A Pillar of Iron: A Novel of Ancient Rome

by Taylor Caldwell

  He looked at Persus and his wife and children and said in a sad voice, “Go in peace. Be industrious as always. Implore the gods that they, and your fellow Romans, visit no more affliction upon you. Have not all of us Romans suffered in these years? May God have mercy on us all.”

  He stepped from his high stone platform, set his face forward and moved without a glance through the aisle of the Senators, who stood like statues on each side of his passage. The guards cleared a path for him and he left the chamber.

  Immediately on seeing him the people shouted, “Hero! Hercules!” He smiled darkly and contemplated them for a moment. Then he inclined his head in a godly fashion and the mob screamed at this acknowledgment of their existence and tore garlands and ribbons from their heads to hurl at his feet.

  “Jove!” the mighty cry went up. The object of this salutation smiled from right to left, musingly and with some satire, and went into his waiting litter. But before he closed the curtains he caught the eye of Scaevola and gave him an ironic bow.

  The Senators, hearing the salute to their leader, came out eagerly in a dignified body and were gratified to be saluted as heroes also. They would be forgotten tomorrow, but as no politician believes that in his heart, they accepted the adulation. It was only Senator Servius who asked himself, “Do they know why they acclaim us, or what occured this hour, or what is the meaning? No.”

  Marcus remained behind to console and congratulate his clients, who knelt about him to kiss his hands and his feet and his garments. He gave them his own meagre purse. Roman lawyers did not receive fees from clients, but only random gifts if the beneficiaries were grateful enough. Persus wept. “I will send you two of my new kids, blessed Master!” Marcus said, “Then send them to my paternal island in Arpinum, if you can spare them.”

  He suddenly thought of Arpinum, and he was filled with so powerful a nostalgia for that peaceful spot that he immediately vowed that, danger or not, he would visit it soon. He stood in meditation and it was only after a considerable period that he looked up to find himself alone, confronting the vast statue of the blind goddess of Justice, with her scales in her hands.

  He thought: There are many who make sardonic remarks on the blindness of Justice. But she wears a blindfold not for the obvious reason. She wears it that her judgment shall not be swayed by the mere “appearance” of those she judges in her balances, by overt and false pathos, or pleasing but meretricious distress. At all times she is impartial. That is the meaning of Law.

  He walked slowly to the great doors, to find only his friends waiting for him. He smiled on them a little grimly.

  “To whom do I owe the honor of the motley Greek chorus which seethed about this door only a short time ago, hailing ‘heroes’?”

  Scaevola, in his chair, assumed an injured expression. “I am the pontifex maximus. My fledglings are not to be ignored. Therefore, I asked my former students, who are grateful to me, to send their clerks to salute you. Ungrateful one!”

  “And I,” said Noë, also appearing indignant. “My people love my father, and if they desired to hail his savior, shall they be restrained?”

  Archias winked at his beloved pupil, and said, “The Greeks admire those who admire them. Do you not admire the Greeks, my dear Marcus? Shall you deny them the opportunity to express their affection for you?”

  Julius Caesar said, “My friends on the Palatine adore a just man.” He smiled broadly at Marcus, and nudged him in the ribs. “They also adore me. They are young men, and love a frolic at Senators’ expense. Did you wish to deny them amusement?”

  “And each of these devoted men brought with him the scourings of rabble from the alleys and the wine shops,” said Marcus.

  Scaevola became extremely virtuous. “Is it not better for a mob to howl exuberantly for justice than to howl for the death of a fallen gladiator in the circus—though I admit they do not know the difference?”

  “I should have preferred that my eloquence had moved them, or that justice had stirred their hearts,” said Marcus.

  Scaevola rolled up his eyes as if desperately imploring that the gods give him patience. He could find no words. He said only, “Bah.”

  “Do you not realize,” said the young Marcus, with heat, “that at a word from all of you that mob would have assaulted, and perhaps killed, a number of the Senators, without knowing why they did it?”

  “Excellent,” said Scaevola. “I overlooked an opportunity.”

  Noë, in his litter with Marcus, said, “You forget that you won your case. Is that not of some satisfaction? Many who heard you were not mindless, in spite of Scaevola’s remarks. They are serious young men. They will remember.”

