After the brief excitement boredom settled on him once more, like a shroud.
As Goriasa's First Magistrate – the recipient of one-fifth of all fines paid – Hulius Marani would already have been wealthy, even without the numerous bribes. He had ordered a shipment of fine marble from Turgony so that a suitable house could be constructed for him to the south of the port. He had a loyal wife, a beautiful Gath mistress, and was treated with respect and courtesy wherever he travelled. Which was a far cry from his days as a shipping clerk in Stone, where he had worked all day in a cramped office, earning one-quarter of a silver piece a day. Hulius had laboured for two years before discovering his route to high office and a measure of fame.
On difficult sea voyages some bales of cloth became damaged by salt water, and were thus rendered unsaleable. They were then unceremoniously dumped alongside the warehouses. One day Hulius cut into such a bale, green silk from the east, and found that only the outer layers had been seriously damaged. At the centre of the bale he found four of the twenty-five rolled lengths of silk were in perfect condition. These he sold, creating his first profit. As the months passed he amassed ten times his salary from such items, and in doing so made valuable contacts in the local industries. One day a ship's captain saw him, late in the evening, examining a damaged bale. The man called him aside and suggested a business partnership. All merchants accepted a small percentage of loss during sea travel.
For the right sum the captain would put aside good bales, and between them he and Hulius could label them damaged goods.
It had worked beautifully.
Within the year Hulius had put down a deposit on a piece of land and commissioned a house. His wife, Darnia, had been delighted at his growing wealth. Not so his employers, who descended one day with ten soldiers from the Watch, just as Hulius was overseeing the loading of a wagon with ten undamaged bales.
The captain was also taken. He was hanged four days later. But, then, he had no friends in high places. Hulius, on the other hand, had used some of his profits to fund the political career of his wife's cousin – a man who had now risen to rank in Jasaray's government. Thus an agreed sum was paid to the employer, and Hulius was offered the post of First Magistrate in Goriasa. And now he was close to becoming rich – despite a large part of the moneys made being sent back to Darnia's powerful relative.
Yet despite his wealth, and the ease of his lifestyle, Hulius was bored with Goriasa and the interminable petty cases brought before him: broken contracts, matrimonial disputes, and arguments over land rights and borders. He longed for the dining rooms and pleasure establishments of Stone's central district, the magnificently skilled whores, the musicians, and the beautifully prepared food, with recipes from a dozen different cultures.
Hulius glanced down at the list before him. One more hearing, and then he could visit his mistress.
Three men filed into the new courthouse, bowed before the dais on which Hulius sat in his white robe of justice, then took up their positions to the right of the two engraved wooden lecterns. Hulius recognized the gladiator Rage and the circus-owner Persis Albitane. Between them stood a Gath tribesman, a lean yet powerful young man, with golden hair and odd-coloured eyes. The door at the back of the room opened and a Crimson Priest strode in. He did not bow before the dais but walked immediately to stand to the left of the lecterns. Hulius noted the surprise on the face of Persis Albitane, and felt a small knot of tension begin in the pit of his stomach.
The magistrate stared down at the document before him, then spoke. 'The registration of the tribesman Bane to be allowed to take part in martial displays for Circus Crises,' he read aloud. 'Who sponsors this man?'
'I do,' said Persis.
'And who stands beside him, to pledge his good faith.'
'I do,' said Rage solemnly.
Hulius looked at Bane. 'And do you, Bane, pledge to uphold the highest traditions of courage and-'
'I object to these proceedings,' said the Crimson Priest. Sweat began to trickle from Hulius's temple.
'On what grounds, Brother?'
'The law. It is forbidden for Gath tribesmen to carry swords for any reason, save those employed as scouts in the service of the army of Stone.'
'Yes indeed,' said Hulius, thankful that the matter could be dealt with simply. He had no wish at all to offend a priest. 'In that case-
'Bane is not a Gath,' said Persis Albitane. 'He is of the Rigante tribe, and was recommended to me by Watch Captain Oranus of Accia. As a Rigante he is not subject to the laws governing the Gath.'
Hulius felt sick, and glanced nervously at the Crimson Priest. 'Even so,' said the priest, 'the man is a barbarian, and it should be considered below the dignity of any honest citizen to employ him in the capacity of gladiator.'
'It may be argued', said Persis, 'that such employment in itself is "below dignity", but it is certainly not illegal. Therefore I respectfully request that the objection be ruled inadmissible. There is no law to prevent a foreigner being gainfully employed by a citizen of Stone. Indeed there are many gladiators, past and present, from foreign lands.'
Hulius would have loved to rule against Persis Albitane, but all his rulings were written down and sent on to Stone, and this was not a matter of a magistrate's judgment – which could be bought at a price – but of the law of Stone. Hulius sat silently, his mind whirling, seeking some way to accommodate the priest. But there were no subtleties to the issue, no grey areas to exploit. The case was simple.
Hulius looked into the fat face of Persis Albitane. Perhaps there was still a way out. 'I would think that a loyal citizen of Stone would accede to the wishes of the venerable order of Crimson Priests,' he said smoothly. 'You are quite right when you say that the Rigante are not under the jurisdiction of Stone, but equally they are Keltoi, and the spirit of the law is what – I believe – concerns the brother.' Surely Persis would understand what he was saying. No-one wanted to come under the scrutiny of the Temple. Hulius looked at the man, and saw he was sweating. Then Persis spoke.
'With respect, Magistrate, there is no such creature as the spirit of the law,' he said. 'The laws of Stone are drafted by intelligent, far-seeing men – among them the senior priests of the Crimson Temple. If you believe the law to be carelessly drafted, then you should write to the Council forthwith. However, as has already been established, my request today does not break the law, and I once more submit the name of Bane.'
In that moment Hulius understood the true joys of boredom. To be bored was to be free of danger, far from perilous activities. 'I agree,' he said miserably. 'We will continue with the pledge.'
The Crimson Priest said nothing more, but stalked from the room.
Hulius Marani listened to the pledge, signed the necessary document, added the wax seal of Justice, and rose from his chair.
The day had soured considerably, and he had no desire now to visit his mistress.
Stadium Orises had never looked better, thought Persis, as he strolled out across the fresh sand to the centre of the arena. For two weeks – much to Norwin's disgust at the expense – carpenters and workmen had been labouring to repair the more run-down sections of the tiered seating areas. The stadium had been hastily constructed eleven years earlier, mostly of timber, supported on stone columns. The original owner, Gradine – a man of limitless ambition and little capital – had not been able to afford the normal embellishments – statues, fresco-decorated areas for the nobility, dining halls, and public urinals. Stadium Crises was, at best, functional. The arena floor was two hundred feet in diameter, surrounded by an eight-foot wall, beyond which were twenty rows of tiered bench seats. Many of these were warped and cracked. Shading his eyes Persis watched the carpenters at work on the last section. The new benches gleamed with linseed oil.