The Island of the Innocent: A Novel of Greek and Jew in the Time of the Maccabees

By Dr. Vardis Fisher

A MIGHTY NOVEL OF PERSECUTION AND MASSACRE AND A LOVE THAT DEFIED DEATH!

THEY MET IN JERUSALEM

A young Greek doctor, devoted to the pleasures of the senses and the intellect, and a passionate, pious daughter of Israel. Hopelessly in love, their beliefs were irreconcilable—until the Syrian-hordes struck at Jerusalem, defiling and slaughtering. Then the woman who loved God and the man who loved liberty united with the embattled Jews under the banner of Judas the Maccabee, to strike back at the enemy who would destroy them both!

“…a richly informed addition to the author’s ‘Testament of Man’ series, sensitively created by the fusion of art and scholarship.”—The New York Times

“Vardis Fisher is one of the most remarkable of American authors. Viewing himself, in effect, as the reincarnation of conflicting personalities of many generations, the recipient of the transmitted subconscious memories of centuries, Fisher went back in his Testament of Man’ to the ape-man progenitor and came up the long, uncertain booby-trapped path. He projected himself into the emerging, rising human being, and went with him through thousands of years of progressions, crises, setbacks, emotions, surges, to get at understanding, if he could, of the basic motivations today in the conduct of the heir of all the human race…the whole sequence is one of the most extraordinary feats in imaginative divination in original Occidental literature.”—Clark Kinnaird, King Features Syndicate

“...well-told historical tale…crisp, vigorous”—San Francisco Chronicle

• Language: English
• Publisher: Muriwai Books
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781789120615

Dr. Vardis Fisher

Vardis Alvero Fisher (1895-1968) was an American writer best known for his popular historical novels of the Old West. He also wrote the monumental 12-volume Testament of Man (1943-1960) series of novels, depicting the history of humans from cave to civilization. Born on March 31, 1895 in Annis, Idaho, near present-day Rigby, of a Mormon family and descent, he graduated from the University of Utah in 1920. He earned a Master of Arts degree (1922) and a Ph.D. (1925) at the University of Chicago. He was an assistant professor of English at the University of Utah (1925-1928) and New York University (1928-1931). He taught as a summer professor at Montana State University (1932-1933) in Bozeman. Between 1935-1939 he worked as the director of the Idaho Writer’s Project of the Works Progress Administration (WPA) of the Franklin D. Roosevelt administration. He wrote several books about Idaho. He was also a newspaper columnist for the Idaho Statesman and Idaho Statewide (which later became the Intermountain Observer). In order to write his Testament of Man (1943-1960) series, he read more than 2,000 books on anthropology, history, psychology, theology and comparative religion. His other works include the historical novel, Children of God, tracing the history of the Mormons, which won the 1939 Harper Prize in Fiction; the novel Mountain Man (1965), which was adapted for Sydney Pollack’s film, Jeremiah Johnson (1972); The Mothers: An American Saga of Courage (1943), which tells the story of the Donner Party tragedy; and Tale of Valor (1960), a novel recounting the Lewis and Clark Expedition. He also wrote a non-fiction book on how to write fiction books called God or Caesar? (1953). Fisher was married three times and died on July 9, 1968, aged 73, in Hagerman, Idaho.

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Text originally published in 1952 under the same title.

© Muriwai Books 2017, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

THE ISLAND OF THE INNOCENT

A novel of Greek and Jew in the time of the Maccabees

by

VARDIS FISHER

He shall deliver the island of the innocent

—Job

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 3

DEDICATION 4

1 5

2 14

3 24

4 33

5 41

6 50

7 62

8 69

9 78

10 86

11 93

12 101

13 110

14 116

15 124

16 134

17 141

18 147

19 152

20 158

21 164

22 173

23 183

24 188

25 193

26 199

27 210

28 217

29 225

30 233

31 239

32 247

33 255

34 264

35 272

36 281

37 288

38 295

39 302

40 310

41 316

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 318

DEDICATION

This book is inscribed to the many scholars whose labors have promoted understanding and fellowship between Gentile and Jew.

