protected.”

  “Protect me from what?” Armenius demanded as he gripped the edge of a Legion shield and shoved it aside for a moment.

  In the forum, Farmer Markellos, Orator Tergi, and Jurist Eustorgius were huddled at javelin points and, on the other side, Landowner Fidenas, Orator Gyratus, and Jurist Imprecari were also eye to eye with iron tips.

  “This is highly unusual,” Gyratus riled. “I demand you release us.”

  “Orator, you’ll be free to go once the lockdown is called off,” another Centurion assured him.

  “When will that be?”

  “I have no idea,” the line officer replied as he walked away.

  Judge Muris Fallax and Master Secretary Zenobios had been taken off the platform and grouped with other citizens.

  Armenius’ brief glimpse revealed the huddled men and the Legionaries guarding them while other Legionaries faced outward ready to defend the forum from attack. He might not have been comfortable, but he was safe.

  It was mostly quiet in the forum, except for the rantings of a few important citizens. Then two men approached the Optio at the opening between the food and drink carts where the vendors also cowered at the tips of javelins. The NCO stopped the two men. One handed him a letter and the Sergeant read it and passed them through.

  ***

  Armenius continued peering between the shields. An old man, he didn’t recognize, accompanied Sisera across the length of the forum’s floor. It took the Corporal half lifting and half carrying the ancient one to reach the platform.

  “Sisera. What is going on here?”

  “Sir, we need to talk,” Alerio responded as he guided the old man to the Master Secretary’s desk. Carefully, he removed the ink and the trial material. “Centurion, kindly release the Senior Magistrate.”

  Armenius marched over with his mouth set in a line so tight, he must have been having trouble breathing. At least that’s what Alerio figured based on the red face and bulging eyes.

  “You and the old man have interrupted a legal proceeding of the Republic,” Armenius warned. “I should have you both on the punishment post for this act of sabotage.”

  The ancient began shaking and he almost toppled off the chair and platform. Alerio got an arm around his shoulders and steadied him.

  “It’s not right to go around threatening old men,” Alerio scolded. “But, Senior Magistrate, before you have me whipped, you might want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Fine. Who are you and what do you have to say?”

  “Senior Magistrate. Retired Corporal Tranquillo, official records keeper of the Eastern Region,” the old man reported.

  “Why haven’t we met?”

  “I don’t leave the records office much, sir,” Tranquillo explained while placing a long rolled up goatskin document on the desktop. “Sisera was very convincing and a little frightening.”

  “He is both,” Armenius agreed. “What do you have there?”

  Tranquillo unrolled a land survey map that was wrapped around Armenius’ drawing of his farmland.

  “You cut my picture from the frame,” Armenius observed.

  “It wasn’t me, sir,” Tranquillo offered. “Corporal Sisera did it for expediency.”

  “Expediency? He does cut corners and enjoys flirting with the regulations,” Armenius commented. Then while running his eyes over the map and drawing, he asked. “What am I looking at?”

  Tranquillo spun the stylized map of the Magistrate’s land.

  “You have my plot upside down.”

  “The main drawing is, sir. As is the village of Latiano. But your plot of land is now right side up,” Tr
anquillo explained. “See how it matches the land survey map and sits adjacent to the well? Your land, Senior Magistrate, is southwest of Latiano and not southeast of the township.”

  Armenius staggered back. With panic on his face, he looked over the forum. Upturned faces stared at him accusingly, or so he felt.

  “I can’t rule on this case,” admitted the Senior Magistrate. “If I rule for the plaintiff, it’ll look like I want the water for my land. If I rule for Landowner Fidenas, it’ll seem I bought my farm cheap for later considerations. Both cases resemble a bribe. I will be hauled back to the Senate where I’ll stand trial for my life.”

  “There is one way,” Alerio remarked. “But you’ll need to get Judge Muris Fallax to go along with your decision.”

  “Don’t worry about Muris. Remember, I’m still the Assistant Governor.”

  ***

  “Citizens, Farmer Markellos, and Landowner Fidenas, I apologize for the delay,” Armenius announced from the edge of the platform. “Judge Fallax and I have reached a joint decision on the issues presented here today.”

