“Have you tried before?” he asked.
“Not yet,” said Uri. “I’m sure it would turn out right…”
“The Gymnasium has just two Jewish students altogether,” said Philo, growing serious. “Tija is brilliant by any standard, and there’s another boy by the name of Apollonos, an extraordinarily gifted orator; his father is a merchant in sesame oil in Memphis. The head could hardly be prevailed on to take even him on. Tija he was forced to enroll, as he had Greek citizenship by birthright after my brother had earned it.”
“I’m not scared of failure,” said Uri. “If I happen to find myself in Alexandria, I might as well try. In Rome I used to peek through the fence around the Greek Gymnasium, and I used to envy the boys the chance to be there… They played ball games, ran… Not one Jew among them… No one among us ever aspired to enter; it never so much as crossed my mind… I was still a toddler then… I now feel that I may have learned a thing or two through my travels… Thanks to Agrippa, who put me in the delegation.”
“And who is going to support you financially?” Philo queried. “The first year costs a packet… The most outstanding are taught free from the second year on, but that goes only for a very few. Who will pay the school fees in the first year, Gaius Theodorus?”
“I’ll earn the money,” Uri said confidently.
Philo pondered.
“Even then it’s not sure they’ll take you on… Apollonos has remarkable oratorical gifts, being able to extemporize on any given subject for several hours on end — a real joy to hear…”
Philo snorted with laughter.
“Not long ago I was present at the oratory competition that is run every year on the Gymnasium’s grounds and free for anyone who cares to listen… The subject chosen for him was frog’s legs… He plunged right into it with a moment’s preparation, anything you can think of, from Homer through Sophocles to Aristotle, he mixed in a bit of everything and everybody, citing nonexisting lines from the Iliad, ad-libbed hexameters about the intimate sensual relations of Helen of Troy and the frog. It had the whole audience in stitches… He’s an incredibly sharp-witted young man who will almost certainly be granted citizenship.”
“I’m still going to apply,” said Uri.
Philo shook his head.
“There’s nothing to stop you from applying; even a Jew may apply,” he said with a troubled look, “but the entrance exam is very stiff. The head in person asks the questions and at best he will admit one of us Jews in a decade… Like that Apollonos… Tija was also there at his entrance exam; Apollonos improvised on the spot a text in couplets about how Moses became a pharaoh through murder, and it was the murdered pharaoh’s son who led the Egyptians out of their own land because they could not stand the evil rule of the Jews… In the wilderness on the way there appeared to the pharaoh’s son, all of a sudden, some five hundred gods, and they made a collective conversion… So, as they are wending their way toward their new homeland the Egyptians began spreading their polytheism in Canaan and the whole of the Hellenistic world, but to this day they have remained in a minority, poor things, because backward, pagan Judaism still remains in vogue, choking every other faith…”
Philo guffawed, his head rocking in mirth; Uri morosely held his tongue. A clever boy it seemed, that Apollonos; Tija too, as he had already found out. These were people he could not compete with.
“I’d give it a go, all the same,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Philo asked.
“The entrance exam… What does it comprise?”
Philo shook his head.
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Tija… If you very much want to… genuinely very much want to, and if you don’t wish to return to Rome as yet, which really would make no sense for the time being, then I could drop a word in Isidoros’s ear to pay attention when you apply…”
Philo’s eyes misted over as he went on:
“If he takes you on, then I’ll pay for you studies…”
“I shall apply,” said Uri obstinately. “Any my thanks in advance.”
Philo choked back his tears and wagged his head.
“Perhaps it’s no handicap if I recommend you,” he ruminated. “Isidoros holds my work in esteem… Though I suspect that in his heart of hearts, he detests me too…”
Tija shrugged his shoulders when Uri pumped him about the entrance exam that weekend.
“I didn’t have to take it,” he said. “I’m a Greek citizen, and Isidoros is under an obligation to my father as every year the Gymnasium receives a nice little sum from us… Apollonos, on the other hand, had to take the exam; out of sixty-six Jewish applicants, he was the only one to be accepted. Ask him.”
“Where can I find him?” Uri asked.
“At the Gymnasium, he’s a boarder.”
“But I won’t be allowed in.”
“Probably not, I suppose.”
“When does he go out?”
“He doesn’t make a habit of it.”
Uri nodded, and switched instead to asking whether it was not time to make a start of the Latin tuition.
“Get real!” said Tija. “Philo long forgot about the whole business. He has to be told anything five times over before it finally registers with him.”
Uri shrugged his shoulders: he had made up his mind that he didn’t need any help from Tija.
Tija waited for Uri to insist, and he was surprised that he did nothing of the kind.
“Tell me,” Uri finally spoke. “Why are you all being so nice to me?”
They were standing in the atrium, by a shaded, western wall. It was the afternoon of the Sabbath when it was permissible to chat and everything had been prepared for them on the Friday afternoon.
“Your father lent money to Agrippa,” said Tija pensively. “So did my father, but only four times as much as your father lent, even though he is umpteen thousand times wealthier. Agrippa sent a message to Jerusalem through you… It must have been an important message, and any of Agrippa’s people is our ally.”
Uri nodded.
“All the same,” he persisted. “What are you supporting me for?”
Tija smiled wryly:
“I have no idea,” he said, and he sounded sincere. “Maybe we need a reliable courier. We don’t have too many reliable contacts in Rome: the Roman Jews are cowardly, narrow-minded, and they know nothing about Roman politics. Or rather… Maybe we are afraid of you, Gaius Theodorus. You may become a man of importance, just as Agrippa will become king, and you can be sure that he will. It is unusual for someone to be chosen as one of the delegates who carry the money to Jerusalem, and Agrippa explicitly said, I remember it distinctly, that it was on his word that you were taken into the delegation. For some reason, he must have a high regard for you. You were sent ahead to study the situation in Judaea. Your on-the-spot knowledge will be important for him one of these days: he has not really seen anything of Judaea as he was constrained to living on Antipas’s favor when he had to vanish from Rome on account of his mounting debts, so he had no time to look around in Judaea. You’re a favorite of Agrippa’s, and it doesn’t matter why. You may or may not be his spy, as my father assumes, and if that’s what he assumes, then that’s the way it is. Whether you’re a sleepwalker or an ignorant novice, you still become what people consider you to be, and you can’t do anything about that. It does no harm if the confidant of the future king of the Jewish empire-in-the-making, is, at the same time, under an obligation to us.”
Uri’s legs began to tremble.
He stepped over to the table on which bowls of fruit were standing, picked up a grapefruit, dug a nail into and began to peel it.
Tija likewise sauntered over, eyed a cluster of grapes and sat down on a couch, ready to switch to serious conversation. There were three couches in the yard, symbolizing a Roman eating-couch, a triclinium.