His widow saw in his death an opportunity of gratifying the unnatural hatred which she had long felt for her son Cluentius.  She would accuse him of poisoning his step-father.  Her first attempt failed completely.  She subjected three slaves to torture, one of them her own, another belonged to the younger Oppianicus, a third the property of the physician who had attended the deceased in his last illness.  But the cruelties and tortures extorted no confession from the men.  At last the friends whom she had summoned to be present at the inquiry compelled her to desist.  Three years afterwards she renewed the attempt.  She had taken one of the three tortured slaves into high favor, and had established him as a physician at Larinum.  The man committed an audacious robbery in his mistress’s house, breaking open a chest and abstracting from it a quantity of silver coin and five pounds weight of gold.  At the same time he murdered two of his fellow-slaves, and threw their bodies into the fish-pond.  Suspicion fell upon the missing slaves.  But when the chest came to be closely examined, the opening was found to be of a very curious kind.  A friend remembered that he had lately seen among the miscellaneous articles at an auction a circular saw which would have made just such an opening.  It was found that this saw had been bought by the physician.  He was now charged with the crime.  Thereupon a young lad who had been his accomplice came forward and told the story.  The bodies were found in the fish-pond.  The guilty slave was tortured.  He confessed the deed, and he also confessed, his mistress declared, that he had given poison to Oppianicus at the instance of Cluentius.  No opportunity was given for further inquiry.  His confession made, the man was immediately executed.  Under strong compulsion from his step-mother, the younger Oppianicus now took up the case, and indicted Cluentius for murder.  The evidence was very weak, little or nothing beyond the very doubtful confession spoken of above; but then there was a very violent prejudice against the accused.  There had been a suspicion—­perhaps more than a suspicion—­of foul play in the trial which had ended in the condemnation of Oppianicus.  The defendant, men said, might have attempted to bribe the jury, but the plaintiff had certainly done so.  It would be a fine thing if he were to be punished even by finding him guilty of a crime which he had not committed.

In defending his client, Cicero relied as much upon the terrible list of crimes which had been proved against the dead Oppianicus as upon any thing else.  Terrible indeed it was, as a few specimens from the catalogue will prove.