1

HE WAS PHILEMON, a Hellene, looking for a girl named Judith, a daughter of Israel, and he felt pretty absurd for having come down from Antioch because of an infatuation more than a year old. On the last day of his journey up the desolate hills to Jerusalem he had been engulfed by a great tide of humanity moving toward the holy city. He had seen multitudes moved by religious frenzy but never such a multitude as this. Most of it was trudging afoot, leading beasts, or carrying baskets of fruit and corn, and waterskins, and so many branches of palm and willow and myrtle that when he first looked on the amazing sight he had thought he was viewing a mirage. He then learned that this was the annual festival of the Tabernacles and that these people were going up to the Mount of the Temple to rejoice. Even more startling than the gray exhaustion in their faces or the sea of wilting branches was their delirious joy when they approached the city’s gates.

As the towers of Jerusalem became visible pipers went ahead to lead the way; whereupon, roused by the music, the multitude began to sing:

As the mountains are roundabout Jerusalem

so the Holy One is roundabout his people

from this time forth and for ever!…

When the people came to the northern gate and Philemon looked at the faces it was plain to him that a great wild emotion was ready to overflow its channels. He heard the sound of tears and sobs and of sad lamenting, and then the shrill high shrieks of rapture, while eyes were upturned to the heavens:

I rejoiced when they said unto me

Let us go unto the house of the Holy Name!

Our feet are standing within your gates,

O Jerusalem!…

The multitude took up the cry and it became a frenzied chant, with bodies weaving from side to side, with arms holding branches up to the light and the Eternal:

Let us go unto the house of the Holy One!

O Jerusalem!

Our Jerusalem!

Our feet are standing within your gates!…

Philemon saw people pressing upon the gate and the wall and kissing them, and he looked away, feeling that he had no right to gaze upon those whose souls were naked before their God.

Do you know a girl named Judith? he had asked one and another. Do you know Reuben? And always the answer had been: Tell me the name of the father. Philemon spoke in their language, which he had learned in Alexandria, where he had also read their holy books; and before the gate he spoke to a tall gaunt man with a gray beard. O pious, O gentle, O worthy follower of Ezra, do you know a beautiful girl named Judith?

Who are you? asked the graybeard.

Philemon, the son of Hector.

Son of the no-gods, said the old man, and turned away to spit. Then a younger man stepped up, who might have been the old man’s son, and looked hard at Philemon, saying: Why do you seek this girl named Judith?

Because she is beautiful.

Is there, asked the man, addressing the graybeard, any woman in our city named Judith?

No!

The man was sneering. Or any son of Israel named Alexander?

No!

Or any son of Israel named Menelaus?

No! And the old man spat again.

Who are you and what do you want?

I’ve told you that I’m Philemon, the son of Hector, and I seek a girl named Judith.

Where do you live?

I’ve lived in many places—in Pergamum—in Alexandria—in Antioch—and for a little while in your city. I’ve been here before.

He’s the worshiper of a thunderbolt called Zeus!

And he looks for one named Judith, a daughter of Israel! Do you covet this woman?

You may put it that way, though when I saw her she was hardly more than a child. I’m on my way to Alexandria.

The younger man looked at the patriarch and said: The road from Antioch to Alexandria goes through our holy city!

Let the uncircumcised one be. We’ve worse enemies in our house.

Philemon bowed to the old man and said: Take care of your cistern. These words, which he had learned from his Jew friends, meant, Take care of your family. The old man looked at him with sudden suspicious interest. Philemon bowed again and said, Halleluyah! which meant, Praise Yahweh, Israel’s God.

Halleluyah! cried the old man, and made a gesture of deep reverence.

Philemon had come far out of his way because he had not been able to obliterate from memory the face of a child-woman. He had seen her in the previous year while passing through from Alexandria to Antioch. It had been the ninth of Ab, and on this day it was the custom with Jewish girls to dance in the vineyards and challenge the men to choose their mates. Judith was dancing when Philemon, accompanied by his friend Reuben, had pushed through a throng to view the girls. She saw him almost at once, for he was taller than most of the men around him and wore splendid raiment. And he had the deepest blue eyes that Judith was ever to see. As for Philemon, he thought he had never looked upon a girl as lovely as this one, though he had perceived that she was only a child. In looking back on the experience he had never been able to determine what had so completely ravished his sense—whether it had been her mass of lustrous hair and her marvelous eyes, or her grace of movement, or the subtlety in her wantonness. From the moment she first saw him Judith had danced solely for him. This had been so plain that Reuben had made a jest of it; and Philemon had asked his friend to learn her name.

