The Kingdom of the Wicked (67 page)

       'But I want to stay in Rome. My friends are in Rome.'

       'You'll make new friends in Pompeii. Decent retired centurions and Greek businessmen. And you'll find a decent city council that will keep you in your place. On my orders. I'm asking for monthly reports. If you do more than usually badly I'll send you off somewhere savage and remote. Britain, for instance. Now, get ready.'

       Domitian rose, took a crumb of cheese, mocksaluted and gave his father vale. Then he left. Vespasian could hear the dog barking now, not whining. Then the noise receded in the direction of whatever mischief Domitian had arranged for the afternoon.

       He spent the afternoon, like most, including his last one in Rome before assuming his commission, in a low gambling den, playing dice with a oneeyed man named Scrupulus, while Lupus sat panting at his feet ("Bring your master luck, boy') and whores sat around drinking wine fortified with grape syrup, ingesting at the same time the lead of the bowl, which was conceivably a factor contributing to Roman madness. Scrupulus said:

       "Got you there, your lordship. I make it three hundred sesterces.' Roll you for double. No, wait — double and double and double.' Six hundred and sixty-six, the holy number. Good, my lord.' Domitian lost and said: 'Loaded.'

       'You wouldn't have said that if you'd won, your lordship. Six six six sesterces.'

       'Don't spit at me. On to him, Lupus. Bite him.' The dog obligingly snarled and made for Scrupulus, who retired to a dark corner where the dripping fangs held him. Domitian chalked the sum on the wall: DCLXVI, saying: 'Very well, that's what I owe. I'll pay you when I get back from Pompeii. But I still say those dice are loaded. Come, Lupus.' And he left. This number has ever since been the mark of the beast, expanded in the secret writings of the Christians to an abbreviation of Domitianus Caesar Legatos Xsti Violenter Interfacit, meaning that the Emperor Domitian is violently killing the legates or representatives of Christ. The collocation of office and act was still to come and is proceeding as I write, but Domitian, as I shall show, was brisk enough in persecution while still merely a prince.

       He rode to the assumption of his office in Pompeii with the dog Lupus in a saddle basket, followed by his personal slaves and the dour Greek Amilon, a very starchlike man, whom Domitian called his secretary. He was fed and wined amply by the town officials, installed in the rarely used imperial lodging on the Street of the Flowers, and he spent his first few days and nights in pursuing the ample pleasures of the town. He whored, gambled, drank, attended the games in the imperial box, became well known as a roaring boy on whom a dangerous authority had been plastered. One day he pursued a young man named Keravnos, so called for his loud voice, with a party of lictors: he wanted the young man to raise his robe and show the end of his penis, but Keravnos, who thought this to be merely a heavy joke in bad taste, ran away very quickly, Lupus lolloping after him, and entered the house of Marcus Julius Tranquillus, whose door was ever open. He slammed and bolted this door, hearing the scratching and whining of the dog and then the thunder of the lictors' fasces on the wood, demanding admittance. The widow Hannah was sitting there with a new suitor named Achilles. This had been their conversation:

       'I mean, I know.'

       'You know?'

       'About loneliness, I mean. When my second wife died — well, I drank you know. Drank. It doesn't do a man any good.'

       'Drink, no.'

       'Loneliness. Or a woman either. I got over the drink. My business suffered. But I've never got over the other thing. So I ask you to think.’

       ‘Oh, I think all the time.'

       'Think. We're all entitled to our little comforts.'

       'Spoken like a Greek.'

       'I am a Greek.'

       'Well, that's why you speak like one. Now I'm being — what's the word — pert. I’m being pert. I apologize. I'm grateful you asked.'

        'Well, I haven't asked yet, to be truthful. But, with your permission, I will ask. There's no need to give an answer now. Tomorrow, say.’

       ‘Or the day after.'

       It was at this moment that Keravnos ran in and bolted the door. 'The lictors,' he panted, 'asking for something ridiculous. And the new man, Dom something —’

       'Domitian,' Achilles said, going pale. 'That's the Emperor's son.' There seemed to be an attempt to tear the door from its hinges while a kind of wolfhowl, representing authority derived from Romulus and Remus, combined with loud male shouts to open up. 'We'd better —’ Then Sara came in from the kitchen. She went straight to the door, frowning, and unbarred it. Domitian and his dog tumbled in. She looked at Keravnos, still frowning, asking:

       'Is this a friend of yours?'

