Captivity by György Spiró

Author:György Spiró
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Restless Books
Published: 2015-10-28T00:00:00+00:00

He was amazed at his temerity, but it was out now. Tija did not bat an eyelid.

“Fair enough,” he said, “after all, someone has to die. If Tiberius’s adopted son, Caligula, is made emperor, then Tiberius’s flesh-and-blood grandson will have to die. If Gemellus, the grandson, becomes emperor, then Caligula has to perish. Flaccus, the prefect here in Egypt, is a friend of Macro, prefect of the Praetorian Guard; the two of them together have placed their bet on Gemellus, have been friends with him for years and send him gifts every now and then because Tiberius’s blood runs through his veins. Agrippa has bet on Caligula for reasons he knows best, and its he who is there, on Capri, he has the direct experience from which to read the auguries. Flaccus has a sober, smart, political brain and is putting his money on Gemellus, and our Agrippa, the cunning rambler, has gambled on Caligula. We don’t know who Antipas has backed already or will back, most likely both of them if it were up to him, only that’s not possible: this is a chariot race and you can only place a bet on one color. We’ve plumped for Agrippa—my father has, at any rate. You’ve also placed your bet on him, because your father has done the same. In other words, all of us are backing Caligula; we’re together in the hard times, Gaius Theodorus, and we’ll also be together in the good times.”

Uri mused; he had not previously taken into account that his imperfect, much-tormented body might be a vehicle of imperial politics.

“So what happens,” he asked, “if all those simple calculations become more complicated? Queen Helena and Izates, who converted to Judaism…”

“Leave them out of it!” expostulated Tija. “They’re small fry; their claims to the throne are baseless whatever they do. They won’t dare ally with the Parthians because Rome will just overrun them; Adiabene is of no consequence.”

“But there are still plenty of other relatives of Herod’s, a lot of them living in Rome…”

“It could get complicated,” Tija admitted. “Certainly, Agrippa might be snuffed out by the Roman relatives; the gladiators are in combat on Capri and we don’t even get to watch the struggle. It could be that they all die, stabbing one another in a circle… The first one pierced jumps up and stabs the last of the killers before dropping dead… If everybody slaughters everybody else, it could even be that Antonia’s crippled halfwit of a son, Claudius, is made emperor… It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that I shall become a simple prefect of Judaea and you, my strategos.”

“I’ve got poor eyesight,” said Uri. “I can see virtually nothing at a distance; I’ve had no military training.”

“All the better,” grinned Tija. “At least you won’t see who the soldiers under your command are massacring.”

Uri found the taste of the fig to be more sour than the grapefruit he had just eaten. Tija wasn’t joking now.

“It’s far from certain,” he said, “that that’s my aim in life.

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