Captain Leopard
L. Sprague de Camp
This tale is based upon a lost work by the second-century Platonic philosopher Kelsos or Celsus, who wrote a treatise called A True Word, attacking Christianity and presenting the story of Panthera and Miriam. We know most of the content of Celsus' work because the Church father Origenes wrote a verbose attack on it, Against Celsus, which survives.
Herondas waved me to the new table and chairs in his vinarium, behind the counter."After all," he said, "you talked me into installing them. Whether they are worth the extra rent I have to pay for the space remains to be seen. Space in Damascus is hellishly costly." I had scarcely sat down when this burly, gray-haired centurion in full Roman legionary accouterments appeared. I knew he was a centurion by the transverse crest on his helmet.
Herondas instantly became the cringing courtier: "Oh, Captain! I have just the place for you!" He waved to the other chair at my little table."I have some delicious Falernian..."
When the centurion made for the vacant chair, I rose, expecting him to want the table to himself. But he carefully laid his helmet on the table and said:
"No, no, sit down, my good man! There's no sense in having one of those fine chairs go to waste." Then to Herondas: "A sextarius of that Falernian, please."
The accent of his Latin said 'Greek Alexandria! ' as plainly as if it had been painted on his forehead. Since his manners were better than one expects of an officer in an army of occupation, I said:
"Milete Hellēniká?"
"Oh, good! You speak Greek," he replied in that tongue."So there are at least two civilized men in Damascus. I am Gaius Julius Panthera, Posterior hostatus of the third cohort of the Sixth Legion Ferrata. In the original Greek it was Pardalis, meaning that big spotted cat they fetch from Africa for shows in the arena. But the Romans translated it when I enlisted. And you, my good sir?"
"Nobody; just Claudius Dion, factor for Maesius the importer. In Latin they bobtail my name to Dio. Pleased to meet you, Captain Leopard."
By now the centurion had drunk a large goblet of Herondas' Falernian, enough to affect one's balance. But the centurion, being an old soldier, showed no effects. He signaled for a second, indicating one for me as well. While waiting, he said:
"Friend Dion, you may be just the man I am looking for. You see, my twenty years are up in a few days, so I am looking for a safe place to invest my peculium." He meant his discharge bonus.
"You are not staying on, then?"
The centurion tossed back his head."Ouchi! There's a rumor that the Ironclad Sixth is to be shifted back to Judaea, and I saw all I wanted of that country when we were posted there thirty years ago..."
For a while we talked of Maesius' business, with its far-flung import accounts and its profits and losses. Somehow Panthera's service in Judaea came up again. He said:
"Besides, going back there might subject me to certain—ah—domestic embarrassments."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, sir! You see, I formed an attachment there to a Jewish girl.
She'd be an aging woman now, of course, but my present mate is looking forward to a proper wedding as soon as I'm paid off. She would take umbrage if my long-ago light-o'-love came back into our lives. My mate of many years is a fiery Galatian Celt. Are you married, Dion?"
"Yes. Three children, plus one that died of a sickness."
"Then you know what I mean."
"Sure. Who was this onetime light-o'-love?"
"Just a pretty little Jewish girl named Miriam, the betrothed of a carpenter named Joseph. During our love affair, she became pregnant. When her state became obvious, the carpenter dumped her. The Jews have an official procedure for breaking a betrothal, like a divorce, and the carpenter took advantage of it."
"What happened then?"
"She took her infant, our baby son, to Egypt looking for work. This child she named Yeshua, a good Jewish name, which becomes Jesous in Greek and Jesus in Latin, since those languages have no sh sound.
"Anyway, I understand, this kid grew up in Egypt. Miriam managed to get him an education of sorts on her slim housekeeper's pay, at one of the temples, where they worship gods with the heads of lions, hippopotami, and other beasties. The priests who tutored the lad, finding him a promising youth, taught him some of the tricks they use to beguile their worshipers into thinking they can do real magic and miracles.
"In time, Miriam and Yeshua came back to Judaea. To make a living, Yeshua showed off some of his Egyptian tricks and soon had a following who would swear he could work genuine miracles.
"So, they reasoned, he must be some sort of demigod, with a divine father. Since his followers were mostly Jews, they got the idea that this divine parent must be Yahveh, the bad-tempered, bloodthirsty Judaean chief god. I've heard that, when they asked Yeshua about it, he gave evasive answers.
"Eventually all this talk of a half-divine son of Yahveh came to the ears of the Sanhedrin, a council of Jewish priests who had jurisdiction in some criminal and civil cases. Since a main tenet of Judaism is that Yahveh is the one and only real god in existence, you can see why they would not put up with this demigod fable.
"Of course, in the Mediterranean world we are used to demigods. Asklepios, the founder of medicine, they say was the child of Apollo and the mortal maid Koronis—unless this Koronis got herself pregnant the same way my Miriam did and then blamed it on the first god who came to mind. After all, if your daughter tells you she lost her virginity to a god, you don't dare punish her severely. She just might be telling the truth, in which case the god in question might resent your chastisement of one of his light loves.
"But the Jews are funny that way. Nowadays most educated people know that men make gods in their own image. As Xenophanes said, if horses had gods, those gods would have manes and hooves. So we civilized folk don't take theological disputes seriously.
"But things are different in this part of the world. Many Jews take their theology very seriously indeed, especially those who call themselves Pharisees. I wish we had more of them in the Sixth. They are fierce fighters and, I think, more trustworthy than the general run of folk. If you give one an order, in plain, definite language, he'll carry it out or die trying.
"But the Jews have persuaded the Emperors to excuse them from military duty. The reason they give is that they would have to swear Roman oaths, which they consider against their religion."
"What became of Yeshua?"
"Lipon... It's a sad story. The Sanhedrin persuaded the Procurator, Pontius Pilatus, to arrest him so they could try him for heresy. This is a serious matter to the Jews, and one convicted thereof is deemed worthy of death.
"Pilatus was a strict disciplinarian who went by the letter of the law, and a strong believer in doing things the old Roman way. He had caused disturbances before—something about bringing army standards, with their little statues on poles, into Jerusalem. Some Jews thought that an outrage, violating their ancient prohibition of works of art. When there were riots, with people sworded to death, Rome sent Pilatus a warning to be more careful of these people's religious sensitivities.
"So his soldiers rounded up young Yeshua, who had been promoting some kind of reformed Judaism, with doctrines of extreme altruism. If someone assaulted you to rob you, he preached, you shouldn't resist but let him have his way. To any manly Greek—or Roman, either—that would seem crazy advice; but that's what they say he said.
"After a hearing, Pilatus said he did not think Yeshua had committed any offense grave enough to merit punishment. But the Sanhedrin made a fuss about the heretic's violation of their sacred creed. So Pilatus, rather than risk another riot, gave in and let the fellow be crucified."