These men were familiar enough and Julius breathed a silent sigh of relief as he saw none of them were faces he recognized from the factions in the Senate. His worst fear was that they would be Cato’s creatures, but he brightened as one of them smiled at him. The people’s tribune took his place last as the most senior of the magistrates. The crowd let out a ragged cheer for their representative, and the man smiled back at them, raising his hand briefly in acknowledgment. His name was Servius Pella, which was just about all Julius could call to mind about him. His hair was white and cropped close to an angular skull with deep-set eyes that seemed black in the dim light of the torches. Fleetingly, Julius wished he had taken the time to meet the man at one of the Senate meetings, but shoved the thought aside. It was pointless to worry about the magistrates, he knew. If he could deal with the posturing of Antonidus’s advocate Rufius, he had a strong enough case. If he was humiliated, he would lose not only the house that had belonged to Marius, but also a great deal of his status in the Senate and the city itself. He could not regret the risks he had taken in forcing the trial. Marius would have expected no less.

Julius glanced over to where Cato sat and found the heavy gaze fastened on him with interest. Bibilus was there at his side, as always, and Catalus. Julius saw that Suetonius was sitting with his father, with the same supercilious smile on each face. Their expressions would have marked them as kin even if he hadn’t known it already.

Julius looked away rather than show his anger after the revelations from Cornelia. Cato’s supporters would learn to fear in time, as he removed the pillars of their influence, one by one.

Quintus patted Julius’s shoulder and sat down with the other jurists. The crowd shuffled and whispered as they sensed the trial was about to start. Julius glanced again at the shields, checking that the drapes hadn’t slipped to reveal even a part of them.

The praetor stood slowly, his hands smoothing the folds of his toga. With a motion, he ordered the torches snuffed and everyone present waited as each light was covered, leaving the gray dawn to light the forum.

“This august court is convened on the ninety-fourth day of the consular year. Let the records be marked. I charge all present in the sight of the gods that they shall speak only truth here, under penalty of banishment. If any man declares falsehood in this court, he will be denied fire, salt, and water and sent far from this city, never to return, in accordance with the edicts.”