Pontius was an older man, head full of grey hair, wrinkles prominent on his brow. He wore finer linens than most there, dyed a dull blue tint. He walked forward nervously, his hands busily moving around. "My wife Mynia, who I married under the auspices of goddess Aurelia, is pregnant. I am not the father. I could not be the father."

A simple, yet serious, matter. Augustus knew this was a more serious matter than he should be presiding over immediately. The punishment for the wife, if found guilty, was severe. But, he refrained from speaking on the matter. It's not like he could insist on them retracting their issue. It was merely a waste of their time. Whatever decision he made would assuredly be appealed to an appropriate level.

"Do you dispute those details?" Asked Augustus.

Mynia stepped forward. She wasn't young by any means, but clearly younger than Pontius. Still, if she were pregnant, it would be one of her last opportunities to have a child. Although not pretty, Augustus could tell she was the type to take careful care of her own appearance. He could see she was worried, but she held a determination in her eyes that her husband did not.

“I don’t dispute those facts, but there is more to be said.”

“Then say what else is relevant.”

“My husband came home drunk one night, and in the dark of the night spilled his seed into me. I have not bedded with anyone else. I believe this child is the child of that night.”

“That would seem to be a dispute of his testimony, is it not?”

“What my husband said is true. I won’t deny it. My husband can’t have children. And so, it must be that the child is not my husband’s.”

Augustus sat motionless, parsing the statement for the meaning that eluded him.

“I don’t understand what you are trying to say.”

Pontius looked around at the crowd nervously. “I-I think I can explain. M-my manhood doesn’t function as it once did. Not for years.”

The crowd jeered at Pontius. Augustus heard the distinct laughs of a few in the crowd who did so with abandon.

“Maybe on the night in question, it did?”

“It’s not the type of thing that might not be broken. It was an accident, an injury I suffered.”

“So, are you claiming that what your wife said is a lie?”

“I am not claiming her to be a liar. I’m just saying that I did not bed her that night! We discussed that night and I remember it. I worked that night, all through the night, helping to finish the work on a small boat that a customer wanted.”

“I don’t see how that isn’t calling her a liar.”

Pontius rubbed his forehead, exasperated. Mynia also seemed reluctant to speak. She took a deep breath.

“It was a changeling,” she said.

Half the crowd laughed, the other half gasped. It even came as a surprise to Augustus. A changeling was a demon, or so people believed. There were plenty of stories about them, rumours of a changeling doing this or that, but Augustus had never seen one personally.

“It must’ve been a changeling! I believe my husband! And I would never have betrayed him, except for being tricked. It came to me in the darkness when I was half asleep.” She cried as she spoke, but the crowd had little mercy for her. People from the balconies yelled obscenities, implying she had been with other men, causing her to cower in place.

Augustus contemplated the possibilities. She was either lying, whether it be maliciously or through stupidity, or she was telling the truth. In a vacuum, he had to doubt the possibility she was being truthful. As far as he knew, the stories about changelings were just that, stories. Perhaps even those stories when placed under close examination would too turn out to be lies. According to the scriptures, changelings existed at some point, but the temples always remained silent in regards to modern-day changelings.

“What say you, Pontius? Do you believe her?” Asked Augustus.

It was a strange question for Augustus to ask. If he believed her, he would have simply asked her to drink the black water and never brought the matter forward. Having your private matters discussed in public like this was in itself a punishment.

“My wife is a truthful woman. I believe her.”

Augustus raised his eyebrow at the response. “Then why has she not already drank the black water?”

Mynia dropped to her knees with a sigh of relief. “I will drink the black water, I swear it. I swear to Aurelia and Ophelia, and all the other gods that will listen.”

She stood up, patting her chest. Her mood had improved.

“You seem quite relieved,” said Augustus. “But no judgment has yet been passed. This… this doesn’t make sense to me. Pontius, if you truly believed your wife, why did you bring her here today? Why didn’t you just handle the matter without involving me, and without exposing yourself to all the onlookers?”

The look of worry returned to their faces immediately. Pontius gave a stammered response. “W-We wanted to t-tell everyone that there’s a changeling out there! For people to be careful!”

“Are you lying to a magistrate? That is a grave offense.” Augustus stared him down.

“Please, my husband is telling the truth!”

The noise from the crowd grew. They shouted insult, after insult. Augustus stamped his foot twice, in an exaggerated movement so that the crowd could see it as well as hear it. It was his signal to them to quiet down.

“Silence! Those in the crowd will remain silent!” He shouted with a booming voice. “Now, Pontius, something tells me you’re lying. You see, if your intention was truly just to alert everyone here, you could have simply just spread a rumour. It is the type of rumour that would spread quickly, is it not?”

Augustus looked to the crowd, seeing a few heads nod in agreement with what he said.

“This is more efficient.”

“And yet, before the announcement that you two thought it was a changeling, you both hesitated. Why?”

“It's difficult to say a thing when you know people likely won’t believe it.”

Augustus knitted his brow. “You knew people were unlikely to believe it, yet you came to be judged. You would put your wife's life at risk, just to notify these people of a changeling. Are you two mad?”

Mynia was shaking. She looked to her husband for help, but he remained silent.

“We have nothing left to say,” said Mynia. “We await your judgement.”

In Augustus’ mind, a play unfolded. Mynia found another man, slept with him, then became pregnant. Pontius suspected it but had no evidence, that is until she became pregnant. She asked Pontius to accept the child thinking he might be desperate for a child even if it wasn’t his, but Pontius was a stubborn man, filled with jealousy. He demanded she drink the black water and time and time again she refused. So he set out to make her do it. He came to court with her in a game of bravery. His evidence was irrefutable. No one would deny the child couldn’t be his, she couldn’t deny that she was pregnant. Then they made up the story of the changeling and began digging themselves a hole to lay in.

That or something like it was the only way for Augustus to make sense of their actions and demeanour. Unfortunately, however, he had no evidence. Pontius must have been quite confident that the magistrate would simply think of it as an interesting tale, then pass the easy judgment that would result in what he desired. Augustus was tempted to let that happen himself, but for the problem, he was also able to imagine. If people thought they could just unload any problem they had by inserting a changeling, his job holding court would become insufferably annoying.

“You both say a changeling came into your home and lay with your wife. I have been presented no evidence against that, but I have not been presented any evidence that it’s true. So, I will believe you two. Mynia will drink the black water and go to the temple of Aurelia to be blessed until they say she is clean. We must also be very careful with changelings, if they are, in fact, the culprit. As I know from the scriptures, changelings hide themselves inside of animals, coming out of their stomach through their mouths while they sleep. So, any livestock or pets you may have will be destroyed. I cannot have a changeling going about causing mischief.”

Pontius fell to his knees in despair. “No…” he said with a whimper.

“You have a pet I presume.”

“He has a dog,” said Mynia for her husband.

“That is unfortunate. However, I have made my decision.”

They disappeared into the crowd. Augustus looked over at the hourglass, his time almost finished. He would have time for one more grievance. He looked back to the bannerman to call for that final grievance when he saw a man whispering in his ear, and slipping him something. A bribe? Someone cutting in line. It didn’t matter to Augustus. He thought nothing of it and just said, “Bannerman, what will be the last grievance?”

“This man claims the other stole from his master. His name is Ignacius Lucienus, a Venocian citizen, attested as such by his neighbours. He accuses Keppe, a fighter who has not proven his citizenship.”

A freckled man, who had a large scar on his face just above his eyebrow stepped forward. He wore fine clothing, far finer than one would expect in this part of the city. And next to him was a battered and tortured man, his arms bound at his side, and around his neck a leash that was held by Ignacius.