Chapter 09
To Publius' dismay, the first milestone they encountered as they rode out of Tiberias indicated that Capernaum was a mere five miles away. Publius had hoped to get further on his way than that, but there was nothing he could do about it and having spent so much time in Tiberias there was no chance of finding other shelter before sunset.
For a couple of stadia after they left Tiberias the road clung to a steep slope that ran down into the lake but after that the rocky shore turned into a coastal plain that grew wider the further they went. Almost at once they came to a small village on the lake side which Publius thought was probably Magdala. He looked about him curiously, but there were no crowds around. After that there were little clusters of houses every half mile or so until the plain ended in a steep ridge, below which a large village sat on a high mound.
"According to the groom I was talking to, once we're over this we should be able to see Tabgha with Capernaum beyond it, Master," Geta told Publius.
"Good," Publius grunted. "It sounds as though you spent your time more wisely than I did. Talking philosophy is all very entertaining, but it doesn't really get you anywhere practical."
A quarter of an hour later the two men drew rein in yet another black village and Geta enquired for the house of Rufus the centurion from the urchins who gathered to stare at them. Several of them offered to show the way, hoping, no doubt, for a reward and Publius felt in his purse for a couple of the small coins called 'mites'.
Centurion Rufus proved to be the typical old soldier, back still straight as a lance despite the gray of his cropped hair. He welcomed them warmly and while Geta took the horses to the stables Rufus conducted Publius into a cool airy room and summoned a slave to bring wine, olives and bread.
"On your way to Paneas?" he said when they were settled. "What's your business there? Doing a tour of the Herods?"
Publius laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm chasing a woman."
"Hah!" Rufus looked pleased. "Nothing changes in the army, then. Must be devilish attractive to lure you all the way from - where did you say you were from? Gaul? That figures. Sixth Legion; you've been there a while, haven't you?"
Publius nodded. "Yes, we're just about Gauls by now. Some of the chaps actually speak Gaulish for preference. Every so often we get a new general who publishes an edict that only Latin may be spoken in the camp but it never lasts."
"So who's the unfortunate female?" Rufus sipped at his cup of wine. "And what's she doing over here when there's a handsome suitor like yourself back in Gaul?"
"You flatter me," Publius laughed. "It's all very simple. We met and fell in love before she married but her parents preferred someone else. He brought her out here and then got himself killed in a skirmish and she's been here ever since. I only heard that he was out of the picture just over two years ago and it took me another six months to track her down to this Paneas place."
"Skirmish?" Rufus raised his eyebrows. "You mean, he was an army chap?"
"Yes, Centurion Saturnus of the Third," Publius replied.
"Well well well," Rufus leaned back in his chair. "Saturnus. Knew him well. Good man. So it's his wife you're after, eh? Ye gods, man! He was killed six - no, seven - years ago. She'll be married again by now. Handsome wench, as I recall. Kept herself to herself and there was a rumour that she wasn't all that well. She's still here, eh? Odd place to settle down, Paneas. I heard that Saturnus was up there - he struck lucky with a few of his battles; you know, rewards, looting, ransoms, the usual sort of thing. He didn't waste his money, you know. That's what comes of having a wife, of course. No wine, women and song with the little woman at home keeping an eye on things. Bought a couple of farms and so on. Still, it's surprising she didn't sell up and head for home."
"You think she might be married?" Publius sounded dismayed.
"No idea," Rufus shrugged. "Haven't heard about her for years, which is odd in itself. As I said, a dashed pretty girl. Could have cut a swathe through the batchelors in the army. Maybe she's the grieving type - you know, daily visits to the tomb, offerings to the dead husband's memory, that sort of thing. You'll have your work cut out if she is. Won't look at anyone else for fear of upsetting the shade of the deceased."
"You haven't married yourself?" Publius tried to turn the old soldier from such depressing speculations.
"Me? No. Never much of a lad for the girls. Couldn't understand them and they didn't seem all that keen on getting to know me. No, I'm quite happy. I've got Demos, my slave. We're just like brothers by now and I wouldn't part with him for worlds." Rufus put an olive in his mouth and chewed meditively. "Mind you, I almost lost him last year."
"Oh?" Publius guessed that a story was coming next.
"Yes. Sick. The ague, very bad round here, particularly if you venture into the swamps up the top end of the lake, Bethsaida way. Bad air, you know. Anyway, poor old Demos got it badly and I thought he was dying. Doctors said the same thing and washed their hands of him. Wouldn't even take a fee, you know. Always a bad sign, that, when the doctors won't take a fee. Means they expect the patient to die and want to keep clear of the consequences for themselves."