  Alerio saw Jurist Imprecari nod and Jurist Eustorgius actually laughed behind his hand. While the scholars seemed comfortable, the Orators squirmed in their seats. This was their livelihood and losing would cost them future clients.

  “Let it be recorded, the well in question is now the property of the Republic,” Armenius ordered. “Anyone drawing water from the government’s well will pay a yearly tax.”

  The stout jurist jumped up and bellowed, “You can’t do that.”

  “Scholar Eustorgius. Is that a point of law to which you’re referring?” Armenius asked. “If so, my bodyguard will gladly escort you to my office. We can discuss the Twelve Tablets in comfort, after I finish delivering the verdict.”

  Eustorgius sat down heavily and hung his head. Across the forum, Gyratus leaped to his feet.

  “There’s more?” Orator Gyratus demanded.

  “Of course, there is. The Republics’ judgment must be complete,” Armenius declared. “As the government’s well requires protection, Landowner Fidenas is directed to build a second wall north of the well. The same distance and the same length as the original wall.”

  “But Senior Magistrate, then I won’t have access to the water,” Landowner Fidenas protested. His body shook, and suddenly, the Latian farmer lunged at Jurist Imprecari. “You told me everything would work out. You never said I’d lose my water rights when you had me build that wall.”

  The tall scholar fended off the landowner until Orator Gyratus and a Legion Sergeant managed to pull him away.

  “If you are done with the histrionics, I’d like to finish this up,” suggested Senior Magistrate Peregrinus. “Further, there will be a fine for anyone opening a hole in either wall larger than the width of two oxen. That is the final ruling of this panel. Let it be recorded in accordance with the Law of the Twelve Tablets and a transcript sent to the Senate archives. By rights, anyone with exceptions to the judgment may petition the Senate for redress. I want to thank everyone who participated. Judge Muris Fallax and I, having done our duty, declare this trial to be over.”

  Chapter 17 – Delayed in Transit

  Peregrinus and Zenobios sprawled on couches while Alerio paced the floor of Armenius’ apartment.

  “I don’t understand, Senior Magistrate,” pondered the Corporal. “Someone spent a lot of coins and effort to put the ambush together. What did they have to gain?”

  “Every judgment, no matter how small, tips the balance of power,” Zenobios offered. “With Senior Magistrate Peregrinus removal, the Latians would begin winning more and more cases. Eventually, the lopsided judgments would cause the Brindisians to revolt. The Legion, bloodshed, and many opportunities to seize land would follow. You see Corporal Sisera, there is profit in chaos.”

  “When I overheard the scholars, they spoke of their patrons being pleased.”

  “I could use the names of their sponsors,” remarked Armenius. “I’m sure Senator Maximus would like to know who is disrupting his command of the region.”

  Alerio stopped pacing and pulled his bodyguard letter out of a pouch.

  “This line about me being a Sminarchos. Is it valid?”

  “Absolutely. You are a Captain in the Brindisi militia,” Zenobios assured him.

  “That opens some interesting possibilities. And a chance for some payback.”

  “I will not allow vengeance on citizens of the Republic,” warned Armenius.

  “Be assured Senior Magistrate, there is no planned retribution.”

  “Planned?”

  “That’s correct, sir,” Alerio said as he walked to the door of Armenius’ apartment. “I’m just going to have a polite talk with them.”

  After Alerio closed the door, Zenobios turned to Armenius.

  “Does the Corporal know how to hold a civilized conversation?”

  “He does,” Peregrinus assured the Secretary. “As long as the replies are civil.”

  ***

  The gates of the Latian’s villa opened and a carriage rolled through. As soon as the horses turned onto the street, the gates swung shut. A hint of dawn crowned the eastern sky leaving the high walls of the neighboring villas in darkness. The only spots of light, other than the stars overhead, glowed from the lanterns swaying beside the coachman. At a moderate walk, the team left the residential area and entered the business district.