Judith, Reuben had said, after speaking to her.

I’ll remember her. How old is she?

I’ll ask her. Reuben had then stepped forward and beckoned to Judith, who had danced toward him, her eyes mocking Philemon. And a few moments later Reuben had said: She’s not yet twelve but she must be nubile or she’d not be dancing here. Then maliciously he had added: She’s a daughter of the Pious, and so is beyond your lecherous grasp. But perhaps you’d marry a daughter of Israel.

Why not?

Reuben had shrugged. But not such a girl as this. You can be sure that her father spends half his time praying and the other half keeping ritually clean. You’ve chosen us from all peoples, O Holy One, you have loved us and taken delight in us, you have exalted us, you have sanctified us and set us apart. Deliver us from evil men—and that means such as you, son of Hector!

Philemon had smiled. I might become one of the circumcised.

By the gods, the man is mad!

I mean for a girl like Judith.

That had been on the ninth of Ab; and now, on the fourteenth of Tishri, more than a year later, he was again in that city which pious Jews called the navel of the world. He was looking for Judith, hoping she was not married, and for Melanie, and for Reuben also, the Jew friend with whom he had studied medicine in Alexandria, the world’s greatest center of learning and enlightenment. But his search for them seemed likely to be fruitless. Jerusalem was overwhelmed by the multitudes, and by the morning of the fifteenth the city was transformed. Before most of the homes and before all the homes in certain sectors bowers had been erected, made of the green branches; for was it not written that their God had caused them to dwell in booths when he brought them out of Egypt? He will swallow death in victory and wipe the tears away from all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from the earth.

Philemon could see everywhere the leafy booths with the house itself serving as the fourth wall. On his former visit he had learned from Reuben that the learned scribes disputed long and earnestly over countless matters in the holy writings. Which trees might be used for the booths? Some said the palm and willow; others, that palm and willow were to be borne aloft by the worshipers before the Holy Place. A learned scribe, one Hosah ben Jorah, had ruled that the fruit of goodly trees meant the ethrog or citron; that the boughs of thick trees meant the myrtle (provided that it had not more berries than leaves); that the citron must be without blemish; that the palm branches must be three hands high and suitable for shaking; and that all branches must be free of the pollution found in idolatrous groves where the heathen worshipped….

He had learned that the Jews were divided into two principal factions—the Hasidim or Pious, and the Letzim or Hellenists—those who faithfully and proudly obeyed the Torah to its last letter, glad to be a peculiar and a chosen people, and bitterly contemptuous of all heathen; and those who, with more enlightenment, were devoted to Greek medicine, science, philosophy, sports and art. These latter knew the Jews were abhorred by all the peoples around them; but, said Reuben, nobody hated Jews as much as many of the Jews themselves.

Reuben had said also that war between the two factions was inevitable and imminent. No statesman could ever bridge the gulf between Jews who clung fanatically to the superstitions of Moses and Jews who enriched themselves with the art and philosophy of the Greeks. What could there be in common between Euripides, who had said that humanity drifts on legends, and an old graybeard like Jesus ben Sirach, who had spent a lifetime in subtle sophistries, trying to prove that Jews were superior to all other peoples? Could Greek democracy and Jewish theocracy ever find a common ground of fellowship?

Philemon had observed that his friend spoke with bitterness; he had seen bitterness in faces when Jew looked at Jew. And now, while wandering through the city, he felt that an explosion was indeed imminent. He saw fear, suspicion, contempt, hate. What a strange people they were!—for, hated by the whole world, they were ready to leap at the throats of one another. He spent the whole day trying to find Reuben, that brilliant friend who had studied Hippocrates and Herophilus with him in Alexandria’s halls. How Reuben had loved the aphorisms of the great Hellenes! How his eyes had shone when he quoted Sophocles, Sleep is the physician of pain—Death is the supreme healer! Or Herophilus: To lose one’s health renders science null, art inglorious, strength effortless, wealth useless, and eloquence powerless. Philemon had liked to retort with wise words from that book which in his language was called Ecclesiastes: Who is the wise man, and who knows the interpretation of a thing? There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink and enjoy his labor. And always Reuben said bitterly: The Preacher was not a Jew!