  Marcus was a little relieved. Also, he was exhausted by his own emotions. He said, “Remain for a cup of wine with me, while I receive my mother’s and father’s felicitations. I see my brother has already raced home with the news.” He paused. “And then I will return to you all this magnificence with which you arrayed me. Did you notice that young Julius deftly removed his lent wand of authority from my hand?”

  Noë laughed. “It is symbolic of the young Caesar. I hear he has developed epilepsy, and you know the superstitious believe that it is a divine gift, for one hears strange things and sees even stranger during convulsions. No. You must not return what I gave you. It is a fee from my father and myself, for what you have done for him.”

  “I did nothing,” Marcus persisted.

  “You did it all,” said Noë, with considerable impatience. “What is this modesty? It is said that God loves modesty in men. But mankind despises it.”

  Later, Marcus embraced his father, Tullius. “It was your words that inspired me,” he said. He kissed his father’s hands, and his father tenderly blessed him.

  “I have had few moments of pride,” said Tullius, weeping. “But today I am a proud man. I have not lived in vain.”

  *From De Republica.

  *From Cicero’s Law.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marcus stood in the spring sun that flooded over the gardens in Arpinum. He leaned against an oak tree and reread a letter from Noë ben Joel, who had lived for over a year in Jerusalem with his family.

  “Greetings to the noble Marcus Tullius Cicero from Noë ben Joel:

  “I received your last letter with delight in your increasing success. Fortunate it is that you have obtained clients who can enrich you with gifts. As a remembrance, and in eternal gratitude to you, my father is sending you several jars of those little black Judean olives which you appreciate, and several kegs of costly oil—which you cannot obtain in Rome under present conditions, and which are worth their weight in gold. Moreover, I am sending you many lengths of Egyptian white and colored linen, a scroll of the Phaedo inscribed by a Jewish scholar of singular note, and quite excellent, for your father, two bracelets of silver wire encrusted with precious stones—an art in which my countrymen excel—for your lady mother, and a shield embossed with the arms of your family for your brother, Quintus. Accept these, dear friend, from the hearts of those who love you and who yearn to look upon your face again.

  “We have just celebrated the first birthday of my son, Joshua, in my father’s house where, as you know, we all live. It was a tranquil occasion. The Roman proconsul, a worthy man, and a friend of my father’s, attended the festivities. He presented my son with a beautiful Roman short-sword sheathed in a jeweled scabbard. My father was uncertain how to express his gratitude—if he possessed any—but as usual I was swift with my fluent tongue and the innocent Roman was pleased. It occupies a place of honor in the household.

  “I am not sorry to linger here awhile, in the golden shadow of the towered Temple and among my people. I had feared, as you know, the stern life and presence of my countrymen in Jerusalem who are enamored of God and not of life. But the Hellenistic influence is very powerful among the younger Jews of family, who have many friends among the Greeks householded in the city. They speak Greek more often than they speak Aramaic, and Latin mo
re than they speak Hebrew, the language of the learned men. My father was perturbed in the beginning, and he fears for his country. But the Hellenistic spirit receives sympathy here. There appears a greater similarity between the arête of the Greeks and the spiritual virtu of the Jews than between the cool unity of the classicism of Athens and the heated versicolor of Rome. Even my father perceives this, though he is a man of singular stubbornness. He spends hours each day in the gates with the wise men, who discuss the almost instant arrival of the Messias, who will, of course, drive every Roman and Greek and other alien from within the sacred precincts of these yellow walls, and lift up Jerusalem on the wings of archangels to rule the lesser tribes of the earth. I think of Rome, and smile.

  “I have done as you requested and have sought out more prophesies of the Messias for you. There are many Egyptian merchants here, and I have made their acquaintance, for they must be civil in Jerusalem while conducting their business. They tell me that an ancient Pharaoh, Aton, prophesied that Horus will descend from heaven to take on the flesh of a man and lead all men to justice, love, peace and faith, and reconcile them to their God. I have also made the acquaintance of Indu traders who linger here awhile, resting between their ships, and they have informed me that their Gita, which vaguely resembles our Torah, declares that man is corrupt from his conception, and by no effort of his own can he elevate his state. He is evil from the hour he draws breath, for he was conceived in evil, he lives in evil, and he dies in evil, and shall suffer death, except that on some far day God may rescue him from his foreordained wickedness. Again, possibly, when some god takes on the flesh of man and leads him to grace.

