Chapter 24: The Unlikely Ally
The silence in the Curia was absolute and suffocating. The question hung in the air, a perfectly crafted legal snare. Alex's mind raced, but it was like running into a brick wall. Lex Cornelia de Maiestate. Pontifex Maximus. The terms were familiar, but the intricate legal arguments behind them were a complete mystery. Lyra might have been able to quote centuries of legal precedent in a microsecond, but Alex was alone, armed only with the general knowledge of a history enthusiast. He was out of his depth, and everyone in the room knew it.
Metellus was smiling now, a smug, reptilian smirk. He had Alex pinned. If Alex argued, he would look ignorant, unable to defend his position with proper legal reasoning. If he conceded the point, he would be forced to walk back his own edict, a public humiliation that would shatter his aura of authority. He could feel Lucilla's gaze from the gallery, a palpable weight, savoring his predicament.
He opened his mouth to say something—anything—to stall, to deflect, but no words came. His hesitation stretched, each second a victory for his enemies. The crack in his armor had just been smashed wide open.
And then, a new voice cut through the tense silence.
"If I may be permitted to address my learned colleague's point."
The voice was not loud, but it carried the unmistakable weight of decades of respected service. Every head turned. It was Servius Rufus, the old, stoic senator whom Alex had put in charge of the grain commission. He rose slowly to his feet, his expression one of weary duty, as if he found these political games distasteful but necessary. He was a man universally acknowledged, even by his enemies, to be a figure of unimpeachable integrity.
Scribonius Curio, the legal pedant, looked annoyed at the interruption. "The Senator from the grain commission wishes to opine on matters of sacred law?"
"I wish to opine on the meaning of law, which is often lost in our obsession with its letters," Rufus replied, his calm voice a soothing balm after the shrill attacks. He turned his gaze not to Alex, but to Scribonius. "My learned colleague is correct in his citation of the Lex Cornelia. It was indeed written to grant the state broad powers to protect itself from its enemies."
Metellus's smirk widened. He thought Rufus was about to agree with them.
"But," Rufus continued, his voice gaining strength, "the great jurist Antistius Labeo, in his famous commentary on that very law—a commentary I am certain my learned friend has studied—argued that its spirit was never to empower the state to threaten its own people. Labeo wrote that the maiestas of Rome lies not in the Emperor's power, but in the liberty of its citizens. The law's purpose is to protect the people from threats, not to become a threat to the people."