       'Never saw him before in my life.' The lictors, who knew no harm of this family, stayed outside, somewhat embarrassed, unhappy under orders. Domitian and his dog strode about the room, Domitian saying:

       'Domitian, son of the Emperor, performing an imperial duty. Is this a Jewish household? Are you,' to Achilles, 'a Jew?'

       'I'm a Greek. I'm also a mere visitor here.'

       'We'll consider the taxing of Greeks later. At the moment we're not concerned with the uncircumcised brethren. Is one of these women your mother?' he asked Keravnos. He shook his head. Sara said:

       'The head of this household is away on business. He is a Roman citizen and a retired centurion of the imperial forces. I think that should be enough for you, whoever you are.'

       'I've told you who I am, woman.'

       'We have only your word for it. Whoever you are, remember that Roman citizens have certain rights. One of these rights is privacy. Kindly stop your dog or wolf or whatever it is lifting its leg against my furniture. And now, leave. Whoever you are.'

       'Whoever I am. You'll see. Good day to you.'

       He left, Lupus dribbling on the floor in valediction. Achilles said: 'Unwise. Very.'

       Sara said a foul word in Aramaic and went looking for a mop.

       Matthias, whose native Aramaic had given way to Greek, which he spoke with elongated vowels and rasping chis, was at this moment talking to a number of Pompeian Christians in a grove near the foot of Vesuvius, which was today quiescent, merely sighing out odd wisps of vapour. 'Marriage,' he said, 'that is to say holy matrimony, is a sacrament or holy oath of allegiance that one breaks at one's peril. With us Christians, it is an act of grace which binds us to God and his blessed son. When a man and a woman enter into the holy state of matrimony, they place themselves before the throne of God, binding themselves to eternal fidelity. They beget children and thus help to people heaven with new souls —’

       Ferrex and Miriam, hand in hand, were wandering near the grove. Miriam was surprised to find her grandfather sitting alone on a long-congealed lump of lava. Julius knew Ferrex. He grinned at them both and said: 'Keeping watch. A secret meeting.'

       'What kind of a meeting?' Miriam asked.

       'If you want to see a man who actually knew Jesus Christ, he's in that grove talking to some Christians. I think you can both be trusted, can't you? I'm here to come out with a wolfhowl if anybody suspicious starts hovering. You know what happens to Christians?'

       The nodded. They knew. They wandered, hand in hand still, into the grove and saw a very old man talking to fifteen or so citizens of Pompeii. The old man was saying:

       'The ceremony is a very holy one. It is not a matter of making a civil contract. It is a heavenly contract, and over it presides one of God's deacons or bishops. I must consider myself the bishop of Pompeii and empowered by the Lord himself to preside and tie the holy knot. Jesus Christ said certain words I would ask you to remember: "What God has joined together let no man put asunder." An eternal contract between the man, the woman and God himself. Unbreakable by the laws of the state or the will of man

       'You saw Jesus?' a woman asked.

       'I am the only man now living who did. I had just been elected to the discipleship. There were two candidates for the office — myself and poor dead Barnabas, and it was decided on the throwing of dice. The Lord appeared to us, wounds in his hands and feet, but truly raised from the dead, and bade us preach the word. But I stray from the point —’

       A wolfhowl came from further down the slope. The party disbanded. Matthias smiled briefly on the two children, one Jewish, one Celtic, as he hobbled away. Ferrex said to Miriam:

       'Well, there you are — marriage.'

       'Christian marriage.'

       'They take it seriously, anyway.' And then Ferrex said: 'They say I'm ready. They say I can appear in one of the minor bouts at the next games. They say I can call myself a gladiator. My probation's over. I can move into the main barracks. I asked about married guar' ers.'

       'Oh no.'

       'That's what they said — I mean, they laughed and said gladiators don't marry, they have a different woman every night, and the women fight for the privilege, ladies too, some of them, very high born.'

       'But that's terrible.'

       'That's what I said. I said I loved somebody, and not all of them laughed. One of them said there's no harm in loving somebody so long as it doesn't interfere with your training, but he said being married is a different thing altogether.'

