Britannia.’
‘I do.’ Claudius slumped, then smiled wanly. ‘That’s the trouble.’ He began fingering a coin on the table, a burnished sestertius with his portrait on it, turning it over and over again, a nervous habit Pliny had seen him indulge many times before, but he let it slip out of his fingers and roll towards the scrolls by the door. Claudius sighed irritably and made as if to get up, but then slumped down again and stared morosely at his hands. ‘They’ve built a temple to me there, you know. And they’re building an amphitheatre now, did you know that? In Londinium. I saw it on my secret trip there this summer, when I went to her tomb.’
‘Don’t tell me about that again, Princeps , please,’ Pliny said. ‘It gives me nightmares. What about Rome? Your achievements in Rome? You constructed many wonderful things, Claudius. The people are grateful.’
‘Not that anyone would see them,’ Claudius said. ‘They’re all underground, underwater. Did I tell you about my secret tunnel under the Palatine Hill? Right under my house. Apollo ordered me to make it. I worked out the riddle in the leaves, in the Sibyl’s cave. Let me see if I can remember it.’
‘And Judaea,’ Pliny said quickly. ‘You granted universal toleration for the Jews, across the empire. You gave Herod Agrippa the kingdom of Judaea.’
‘And then he died,’ Claudius murmured. ‘My dear friend Herod Agrippa. Even he was corrupted by Rome, by my vile nephew Caligula.’
‘You had no choice,’ Pliny continued. ‘With nobody to replace Herod Agrippa, you had to make Judaea a Roman province.’
‘And let it be ruled by venal and rapacious officials. After all that Cicero warned a century ago about provincial administration. The lessons of history,’ Claudius added bitterly. ‘Look how I learned them.’
‘The Jewish Revolt was inevitable.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it? Fifteen years after Rome grants universal toleration for the Jews, she does all she can to eradicate them from the face of the earth.’
‘The gods willed it.’
‘No they did not.’ Claudius took a long shuddering drink. ‘Remember the temple you told me about during your last visit? The one Vespasian had erected in Rome? To the deified Claudius. I’m a god too now, remember? I’m a god, but this god did not will the destruction of the Jews. You have it on divine authority.’
Pliny quickly rolled up the scroll and slid it into a leather satchel beside the table, away from the splatter of wine, then hesitantly pulled out another. ‘You were going to tell me something about Judaea. Another day?’
‘No. Now.’
Pliny sat poised with a metal stylus over the scroll, eager and determined. Claudius peered at the writing already on the scroll, at the gap in the middle. ‘Tell me, then,’ Pliny said. ‘This new Jewish sect. What do you think of them?’
‘That’s why I asked you here.’ Claudius breathed in deeply. ‘The followers of the anointed one. The Messiah, the Christos . I know about them from my visits to the Phlegraean Fields. They are just the kind of people the Nazarene wanted to follow him. The crippled, the diseased, outcasts. People who so desperately crave happiness that their yearning becomes infectious, leading others to find their own release from the burdens of life, their own salvation.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Because I am one of them.’
‘You are one of them?’ Pliny sounded incredulous. ‘You are a Jew?’
‘No!’ Claudius scoffed, his head jerking sideways. ‘A cripple. An outcast. Someone who went to him for a cure.’
‘You went to this man? But I thought you never travelled to the east.’
‘It was all Herod’s doing. My dear friend Herod Agrippa. He tried to help, to take me away from Rome. He had heard of a miracle-worker in Judaea, a Nazarene, a man they said was descended from King David of the Jews. It was my only trip ever to the east. The heat made my shuddering worse.’
‘So
‘I do.’ Claudius slumped, then smiled wanly. ‘That’s the trouble.’ He began fingering a coin on the table, a burnished sestertius with his portrait on it, turning it over and over again, a nervous habit Pliny had seen him indulge many times before, but he let it slip out of his fingers and roll towards the scrolls by the door. Claudius sighed irritably and made as if to get up, but then slumped down again and stared morosely at his hands. ‘They’ve built a temple to me there, you know. And they’re building an amphitheatre now, did you know that? In Londinium. I saw it on my secret trip there this summer, when I went to her tomb.’
‘Don’t tell me about that again, Princeps , please,’ Pliny said. ‘It gives me nightmares. What about Rome? Your achievements in Rome? You constructed many wonderful things, Claudius. The people are grateful.’
‘Not that anyone would see them,’ Claudius said. ‘They’re all underground, underwater. Did I tell you about my secret tunnel under the Palatine Hill? Right under my house. Apollo ordered me to make it. I worked out the riddle in the leaves, in the Sibyl’s cave. Let me see if I can remember it.’
‘And Judaea,’ Pliny said quickly. ‘You granted universal toleration for the Jews, across the empire. You gave Herod Agrippa the kingdom of Judaea.’
‘And then he died,’ Claudius murmured. ‘My dear friend Herod Agrippa. Even he was corrupted by Rome, by my vile nephew Caligula.’
‘You had no choice,’ Pliny continued. ‘With nobody to replace Herod Agrippa, you had to make Judaea a Roman province.’
‘And let it be ruled by venal and rapacious officials. After all that Cicero warned a century ago about provincial administration. The lessons of history,’ Claudius added bitterly. ‘Look how I learned them.’
‘The Jewish Revolt was inevitable.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it? Fifteen years after Rome grants universal toleration for the Jews, she does all she can to eradicate them from the face of the earth.’
‘The gods willed it.’
‘No they did not.’ Claudius took a long shuddering drink. ‘Remember the temple you told me about during your last visit? The one Vespasian had erected in Rome? To the deified Claudius. I’m a god too now, remember? I’m a god, but this god did not will the destruction of the Jews. You have it on divine authority.’
Pliny quickly rolled up the scroll and slid it into a leather satchel beside the table, away from the splatter of wine, then hesitantly pulled out another. ‘You were going to tell me something about Judaea. Another day?’
‘No. Now.’
Pliny sat poised with a metal stylus over the scroll, eager and determined. Claudius peered at the writing already on the scroll, at the gap in the middle. ‘Tell me, then,’ Pliny said. ‘This new Jewish sect. What do you think of them?’
‘That’s why I asked you here.’ Claudius breathed in deeply. ‘The followers of the anointed one. The Messiah, the Christos . I know about them from my visits to the Phlegraean Fields. They are just the kind of people the Nazarene wanted to follow him. The crippled, the diseased, outcasts. People who so desperately crave happiness that their yearning becomes infectious, leading others to find their own release from the burdens of life, their own salvation.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Because I am one of them.’
‘You are one of them?’ Pliny sounded incredulous. ‘You are a Jew?’
‘No!’ Claudius scoffed, his head jerking sideways. ‘A cripple. An outcast. Someone who went to him for a cure.’
‘You went to this man? But I thought you never travelled to the east.’
‘It was all Herod’s doing. My dear friend Herod Agrippa. He tried to help, to take me away from Rome. He had heard of a miracle-worker in Judaea, a Nazarene, a man they said was descended from King David of the Jews. It was my only trip ever to the east. The heat made my shuddering worse.’
‘So
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