Render Unto Caesar by Gillian Bradshaw Page B

placed it across a small iron balance weight, and hit it with a mallet. The coin broke jaggedly in half, and he gave one half to Hermogenes. “You know how these work?” he asked.
    Hermogenes nodded and slipped the half coin in his purse. When he came to reclaim the documents, he would have to produce his half of the coin, which the clerk would match with its mate before handing over the box. “Will you keep your half of the token with the documents?” he inquired.
    The clerk shook his head. “No. I’ll tag your documents and put them upstairs in the archives. We keep the tokens down here. Here, I’ll show you.”
    He took string, beeswax, and two small papyrus tags from a box on his desk; he tied the string round the box and secured one tag to it, then attached the other to the coin with the wax. On each tag he wrote a string of letters—FIIIXLII—then glanced up. “The letters mean your documents go up to the corridor on the third floor on the forum side of the building,” he explained, “and that they’re the forty-second lot stored there.”
    He opened another large box at the side of his desk; it contained three separate compartments, each already containing numbers of other tagged half coins. He set the token in the compartment labeled FIII. “When you come back, tell whoever’s on duty that it’s in forum three,” he ordered. “I’ll put the documents there now: they’ll be perfectly safe until you come back to claim them. If you lose the token, we can probably give you the documents if you tell us they’re lot forty-two in forum three and describe them accurately—but try not to lose it, because it makes it hard.”
    â€œThank you,” said Hermogenes, and paid him. As he closed his purse again he decided he would have to find somewhere else to keep his token. Leaving it in his purse meant he risked losing it every time he spent some money.
    They went back out into the forum, and Hermogenes stretched, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He had sent Rufus a letter asking for an appointment, and he had done all he could to ensure the safety of his vital documents. Now there was nothing to do but wait for the consul’s response.
    â€œHyakinthos,” he said, and smiled at the boy. “What should a visitor do in Rome?”
    It turned into a pleasant day. Hyakinthos took them back through the forum, this time pointing out everything of interest (Hermogenes made a mental note to tell his daughter about the gilded milestone labeled with the distance to Alexandria, among other cities). They visited a couple of temples, which, as was common, contained many fine works of art. The Temple of Caesar the God, Hermogenes discovered with amazement and awe, contained Apelles’ Aphrodite Rising from the Waves, a towering masterpiece of Greek painting: it lived up to its reputation. There were other famous Greek masterpieces as well—sculptures by Praxiteles and Phidias; paintings by Polygnotos and Apelles. In fact, Hermogenes thought sourly, the temples of Rome did not seem to contain anything made by an Italian.
    When the glories of Art and Architecture began to pall, they did some shopping. They turned right down the narrow Vicus Tuscus, which was lined with shops. Hermogenes bought a small leather bag to keep his token in, and a jar of good wine as a present for his host. Phormion greatly admired a lamp decorated with molded chariots, but could not quite bring himself to part with any of his savings to buy it.
    By this time it was after noon, and the shops were closing. Hyakinthos recommended a bathhouse. It was a big place near the bank of the Tiber, with a swimming pool and an exercise yard as well as the usual hot and cold plunge baths. The three slaves took turns guarding the party’s clothes and the shopping so that everyone could have a wash and a swim. Afterward they bought some cheese pastries and sweet