       'What did he mean?'

       And one of the gladiators made sort of sucking noises at me. I didn't understand that either.'

       Domitian did not understand the signs which one of the lictors charcoaled for him on the white wall outside the civic offices. 'A cross,' Domitian said, 'I thought they had a cross.'

       'You mean a Greek chi? No, that's a beggar's touch sign. They mark the houses where they hand something out. Food or money. It's the first letter of cheire, meaning a hand. They hand something out, see? No, what you used to see, more in Neapolis than here, was a drawing of a shepherd, not easy to do, or an anchor, or else a fish.'

       'Why a fish?'

       'Because the Greek for fish is ich thus, and that gives the initials of lesous Christos Theou Uios Soter. See, sir? I first saw that outside the ichthic market, which the ignorant call the ichthic fish market. In Neapolis, I mean. Here there aren't many left. You won't find those signs much about.'

       'I saw that fish thing today.'

       'Where, sir?'

       'We're going to dig them out.'

       Sara was looking for her husband Julius. There was a shed near the ramshackle gate of the orchard where the donkey, Hannah's and Caleb's, young then, growing old now, was lodged. Sometimes Julius sat there whittling stakes for his plants. She found the donkey chewing straw and, sitting in straw, a very old man trying to bind two lengths of rough wood together to make a cross. They looked at each other, he smiling uncertainly.

       'Who are you? What are you doing here?'

       'You don't know me, Sara?' She frowned, puzzled. 'I know you. I knew you as soon as I saw you in the market the other day. But I didn't say anything.'

       'Uncle Matthias? But it's not possible. Uncle Matthias joined the Nazarenes. He's dead, they're all dead.'

       'I should be dead. I've been lucky, I suppose. But I'm still in the faith. That's why it's better for you not to know me, Sara. An old man doing odd scraps of work, sleeping in this stable. I don't want to cause trouble. But I wondered how long it would be —’

       'Good God,' Sara said, with force and decision, 'must we spend all our lives being frightened, being cautious when we're not hunted? Is there no place in this world where people can be free to think and do what they want without men with laws and swords and axes and crosses interfering? You come to the house, Uncle Matthias. No flesh and blood of mine has to sleep in a dirty manger.'

       'No, leave me here. Don't put yourself or Julius in more danger than you may be in already.'

       'Julius? How do you know Julius? Did Julius tell you to stay here? In what way is Julius in danger?'

       'He keeps guard when we Christians have our meetings. It's good and brave of him.'

       'Julius,' she smiled sourly, 'washed in the blood of the white bull. You've dragged him back among the Nazarenes?'

       'No. He's not with us. It just happens that he's on the side of the hunted, that's all. I used no persuasion.'

       'Come to the house at once.'

       'Let me think about it. I have a meeting arranged here. A young couple. They want to get married. I have to tell them that they can't have Christian matrimony without the Christian faith. And I feel like using persuasion there. Negative. I don't want them to be baptized. They're too young to be martyrs.'

       It was not until the next day that Matthias took courage, really a vicarious courage, and went to the house of his niece. He admired the signs of very modest property, the swept and scoured very Jewish cleanliness. He found in the house not only Sara and Julius but the widow of his nephew Caleb and his great-niece Ruth with her husband Demetrios, a ruddy young man with soil under his nails. The table was laid with platters, winecups, sliced bread, a Pompeian jug with the contorted body of a young athlete as its handle, vegetable soap steaming in its tureen. 'Sit,' Julius said. 'You, Uncle Matthias as I ought to call you, at the head.' They sat. Matthias said:

       'So I, a Christian, sit in a house of very mixed beliefs. Hannah and Sara, who believe little —’

       'Nothing,' Sara said. 'Except in what's so simple and what we can't have. To go our own way.'

       'Will this company be offended,' Matthias said, 'if I offer this bread and wine in the way I was taught?'

       There was a silence of some embarrassment. Sara said: 'If it pleases you, Uncle Matthias. It can do the rest of us no harm.'

       'So, then. The night before he died, the Lord took bread and broke it, saying: This is my body, eat in remembrance of me.' He passed the bread round. Sara would not eat it. Hannah nibbled. Ruth said: