György Spiró - Captivity

Evening drew in. Torches were lit, easy women strolled this way and that, on their own or in groups, as well as men longing to couple, and Uri lost his virginity another three times that evening. True, he had to pay for it each and every time, unlike at the baths where the service was included in the entrance fee, and he also had to accompany one of the women, around daybreak, to a hostelry. That was no longer such fun as it was hard to speak to her about anything, they just ate and drank; Uri got very bored and was glad when he finally managed to get free of her. But then there was room for even such a fleeting poor match in such a marvelous day.

Uri became an assiduous visitor to the baths in Alexandria, and he decided that on returning to Rome he would pay systematic visits on all the baths there. That was forbidden to Jews there, but that ban was unnecessary and ridiculous: being Jewish or not had nothing to do with it. On that basis about a hundred thousand of Alexandria’s three hundred thousand Jews could not be that: they were adult men. The way Uri saw it, it was every Alexandrian man’s prime duty to keep lovemaking at the baths in mind, and even bonds of marriage would not hold them back from this. After all, the Scriptures did not ban polygamy, and the way he had learned the tradition in Judaea, it only saw fit to punish marital infidelity on the part of a woman, not a man. The complex arguments that were conducted here, in this paradisiac city, over the issue seemed inconsequential; on the whole, everything else seen from here was inconsequential: Rome, Judaea, as well as Jerusalem, where nothing in particular ever happens. Praise be to the Eternal One that He had approvingly taken cognizance of the existence of Alexandria, city of miracles.

It crossed his head from time to time, even during the heady, mind-blowing, sensual days, that he was enjoying all these delights by mistake, illicitly, and there would be all hell to pay if it ever came out that he had never been Agrippa’s courier. The decent thing to do would be to admit as much to these sterling individuals, Philo and Tija. But then they would kick him out of the city that was his, indeed more his than theirs, those confoundedly lucky dogs who, through God’s unfathomable will, had been born here. They were not in a position to really value the city.

Uri even became infatuated with one or another of the girls, but they always knew what to do to work off such superfluous passions. He even found himself a target for men, but he had no wish for any of that, thank you very much. There must be almost as many homosexuals in Alexandria as there were heterosexuals, it dawned on Uri, and this was probably also true of Rome: that was the only way boatmen were able to stand the months that their voyages took, he reasoned. The way he felt, he supposed he would die if he had to go even a single day without lovemaking from now on, and he now dreaded the very thought of the Gymnasium. Of course, maybe he would be let out at weekends, as was Tija, and he would then be able to race off to the baths, spend the nights there if that were possible, but he kept postponing the entrance interview, even though Philo mentioned that he had now spoken to the head, and he was willing to accept him.

By day Uri frequented the baths, while the nights he spent reading by lamplight in the library of the alabarch’s palace, scarcely sleeping a wink. He made up for those vigils during the day, in the intervals between women, on some bench or bed. There were times when he would forget to eat, and he lost weight. Philo cast troubled looks at him:

“There’s no need to read at such a pace, dear boy,” he said. “Your enrollment is not going to depend on how many dozens more books you read.”

“What does it depend on, then?”

Philo shook his head:

“That’s just it, I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not even certain that the head is too happy that I’m using my influence to get you in. He had to take Tija on because they get money from us, but you are only our guest. He doesn’t like Jews, and that’s the truth. For the time being there are still prejudiced people like him in Alexandria, albeit ever fewer of them.”

“I have no doubt that similar individuals are also to be found among the Jews,” Uri ventured. It took a while for Philo to grasp the jest and he finally snickered. A philosopher, thought Uri; those who cultivate that ability generally have no sense of humor, with the possible exception of Plato, who was a born parodist.

He carried on reading by night, of course, and he wondered whether Philo had frequented the baths in his own younger days, and if so, whether he had ever lost his virginity. On the testimony of the women he got to know on more intimate, conversational terms, not all males were potent, and there were some who made the girls sweat blood to coax something out of them, and there some who dropped off to sleep five times in the process, so Uri should not suppose that they were as virile as him; unfeeling, uninspired, limp dicks could be found in quite substantial numbers among young men too. Of course there were ways of dealing with that too, medicinal herbs, salves, and in extreme cases the tying of a tight ligature with a strong grass stalk, but that was hard physical labor, sometimes as hard as that of those who carried bales. Uri supposed that a very great deal depended on a woman’s skills, whereupon they disagreed with a shaking of the head: there were some for whom a flick or two sufficed and who got off at the sight of female breasts, but there were those who could not be roused even by hours of massaging. It was not advisable to have blood let before sexual congress, and in fact they were very angry about the barbers who worked in excessive numbers at the baths and had asked to be settled somewhere else because they were impairing the effectiveness of the good work that the women did, but custom was a hard taskmaster and had a mighty ability to enforce the interests of physicians. Men, on the whole, tended more to be impotent when healthy than potent when sick, that is what they had observed, from which it logically followed that women were much better suited than men to love because a woman was always open.

To his great astonishment, Uri discovered several weeks later that it was possible for interest in even this delight to fade.

It was then that he sought out the Gymnasium.

Isidoros, the gymnasiarch, a stocky, bald, gravel-voiced, middle-aged fellow, received Uri in a cool room to which he had been led by one of the Greek students.

“So it’s you,” he declared with an unfriendly air, looking Uri — who for this occasion had specially put on a spic-and-span tunic and elegant sandals — up and down. “There are altogether two Jews in all who are studying with us, and that’s two too many: you may have heard that I am none too fond of Jews.”

“Me neither,” said Uri. “I don’t see why one should be — any more than of Greeks. I suppose as a community they are pretty awful, but then even among them a few meritorious individuals are to be found.”

The head was astonished by this cheeky riposte. He fell silent before asking:

“Why would you want to come here?”

“Because I love reading.”

“You can do that on your own anyway.”

“I long to have an intellectual guide.”

“I can recommend Philo as being worth attention. He is a man of great merit, who has written a lot and read almost as much.”

Uri laughed out loud.

Isidoros was not used to seeing people laugh in his presence, though he was highly gratified, needless to say.

“What reasons can you cite in your favor?”

Uri was taken by the man’s brusque manner.

“My poor eyesight, perhaps,” he said.

Isidoros, marveling, looked him straight in the face.