  A block before the carriage approached the boulevard leading out of Brindisi, two men appeared from the dark. They seized the bridles and before the driver could protest, another man leaped up beside him. The coachman was knocked off his seat, off the boards, and crashed to the street.

  “Jurist Eustorgius. Good morning,” the new driver announced to his passenger.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the scholar demanded as he grasped forward with both hands.

  His intent may have been to regain control of the coach or to throttle the driver. He did neither as a sword materialized and the jurist jerked back from the lantern-lit blade.

  “Sit back and enjoy the ride,” the man suggested.

  The horses, guided by the two men jogging with the animals, went directly through the intersection, missing the turnoff. Three blocks later, the carriage did turn, but it headed for the harbor instead of a street heading out of Brindisi.

  Eustorgius sat back studying the buildings and the route. When he escaped, he’d need to know the location for when he returned with Legionaries. And the broad-shouldered scholar with the grey hair had no doubt he would escape.

  Light spilled from a warehouse as the doors opened. The horses were led inside and tugged to a stop. Men in armor stepped up to each side of the carriage and Eustorgius slowly climbed down at the points of two Greek spears. The heavy tips on the long shafts worked for their intended purpose of fighting in ranks. Unlike the Legion javelin which could be thrown or used with a shield, the Greek weapons did one thing and did it well. They were man-killers and the jurist respected that fact.

  By indication from one of the spearmen, he moved to a table and sat in one of the two chairs. To his surprise, a pitcher of wine with two glasses plus cheese and bread were on the tabletop. Beside the refreshments, rested a quill and blank pieces of parchment.

  Across the port city, Jurist Imprecari’s coach was highjacked and taken to a warehouse one block over. Inside, the tall jurist with the bushy hair climbed down to find the same type of table, similarly equipped.

  ***

  “Was there any trouble, sir?” Alerio asked the militia Coronel.

  “We train hard to fight. Pirates from the sea; raiders from the coast; bandits; and Legions from inland. We train to protect Brindisi as we have done for decades,” the senior officer replied. “Taking two Latian coaches in the dark offered no challenge.”

  “The Republic’s Legions?” questioned Alerio.

  “Many of my older militiamen have long memories,” the Coronel informed him. Then he advised. “You hav
e requested this. I suggest you get on with it before the Legion garrison tests our resolve.”

  The sun had climbed high enough to light the street. Alerio glanced at one warehouse then the other. After thinking for a moment, he chose to work the thick scholar first. Not that muscles and wide shoulders meant Eustorgius lacked brains or wiles. But the man was the most physical of the two jurists. Alerio was sleepy from staying up guarding Armenius and needed something to wake him up.

  He pulled a piece of cloth over his face to hide his features and walked to the first warehouse.

  ***

  “Out!” Alerio bellowed at the spearmen guarding the scholar. “Out, now.”

  “Yes, Sminarchos,” the four militiamen replied as they filed through an exit beside the main doors.

  The boxes, stacks of grain sacks, and rows of amphorae cast shadows around the interior. Only the coach, horses, prisoner, and the table were lit from the early morning light streaming down from the gable vent.

  Eustorgius watched his guards leave then looked up at a masked man who stepped into view.

  “Captain. I would lodge a protest. However, based on the situation it would be redundant,” the jurist commented.

  “You’re familiar with Greek ranks?” Alerio asked as he walked to the table and took the seat across from him.

  “I am an educated man and have studied all potential enemies of the Republic,” Eustorgius replied.

  “An interesting choice of words,” Alerio offered as he drew the hunting knife.

  Eustorgius jerked back, eyed the knife, then laughed.

  “If murder was your intention, a spear would have already pierced my breast,” he exclaimed. “Why this ruse? What do you want?”

  The Legionary examined the blade by holding it up so the steel reflected the sunlight.

  “We’ll get to that. But first breakfast. I’m hungry,” Alerio informed him.

  He cut a slice of cheese and a piece of bread from the loaf. As if forgetting the situation, Alerio left the knife on the table with the blade facing the legal scholar. Lifting his chin and eyes to the food, he pulled up the cloth and took a bite.