György Spiró - Captivity

The single-story building, which had an extensive floor plan and inside was divided into many spaces, was surrounded by Greek palaces, villas, shrines, and tenement houses and was guarded by the alabarch’s own armed men. These had been recruited from among the Nilotic excisemen, and they included Greeks who accepted Judaic eating customs. It would have been impossible to tell which of the members of the alabarch’s private army were Jewish and which Greek, they wore exactly the same uniforms and spoke exactly the same way.

Uri would have been curious to know how big the alabarch’s annual income was, but all he knew that the tax paid to Rome on produce was two and a half percent of the value, and by custom the alabarch’s personal income was the same, though of course out of that he had to pay the excisemen and a lot more besides, as it was more than likely that local and municipal councilors were also paid out of this, so the alabarch did not earn as much from Egypt as Rome did. That said, he earned enough to be rolling in it. Uri found it hard to imagine how the two and a half percent excise duty payable to the alabarch was imposed on goods that flowed down the Nile to the harbors, and he assumed it was not paid in ready cash but in goods, but then those would have to be stored somewhere; yet there were no granaries or slaughterhouses in the inner-city areas of Alexandria; goods destined to be shipped were piled up in warehouses at the docks. The alabarch also had to attend to transport on dry land because the many-branched Nile was not navigable right up to the sea.

This was the domain of the family that had received him into its ranks, and — an even greater asset — he was accepted as a friend by Tija, which is to say Tiberius Julius Alexander, whose full name betrayed the high hope his parents had of him in his career: to be as unwavering as the emperor Tiberius, under whose rule he had been born twenty years ago, but also as clever and wise a general and statesman as Julius Caesar, and as mighty a warlord as Alexander the Great. That was a huge burden to carry, but Tija, so it seemed, effortlessly bore all the grave associations of his name.

Marcus, the alabarch’s firstborn son, had been named after Mark Antony, trounced by the emperor Augustus around fifty years before Marcus was born. Plainly had been so named by the alabarch for the sake of the Greeks of Alexandria, who with their contemptuous attitude toward Rome, cherished the memory of Mark Antony and his struggle for Egypt’s independence. It was maybe only in the wake of this that the alabarch had entered Roman service. Marcus was a tall, thin, blond, fine-haired boy, with misty blue eyes and a slightly rolling gait, who smiled convivially on all and liked to listen. As Uri could see, Marcus was not on good terms with his younger brother Tija, though he never caught them squabbling. Tija, for his part, pretended that Marcus did not exist; Marcus in return regarded his brother as if he were not even a five-year-old and therefore not worth arguing with. Marcus was rarely to be seen, being preoccupied with the Boule , the Jewish Council of Elders, of which he was the youngest member. Uri had no idea what duties might be accomplished by the seventy-two members of the supreme body of Alexandrian Jews, which in principle was drawn from leaders of the strongest guilds and families, but it turned out that they had not held sessions very often since there had been no head since Augustus abolished the office. Marcus most likely functioned as a secretary in a virtually nonexistent council, and did he receive any pay for doing so; he probably busied himself assiduously producing documents. When Uri asked about Marcus’s activities Tija derisively shrugged his shoulders.

“He’s the firstborn,” Tija said, “so it doesn’t matter what he does. He’s where he is that one of us should be there as well.”

Philo did not test Uri any further: the impression he had formed on the first day sufficed for Uri to be loved liked a son, but he was challenged by Tija. There could hardly be a more cultivated, cleverer, wittier or better-looking young man anywhere in the Jewish world. Everything about him was fine: his slender, long face; his Grecian profile; his curly, wiry, blond hair; his straight nose, his thick, sensual lips; his ears, set close to the head; his tall, muscular frame. Uri was astounded that such a being might also be created by the Eternal One. He had no envy, as he once had held for Pilate’s brawny litter bearers; this young man was made of different stuff than most men — a person cannot envy a lion or elephant, only his own kind.

Tija set about testing Uri the moment Philo introduced him, which was at the palace in Alexandria. Uri was granted an entire suite of rooms with a bedroom, a separate atrium, baths, and kitchen, and he was free to stay there, he was assured, for as long as he stayed in Alexandria, with no reference made to the duration of that stay. After the first Sabbath was over, Uri mentioned to Philo that he would have to go back to the harbor for his residence permit, but Philo brushed that aside and sent a servant for the permit, who brought one, too, for three months. Palace servants were also placed at Uri’s disposal, but he respectfully declined. Philo smiled, the alabarch shrugged his shoulders; Uri was relieved not to be at the focus of the alabarch’s attention, because he was afraid of him. He sensed from Philo’s smile that he had for some reason become his favorite, and it was a position he would not lose for the time being; indeed, every cloddish mistake that Uri made would redound to his favor as long as that affection held.

At last — to the extent that he felt he ought to declare it was his intention, after taking a short holiday — he announced that he would have to return to Rome to assist his father make business deals because he would be going back much richer in experience. He would have to admit that he had been of little use to his father… but Philo waved that aside. Your father will get by without you, he’s obviously a good merchant.

“Is there something that you know of about him?”

“No,” said Philo. “All we know is that he lent money to Agrippa.”

“And who told you that?”

“Agrippa in person,” said Philo.

While Uri had been in Judaea, Agrippa had appeared in Alexandria and asked to be lent money. Uri had already heard this from the stargazer Hippolytos, and Philo related essentially the same story, adding only that the two hundred thousand drachmas were merely a bridging loan: Agrippa had for years owed the Roman exchequer eight hundred thousand drachmas, and if he did not pay off a chunk then he would not be allowed to set foot on Italian soil, where he was heading at the time; if he were to enter at Dikaiarchia, he would be arrested. He had been given three hundred thousand sesterces by Antonia, it was true, but it seems he squandered that on something else. It was during his sojourn in Alexandria that Agrippa had dropped a reference to a Ioses Lucius in Rome to whom he likewise owed money; he had also mentioned his son, Gaius Theodorus, who had become a member of the delegation that was delivering the holy tribute. Philo tacked on that they had later also heard this from other sources: it did no harm to treat any boastful statement that Agrippa made with some reservation, Philo elucidated, but this time it seems he had told the truth.

Uri wondered whether Agrippa had done anything since then toward repaying his overall debt to the Roman exchequer. Philo seemed to hesitate before reluctantly admitting that yes, in Dikaiarchia Agrippa had been given an interest-free loan of one million drachmas by a Samaritan slave, which he had been able to put toward sorting out his debts, as a result of which it became possible for him to travel to see the emperor on Capri.