The library that Philo had brought with him and had added to since, together with his manuscripts, Philo willed to Rome’s Jewish community. Uri was annoyed that everything would go missing but he did not have the nerve not to carry out Philo’s last wish. Nevertheless he made copies of all the works Philo had written in Rome, partly out of respect but also because he had written out the original drafts, and it was only after making the copies that he handed over the library to Honoratus, who was only interested in the statue of Germanicus that had been standing in his house since the fire.
Philo was laid to rest with great pomp, at the expense of the community, by the Appian Way, with many speeches being made during the procession and at the entrance to the catacomb, with nobody failing to sprinkle their eulogy with quotations from Philo. Uri himself was asked whether he wished to speak, but he declined.
Given that Philo had no relatives living in Rome, Uri arranged a funeral banquet in the house that had been built for the delegation, and in which Philo had died. The house was bought by bankers, the banquet paid for out of the selling price, and what remained was paid in to the community aparchai. Admittedly, it would have been proper for him also to observe a week of mourning but because he was not a relative this was not expected of him. Uri asked Iustus to put together a list of VIPs, and some fifty prominent members of Rome’s Jewish community mourned the great philosopher’s passing by eating and drinking an excellent meal.
Uri counted out the sum of his debt into Julius’s hand. Julius wrote a receipt and raised his hand over Uri’s head in a blessing.
“It’s a pity you have managed to repay,” the banker chuckled. “We no longer have you in our power!”
“What use was that to you anyway?”
“You never can tell. We’re not fond of people who are not debtors. That’s also true of people in general — they won’t like you for it.”
Uri joined in his chuckling.
When it comes down to it, I was able to travel halfway around the world for free, he thought, and only my father died of it.
It then occurred to him that the two hundred thousand sesterces was money that belonged to the Jews of Alexandria.
I have been besmirched.
Hagar gave birth to a daughter, then to another daughter.
At that point Uri decided that he would bring a halt to his reproductive functions, and even though Hagar might have objected she chose not to. A tolerable existence came into being: Uri went about his business affairs, Sarah, Hagar, and Hermia managed the household, and the children fulfilled the Lord’s will by eagerly growing up.
Each morning Uri would hurry off to his patron with his sportula, and every month he would bring back the food due him given his tessera (though no longer from the Field of Mars but at a new distribution center that had been put up next to the hutments of Far Side, given the growing number of Jews), and what was left of his time he divided between Theo and the Forum. With Theo he acted as teacher, and he did his business in the old Forum, listening to the gossip of the day with pleasure. The womenfolk hardly ever upbraided him. They had a better-than-average living standard in Far Side — much better than at any time in the past, even they could admit that much.
Uri’s upper incisors also dropped out, his remaining teeth ached, and his gums often hurt and bled, but there was also a good side: at least this way he was no longer so deplorably bucktoothed as he had been and, as he discovered by accident, through the gap that had been left in their place he was, with the help of his lower lip, able to produce a whistle that sounded like a flute, and indeed he taught himself to whistle two flute lines at once. He got into the habit of whistling to himself in the Forum, and a growing number of people gathered around to listen with amazement, as a result of which more than one business deal came his way that he had not counted on obtaining. He was advised to make an appearance in the Circus or as a musician at the imperial court, but Uri just laughed that off and continued to whistle free of charge for his colleagues.
He enjoyed whistling. He enjoyed recalling melodies that he had heard in Judaea and Alexandria, and he enjoyed figuring out new melodies. He liked amusing others, but most of all he liked whistling to his solitary self, or to the gulls and pigeons as he strolled over the Jewish bridge on his walk home to Far Side as evening drew in. He was sorry that he could not grow wings like the legendary Kainis, who had flown while being buried.
These were tranquil years: Uri did his business in the Forum with the other traders, buying and selling, signing commissions and paying those who executed them. All this became an everyday routine, of no interest but at least certain, and Theo was growing up by leaps and bounds.
The merchants would turn up at the Forum in the company of their servants, who would set down in writing the more important clauses of the contracts they made. Uri was at last in a position to hire servants but he preferred to jot down his own short notes on scraps of papyrus, which in turn became popular in Rome and started to displace the use of wax tablets. These were reminders, not strictly worded documents, and anyone involved in a deal could have evaded its terms, objecting that no legally enforceable contract existed, and they might even win a lawsuit — but anyone who tried such a thing would have been mercilessly blacklisted by the others, and there were precedents for that.
Life at the Forum and in its surroundings was at its liveliest in the morning and toward dusk, with speakers hoisting themselves onto the Rostra to cheer people up with their views; these were times when Uri chose to flee, having taken a dislike to crowds since Alexandria. From time to time Claudius himself would put in an appearance, whether to administer justice or to deliver a speech publicly (or to be more precise, that his speech be read out by someone while he sat through it in a closed litter). On such occasions Claudius would be besieged by petitioners and Uri would pull back: he had seen Claudius plenty of times before.
There was a lot of gossip about the emperor. When he invited back from exile those whom Caligula had banished, he was praised. Among those who were summoned back were Caligula’s older sisters, Agrippina and Julia. He was even praised for bringing back the old name of September for the month of Germanicus. (One joke that made the rounds went: “What was Claudius’s older brother called? — ‘September!’”) People thought they knew everything there was to be known about him: he was henpecked, and it was Messalina who wore the trousers and governed Rome; Pallas his cashier and Narcissus his secretary were the real force behind the scenes, and castrated Posides, the one whom he loved best. Uri kept his ears open, but the name Kainis never came up: no one knew of her existence, and it was better that her name was not spread around.
Claudius at last got started on the problem of the overcrowding of the harbor of Ostia, a move that proved very popular. Delegations had already pestered Caligula on the matter but that had been the least of his problems. Now Rome would at last have a usable harbor close by, rather than in faraway Puteoli, and the volume of trade would be even bigger. Uri had enough presence of mind to get in on the expansion of the hutments on the left bank of the Tiber, close to the walls of Far Side. The new harbor was to be be constructed around two miles north of Ostia, and would bear the proud name of Portus Romanus. Preliminary work was already being commenced to accommodate larger ships entering Rome. Uri did not inspect either the site or the materials; that was what engineers were paid for.
By then roughly five years had gone by since he had come ashore on returning home from Alexandria, and he recalled what he had felt then: that he had to conquer Rome. He may not have conquered it, but he had at least to some degree made himself at home there.