György Spiró - Captivity

People had begun to use the geometric deception, which gave a picture a three-dimensional appearance that recorded the sight of living beings, as a result of which the viewpoint of a viewer standing outside the picture had become decisive, Uri could recognize, and he contemplated where he should place himself if he wished to sneak into the picture.

He outlined that problem to one of the picture-dealers, a pleasant and wise man, who was skilled at his line of business but simply could not grasp what Uri was driving at.

“In paintings of the present day,” Uri explained, “what I see is a separate world from that in which I, the viewer, exist. But then what is the world from which I am looking? Another world?”

The picture-dealer was stumped.

“If it’s not another world,” said Uri, “and there is only one world, then I too should be in the picture… But in that case what is it that I’m seeing and how?”

There were shoppers in the boutique, themselves painters, and they drifted over and started to argue, talking indiscriminately until eventually one of them stated that the problem had already been solved by their painting rooms, which spread a continuous picture over the four walls, the floor and ceiling; the rooms of Augustus and Livia had been painted along that principle, and if a person stood in the middle of the room, whichever way he turned he would be in the picture.

“It’s a problem for architects, not painters,” an individual opined in a falsetto voice from the door of the shop. “The most logical building is a hemisphere.”

“Why a hemisphere?” someone asked.

“Because we always stand on something… If that were not the case, then we ought to be hovering in the center of a complete sphere, anchored from every angle.”

Several people laughed.

The falsetto-voiced individual stepped farther into the shop. Uri cast a look at him. He was a young, plump person, his belly quivering, who moved with the limpness of the castrated, his beady eyes shining, brilliant and blue, from a puffy, whiskerless face.

The eunuch looked at Uri.

“Father!” he cried.

They were sitting on the terrace of a tavern, sipping hot water. Uri, trying to choke back his tears of pain and of joy, was shivering.

Little remained of the old Theo, just the eyes and the intelligence; he was just another eunuch.

“Is your eyesight all right?” Uri asked.

Theo was surprised by the question.

“Of course.”

They fell silent.

“I don’t really know why I should be angry at them,” Theo made a start. “I had no sexual desire at the time I was castrated so I have no way of knowing what I might have missed.”

“Don’t you feel something of the kind? Doesn’t your rectum tingle?”

Theo was again surprised.

“Yes, it does… If I see a good-looking woman or man, there is some tingling thereabouts… Not much, but I distinctly feel it. It’s more an aesthetic pleasure than anything else… A fine picture has the same effect.”

“Why did you have to be castrated?”

“Because that fellow who bought me used me as a lover. I reminded him of his dead wife.”

Uri was unable to hold back his tears.

“He was a decent man,” Theo tried to reassure him. “He genuinely loved me: he taught me and looked after me.”

“What did he do with you — poke you in the ass?”

“How many openings does a man have? Not a lot. He used those.”

“And is he still…?”

“He was stabbed one night; I have no idea why… I mourned him.”

Theo related that he was living in Pompeii. It was an attractive, wealthy town; he built and decorated villas there, had no intentions of moving away; he was highly regarded, despite his youth, being handed on from one customer to the next.

“I soon picked up substantial wealth, and was able to buy my release,” he said. “The ear tag has already grown over. Look here! I would have sent you money if I had known where to find you…”

“Is it quite certain that you can have no child?” Uri asked.

“Yes, quite sure,” Theo tinkled a laugh in his high falsetto. “But I’ve got a family: boys, girls, men, women… My household… I have bought them all and obtained their release from servitude but they all chose to stay at my place, every single one… There are dogs and cats as well… I have often pondered why blood-relationship is so important. People go to war and kill on account of it, but why? I have considered what I’d do if I found you, if I could join you… But it’s far from certain that you’d be pleased, seeing what’s become of me…”

Uri did not speak.

“Marcellus and the girls will make you grandchildren,” said Theo.

Uri remained silent.

“There was a time,” said Theo, laughing, “when I calculated your precise angle of inclination in Alexandria… I noted it down somewhere…”

Theo then went on to recount disconnectedly about all sorts of things, Uri listening mutely.

Men were amazed that he had no foreskin on his sexual organ, women too, who would return oral favors, though without any effect. As he had not celebrated his bar mitzvah, and now was not permitted to, being a eunuch, he ate all the things which were forbidden to Jews; thus, the various types of seafood were delicious, and he had developed a great liking for pork, being himself in the habit of roasting seasoned pork chops, and also organizing big dinner parties for sittings of one hundred heads in his garden. He was loud in his praise of Pompeii for its location, its climate, the marvelous gardens and buildings. He was in the habit of coming up to Rome for materials, doing the purchasing himself but leaving others to see to transporting them. He did painting, not just construction work, his illustrations of plants being particularly well known.

“I also tailor dresses!” he boasted, “from silk and muslin… I make more doing that than I do from building work!”

By way of reassurance, he added that he had played no part in the gladiatorial display that a certain Livincius Regulus had organized in the amphitheater at Pompeii, news of which had gotten back to Rome. The day had ended in a general brawl between the inhabitants of Nuceria and Pompeii, who had backed different gladiators, and frightful bloodshed had ensued. That sort of thing would not happen again, however: the inhabitants of Pompeii had been forbidden to hold any public games for ten years, thanks be to the Eternal One.

Uri held his peace, thinking to himself that at least this one way of livin was better than being killed.

Theo showed no interest in his siblings or his mother, yet there had been a time when he loved them; Uri said nothing about them. Theo repeated that he would be glad to see them in Pompeii but had no intention of moving away from there; he wanted to grow old and eventually die there.

“I’m easily found. Everyone knows me and is fond of me,” he said contentedly. “Theophilus the eunuch!”

Theo paid and then beckoned his four servants, who ran over with a litter.

With some effort he wedged in his ample body and blew a kiss to his father.

Uri felt that something had definitely broken inside himself.

He said nothing at home about having met Theo.

Some time after that Irene broke the news that she was pregnant.

“And who is the happy father of my grandchild?” Uri asked cordially.

He snorted when he heard that it was a water-carrying slave.

“My dear, sweet daughter!” he cried out in alarm.

Irene bit her lower lip under her protruding incisors, looking determinedly yet fearfully and dumbly at her father.

Water carriers were well known for taking advantage of any widow and virgin they could lay hands on. Uri knew that he was going to have to pay the price to obtain the manumission of this slave. He was a puny, pint-sized fellow, swarthy-skinned and with a sneaky look — Heaven knows where she had found him.