Still, Alabarch Alexander felt optimism was warranted. Macro will be excellent for us because he is a widely experienced statesman of great attainments, and a prefect with a strong grip would be a welcome replacement for Flaccus now that the latter had turned into a weakling. Silanus, Caligula’s father-in-law and the main adviser, next to Macro, at the emperor’s side, had written that governing was a great burden to a vacillating soul like Caligula (perhaps that was the cause of his recent breakdown), and had it not been for Silanus and Macro standing by him throughout, as far as the physicians were concerned he might well have croaked. Following his recovery, the emperor was obviously going to depend on his advisers even more, so if Macro had been given Egypt, then maybe Silanus would be the next commander of the Praetorian Guard.
Tija did not think that was likely: Silanus was too elderly. Besides, he was only the emperor’s former father-in-law, and if the emperor were to wed again, and why not, room would have to be made in the hierarchy for the new father-in-law. Sooner or later, Silanus would become redundant, and if he was on such good terms with Macro as he had indicated in coded language in his letter to the alabarch, then Macro’s position could not be all that secure either. Macro’s appointment as prefect, it must be acknowledged, was a demotion, Tija added mockingly. That means we, along with him, have slipped down a notch or two.
Marcus, seeing that this line of argument did not go down well with their father, took his side: Caligula wanted to secure his hinterland, so he had sent his most reliable man to Egypt. No doubt he was preparing for a military expedition to follow in his father’s glorious footsteps by provoking a local war with the Germani in the hope of pulling off a stupendous victory, and meanwhile he did not want disputes to arise elsewhere. Egypt was the most important of Rome’s provinces, Caligula knew that. Macro might even have volunteered for the post, having gotten tired of the constant wrangling in Rome under Tiberius; after all, in practice he had been master in Rome ever since Tiberius had gotten Sejanus out of the way. Up till now Caligula had done what Macro wanted, and presumably that was still the case.
Marcus smiled, the Alabarch and Tija laughed, while Philo turned away so that the others would not see the smile of his face; the Jewish leaders also laughed, but Uri did not pay much attention to the expressions on their faces as they were of no interest. It was after the Kahal leaders, the bosses of the guilds, had departed and the alabarch and Philo had turned in that Marcus let Uri in on a secret: they had Caligula by the balls, with Silanus having given his daughter’s hand in marriage, and Macro having forced his wife, Ennia on the emperor about two years ago, and even today Macro’s wife was Caligula’s lover. The father-in-law and the cuckold could tug Caligula whichever way they wanted, and in that way it was they who had control of the empire.
Uri thought of the endless hills and dales that he had walked through, and the endless seas he had sailed across, and he found it hard to believe that the wills of two such degenerates could prevail over such a huge expanse. Nor even the will of the emperor, whose new coins had already reached Alexandria: the emperor portrayed in profile, a crown on his head from which emanated rays as from a Sun. Isis and Serapis were usually depicted this way on Egyptian money. He had a feeling that if he had coins like that minted, then Caligula must want something from Egypt, though he was not coming out with what it might be, as he never let his own voice be heard in political discussion.
Flaccus was reportedly drinking with his soldiers, being carted back senseless every morning from the houses of wealthy Greeks, but there was no sign of Macro;s arrival, though it was high time he relieved that demented Flaccus, “our Aulus.”
Uri reluctantly took part in the poetry competition, as Tija had of late gotten out of the habit of visiting taverns and Apollos failed to appear every now and then. Though Lysias continued to serve him with good humor, Uri nevertheless had the feeling that the cordiality was forced. Sotades would choke back the odd sentence if he noticed that Uri was present. It was not that he had ever said anything offensive about Jews, but lately his sentences struck Uri’s keen ear as being unusually clipped. Uri abandoned going out for drinks and focused instead on studying and physical training. He did not meet the new gymnasiarch, merely saw him from a distance. On one occasion he saw Abdaraxus strolling with a tall, well-built man in the Square Stoa; he happened to be sauntering toward the dormitory with Apollos after a sprint when he spotted the two men, and Apollos halted.
“That crook is Dionysius,” he said. “He’s an evil rabble-rouser, always winding up the crowds against us down in the harbor.”
“Why, what sort of things does he say?”
“That we pollute the canals with the plague, and that’s why the water stinks so badly,” said Apollos. “And anyone who touches a Jew will contract trachoma within the fortnight.”
“Who believes that?”
“Well you might ask,” Apollos admitted. “People still just laugh it off, but there must be some who see fit to get a hired goon to spout that kind of stuff.”
“But who? Apion?”
“I think it’s the people who pick up the tab for Apion.”
Apion was a historian who had completed the Gymnasium at Alexandria and subsequently moved to Rome; in his most recent works he had recycled Manetho’s fables, according to which Moses was expelled from Egypt at the head of a horde of lepers.
Uri shook his head.
“Why spend money on that?” he queried. “Who profits from that? Hardly the masses: they’ll still be slaving away at humping stuff around and won’t get a penny richer, however hard they applaud.”
Apollos sighed.
“If even Isidoros was on their side, they must want something really badly.”
“Isidoros on Apion’s side?”
Uri could not imagine that a highly cultured man like Isidoros could join forces with such garbage however much he might despise Jews, and in any case the old gymnasiarch did not despise all Jews: he didn’t despise Apollos, and he’s quite fond of me.
Apollos lowered his voice to say that apparently Isidoros and Lampo had a meeting with Flaccus in the Serapeion, and in secret they had handed over five gold talents.
Five gold talents! That was 120,000 drachmas, or two years’ pay for the prefect!
Uri shook his head:
“Who saw that?” he asked. “Who had this information if it was all done in secret?”
Apollos nodded:
“Pure hearsay, of course,” he said. “Maybe not one word of it is true, but stilclass="underline" that’s what the gossip is. Gossip reveals a lot even when it is untrue.”
“Says who?” Uri exclaimed. “There is no way that Isidoros and Flaccus would team up!”
“Unless Lampo was one of Flaccus’s drinking pals, and he is that. That’s not just idle gossip: plenty of people have seen them together in the Elephant. Hedylos was present on two occasions when Flaccus had a drink with Lampo! Antimachus told the same story: he saw them too!”
It was on the tip of Uri’s tongue to mention that he would pump Hedylos for details when it occurred to him that he wouldn’t: half a year ago Hedylos would have answered any question he asked, but now? Antimachus was a short, weedy, timid young man, who Uri had never exchanged words with, so it would look odd if he were now to start asking questions.