Augustus rested his cheek upon his fist, digging with his knuckles up against his own cheekbones. He was already tired of the day that lay before him. He adjusted himself the best he could in his wooden chair but the lack of padding assured him that he’d never be truly comfortable. He sat within the courtyard of a block of apartments, there to hold court as was his duty.

Normally the residents of the apartments would use this area to hang linens to dry, butcher animals, or sell homemade goods at a small stall, but today those things were forbidden. A busy crowd had formed there, and even along the building, on the balconies that ran along each floor, people awaited and looked with interest as if a theatre play was about to start.

Augustus looked down at the crowd on the ground floor from his vantage on stage. They were still organizing themselves, a clerk, working as the bannerman, was directing people into lines and writing down their names. He held a staff that even when rested on the ground stood high above the crowd. Attached to it was a yellow flag, hence he was called the bannerman. Another clerk sat to the side of the stage to work as the scribe, a quill and paper at the ready before him.

“Are we almost ready?” Augustus asked no one in particular.

“I think we will be ready shortly,” replied the scribe. Augustus didn’t know him well, he didn’t even know his name. Being a scribe was an educated profession, but still a profession for the lower classes.

At least he would be paid for the day, Augustus thought. An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. Three venti, not much by the standards he was used to, but a very high salary for a day’s work. Still, it was a pittance for his current needs and would hardly make a dent into his day to day expenses. When he read the letter informing him of his obligation to work, he felt only annoyance.

Augustus turned to look over his shoulder to see Heratio standing by his side, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was needed today more than ever. Although most days holding court was a safe affair, there had been days in the past when the crowd became unruly and stormed the stage. The rule of law had harsh punishments for those transgressions, but people in groups could act outside of their own best interests.

“We’re ready to begin,” announced the clerk below.

Augustus stood up to say the opening speech that commemorated a day of court. He spoke in a loud, but calm, voice. “May the goddess Aurelia bless this day, bless this place, and bless the people who bring their grievances. May she bless me, enlightening me with her divine mercy, so that my words, when spoken in alignment with what is decreed in the senate, carry her divine judgement.

“My name is Augustus DeCastellian, a lower magistrate given the duty and responsibility of hearing your grievances and passing judgement in accordance with the laws of the Senate. Where no law exists, I will judge based on the common values of the city of Venocia and the temple of Aurelia. If any of you dispute a judgement I make you can, at an expense, petition a magistrate of higher authority to potentially overturn my decision. With all that said, bannerman, what is the first grievance?”

The bannerman waved his flag from side to side then pointed with his hand at a man to come forward. “This man claims to have been sold faulty goods. His name is Aquinas Villias, a Venocian citizen, attested as such by his neighbours. He accuses Hector, a shopkeep who has not proved his citizenship.”

“Hector, do you claim to be a citizen?” asked Augustus.

“No.”

“Aquinas, speak first. Give your details on the issue.”

Aquinas looked up at the audience nervously before speaking with a shaky voice. “I bought three calves and some chickens from Hector. Six and a half ventis I paid. A fair sum. But the calves died a week later. All three of ‘em. I went back to him, asking him to return my coin. He sold me sick calves. He refused.”

Hector looked like he wanted to speak, but knew to wait his turn.

“Hector, do you dispute any of this?”

Hector nodded. “First, the price of the calves wasn’t just a fair sum, it’s a bargain. The reason for the low price was that they had little meat on their bones. I let him look them over thoroughly before the purchase and he paid as agreed. When he came back, it’s true I refused to refund him the whole amount, but I offered half a venti if he would just drop the matter completely.”

It was a simple case, one that Venocian law covered well. They hardly needed a magistrate and even less did the shopkeep need to be accused in from the large crowd. That was probably why he agreed to offer any refund at all. It took only a moment for Augustus to decide on his verdict. He just needed to go through a few motions before he could announce that verdict.

“Let me ask the crowd then. Is six and a half venti a bargain price for three calves and some chickens?”

The shouts from the crowd were clear, the price was a bargain. “Then it’s settled. Aquinas, you bought them at a bargain, so you inspected them. If they were bought sight unseen, the law would offer you some recompense. But, goods bought at a bargain are assumed to be bought after inspection, even if you were to claim you neglected to do it, in the eyes of this court, you would still have performed the inspection. As such, all defects, within reason, are considered known. If they were, in fact, sick cows, then you agreed to pay for sick cows when you bought them. You could have saved half a venti, but instead, you get nothing, and you even need to pay the fifteen conti fee to have your grievance heard.”

Augustus gave the lesson in the law not only to dissuade Aquinas to attempt to go to a higher magistrate, as allowing annoyances like that to buzz in the ear of higher magistrates would be bad for his reputation but also to hopefully inform some of the crowd who might have a similar issue to resolve their matter privately and shortening Augustus’ workday.

It was also expected of a magistrate to explain their rulings. A magistrate’s power wasn’t from overwhelming force. Even while holding court, there were only three officials from the city present. A magistrate required the trust of the population to operate. Trust earned from showing the logic behind your judgements, demonstrating impartiality. In theory, Augustus had the authority to issue orders to the citizens of Venocia, but orders that weren’t necessary for maintaining civil order could result in dire consequences for a magistrate. And orders that flew in the face of reason could be dangerous if the crowd turned on him because of it.

When the scribe finished writing his notes, the two men receded into the crowd and two new men came forward. Again, the bannerman read out their dispute. Both were citizens. This time, the older man claimed the younger man raped his daughter. The younger man denied it, but the daughter was brought forward and confirmed the rape took place. After asking the thoughts of the crowd, whose cheers sided with the older man, Augustus chose to believe him. The crowd was made up of people that lived in the neighborhood, and many would know both men. Asking them was the best way to determine who was less trustworthy. He sentenced the younger man to one year of servitude to the older man or the removal of three of his fingers.

It was the standard punishment in the city. Some length of time of servitude or an alternative that was viewed as worse than the length of servitude. It gave the master the right to set the terms of the service, usually working some job and paying the master most of the pay. It also stopped the master from setting too unfavourable rules for the server to follow, because then they would just accept the second punishment instead. The goal was for the second punishment to never be realized.

It would go on like, dispute after dispute, until either there were no more to be dealt with, or the sand fell through the hourglass five times. Like the first two, most of the cases were minor issues, appropriate for a court overseen by a lower-magistrate. Then came the case of the mysterious pregnancy, an issue of some gravitas that should have been taken to a different court.

The bannerman waved his flag, then pointed at a man to come forward. “This man claims his wife became pregnant with another man’s child. His name is Pontius Avenian, a Venocian citizen, attested as such by his neighbours. His wife is Mynia Avenian, a Venocian citizen, attested as such by her neighbours.”

Augustus couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows upon hearing the nature of the dispute. A serious allegation, even more serious to make it known so publicly.

“Pontius, speak first. Give your details.”