"But he got better?" Publius suggested.
"Got better? Never. He was healed - healed I tell you. You see, I'm pretty friendly with the locals. Interesting people, the Jews. They worship the All Highest, you know. No messing around with all these lesser gods and demi-gods and what have you. Well, I always believed in going straight to the top, you know. Don't mess with underlings, go straight for the top, I always say. Makes sense."
"Hmmmm?" Publius tried to sound non-committal. It didn't do to anger the gods, even if they were subordinate gods.
"Anyway, I helped these chaps build their synagogue, sort of their temple, you know. Place where they worship the All Highest. Paid for most of it, you know. Well, what do I want with lots of money? Food, decent house, good wine, Demos to look after me. What more does a man want? Anyway, it cheered up the locals. They were a bit suspicious about a Roman settling down in their village at first, but now they can't do enough for me. 'Morning, Centurion', 'How are you, Centurion?', even from the most toffee-nosed of them."
"And they helped you find a better doctor?" Publius asked.
"Doctor? No. Doctors no use. I sent them to this Rabbi Joshua. Heard a lot about him. Miracles all over the place, healing people, that sort of thing. Of course, I didn't know him and he wasn't a local, so wouldn't know about me. Wouldn't know that I virtually paid for the synagogue. I sent them to ask him to heal Demos. Thought that if he had any scruples about doing a favour for a gentile, they could twist his arm a bit. Know what happened next?"
"No," Publius said.
"Hah! Amazing. Next thing I knew Joshua was on his way here. Not good. I don't know what pressure those chaps brought to bear to get him to come to my house, but at the very least it meant I would be honour bound to pay for his ritual cleansing - sacrifices, trip to Jerusalem, all that sort of thing. Not cheap. Might even curse me if he was really upset! Anyway, I hot-footed it down to meet him. Stopped him at the end of the lane down there. Flattered him, laid it on thick. Said that I was used to ordering people around and didn't doubt that he could do the same with whatever god or daemon had hold of my slave."
"And what happened then?"
"Worked." Rufus smirked. "He went on about my faith. Hah! Faith be blowed. I just didn't want him getting upset with me for bringing him into a gentile house. Anyway, he told me to return home, told me that Demos was better, and would you know? When I walked in the door there he was in the front room coming to look for me. I'd gone out without my cloak, see? He was going to bring it to me. Amazing. Right as rain. Never felt better."
"And Demos is the man who was in here just now?" Publius asked.
"The very one," Rufus declared. "You can see for yourself. Healthy as anything, strong as an ox. 'Your servant will be healed," he says to me and by Jove, he was. Coming out the door with my cloak in his hand - and when I left the house he was on the point of dying. Never seen anything like it."
"Well, he certainly seems to have unusual influence with the gods - er - sorry, with the All Highest," Publius corrected himself. "I wonder if he might be persuaded to use his influence or his powers or whatever in my case? I could do with a miracle of my own with Secunda."
"Out of luck," Rufus shook his head. "He left town this morning. Does that from time to time. Goes back to Nazareth to visit his family, or off on a preaching tour to somewhere or other. Might be gone for a day or two, might be a week, might even be away until after the next big Jewish feast - they all go down to Jerusalem for these big feasts, you know."
Publius shrugged. "Oh well. I sacrificed to Eros just before I left Caesarea and I'm planning on making a vow when I get to Paneas. I believe it's a sanctuary or something, so the gods should be listening there."
"Pan," Rufus barked. "That's the god they worship up there. It's where the River Jordan starts. Been there many times. I'm not sure about Pan - more the wild god of nature than anything as tame as married life. Still, talk to the priests up there; they're the experts, they can tell you which god is most likely to give you aid. If you get stuck, however, hunt up a Jewish priest. They worship the All Highest, you know, and I'm inclined to think they may be onto something. Stands to reason. Has to be a top chappie - Jove, Jupiter, whatever. That's the one they worship."
"But I thought they didn't even know the name of the God they worship," Publius said.
"True. They don't. High priest does, though. Whispers it to his son on his deathbed. Seems a bit silly to me. What if he dies suddenly? Anyway, that's what they say. Of course, they'll say that their God is the only one and that Jove and Jupiter and the rest of them don't exist or are evil daemons, but that's foolishness. Stands to reason that every nation will have their own name for the All Highest."
Just then the slave Demos came in with a tray of food and laid it on the table. Publius pulled a wry face, though he took care not to let his host see him doing it. There was no doubt that Rufus was an old soldier - only someone who had lived for most of his life on army rations could consider boiled greens and dry bread an adequate meal!
