Narcissus was reclining on a couch beside a table, clutching one arm to his brow as if he had a headache. He motioned for the guard to go. Uri stepped closer but remained at a respectful distance.
“Well, then,” said Narcissus, rising from his prone position. “What wind has brought you here?”
Narcissus’s black hair was as ruffled as it used to be, but two deep wrinkles had formed at the corners of his mouth and spoiled his appearance.
Uri gave him a brief summary.
Narcissus shook his head:
“I can’t intervene in what Jews decide among themselves.”
“But I’m not a Nazarene!”
“So what? That’s what they’ve decided, and that’s that.”
Narcissus looked around, then went to a coffer and opened it.
“How much do you need?” he asked, dipping one hand into the chest and then scattering a shower of coins onto the floor.
“But it wasn’t money I was after…”
“Take as much as you can.”
Uri squatted down and grasped a fistful of coins but did not know where to put them.
“Do I have to give you a sack as well?” Narcissus snapped irately and then dissolved in laughter. “Still the same old clot!”
Narcissus again looked around then pulled up the hem of his tunic, bit into it and with his hand ripped off a quite sizable piece, which he handed to Uri.
“I’m sorry!” said Uri.
“I’ll get them to bring another later.”
Uri bundled up a heap of coins in the strip of linen, twisted it together, raised his tunic, and squeezed it under his loincloth. He felt his skin creeping at the touch and was overtaken again by an urge to defecate.
“Come over here a moment,” said Narcissus by the chest.
It was a good three-quarters full of coins and gemstones.
“That’s two days’ output!” Narcissus said proudly. “They forgot to empty it yesterday. That’s quite something, huh?” He snickered. “Have you any idea how much I’m worth? No? Take a guess! A wild guess.”
Uri thought of the figure brought in by census of the equestrian order and ventured:
“Six hundred thousand sesterces?”
“Try three hundred million! It’s already up to three hundred million, and there will be plenty more!”
Uri clucked his tongue politely in wonderment.
Narcissus kicked the treasure under his bed from the middle of the room.
“Weren’t you worried about coming to see me?” he asked.
“No, why should I be?”
“There’s the matter of my notoriety as a devourer of human flesh!” said Narcissus with a grin. “It would be right to be frightened of me. I’m the emperor’s mass murderer, haven’t you heard?”
Uri held his peace. The wrinkles on either side of Narcissus’s mouth were absorbing his attention.
“Now get lost!” said Narcissus listlessly, clutching his temples with his hands. “And don’t let me see you here ever again.”
Uri was caught short at the bottom of Palatine Hill, with a light brown fluid trickling down his leg.
He waded into the Tiber at the foot of the Fabricius Bridge: the water was dirty anyway, and so were the coins, which burned to the touch despite being twisted up in the sweaty piece of linen Narcissus had given him. He waded into the water up to his waist; it was cold, and he was overwhelmed by a feeling of having experienced it all sometime before. Superstitious people believe that means a similar event must have happened in a previous life. What came to Uri’s mind was a vision of the sea in which he had gamboled happily as a young man before the crossing to Sicily. If a wave had swept over him and carried him off, none of this would have happened.
What was the point of living?
Why was the Eternal One afflicting him with a new misery?
What more did he have to learn that he would carry silently to the grave along with all his other abominable experiences?
He peered over from beside the island to the opposite bank. Far Side. Why had he been obliged to live there up until now? Why had he been born there?
It would be better to leave the damned place forever.
The womenfolk wailed when Uri told them the next day of the decision, and it was evident that they didn’t get it. Theo just stood there mutely, horrified, Marcellus shrieked, and the girls blubbered, understanding absolutely nothing of it all. Uri ordered everyone to pack their things, forbidding them to take with them anything other than a small dish, a spoon, and the clothes in which they were standing. It wasn’t a good idea to wander around with a big burden, he said, but they did not grasp what he meant, looking at him as if he were Satan personified. The children were each allowed to bring one toy of their choosing, the girls picked out wooden dolls with flexible limbs, Marcellus a pair of bone dice, and Theo his new ball, deflated.
Uri then ordered the women to carry everything they could out of the house and set it down before the door. They carried the articles out, blubbering but sedulously as they were scared of him, seeing some glint in his eyes. Uri searched through the articles, setting aside the scrolls, which he was going to leave with somebody in Far Side. He pondered what he should take with him before deciding that he needed nothing.
As he was rummaging he picked up a small, soft object wrapped in linen, which he undid. It was an old Phrygian cap — the liberty cap of his grandfather, Taddeus.
He would take that, seeing that nothing at all of his father’s had remained.
Theo took the scrolls to one of the libraries and handed them over, saying that they would come by some day to pick them up. The owner of the library, a weaver, bit his lip and held a hand in blessing over Theo’s head.
That evening Uri set alight the pile that had been assembled in front of the house — beds, blankets, clothes. People from the neighborhood gathered around and watched it all burn in silence. He poked at the still-glowing embers with a pole to make sure it would all burn completely. Anything that would not burn — the pottery, for instance — he smashed: the metal objects he hammered beyond recognition. That exertion was just what his spirits needed, with Theo and Marcellus joining in the angry demolition work. The others looked on and were excited as well, but propriety held them back from giving way to their destructive instincts.
They slept on the bare floor of the main room, all of them together. Everybody was tired, blubbering, sniffing, coughing, clearing their throats, but Uri could hear how sleep nevertheless eventually came over them. They didn’t believe that they were leaving Rome.
The next morning they sprinkled water on themselves from the tub and recited the Sh’ma; by the time they finished a group of men were standing by, hammers and pickaxes in hand, along with eight of the vigiles. They should also have smashed the water tub apart.
Fortunatus was with them.
“I’m deeply sorry,” he said. “There is much injustice done in cases like this, but what is one to do? I personally am convinced that you are being victimized despite being blameless! Others too. I’m going to seek a review of all your cases — as soon as I can.”
Uri smiled at him pleasantly and nodded. Fortunatus held his tongue.
Uri then took down the mezuzah from above the door post and put it in his sack. He rolled up his tefillin and placed that too in his sack; he was of a mind to throw it away but decided he’d let the Jews see it and feel ashamed of themselves. They looked on but did not feel ashamed of themselves.
The vigiles stepped closer. One of them handed over a papyrus.
“This is the expulsion order,” he said. “It has your name on it and the others. Put it away: it will also serve to ensure your safe conduct.”
Uri did not examine it but rolled it up and slipped it next to the Torah scroll in a fine, expensive leather satchel he had recently bought, and put that too in the sack.