He was looking also for Melanie, a girl whom he had once loved, whom in fact he might have married but for her outrageous ambition to become another Aspasia. Aspasia, she said to him one evening in Antioch, was not a whore, yet you think of her that way! He was also looking for Judith. Had she married? Jewish girls at the age of twelve were ready for marriage, and boys who were not married by the age of eighteen looked upon themselves as disgraced. Or was she lying in a man’s arms in one of the booths? Jealousy like a discharge of bile into his stomach came up his throat in bitter flavors and he smiled to think how far an infatuation had led him into folly.

When three stars announced the beginning of the day of the feast, trumpets on the temple mount shouted to Israel. A little past midnight the temple gates were opened, and worshipers by the hundreds came forward, dragging their beasts to the slaughter. All night Philemon watched, and at daylight he saw a priest with a group of musicians go with a golden pitcher to the Pool of Siloam. When the priest returned he was welcomed by a threefold blast from trumpets and joyful voices were crying: With delight we draw water out of the wells of salvation! Then from a distance he could see a procession going round and round an altar, singing: Now work salvation, O Holy One! O Holy One, give prosperity!…

Weary and famished, Philemon went to a Greek tavern on the western hill and ate and slept; but by early afternoon he was again prowling through the city, staring at the people, trying to look into the booths. In many of these he heard sounds whose meaning was plain to him and he wondered if all people mixed carnal love with their worship. He talked with a Greek who explained that for the Jews this was the Season of Gladness. Their Day of Atonement had come and gone; the sins of Israel had been transferred to a scapegoat, the goat for Azazel, which had been taken into a wilderness and thrust backward over a precipice. The Ancient of Days had ordered the events for the coming year….

As he followed the crooked paths and the ugly streets he searched all the faces that passed. Every friendly face he accosted with the question, Do you know Reuben? Do you know a young girl named Judith? On the morning of the second day, feeling vaguely angry and unhappy, he climbed the steps to the outer court to watch the rites. The flesh offerings had been made. At the moment when Philemon took his position, wine or water—he could not tell which—was being poured over the great altar and the temple musicians were making sweet sounds with their flutes. Then the multitude began to sing.

Blessed be the Name of the Holy One

from this time forth and for ever!

from the rising of the sun unto the going down thereof!

the Name is to be praised!

O, praise the Holy One, all you nations!

laud him, all you peoples!…

When the choir uttered the words, O give thanks to the Holy One! and again, O work then now salvation! and a third time at the close, O give thanks unto the Name! the worshipers vigorously shook their branches toward the altar. At the close of the hymn a hysterical woman lifted her hands to the sky and shrieked, O work salvation to the son of David! People stared at her, not knowing what she meant. Amiel ben Micah could have told them but at this moment he was sitting in a tiny mud hut giving names to the holy angels of Israel.

It was the evening service that amazed Philemon. Great preparations had been made in the Court of Women: four huge candelabras fed from golden bowls, their wicks made of the discarded holy garments of priests. Each bowl held fifteen gallons of oil. Galleries had been erected for spectators around three sides of the court, in the upper tiers of which sat women, with men below. Lighting the temple courts was a symbol of Shechinah, the spirit of the Holy One: he was the light of the world, and on the fifteenth of Tishri there had been a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.

While studying the lighting, the most brilliant he had ever seen, save only in the lighthouse on Pharos, Philemon became aware of a commotion on the wall beyond. The Levites, with harps, flutes, cymbals and trumpets, were taking their places on the fifteen steps which led down from the Court of Israel to the Court of Women. In a few moments they began to play and sing. Almost at once there came forward a group of men bearing flaming torches and these began to dance before the people, chanting words while making wild movements with their firebrands. It seemed to Philemon that some of the men were drunk. A few of them bore four, five, or even six torches and handled them like skilled jugglers, tossing them but never letting fire touch the earth. One, the most practiced of all, was able to kneel or rest his elbows on the earth, yet keep four torches circling one another above him.

