The crowd in the gallery was in a foul mood. Rome was preparing for war in the Spains, and the only Spaniard most of them were likely to ever see in their lifetimes was sitting next to him. There was no doubt that their sympathy was with the Roman defendant in the case, not his foreign client. Gallus could feel his influence with them waning, his victory in the Senate—on their behalf, the ingrates!—all but forgotten. Such was the fickleness of the People. Happily, the influence he lost would most probably be picked up by his fellow Tribune at the opposing table, and there was little likelihood that they would do anything but pool their influence in the Plebeian Assembly anyway, so it mattered little.

Without taking his eyes off the jury, Tiberius Gallus raised his left hand half-way to his shoulder, and gave a subtle forward flick. In an instant, Pullio Casca was at his side. “Pullio,” he said, speaking softly to the centurion, “when this is over, see to it that Balbus makes it home safely.” Casca nodded.

A peal of laughter erupted from the jury. Several of them were looking in his direction and smirking at his client. Never a good sign. “When you’re done with that,” Gallus continued, “get yourself down to the crossroads college and inform the patrons that if they want to fight Spaniards, they can jolly well get their arses over to the recruiting tent on the Campus Martius the moment Corvus’ bill is passed! They had better not be caught taking out their frustrations on foreigners living in Rome. If they do, I’ll see to it that their family never gets a single iugera of land from the state, ever. Make sure the head of the College understands that and passes the word.”

The jury foreman was slapping his colleagues on the back and preparing to rise. Casca was turning around to retake his seat when Gallus, eyes still fixed on the jurors, reached out for the sleeve of his tunic and pulled him close enough to whisper into his ear “And finally, keep your eyes and ears open to see if you hear any word of money changing hands in order to secure certain favors from our noble jurors today.”

Casca visibly stiffened. “Jupiter!” he hissed into Gallus’ ear, “You thinks that pissant of a lead monger bribed the jur--?”

”I don’t think anything in particular at present,” Gallus replied in a quiet, even tone. “I just think it would be worth investing a few denarii to find out who may be telling tales out of school once they get into their cups this evening.”

”I understands it all, count on me!” With that, Casca sat back down, eyeing the crowd for potential troublemakers.

The foreman was sauntering over towards Cyprianus. Of the remaining jurors, one was adjusting his toga, anxious to depart. Two of the others were now looking over to the defendant’s bench. One of the two, catching the eye of Titus Vitulus, gave a slight but perceptible upward jerk of his head, then smiled. The hairs on Gallus’ head began to stand on end.

The jury foreman leaned over to whisper into the Iudex’s ear. As he turned and headed back to his seat with the other jurors, he slowed his pace imperceptibly and there! he shot a quick glance in the direction of the defendant. You miserable little podex! thought Gallus as he shifted his attention, not to Cyprianus but to his opposing advocate, Quintus Flaminius Vitulus.

Quintus Flaminius returned the look, and nodded to Gallus. He looked nervous, but it was the nervousness of an advocate who seriously doubted the outcome of the trial, nothing more. The crowd was stirring now, sensing the pending announcement of the verdict.

The Iudex was calling for silence. Although Cyprianus was about to speak, neither Tribune broke their gaze to look his way.

"Very well. After a long and controversial deliberation, the jury finds in favor of the defense. The suit by Balbus is dismissed."

Only one of the advocates showed surprise at the verdict. Quintus Flaminius looked shocked, then jubilant in turn. Gallus had seen enough, and felt embarrassed that he had even entertained the idea that his friend could have been involved.

Convinced that Quintus Flaminius had nothing whatsoever to do with any jury tampering which may—or may not—have taken place, Gallus turned to Balbus. “Sorry about that, old man. We did our best. Sorry we didn’t bring the bastard up on full capital charges.” Then that little podex would have felt compelled to pay triple to bribe his jurors when his own neck was on the line! Leaving these thoughts unsaid, Gallus pointed over to Casca. “Pullio Casca will see you safely to your domus.”

All the while smiling, Tiberius Gallus, slapped his client on the back, then strode to meet his colleague, eager to discuss some pending legislation in the Assembly. Later, as the court clerk was cleaning up the prosecution’s table, he would find a metal writing stylus which had been bent in half…the only visible evidence of the outrage Gallus felt at the trial’s outcome.