György Spiró - Captivity

Theo asked how it was that if the earth was spherical we did not fall off its surface or live at the bottom of the sphere and not its top, and why, if one lived on the side, we did not slide down on our behind. Uri thought that was a logical question, and he had to admit that he hadn’t a clue.

Theo pondered.

“Father, when you were in Alexandria did you stand just as upright as you do in Rome?”

“Yes, I did,” said Uri, caught by surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“Because if you stand upright in Rome, then that has to be the top of the sphere, and under the earth there has to be a tray on which the earth stands, like a ball, and you are standing upright relative to that. If I know the earth’s circumference, which is 252,000 stadia, and I know the distance from Rome to Alexandria, then I could work out your angle of inclination.”

Uri acknowledged that this was so, but neither he nor anyone else had been leaning at an angle in Alexandria.

“Then there cannot be a tray under the earth and the earth just floats,” Theo reasoned. “But how can that be? Are our legs pointing everywhere to the center of the earth?”

“Presumably,” Uri deliberated.

“Why’s that?”

Uri racked his brains but he could not recall a single work that dealt with that subject.

Theo decided that he was going to throw himself into astronomy. He wanted to calculate his father’s nonexistent angle of inclination in Alexandria, and Uri promised him that the next time he was in the Forum he would take a look at the foot of the gilded zero milestone to check how far Alexandria was from Rome. Uri was quite surprised that he had never before looked, but then it occurred to him that it was because one cannot walk on the sea, and he was only interested in distances that he personally had tramped.

They had thought that the gilded milestone could be inspected any time.

Only the elders had decided to expel the Nazarenes. They did not have the right to do that but they had at least gotten it made an imperial edict: Claudius signed a document empowering the Roman Jewish elders to place the Nazarenes on the list of the sacrilegious and to eject them. The emperor did not wish for the same sort of unrest as eight years before, when Jews had to be banned from assembling due to the influx of refugees from Alexandria. Through mishearing, or more likely as a deliberate toning-down, the decree spoke of the followers of a certain Chrestos (“The One You Need” rather than Christos, “the Anointed”), but it was an edict, and it had to be put into effect.

Uri was asked to see Honoratus, who had aged considerably and now used a stick to support himself even when seated.

“The Nazarene missionaries will have to leave Rome,” he said.

“So I’ve heard.”

“You will also have to leave Rome.”

Uri felt dizzy.

“But I’m not a Nazarene!” he cried out.

Behind Honoratus Iustus stood mute and unflinching; it was clear that he would jump to his master’s defense if Uri were to assail him.

“The word is that you are a Nazarene,” said Honoratus. “I’m sorry.”

“And what if I say that I’m not?”

“That’s what a lot of them say,” said Honoratus.

“So what’s the proof?”

“I’m not prepared to argue. You have two days to pack up and go.”

Uri stood there.

The Eternal One does not wish for me to be able to raise my children peacefully.

Two days.

Uri rushed to a Latin lawyer whom he had already made use of in smaller business transactions and who was both conscientious and successful in what he had done.

“I don’t take on that sort of case.”

“But it’s unlawful! I’m a Roman citizen!”

“But you’re Jewish. This is a religious matter; the Jews are the competent authorities.”

“But how can it be a purely religious matter if they’re expelling me, who always adhered to the letter of Roman laws and the prescriptions of the Jewish faith — expelling me, together with my guiltless infants, on the basis of an unfounded, unproven, false accusation! They haven’t even raised formal charges against me! How is it possible to expel a family like that?”

“I can’t do anything because it is an edict.”

“What does that mean, ‘edict?’ How can an edict have greater force than the law in general? Is this what the famed Roman rule of law amounts to?”

“That’s right.”

He would have to go higher: to the very top.

Uri hastened to Claudius’s house; it was surrounded by a large detachment of the Praetorian Guard, with several cordons and infantry.

“The emperor is not seeing anyone.”

“I didn’t come to see the emperor but Narcissus,” Uri yelled.

“What did you bring?”

“Nothing; I simply want to speak with him!”

“He’s got even less time than the emperor.”

“I have to speak with him right away. Send word to him that Gaius is asking for him, Gaius the Jew.”

The bodyguards roared with laughter.

Uri became incensed.

“He will punish you if you don’t tell him! Don’t get mad at me when that happens!”

There was an edge to Uri’s voice that led one of the bodyguards eventually to stroll away inside.

Uri moved to one side and squatted on his heels. He felt queasy, and shooting pains shook his rectum so brutally that he feared he would defecate. He stood up and clenched the muscles of his posterior like the lips on his face.

They let him in.

Two guards gripped him on either side and marched him through the familiar house.

At the back, by a wall of the garden into which the atrium opened, where once a chamber had been situated, a cabin had been built — that was where he was led. They stopped at the door; two fully armed guards were on sentry duty. One went into the house then came out and beckoned; Uri stepped forward and the two guards set to frisking him.

“You can go.”

Uri stepped into the cabin behind one of the guards.

Narcissus was reclining on a couch beside a table, clutching one arm to his brow as if he had a headache. He motioned for the guard to go. Uri stepped closer but remained at a respectful distance.

“Well, then,” said Narcissus, rising from his prone position. “What wind has brought you here?”

Narcissus’s black hair was as ruffled as it used to be, but two deep wrinkles had formed at the corners of his mouth and spoiled his appearance.

Uri gave him a brief summary.

Narcissus shook his head:

“I can’t intervene in what Jews decide among themselves.”

“But I’m not a Nazarene!”

“So what? That’s what they’ve decided, and that’s that.”

Narcissus looked around, then went to a coffer and opened it.

“How much do you need?” he asked, dipping one hand into the chest and then scattering a shower of coins onto the floor.

“But it wasn’t money I was after…”

“Take as much as you can.”

Uri squatted down and grasped a fistful of coins but did not know where to put them.

“Do I have to give you a sack as well?” Narcissus snapped irately and then dissolved in laughter. “Still the same old clot!”

Narcissus again looked around then pulled up the hem of his tunic, bit into it and with his hand ripped off a quite sizable piece, which he handed to Uri.

“I’m sorry!” said Uri.

“I’ll get them to bring another later.”

Uri bundled up a heap of coins in the strip of linen, twisted it together, raised his tunic, and squeezed it under his loincloth. He felt his skin creeping at the touch and was overtaken again by an urge to defecate.

“Come over here a moment,” said Narcissus by the chest.

It was a good three-quarters full of coins and gemstones.