From time to time Philemon had observed the man sitting on his right, a pale and unhappy Jew. He now said to him: What does the dance mean?

The man shrugged. Speaking in Greek he said drily: It’s a fire-dance obviously—some old sun-dance.

Are the dancers drunk?

The man turned and looked hard at Philemon. Who are you?

Philemon, son of Hector. And who are you?

My name is Paul.

Paul? Aren’t you a Jew?

Very well, he said sharply. I’m Saul ben Jorah.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.

Looking into the court, Philemon saw that the dancers now seemed to be possessed. One was shouting, Blessed be our youth! and another, Blessed be our later years that atoned for our youth! and a third, Blessed be he who has not sinned!

The men known as the Pious continued to dance and hurl their torches, and the congregation began to chant a hymn in praise of the Name. While listening to the joyful chanting, which was supported by musicians and by the boyish tenor of the Levites, Philemon became aware that Paul was studying him. Without turning he said Do I look like a spy?

Paul’s faint smile was cynical. All people in Jerusalem are spies. Why are you here?

Have I no right to be here? When Paul did not answer, Philemon added: I’m looking for a girl named Judith.

All Jews have a sister named Judith.

I’m looking for a friend named Reuben. By the way, you speak my language perfectly. Where did you study?

In Alexandria.

Praise the gods! I’m on my way there.

I’m not. Over Paul’s face there came a look of pity, mixed, it seemed to Philemon, with contempt. Speaking slowly, coldly, he said: You’re very bold to come here. The Court of Gentiles is yonder.

I don’t understand.

If you received the beating of a rebel would you understand?

In a low voice Philemon asked: Do you mean that my life is in danger?

A little later Philemon slipped away and on the sixth day of the festival he realized the measure of his folly. By this time most of the celebrants had been exhausted by their outpouring of rapture and their need of sleep. Those who did not live here but had journeyed to the holy city had worn themselves out before reaching the gates; and since then they had been abandoned night and day to an orgy of thanksgiving. Never had Philemon seen a city more disheveled and demoralized by religious passions.

In the forenoon of the sixth day, just before the hour which Greeks called the full market, he went to the arena where workmen were building a palestra. It was, he observed, similar in plan to that at Olympia, though the central courtyard was smaller and the colonnade was roofed only along one side. The apodyterion or undressing-room was absurdly small; and so were the clubrooms, bathrooms and storage rooms. Jerusalem stood on two hills with deep vales roundabout; there was no room here for a palestra of the kind with which Greeks were familiar.

After watching the workmen for a little while, Philemon was turning away when he heard the awful screams of someone in pain. He was looking anxiously toward the temple when two men, an Egyptian and a Parthian, came running from the palestra court.

It’s up there! cried the Egyptian to Philemon, speaking in Greek.

The two men then ran toward the temple, with Philemon at their heels; and presently they all came in view of an angry mob who were dragging a bleeding creature by his feet.

Maybe he’s a leper, the Egyptian said. The Parthian said something in a language unknown to Philemon; and the Egyptian, putting a finger to his nose, said thoughtfully: I can’t smell any stink.

Philemon now realized that these two men had left their work because they had hoped to find here a few moments of entertainment. Their eyes were wide and aglow. Their mouths were relaxed. Both looked expectantly toward the approaching mob which was dragging a man whose arms were wildly fighting to free himself. To the Egyptian Philemon said:

Who is this man and why do they punish him?

Maybe he isn’t a Jew. Maybe he’s unclean.

You mean he’s been on holy ground?

By the breasts that fed Horus, the poor uncircumcised dog must have gone into the temple courts! Ah, look!

The Egyptian and his friend began to dance up and down with joy. The Egyptian’s wig fell off, revealing a polled head; and the Parthian ceased his dancing and stared with malicious delight at the bald elongated skull. The Parthian had curled his hair and frizzed his beard. He had long mustaches, oiled and scented.

