New Rome

32. The Trial of Bentle Carthage

"Wylo, it's time of commencement!" Ellie called out, already in position in front of the big screen. The trial of Bentle Carthage was being broadcast throughout New Rome, having captured the public's interest for its promise of scandal.

"Coming!" Wylo's voice came from the kitchen and Ellie could hear her rushing about, opening and closing drawers.

Ellie was sat on the edge of his seat, his stomach abuzz with excitement. Yen had been working on this case for months, it would be the make or break of his legal career. Wylo hurried into the room, balancing food and drink. They set them out on the table in front of them and Wylo poured out the beers. The opal courtroom was revealed on their screen, the camera offering them a panoramic view of the magnificent chamber. 

"That's my friend, Prosecutor Yen." Ellie pointed him out to her. Yen was young, looking fresh out of college. His robes were sombre-coloured but fashionable, with his sculpted arms on display. He'd dyed the tips of his hair a shocking silver and styled it to fall slightly over his face. Ellie smirked. "He's playing on his looks, the rascal," he commented approvingly.

"Tactical," Wylo agreed. Half of the jury was already keenly watching the handsome prosecutor – excited to see how he'd perform. The camera rested now on the accused. Bentle Carthage was in his late thirties. He had a poorly executed hair transplant, attempting to mask his receding hairline, and shocking pearly white teeth. "He doesn't look very worried..." Wylo murmured, perplexed.

"He has good reason for confidence." Ellie replied, "the judge is his father."

"No way!" Wylo exclaimed. The camera panned now to Judge Carthage, Chief Justice of New Rome.

"Surely that's illegal." She countered. "He can't judge his sons' case."

"This man is the law. You see now why no other would take up the prosecution. The victim's family have been trying to bring this to the courts for two years, but no one had the stomach to go against the chief justice."

Wylo drank from her beer, considering this.

"But surely then, what your friend is doing is madness." She questioned. It would be the equivalent of her writing a paper refuting the work of the Cardinals of Science – tempting, but the death of her career.

"What he's doing is protecting justice, yes, it is most certainly madness."

The court session began. Wylo had never watched a trial before and she was soon drawn into the drama of it all. Bentle was accused of paying goons to murder his own wife. Prosecutor Yen was a very good public speaker and passionately described the victim, eliciting maximum sympathy from the jury. When Beowulf had first met the accused, she'd been a wealthy widow, some thirty years older than him and emotionally vulnerable.

"Bentle realised this and he used it to his advantage," Yen declared.  "Poor Beowulf was robbed of her senses by his violent promises of love." 

"Before a marriage had even taken place, she'd bought the accused – and I read now from a list – a palace, rights to the tax revenue on salt, a share in Deacon Laboratories and a security force of threescore men. When working out the monetary worth of these gifts, she spent – over a two-month period – over two million denarii on the accused. You see now how besotted she was with him. You see how he squeezed money out of her. I have here messages sent by the accused to Beowulf during this period."