György Spiró - Captivity

“He won’t stir them up,” said Matthew. “He can’t even speak to them; he doesn’t speak a word of Aramaic.”

“His agents will do that for him,” said Plotius. “The man’s sick in the head. He wants to be greater than any Jewish king so far… We’ve gone to the grave for that more than a few times already. The last time was when his grandfather ruined us. Agrippa give money for a house of prayer in Ostia? He wants Judaea along with Galilee; nothing else is of interest to him.”

Uri felt awkward. It was all very well their heaping abuse on Agrippa so openly in front of him, but he had to say something.

“My thanks that you speak openly in my presence,” Uri declared.

After a short pause, Matthew spoke.

“What of it?”

“I know that you know my father gave him money, and he asked in return that I should come with you… But my father had no money… He borrowed it from bankers at an interest rate of twenty percent… Agrippa had asked the bankers for the money, they wouldn’t give it but sent him around to my father, who was in no position to say no…”

Silence.

Matthew laughed.

“Agrippa will spend that on a single supper,” he said. “The bird species does not exist whose tongues he would not have served up in a pâté.”

“Were you there?” asked Plotius.

“No,” said Matthew, “but I know someone who was.”

Uri felt dizzy.

The rat had squandered that gigantic sum of money on a single meal!

Plotius turned to Uri.

“A singularly clear-headed merchant like your father is not in the habit of departing from his senses. He’s counting on a high position falling into your lap when Agrippa becomes king. The loan will be paid back if Greater Israel is awarded to Agrippa by the emperor. It’s a big risk, but your father will have considered it worth taking.”

“My father is not like that! No way are we Agrippa’s agents!”

The other two sipped their wine. Uri did not drink.

“Here everybody is someone’s agent,” Matthew declared in an amiable tone. “Any ass can deliver money. Not one person made his way into this delegation by chance; each and every one of us is an important person.”

Uri was enraged.

“All right, then! Out with it!” he yelled. “Who is an agent for whom? Let’s hear it!”

Matthew and Plotius were shaken; they had not expected this.

“I’ll tell you,” said Matthew quietly. “But don’t shout because the others can hear. Should I say?”

Plotius shrugged his shoulders.

“At least I’ll also get to find out.”

Matthew hesitated, then he too shrugged his shoulders.

“Valerius was pushed into the delegation by the archisynagogos. He has a pile of contracts with him; his boss is buying land in Judaea… The sellers will sign, Valerius will take the papers back, and the money will be sent to the sellers with the next delegation… Valerius is making nothing on it, but he will be allowed to keep his job; he’ll be a hyperetes to the end of his days — instead of becoming a sailor and getting to spew his guts out…”

He snickered, then carried on:

“Hilarus bought jewels in Caesarea. They’re cheap here, you see, but ever since then he’s been petrified that his sack will be stolen.”

“Have you looked in his sack?” Uri asked.

“Sure.”

“What about mine? Have you searched that too?” Uri asked determinedly.

“That too. Is anything missing?”

“Nothing.” Uri felt the wine rise up in his stomach. “So what were you looking for?”

“A letter from Agrippa.”

Uri was aghast.

“That’s logical,” Plotius tried to smooth things over. “You were put into the delegation at Agrippa’s request; you’re his agent.”

“It’s not like that,” Uri exclaimed. “There was never any letter of any kind on me!”

“No, there wasn’t,” Matthew confirmed. “I didn’t know then what a good memory you had.”

Uri shook his head. He did not understand.

“One hundred and forty-three stadia,” Plotius prompted him helpfully.

“What about one hundred and forty-three stadia?”

“The distance of Puteoli from Rome,” said Plotius. “You heard it just once, and you registered it. You weren’t even paying any attention. I asked the question as if I didn’t know; Iustus gave the answer, and Matthew immediately changed the subject. If there was anything you would be expected to forget, it would have been that. But just a moment ago you told us how many stadia Puteoli is from Rome. Agrippa made a good choice of courier.”

“I’m sorry!” Uri whispered, jumped to his feet and vomited into the bushes. He wiped his mouth and, gritting his teeth, took his seat again.

They had been spying on him all along, testing him. Let them just carry on.

“I’m listening, Matthew. And Alexandros?”

“A noxious beast,” said Matthew. “He wanted to be a Roman legionary, only they didn’t take him because he’s a Jew. Out of spite, now he wants to become a Jewish military leader and trounce the whole Roman Empire — by himself. Right now he is buying up weapons from legionaries; the Jews are hiding them in caves to rise up in rebellion later on…”

“What legionaries?” Uri asked.

“Members of the Sebaste non-Jewish cohort,” said Plotius patiently. “They report that their weapons, unfortunately, have been mislaid, and they get replacements at no charge. Spears, swords, knives — whatever… They’re paid a per diem of thirty-nine asses, or nine hundred sesterces a year, because the Roman state picks up the tab for their provisions and their weapons, but then it deducts the costs of these from their salaries, so in the end they earn less than a Roman plebe does with his sportula full of food worth twenty-five asses, and he doesn’t have to do anything for it but kill time, much like you! And then you have your tessera on top, which they don’t! So as an unemployed Roman plebeian, you earn twice as much as they do — and they have drills, are deployed whenever there is an earthquake anywhere, or a fire to be fought. They are not allowed to have a family, and they serve for decades on end, the fools, before being resettled, with a minimal pension, somewhere a long way off so they will not rise up in rebellion! No wonder they wheel and deal and steal whenever they get the chance. The state pays again and again for lost weapons, but it does not charge the legionaries, because the state is stupid, and its dopey bookkeeping officials don’t do any thinking for it! Alexandros is not the first to trade in black-market weapons. Judaea is full of caves, and they’re all full to bursting with weapons. The mercenaries sell them cheaply, and the Jews buy heaps of them. Nowadays the only ones who use them are their co-religionists who are highway robbers, but that brute Alexandros is making strenuous preparations to be a Rome-bashing Jewish military leader! And there are many more like him!”

Uri kept quiet and digested that.

“Iustus is keeping tabs on me,” Matthew said with a laugh. “There hasn’t been a delegation yet that did not have its spy. But then he’s not going to have anything to report — unless he reports on you. You’re in the same congregation, if I’m not mistaken.”

“We are,” said Uri. “I know already why Plotius came… So, Matthew, what about you?”

Matthew took a little sip of the wine.

“My obsession is the house of prayer in Ostia… It’s hard to see how I can go wrong when it gets built. I’ll take small charges from the hostelry guests, and even smaller ones from the court officials for the use of the hall, and very little indeed for the school to function, but all of those small charges will add up, and everyone in the town will come to my house of prayer sooner or later, that’s for sure. I shall be the first archisynagogos ever who manages to make money from the post. But peace is needed for Jews to be able to build. The Pax Romana, praise be, is a necessary thing, and praise be to Julius Caesar for conceiving it… Mark my words: I’ll do anything — anything at all — to make sure crazy Jews will not threaten the peace.”