Hah! cried the Parthian suddenly, and pointed to his friend who was fitting his wig to his skull.

Philemon understood that the mob was taking the unclean one off holy ground. When they had him off holy ground, some of the executioners ran away to find stones and returned with their hands filled. There were thirty or more men and they were very angry. One of them seemed to be the leader. He flung his arms about and shouted and ran back and forth as though searching out the boundaries of the holy ground. The Egyptian and the Parthian, both grinning all over, waited for the stoning. The unclean one seemed to be conscious but exhausted. Several men were holding him by his hands and feet.

When the leader gave a signal the men who were holding the condemned one leapt back, and a moment later a dozen of the men hurled stones. This, the Egyptian rapturously confided to Philemon, was known as the beating of a rebel. The Egyptian was so delighted that he was making gurgling sounds and movements with his arms, as though eager to hurl stones he found pleasure in making the gestures. The Parthian was grinning so broadly that the black halves of his mustache lay straight across his cheeks.

It was all over in a few moments. When the Jews began to hurl stones the unclean one made a feeble effort to rise and fell back. Then a stone smote his skull and he stretched out, twitching, with one hand reaching up and grasping at emptiness. The fingers opened and closed several times and then the arm fell. When the dying one was helpless something seemed to be released in one of the men who had stoned him. He leapt in and kicked the man and beat him over the skull with a piece of mortar. Philemon felt enraged and sickened. The Egyptian and the Parthian, still grinning, turned back to their labors. The stoning was over now. The man was dead. Two men took him by his heels and dragged him away to cast him somewhere beyond the city’s gates.

So this is what Paul meant! This was the beating of a rebel, of an unclean one, in the name of Israel’s God. This was religious fanaticism in the seed of Abraham. No wonder that Reuben had gone to Alexandria to study philosophy in the Museum’s quiet impersonal halls. No wonder that it was felt here that a great crisis was impending and that the sons of Israel would have to fight for their city and hills and vineyards, for their Torah and their lives.

2

BECAUSE THE WALLS of all houses were blind on the street side it was impossible for Philemon in passing to look in; but he did walk back and forth over the hills, hoping by some divination to find Reuben’s abode. The houses, separated by narrow crooked lanes, most of them shabby and filthy, all looked much alike, save only that some were larger and cleaner. In the course of a day he passed many people and looked sharply at all of them. When viewing men from behind he studied their clothes, knowing that pious Jews never mixed materials but wore all wool or all linen, if they could afford these. Reuben’s dress would, he imagined, be that of a Greek. He might affect the exquisite garb of the dandy, with a purple tunic over a crimson undershirt, held at the waist with a belt of fine leather and a clasp of silver or gold. His knees would be bare but his lower limbs might be covered with silken leggings of the same color as his tunic, against which the gold fastenings of the sandals would be conspicuous. His head would be uncovered, his hair curled, anointed and saturated with sweet scents. In Alexandria Reuben had shown great fondness for elegant raiment and sumptuous living. Philemon recalled that he had worn on the forefinger of his left hand the head of Zeus carved on an amethyst, and on his right hand the likeness of Apollo.

Not, Reuben had said, that I give a damn about Apollo and Zeus. But to put Abraham and Moses out of my life I shall for the moment let Zeus and Apollo in. Then I’ll throw them all aside, saying with Pittakos that though an honest man is not to be found, we can, if strong, cultivate truth, reason, and comradeship. Didn’t he say that wisdom is the only treasure that moths do not corrupt, nor thieves steal?

On the seventh day the great festival came to a close. The people had beaten the holy earth with willow branches until they had worn the branches out. They had sung hymns to the Name until their throats were hoarse. Some of them had debauched themselves with wine and love and now lay exhausted in their booths or along the city’s walls or down in the vale of the cheese-makers. On the eighth day a weary and subdued multitude left the city and went back to their villages, leaving behind them the odor of unguents, of crushed boughs, of human sweat and passion; leaving above all else their bored and contemptuous blood-brothers who were determined to assimilate to the nations around them the insignificant spot called Israel.

Then one day in the palestra grounds Philemon found Reuben and he was so delighted to see him that he seized him and kissed his cheeks and forehead. After gazing at him fondly for a few moments he kissed him again.

