The Demons of Rome

II - The Court of Thieves

Iatus stood in line with his head down, the guard holding firmly onto the chains binding his wrists. He had spent the night in a small holding cell and his head hurt even more from resting it on the wooden shelf that had served as his bed.

They stood in front of a massive marble building with purple banners proudly bearing the Roman eagle hung on either side of the great double doors. The courthouse was where the accused from the surrounding districts went to be tried, the courthouse was split into different courtrooms, each for a different crime: there was a court for murderers, a court for assaults, a court for smugglers, a court for settling business matters and, where Iatus was heading, the Court of Thieves.

The queue was quite long today, stretching right out into the street; crime was rife in the city as the people grew desperate. Finally the queue snaked its way inside the courtroom. The magistrate sat in a raised box so that he leered down at the court. He was a small, fat man with a beard down to his chest and a balding head. He slouched in his chair, resting his chin in his hand and glaring at everyone that came through with beady, cold eyes.

It took over an hour for Iatus to reach the front, but it felt longer as each person got successively quicker trials and harsher punishments. With every sentence it felt like a little bit of Iatus was being chipped away, today was obviously a bad day to get caught, not that there was a good day.

The person in front of Iatus was called, the charge read out: petty theft. The trial lasted no more than a minute, a man of about 30 stealing bread to feed his family. He denied the charge, claiming that the merchant owed him money for a table and was trying to frame him. The merchant told the magistrate that he had seen the man take the bread and denied buying any table from the man. The magistrate nodded and pronounced the man guilty. 20 lashes it came to. The man was dragged off shouting and protesting his innocence.

Oh Gods, help me, Iatus prayed.

The magistrate finished scribbling something on a roll of parchment and looked up, adjusting his gaze to fall on Iatus. He frowned and sighed.

"Charge?" he yawned.

"Petty theft," spoke the guard.

"Do you have anything to say in your defence, boy?"

I had to or I would starve, thanks to you nobles and your bloody wars, thought Iatus but he shook his head, sensing this man would not appreciate a lecture.

"Very well, twice the damages in reparations."

"The boy is a beggar sir, he has no money," the guard said.

"Very well, flog him then, 30 should teach him not to steal," the magistrate waved his hand dismissively and began scribbling with his quill again.

"Wait!" cried Iatus as the guard began to drag him away and pulled out the silver coin.

The magistrate's eyes widened in surprise. "Where does a beggar like you get a silver denarii?"

"A noble walked past me this morning and saw me begging, he gave it to me."

The magistrate laughed cruelly, "No noble would give a silver coin to such a pathetic boy, you stole it more like!"

"I did not!" Iatus protested but the magistrate held up his hand for silence.

The magistrate's eyes turned cold and harsh, "I can understand stealing a loaf of bread from a market stall, but stealing from someone of noble birth is an offence I will not tolerate. An example must be made. I should execute you, however, due to your age and the dire need for recruits, I sentence you to the mage's trials instead. Maybe the Academy can teach you to respect your betters, if you survive. Guard, approach."