  “I have heard that Hammurabi, the great Babylonia king, says in his Code: ‘How can man free himself from the evil of himself? By contemplation of God, by penitence and penance, by confession of sins, by the power of God, only. On a fated day God will manifest Himself to the eyes of men, in their own flesh.’

  “You will observe the entwining theme in these prophesies and words of wisdom: The wickedness of man, his lack of grace, his sentence to eternal death, and his possible rescue by a compassionate God who will take on the flesh of mankind. You will recall, in this frame of reference, the words of Aristotle: “There is no good in mankind, save that which is vouchsafed it from God, by virtue of God and by His loving kindness. For man was born to evil, and he cannot free himself from the web of iniquity without God, no matter his striving or his good will.’

  “My father delights that I seek the company of the wise men in the gates, but I seek it to gather news for you concerning the Messias. I have read the books of Isaias pertaining to Him, He Who will be born of the Jews. Writes Isaias: ‘For a Child is born to us, and a Son is given to us, and the government is upon His shoulder, and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, God the Mighty, the Father of the world to come, the Prince of Peace. His empire shall be multiplied, and there shall be no end of peace. He shall sit upon the throne of David and upon his kingdom, to establish it and strengthen it with judgment and with justice, from henceforth and forever.’

  “However, alas, it appears that, according to Isaias, there will be few who will know Him and follow Him, when He has taken flesh, and when He dwells among men. Isaias writes: ‘Who hath believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? And He shall grow up as a tender plant before Him, and as a root out of a thirsty ground. There is no beauty in Him, nor comeliness, and we have seen Him and there was no sightliness that we should be desirous of Him. Despised, and the most abject of men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with infirmity, and His look was as it were hidden and despised. Whereupon we esteemed Him not.’

  “But, my dear Marcus, when have men esteemed the truly great among them, and when have they honored the just and the noble? They prefer those who come with heralds and banners and the thunders of the drum, and with servants before them, crying out the praises of him who rides in the gilded chariot behind several horses with gemmed harness. If the Messias appears, as Isaias prophesies, as a Man of humility, not overwhelming in beauty, not with the hosannahs of angels echoing on all His steps, He surely will be despised and rejected by those whom He has come to save. For man strikes the Image of God on the base metal of his own heart. Would God descend to man in mercy and love without clouds of angelic attendants, armed and terrible, crowned with the sun? No, He would not.

  “Isaias continues: ‘Surely, He hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows, and we have thought Him as it were a leper, and as one struck by God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His bruises we are healed. He was offered because it was His own will, and He opened not His mouth. He shall be led as a sheep before His shearer, and He shall not open His mouth.’

  “Apparently, then, the Messias will be done to death in a most dreadful fashion by blind and ignorant men, for He will not come with panoply and in the company of the Seraphim and with the cloak of celestial majesty on His shoulders. What shall He say, in those days, and who will listen? He is the Covenant between God and man. He will be, as Isaias writes, ‘a light unto the Gentiles’ also. But who will know Him?

  “It is possible that I shall see Him, and you. By what mark shall we recognize Him? Shall we remember the prophesies? Or shall we say, ‘There is no beauty in Him—no sightliness that we should be desirous of Him?’

  “I have heard these prophesies all my life, and have not credited them, for I am a skeptical Jew, and a Roman citizen acquainted with many religions. Nor do the aristocratic and the men of religion in Jerusalem give heed to the prophesies any longer. It is only the old men in the gates of the city, who ponder and look at the dark heavens, and wait with growing impatience. Will they recognize Him when He comes? The children read of Him in their books, and recite the prophesies. Will they know Him?

  “Yes, there is an air of excitement in the city, as if news of a mighty King has gone before Him. Who can understand this?

  “You, I believe, my dear Marcus, would find Israel not only interesting but agreeable, in climate and in atmosphere. Joppa, on the Great Sea, is worth a visit of a month at the very least, if only to contemplate the sunsets each day. Regarding the celestial conflagrations, the great and silent awesomeness reflected in the sea, one can repeat with David, ‘—the work of His fingers, the moon and the stars which He hath ordained—what is man that Thou are mindful of him, and the son of man, that Thou visited him?’ Even I ask that unanswered question: Surely it is presumptuous for us to believe that God cares for us!

