Judas by Frederick Ramsay Page A

some of such delicacy, I wondered how those cudgel-like hands could ever craft anything so beautiful. My master introduced me as his “Little Hebrew.”
    “Oh ho,” the coppersmith boomed, “well, I am descended from the great Philistine metal workers. There is enmity between our people, so you’d better beware of me.”
    I did not know what he meant. The only Philistines I ever heard of were ancient people whose name had been twisted to Palestine, which was what Romans called the land of my birth.
    I stood as tall as I could and tried to look brave. He laughed a big laugh. You cannot always tell when someone is joking with you, whether you are safe. That man could turn me over to the Romans on nearly any pretext, and because I had no entry pass, no citizenship, because Mother did what she did to survive, I would not have a chance of seeing freedom ever again. In that corrupt city, where nearly everything was for sale, he could and would do it if the circumstances were right.
    On our way back, our bundles of jewelry and copperware carefully concealed beneath our cloaks, my master said, “You should have yourself fixed, you know. This is not a good place to be if you are a Hebrew.”
    “Fixed? What do you mean, ‘fixed’?”
    “You know, you should have yourself repaired…in that place!”
    “That place?”
    He waved his hands around, irritated with me. “I know of a Greek surgeon, a very good man, who can fix you back the way you were born. All of the Hebrews that come here to live go to him. You will be safer if you do that.”
    Ah, I thought— that place . I should undo with his Greek surgeon what the other one did, and for the same reason. It was unsafe in Corinth to be one of my mother’s people and equally unsafe not to be one in Caesarea. I knew then that my mother’s god must be mean and unmerciful. He punished me for being the illegitimate son of someone I never met. He made me an outcast wherever I went. He played cruel jokes on me for not being circumcised and then for being circumcised and he made it very clear I could never have a part of this world except at its fringes. Not Greek, not Hebrew, nothing.
    “I will think about it.”
    We did not talk much on the way back to Cenchrea. I was thinking about those girls and women. Why would anyone give a daughter to a goddess?

Chapter Eleven
     
    I made my first illegal money. Not a lot, but some, and realized there could be a great deal more. It started simply enough. I changed some money in the street. Amelabib sent me to the moneychangers to convert the foreign coins we had taken in that day. On my way back, purse filled with denarii, a man stopped me. Newly arrived to the city and not yet acquainted with the ways of the street and the market, he did not know better than to try to change his money in the street, did not know about the moneychangers or the fixed rate. I should have sent him to the official exchange but, without thinking of the consequences, I changed his money, at my rate, returned to the moneychangers and exchanged it again at theirs. I returned my master’s money to him, but four denarii richer myself. No one saw me and even if they had, who would suspect a boy to have enough money to speculate in exchanges?
    I decided then I would try my hand at the money changing business. There were risks, of course, and the need of ready cash to make the business work, but I guessed that if I were careful, started with this windfall of four denarii and held back a small measure of my wages in the future, I could make it work. Each day, I saved a few more coins. I was finally doing something about getting us away.
    ***
     
    One evening I returned late from the stall to our room. It was empty, no Dinah. She never ventured away from the safety of our cramped quarters. I picked up a lamp and went to find her. I checked the privy. I looked into the atrium. I could not find Mother or any sign of Dinah. I remembered the time Darcas brought the man to