Why, you son of Abraham, where in the name of the Virgin have you been?

Son of Zeus, I’m tickled to death to see you! Tell me, have you read Euhemerus?

For days I’ve been looking for you.

Ah, I think you’ve been wenching, for I can smell it. Why are you here?

To see you.

Oh no. To see some woman, I suspect. Come, let’s go to my house and eat and talk. And on the way Reuben asked again, his tone gravely mocking: Have you read Euhemerus? Man, he proves that all the gods were only men to begin with. Was Yahweh, do you suppose? Was he Moses or Abraham? Was he Adam? Tell me, why are you in this dreadful city?

Why are you?

Reuben glanced round him and said: Keep your voice down if you would live long enough to bless your sons—and you do have sons, I’m sure, recalling your way with women in Alexandria. Tell me, did life develop first in the oceans, as Anaximander says? What do you think?

I think you’re dodging my question.

Houses in the country were only huts, modeled on the shape of the tents which they had replaced; but the basic structure of the city house was the walled court, upon which opened chambers and arched alcoves. Reuben had one of the handsomest homes in Jerusalem, but for a Greek, accustomed to the architecture of Greece and Egypt, it was offensively barren and commonplace. But a house in Israel was not built to invite attention; it concealed its master from passers-by.

Philemon followed Reuben to the court and entered by the only ‘door’ of the house, a gateway leading to a narrow passage. From the court they ascended by clay-brick steps to the roof, for it was on the roof of his house that the typical gentleman of Israel took his siesta or sat over wine to talk to friends. On this roof there was an open court and several small chambers, one of which Reuben assigned to Philemon. He went then to the head of the stairway and shouted down into the courtyard. When a servant appeared, Reuben told him to fetch blankets and wine and figcakes. Philemon observed that Reuben spoke to the servant in his own tongue. Indeed, he despised his own language, which was so much less versatile than Greek; and once in Alexandria had cried: I’d ask you to dinner, speaking as a Jew, but there’s no word for dinner in my language!—no, good God, nor even for a meal!

After they had sat with a flagon of wine before them, Reuben said: Now tell me, you insatiable goat, why are you in this awful city, where brother hates brother and the father curses his own son? You tell me you met one named Paul, who is my friend. Did you know him in Alexandria?

No.

Poor unhappy fellow, poor brother of Hosah! Paul is bitter. Paul is vengeful. Paul hates Paul because he’s a Jew. That’s stupid, said Reuben, and passed his cup back and forth under his nostrils, sniffing. Until recently I had the pale yellow wine of Thasos—and how exquisite it is, like the refined scent of sun-ripened apples.

This is good, said Philemon, holding his cup up and turning the wine to catch the light. What is it?

Something from Laconia….Well, we were speaking of Paul. Have you seen Hosah?

Who is he?

You’ll find out, my sly fellow, for I know why you’ve come to this city. Hosah? He’s a dull and ridiculous creature who spends all his time with the writings of Moses. Hosah?—did you ask? An idiot who hates athletics, art, beauty, freedom, science, change—yes, change above all. And Paul hates Hosah even more than Hosah hates Aristotle.

They are brothers?

They have the same parents….Now tell me, why are you here? But don’t lie, for I know.

I’m on my way to Alexandria.

Lucky dog! Would that I were going with you! Beautiful Alexandria! What freedom is there! What brilliant teachers! What marvelous things I learned in Alexandria!—that the year has three hundred and sixty-five days and six hours and fifteen minutes and forty-one seconds. Great Naburianos! Great Epicurus, beautiful and wise Epicurus, who taught me that a body free from pain, a mind unruffled by desire or care—ah, what greater good can there be in life? Let no one, he said, delay to study philosophy while young; and when old, let him not weary of it. But Hosah! Flanked on one side with Jose ben Joezer, on the other with Jose ben Johanan, with Amiel ben Micah looking down from the clouds—Hosah at this moment is trying to figure out how many heathen souls it takes to equal one son of Israel in the sight of the Name! Has he heard of Heraclitus who said that all things were once fire and will return to fire? Oh no, he mutters in his beard and says Yahweh created the world when he spoke a word! When I think of Hosah I always remember that among the Persians fire is called the son of God.