  “Jerusalem is the heart of our nation, a dusty, colorful, teeming, crowded, odoriferous, noisy heart, intolerably hot during the day, and desert-cool at night. Here are many peoples, not only Jews; traders, merchants, scoundrels, mountebanks, bankers, historians, soldiers, sailors, businessmen, antiquarians from all over the world, Syrians, Romans, Samaritans, Jordinians, Egyptians, Indus, Greeks, and only God knows what else. So long as they observe the Judean law, they are ignored and despised. The Jew, like the Roman, loves Law. ‘God has said, He has revealed,’ state the wise old men dogmatically, and let that alien beware who disputes it! The Jews have no laws but the Law of God. We are a Theocracy, and it is wonderful to observe. One would think that in a Theocracy there would be no disputations. But the wise old men in the gates weave commentaries and subtle webs over the simplest of the Commandments. God speaks plainly, but man must always be devious, and ask a thousand ‘whys’ and give a thousand answers.

  “As Jews are violent and intense by nature, the Romans respect their convictions. A dead people are not profitable to Rome, so Romans are careful not to insist on what the Jews call idolatry in Jerusalem. Coins struck here bear the head of no god, and Jews are not pressed into the Roman armies as they are in other countries. So long as Jews pay reasonable taxes the Romans do not disturb them. On the contrary, they are friendly, and many Roman officers are married to Jewish girls.

  �
��Your Polybius would have delighted in Judea, where we have free schools for all youths and where universal learning is obligatory. I am not certain this is wise. It puffs up the ignorant who are incapable of true learning. If they acquire the words of the Law they do not understand its spirit. Many are there who are born mentally illiterate, and they have a place in the world. But they are like ravens, whose tongues are split, who learn words but not their meaning. Who is more dangerous than a man who can quote wisdom but who does not know how to apply it in his own life, and in his government? But at least we are profound in one way: we insist that all men, even the rabbis, must learn a trade and must work, no matter the wealth of the family. Beware of the man of the colonnades, who does not labor at anything with his hands! Beware even more of the rich and idle man, who has time to develop a lust for power to fill his empty days! The Jews know this. Therefore, we work. I manage my father’s gardens, I who knew nothing of the earth and the seasons and growing things until I came to Jerusalem.

  “It is much more vociferous even than Rome, for we are a small country and are desperately crowded in the city. Jerusalem is like a hive of bees; one cell is packed upon another; one could run over the whole city on the rooftops without touching one’s feet to the ground. In truth, from the top of our yellow walls we seem to see nothing but heaving roofs extending into the gold and dusty distance, broken here and there by groves of cypresses and carob trees and palms, like oases. All the roofs are yellow or white, rising and falling blankly, except after sunset when they are crowded with people sitting or standing on them to catch the evening air. Then music bursts forth from various houses and the city resounds with a vast humming, and a trumpet shatters at intervals from the temple. We are locked within our yellowish and twisting walls, and hear the calls of the guards who pace the tops.

  “Beyond the gates are the theatres which the Greeks or the Romans have built. The Greeks produce plays; the Romans produce bloody spectacles. One would deduce that the one was civilized, the other barbarous. This is a superficial judgment. Greek cruelty shines and glitters and sparkles in the erudite comedies. Who was it that said all laughter is cruel, even when it appears most harmless? For laughter must have an object, preferably man or men, to excite it, and who but an obtuse man can contemplate the predicament of humanity without compassion? There is no compassion in laughter. Gayety is an entirely different matter; it is innocent and does not caricature, does not mock, does not deride. It is amused at the antics of man, but not man himself. You will see that I have changed. I, being only a man however, delight in the Greek plays, tragic or comic. I attend the presentations regularly, and so do other young Jews influenced by Hellenism. But not even the Greeks attend the Roman spectacles, except to observe, and deplore with disgust. As you know, crucifixion is a Roman method of execution. The Romans regularly produce spectacles of mass crucifixion of criminals, including Jews. They ask the Jews who violently object: ‘Is this worse than your method, which is stoning to death?”