Pullio Casca was on a mission.

Suspecting that one or more jurors had been bought in the trial of Balbus V. Vitulus, Tiberius Gallus had sent his friend to find out what kinds of tales would be told in the City that night once the wine had been flowing freely.

The old centurion began his inquiries, as he always did, at the Crossroads Tavern. Gallus had initiated his political career there, and had staged his recruiting of the "100 Cincinatti" there. The President of the Crossroads college knew them well, and was always eager to return a favor. From him, Casca learned that some laborers from Titus Vitulus' lead works had been celebrating their patron's victory in the courts earlier in the afternoon.

The leadworkers had grown increasingly belligerent as the afternoon progressed. They knew this tavern was populated by folk friendly to Gallus, and wanted to rub their noses in the fact that their benefactor had lost yet another court case. Served Gallus right, pressing the suit of a foreign enemy instead of defending the rights of an honest Roman, they had said. Producing a flagellum from behind the wine bar, the College President had invited them to move their party elsewhere. One of the loyal patrons of the tavern had followed the unwelcome band to their next destination, and informed Casca that they were still drinking at another tavern three streets over.

It was at this other fine dining establishment that Casca found his quarry.

It is a rare drunkard indeed which will decline another man's offer to buy a fresh round of drinks, and soon Gallus had received inebriated oaths of eternal friendship from the group for his generosity.

"...an' anuther thing" slurred on of the leadworkers, motioning Casca to lean closer as if to be let in on an important revelation, "thur weren't no way that fancy Awgger Gallush culd'uv won th' case, no matter how fanzy hish talkin'...an' yew wanna know why? I'll tells yuh! It's 'cuz certain 'rangementz wuz made, ahead-o-time, like, yuh see?"

"Arrangements? What sort o' arrangements, like?" replied Casca.

"Shhhh!" spluttered his drinking companion, his finger held to his lips in a dramatic gesture, spittle flying across the table. "Can't tells, yuh! Certain favorsh, so's to speak. Le'z jush say that our Titus Vitulus has more to 'im than jus' nailin' up the odd slave...he knowz how to make a buziness deal 'ere 'n ther what kin satisfy the odd juror 'r two, if yuh getz muh meanin'."

Even in his advanced state of inebriation, the lead worker now seemed to realize that he had disclosed more than he should have, and sought to end the conversation. "Well, now, lookit the time! Shuld be goin' so I shoulds. Big job startin' tomorrow...layin' in a big plumbin' project...fountinz, private bath an' such at a fancy domus on the Palatine."

Helping the unsteady fellow to his feet, Casca said "Fair enough, ol' chum--steady there!" He helped the drunk regain his balance, then continued "Indeed, you best be gettin' some sleep if you has a big job tomorrow. Yer' boss do have a reputation for behavin' unkind-like towards them what are sloppy on their job, eh?"

Roaring with laughter, the leadworker almost fell again, but maintained his balance by locking Casca in a full embrace. Finally, Casca had the fellow in the streets and proceeding in the general direction of where he said his insula was. Just as they parted ways, he threw one last question to his erstwhile drinking companion.

"An' where did'ya say your job was tomorrow, like?"

"At the villa of Lucius Ravilla, o'course!" Giving Pullio Casca a knowing (if unfocused) wink, the man staggered off into the night.