Philemon was smiling.

Philemon, I’m so confounded glad to see you that I could almost treat you as my woman! By Artemis with her thousand breasts I could!

Philemon’s smile broadened. Jews, he had learned, were volatile. Why don’t you go to Alexandria with me?

Reuben looked round him and listened. Because, my friend, I’ve quit philosophy for politics. Some of us intend to make all Jews citizens of the world. Spreading his hands and shrugging, he added: Why should any fool have pride in race? What is the difference between two enlightened men? None. But I can’t go to Alexandria now. Why don’t you stay here and help us?

In conspiracy and war?

Reuben began to speak, broke off and shrugged and picked up his cup; and Philemon added quickly: Forgive me. But are you serious?

I’ve asked myself that question. Why should I give a hoot in Hades whether stupid Jews go on being stupid and finally get themselves exterminated? Can it matter to me if some of them think Homer stole his stuff from Moses? Do I care if Hosah and his sister Angela and his sister Judith are going to be murdered by the King’s mercenaries?

Judith?…What Judith?

Do I care…

Does Hosah have a sister named Judith?

Reuben leaned forward and stared at Philemon for a long moment. By the God of Israel! he cried. Don’t tell me you’re back here looking for that simple wench! You fool, have you lost your mind?

A little more wine, said Philemon and offered his cup. When his cup was filled he said: Instead of taking the more pleasant way by sea, I’m here. Is it to find you and assure you of my eternal devotion? Is it to find Melanie? Is it—

Melanie! cried Reuben, astonished. Do you know Melanie?—tall, buxom, with her hair dyed yellow?

Does she still dye her hair?

God, it must be the same Melanie! You goat, where did you lie with her?

In Antioch. And you?

Here—I mean in her chambers—though as a matter of fact she comes here to drink wine with me and sing Sappho’s lyrics.

Are her ways in love still as delightful as they were?

What they were, said Reuben, I can never know. They ravish my senses. Gorgeous Melanie! So you came here to find her!

Are you jealous? To tell you the truth I came to find Judith.

Oh no, that’s too absurd! You could never lie with Judith unless you married her—and you can never marry her until you’re circumcised and pray three times a day. I hadn’t forgotten that you had an interest in this simple child; but by the nose of the high priest do you know who she is?…Well, I’ll not tell you. We must have a good dinner and delightful talk. Let’s not spoil our pleasures with women.

There joined them for dinner the young man named Paul. He was slender, almost frail, with delicate hands, a sensitive but handsome face, the heavy lustrous hair which crowned most Jews, and unusually large eyes suffused with sadness. Slaves had been busy, and when Paul came up the stairs the table was laid. Its principal meat course, roast lamb, Reuben had got, he explained with heretical delight, from a son of Aaron who took his priestly duties lightly. Besides the lamb there were two or three kinds of fish, a half-dozen vegetables, fruits, sweets, cakes and flagons of wine. All the food, it seemed to Philemon, was of choice quality and skilfully prepared.

When Paul came up, Reuben arose and greeted him with a kiss and then ushered him into a tiny chamber, where a slave removed his sandals and washed his feet. Philemon was given the place of distinction on his host’s right. Reuben affected the Greek custom of reclining on a couch when he ate.

Before Paul came, he had been telling Philemon that a very critical condition had developed in Jerusalem and in the whole of Israel. The new king, Antiochus, was clearly a man of monstrous ambitions, for already he was calling himself Epiphanes, meaning the Illustrious, though he had been wearing the crown only a little while and had in no way distinguished himself. He seemed to be a pretty good fellow—vain—but what king was not?—a little crazy—but weren’t they all?—pompous, treacherous, but, all in all, one with whom the Letzim expected to get along.

Onias the Third, the High Priest, and a very devout man, had been ousted the year before when Jason—whose name had been Jeshua or Jesus—offered to the King a part of the temple treasure as a bribe. Antiochus had thereupon made Jason the High Priest, with permission to Jews to build a palestra and to register as citizens of Antioch,