the trip was wasted.’
‘Except for a few hours on a lake.’ Claudius suddenly had a far-off look in his eyes. ‘The town of Nazareth lies on a great inland body of water, the Sea of Gennesareth they call it. It’s not salt water at all, you know, but really a vast lake, and lies several stades below the level of the sea.’
‘Fascinating.’ Pliny was writing quickly. ‘Tell me more.’
‘He was a carpenter, a boatwright. Herod and I and our women went out with him on his boat, fishing, drinking wine. I was with my lovely Calpurnia, away from the clutches of my wife. We were all about the same age, young men and women, and even I found an exuberance I thought I could never have. I spilled wine in the lake and he joked about turning water into wine, catching the fish that way.’
‘But no miracle.’
‘After the fishing we sat on the shore until the sun went down. Herod grew impatient, and went off to the town seeking his pleasure. The Nazarene and I were left alone together.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said I must bear my affliction, that it would protect me and propel me to a greatness I could scarcely imagine. I had no idea what he was on about: me, Claudius the cripple, the embarrassing nephew of the emperor Tiberius, barely tolerated in Rome, hidden away and denied public office while all the other young men were finding glory with the legions.’
‘He saw a scholar and a future emperor,’ Pliny murmured. ‘He knew your destiny, Princeps . He was a shrewd man.’
‘I don’t believe in destiny. And there you go again. Princeps .’ Pliny quickly steered him back. ‘What of the man’s own future? The Nazarene?’
‘He spoke of it. He said that one day he would disappear into the wilderness, then all the world would come to know of him. I warned him not to be brought down by the sticky web of those who would exploit and deceive him. That was my advice for him. Nazareth was a pretty out-of-the-way place, and I don’t know if he realized then what men are capable of. I doubt whether he’d ever even seen a crucifixion.’
‘And Herod Agrippa?’
‘Herod was still with us when the Nazarene had said he wanted no intermediaries, no interpreters. Herod used a Greek word for them, apostoles . Herod was a straightforward man, blunt, a dear fellow. He had no interest in the visions of the Nazarene, but he could see I had been affected, and he was fond of me. He determined that if he came to power he would tolerate the Nazarene.’
‘But this man was executed, I believe?’ Pliny said.
‘Crucified, in Jerusalem. In the final years of the reign of my uncle Tiberius. The Nazarene had told me he would offer himself as a sacrifice. Whether he truly foresaw his own execution, his crucifixion, is another matter. The man I met had no death wish. He was full of the joys of life. But we talked about the ancient legends of human sacrifice among the Semites, the Jews. He knew his history, how to reach his people. I think the sacrifice he meant was symbolic.’
‘Fascinating,’ Pliny murmured absently. ‘The Sea of Gennesareth, you say? Not the Dead Sea? That sea is remarkably briny, I believe.’ He was writing in the final narrow space he had left on his scroll, dipping his quill in an ink pot he had placed beside him. ‘This will make a splendid addition to my chapter on Judaea. Thank you, Claudius.’
‘Wait. There’s more. I haven’t even given it to you yet.’ Claudius got up and hobbled unsteadily over to the bookcase where Philodemus’ library had been, sweeping aside the few remaining scrolls on the middle shelf and reaching into a dark recess behind. He lurched back to the table, sat down heavily and passed a small wooden scroll tube over to Pliny.
‘There it is,’ Claudius panted. ‘That’s what I wanted you to have.’
‘Acacia, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Pliny sniffed the wood. ‘What the Jews call sittim , from the stunted tree that grows along the shores of the east.’ He
‘Except for a few hours on a lake.’ Claudius suddenly had a far-off look in his eyes. ‘The town of Nazareth lies on a great inland body of water, the Sea of Gennesareth they call it. It’s not salt water at all, you know, but really a vast lake, and lies several stades below the level of the sea.’
‘Fascinating.’ Pliny was writing quickly. ‘Tell me more.’
‘He was a carpenter, a boatwright. Herod and I and our women went out with him on his boat, fishing, drinking wine. I was with my lovely Calpurnia, away from the clutches of my wife. We were all about the same age, young men and women, and even I found an exuberance I thought I could never have. I spilled wine in the lake and he joked about turning water into wine, catching the fish that way.’
‘But no miracle.’
‘After the fishing we sat on the shore until the sun went down. Herod grew impatient, and went off to the town seeking his pleasure. The Nazarene and I were left alone together.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said I must bear my affliction, that it would protect me and propel me to a greatness I could scarcely imagine. I had no idea what he was on about: me, Claudius the cripple, the embarrassing nephew of the emperor Tiberius, barely tolerated in Rome, hidden away and denied public office while all the other young men were finding glory with the legions.’
‘He saw a scholar and a future emperor,’ Pliny murmured. ‘He knew your destiny, Princeps . He was a shrewd man.’
‘I don’t believe in destiny. And there you go again. Princeps .’ Pliny quickly steered him back. ‘What of the man’s own future? The Nazarene?’
‘He spoke of it. He said that one day he would disappear into the wilderness, then all the world would come to know of him. I warned him not to be brought down by the sticky web of those who would exploit and deceive him. That was my advice for him. Nazareth was a pretty out-of-the-way place, and I don’t know if he realized then what men are capable of. I doubt whether he’d ever even seen a crucifixion.’
‘And Herod Agrippa?’
‘Herod was still with us when the Nazarene had said he wanted no intermediaries, no interpreters. Herod used a Greek word for them, apostoles . Herod was a straightforward man, blunt, a dear fellow. He had no interest in the visions of the Nazarene, but he could see I had been affected, and he was fond of me. He determined that if he came to power he would tolerate the Nazarene.’
‘But this man was executed, I believe?’ Pliny said.
‘Crucified, in Jerusalem. In the final years of the reign of my uncle Tiberius. The Nazarene had told me he would offer himself as a sacrifice. Whether he truly foresaw his own execution, his crucifixion, is another matter. The man I met had no death wish. He was full of the joys of life. But we talked about the ancient legends of human sacrifice among the Semites, the Jews. He knew his history, how to reach his people. I think the sacrifice he meant was symbolic.’
‘Fascinating,’ Pliny murmured absently. ‘The Sea of Gennesareth, you say? Not the Dead Sea? That sea is remarkably briny, I believe.’ He was writing in the final narrow space he had left on his scroll, dipping his quill in an ink pot he had placed beside him. ‘This will make a splendid addition to my chapter on Judaea. Thank you, Claudius.’
‘Wait. There’s more. I haven’t even given it to you yet.’ Claudius got up and hobbled unsteadily over to the bookcase where Philodemus’ library had been, sweeping aside the few remaining scrolls on the middle shelf and reaching into a dark recess behind. He lurched back to the table, sat down heavily and passed a small wooden scroll tube over to Pliny.
‘There it is,’ Claudius panted. ‘That’s what I wanted you to have.’
‘Acacia, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Pliny sniffed the wood. ‘What the Jews call sittim , from the stunted tree that grows along the shores of the east.’ He
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