György Spiró - Captivity

“I am no physician, prefect… I’ve only read a thing or two and learned it…” He again quoted in Latin: “According to Celsus, fever is often the body’s way of defending itself, however odd that may seem.”

“Superb!” Pilate exclaimed. “My dear Matthew, I’m positively delighted by your delegate!”

“He’s a clever lad,” said Matthew.

Uri could sense the warning in his voice.

“So, let’s eat,” said Pilate, taking some of the salad greens and fruits.

There was a big murrhine dish and a tastefully fashioned silver spoon in front of everyone. Uri took for himself some of the fruit, and in doing so his eye was caught by the shiny, mirror-smooth tabletop surface on which the torches on the walls were mirrored. Never before had he seen veining as gorgeous as that; there were wonderful whorls in it, which in places coalesced in pink-colored peacock eyes. His eyes ranged over the whole surface; it had been made from a single slab of wood. It must have been worth a fortune.

“I’ve always had a partiality for Jews,” said Pilate. “Among them are so many clever, truly wise men. When I was getting ready to come to Judaea, I started to learn about the foundations of the Jewish faith; I was astonished at how expedient and humane your commandments are. I don’t share the widespread view in Rome that superstition is harmful; it can’t be if it has helped keep an entire people in existence for two thousand years.”

Uri had the feeling that Pilate was speaking sincerely, though of course it was perfectly possible to lie in a serious, sober voice. After all, politicians were the best of actors. But then, why say it if he did not mean it?

They feasted on salad greens and fruits; it was all fresh and appetizing. There was silence apart from the crunching made by their teeth. There was something else that was also there from which everyone took only a tiny portion. What could that have been? Marsh mallow leaves maybe?

Pilate pushed the dish away, whereupon Matthew followed suit, Uri too. Antipas took yet another small portion.

Servants jumped forward and changed the plates for new ones. Only now did Uri notice that the servants were all bearded; Jewish servants were serving up the food so that it would not become impure.

A great profusion of fish dishes came next. They had been braised whole: gigantic fishes of various species, all with scales and fins as specified by Jewish law. One servant, the scissorer, used a few deft movements of a flat spoon to fillet out the spine, while a second used a small knife to lop off the fish heads, and a third cut off the fins. The servants then vanished.

“Fish dishes are of moderate heaviness, Celsus asserts,” said Pilate. “We should not take too much of it, is my recommendation, because a miraculous peppered veal escalopes and a fantastic marinated mutton roast still awaits, if I am not mistaken.”

Uri saw before his eyes the text by Celsus: “The heaviest of them, which is salted, is for example the mackerel.” He kept quiet; he hadn’t the faintest idea what a mackerel looked like, and in any case the fish here were braised rather than salted.

He often went to the fish market in Rome; he loved the smell of fish, which revolted many, and he saw all kinds of marvelous sea creatures, arthropods, cephalopods, and shellfish, though he did not know the names of any of them and never asked since he could not eat them anyway.

He sensed that Matthew was moaning in satisfaction, and not at the sight of the fish, but because this time Uri had not spoken. He looked up; Matthew was gazing at the fish, it seemed he gave a nod.

We are in league, Matthew and I, Uri thought. The same Matthew that had me knocked on the head and carted off to prison. Interesting.

“I can particularly recommend those handsome little brutes,” Pilate said, pointing with a spoon at one of the dishes. “Barbel, that is.”

Uri shuddered.

“Someone once sent something of the kind to the emperor Tiberius,” said Uri, “and he ordered that they would do better to put it up for auction; he made a wager, saying he would be amazed if Apicius or Publius Octavius, those famed gourmands, did not snap it up… As best I know, Octavius won out. He paid five thousand sesterces for it…”

“There’s not much you don’t know, my dear Gaius!” Pilate cried out contentedly. “That’s very good! How did that information get to you?”

“It was a story that went around the markets in Rome.”

“Poor Apicius,” said Pilate. “He cut open his veins in the end…”

“Not for that reason, though,” yapped Herod Antipas, “but because he spent hundreds of millions on banquets, and when he grasped that he had only ten million left, he resolved that he did not want to live in poverty!”

Everyone tittered, Uri too. While he laughed he saw himself from outside. What a comfy stooge I’ve become, he thought.

Everyone took some fish — Antipas a lot, Pilate lashings of them, Matthew very little, and Uri even less. He modestly avoided the mullet even though Pilate encouraged him to try it: a fish only cost three thousand.

“Yes, indeed!” said Pilate. “Our own modest repast is nothing compared with the banquets that are thrown over the water! Lucullus knew what to do! When Cicero and Pompey dropped in on him without prior notice one day, he had a dinner served out straightaway that cost two thousand sesterces! Then there’s the wealthy advocate Quintus Hortensius, whose fishponds alone were worth three million sesterces! Then again, the dinners given by Maecenas! Fancy plying his guests with asses’ flesh!” Pilate chuckled. “Apicius had the geese stuffed with figs and dished up, roast, like that… I’m going to try that out one of these days. The mullet was served with a fish-liver sauce, which sounds intriguing… Pasties of the tongues of flamingos, peacocks, and nightingales — that’s the sort of thing Vitellius adores, he was telling me not long ago… Here we are, friends: garum sauce, all four kinds. Dip the fish in it! All the ingredients are kosher; they are all based on olive oil, ground pepper, wine, and honey, all clean… There’s watery, olive, vinegary, and wine-flavored. I get them brought in from a factory in Sparturia, five hundred sesterces per congius… I gave explicit instructions that they were to be made with Jewish oil, which is ten times more expensive than the non-Jewish oil… But then, as I say, what are our meals compared with those of the true hedonists! Nowadays Agrippa too spends two hundred thousand on a single supper, so I hear… He even gets them to prepare cinnamon gravy, even though it’s better as an unguent than a condiment.”

Uri listened, feeling not a scrap of eagerness; he finished cleaning a portion of fish with his spoon, dunked it with his fingers in the sauce and dabbled it around a bit before placing it in his mouth.

“First-rate!” he declared enthusiastically.

“They’re all sea fish,” said Pilate, “since Jews consider the sea cleaner than the rivers, though those too are pure, have I got that right?”

“That’s quite right, prefect,” said Matthew.

“There are hardly any bones in these,” said Pilate, “because bones, I have to tell you, they’re one thing I hate. I hate all superfluous difficulties, and that includes with food. There are difficulties as it is. There are plenty of people in Rome who look askance at my nurturing such good relations with Jews. I always hit it off excellently with your people. Whatever tensions may have arisen, it was never a fault on my part, nor, I hasten to add, on the part of the Jews! All the tensions came from Rome. Thanks be to my gods, and to your one and only Everlasting Lord, up till now I have always managed to repair the damage, and I very much hope it will stay that way.”