“In a wholly legal sale, my client bought the house in question at auction as we have been told. His name is on the deed and the bill of sale. To have armed guards steal his property from him is a return to the use of force to settle disputes. I'm sure you all noted the touching of spears to that attractive shield at the start of the trial. I remind you that the symbolic act of struggle is just that. In Rome, we do not draw swords to end arguments without submitting to the law.

“I sympathize with the points young Caesar has raised, but they have no bearing on the case at hand. I'm sure he would want to go back even further and reveal the history of the house right back to its first foundation, but there is no call for such a widening of the issues. I must repeat my call for the sword, though it is with regret that Rome should lose such a passionate young advocate.”

His expression showed sadness for the harsh penalties to come as he took his seat and conferred with Antonidus, who watched Julius with slitted eyes.

Julius stood and faced the magistrates once more. “As Rufius has referred to a deed and bill of sale, I feel he should produce them for the court to examine,” he said quickly.

The magistrates looked over to Rufius, who grimaced. “If the property was a horse or a slave, your honors, then I could of course produce such items for you. Unfortunately, as a house is in question and one taken by surprise and armed force, the documents were inside it, as Caesar is well aware.”

The magistrate who seemed to speak for the others peered at Julius with a frown. “Are these papers in your possession?” he asked.

“I swear that they are not,” Julius replied. “There is no sign of them in the house of Marius, on my honor.” He sat down again. As he had burned the deed and bill of sale the night before under Quintus's direction, his conscience was clear.

“So no ownership papers can be produced by either party?” the magistrate continued evenly. Julius shook his head and Rufius echoed the movement, his face tightening in irritation. He stood to address the magistrates once again.

“My client suspected that such key documents would ‘disappear' before the trial,” he said with a barely concealed sneer in Julius's direction. “Instead, we have a witness who was present at the auction and can attest to the legal sale to General Antonidus.”

The witness stood forward from his seat by Antonidus. Julius recognized him as one of those who sat near Cato in the Senate house. He was a stooped and fragile-looking man, who constantly pulled a lock of his thinning hair back off his forehead as he spoke.

“I am Publius Tenelia. I can attest to the legal sale.”

“May I question this man?” Julius asked, stepping into the floor as he received permission.

“You witnessed the entire auction?” Julius asked him.

“I did. I was there from the start to the finish.”

“You saw the bill of sale being signed in the name of Antonidus?”

The man hesitated slightly before replying. “I saw the name,” he said. His eyes were nervous and Julius knew he was adding to the truth.

“You glimpsed the document briefly, then?” he pressed.

“No, I saw it clearly,” the man replied more confidently.

“What was the amount the general paid?”

Behind the man, Rufius smiled at the ploy. It would not work, as the witness had been thoroughly prepared for such questions.

“It was one thousand sesterces,” the man returned triumphantly. His smile dropped at a sudden chorus of jeers from the crowd outside the court. Many heads turned toward the mass of plebeians, and Julius saw with the judges that the streets had filled as the trial went on. Every available space was taken and the forum itself was full of people. The magistrates looked at each other and the praetor firmed his mouth in anxiety. Such a large audience increased the dangers of disturbance, and he considered sending a runner to the barracks for more soldiers to keep the peace.

When the crowd was quiet, Julius spoke again.

“In preparation for this case, your honors, I had the house valued. If it was sold this morning, a buyer would be likely to pay in the region of a million sesterces, not a thousand. There is a passage from the Twelve Tables that has a bearing on the matter.”

As he prepared to quote from the ancient script, Rufius raised his eyes in boredom and the witness fidgeted, not yet dismissed.

“‘Property may not pass from vendor to purchaser unless value has been paid,' ” Julius said loudly. The crowd cheered the point, with a number of conversations breaking out as it was explained to those around them.

“A thousand sesterces for a property worth a million is not ‘value,' your honors. The sale was a farce of favors, a mockery of an auction. With not even a bill of sale to prove it existed, no legal transaction took place.”

Slowly, Rufius rose. “Caesar will have us believe that any bargain is in breach of the Tables,” he began.

The crowd hooted him and the praetor sent his runner for more soldiers.

“I say again that Caesar attempts to confuse the court with pointless distractions. The witness proves the sale was real. The amount is immaterial. My client is a shrewd bargainer.”

He sat down, hiding his annoyance at the point. He could not admit that the auction had been mere show for Sulla to reward his favorites, though Caesar had made that clear to everyone there, if they didn't know it already. Certainly the crowd hadn't known and many angry stares were turned on Antonidus, who visibly shrank in his seat.

“Furthermore,” Julius continued as if Rufius had not spoken, “as the matter of the value of the house has been raised by Antonidus's own witness, there is another issue I would like to bring to the attention of the court. If the verdict is with me as rightful heir to the property, I will demand the rent for the two years of occupancy by General Antonidus. A generous estimate of that amount is thirty thousand sesterces, which I add to my claim for the house as money denied my family in his time there.”

“What? How dare you ask for that?” Antonidus spluttered in anger, rising from his seat. Rufius pressed him back into it with difficulty, muttering urgently into his ear.

When Antonidus was still, Rufius turned back to the magistrates.

“He adds public scorn to his offenses, your honors, by goading my client. The house was empty when General Antonidus took legal possession after the sale. There is no rent at question here.”

“My family chose to keep it empty, as was their right. Still, the money could have been earned for me if not for the tenant you represent,” Julius snapped at him.

The magistrate cleared his throat, then bent his head to listen to the other two before speaking. After a conference that stretched on for a minute or more, he spoke again.

“The case is clear enough, it seems. Have either of you anything to add before we deliberate on the verdict?”

Julius racked his brain, but everything he wanted to say had been said. His gaze strayed over to the bronze shields that were still covered, but he resisted the urge to unveil them for the crowd, knowing the judges would see it as a cheap display. He wasn't at all sure which way the verdict would go, and when he turned to look at Quintus, the old man simply shrugged blankly.

“Nothing more, your honors. I rest,” Julius said.

The crowd cheered him and called insults to Rufius as he too ended his case. The three magistrates stood and bowed to the praetor before leaving for the Senate building, where they would thrash out their final verdict. The extra soldiers that had come running from the barracks cleared the way for them, armed not with staffs but swords.

When they had left, the praetor stood to address the crowd, pitching his powerful voice to carry over their heads.