Chapter 11
It was hardly surprising, after the time spent over their meal, that Publius and Geta should catch up with the band of Galileean roughs not long after they left the inn. Remembering the look that their leader had given him, Publius held back a good hundred paces behind them until they came to a patch of open ground and then he guided his horse off the roadway and made a wide circuit around them. Even when they rejoined the road Publius kept his horse at a trot until the Galileeans were only tiny figures in the distance.
Late in the afternoon they came to a dividing of the ways and had to wait for five or ten minutes until someone came along from whom they could ask directions. The shepherdess knew no Greek or Latin but at the word "Paneas" she pointed unhesitatingly off to the right and came out with a torrent of Aramaic. Publius thanked her in Greek, tossed her a mite - which she caught eagerly and promptly bit between her teeth to check that the coin was good.
Almost at once the track began to descend out of the rolling hills they had been following ever since the inn and came down to a flat, well-watered plain, beyond which rose a steep range of hills with a snow-capped peak away to their left.
"Just looking at that makes one feel better," Publius remarked and Geta grinned and nodded agreement.
"This is a hot country, Master," he said. "Even where it is green, like here, it is a drier sort of green than in my country."
Publius nodded. "Yes, I thought Italy was wonderful until I went to Gaul. Now, after so many years there my blood has become thick and I find even Italy too hot. I cannot imagine what god possessed me to make me volunteer for service in this part of the world!"
The sun was almost touching the mountains behind them when they started on the ascent out of the plain. The road twisted steeply among the rocks and boulders and somewhere off on the right there was the sound of falling water - and not long afterwards a sizeable stream came into view, leaping and foaming among the boulders as it hurried down to the plain.
It was dusk and lamps were being lit when they came in sight of Paneas, a neat little town straggling up the slope towards a rugged, rocky cliff-face. The first building they encountered - apart from huts and stalls - was a massive stone building with two round towers and a doorway that appeared to lead underground. One wall of the building was covered with scaffolding, as if it was still being built.
After that there were many other stone buildings, some quite pleasing with columns and porticoes like the fine buildings of Rome, others of an older, more barbarian shape. The street was crowded with people coming and going, quite a few of them riding in litters and accompanied by torch bearers.
Publius was so busy gazing around that it almost came as a surprise when the street opened out into a spacious agora where hucksters shouted their wares and shopkeepers arranged flaring lamps above their goods. Publius reined in his horse and looked around the buildings until his eye fell on a wide open doorway within which amphorae sat in rows on wooden racks.
"There's an inn," he called to Geta, pointing with his arm. "Let's see if they offer rooms as well as drink."
They urged their horses through the throng and over to the inn where Geta dismounted, handed his reins to Publius and went inside the building to talk to the man behind the counter. He came out again in a few moments, grinning hugely.
"They offer rooms, Master," he said, taking his reins back from Publius, "but each room comes with a girl to keep you company and the price they want for a whole night is quite amazing."
Publius laughed. "It's that sort of inn, is it? Did you ask for the less hospitable kind?"
"I did," Geta swung up onto his horse's back. "Over this way, Master, and look for the sign of a cock and three hens."
Once more they pushed through the crowd and Geta led the way down a dark side street past half a dozen buildings until he stopped and pointed to a wooden tablet fastened to the wall. Publius had to strain his eyes to make out the painting of a cross-eyed rooster and three hens that appeared to be pecking at bare ground.
Both men dismounted and led their horses in through a gateway into a cobbled courtyard where a slave came forward and showed them the way to the stable. There were four other beasts in there - three donkeys and a pony - but at least the fodder seemed dry and fresh and of reasonable quality. Once Publius was assured that the horses would be looked after well he allowed the slave to guide them into the inn itself where a matronly woman received them with a smile and took them upstairs to a neat, if sparsely furnished, room.
"How long will you be staying, lords?" she asked.
"I - I'm not sure," Publius hesitated. "I hope just the one night, but we may need to stay longer."
"Pilgrims?" the woman asked.
"Er - yes and no," Publius was aware of how indecisive he must appear. "We have prayers to make to the gods, of course, but that is not the main reason for our visit. Private reasons," he added as the woman opened her mouth.
"Very good, lords," the woman said. "Now, will your lordships eat here - it will take the cook a while to prepare, but he is a good cook - or if you are hungry you can go to the agora and find what is available there."
"I think that we will just make do with the agora tonight and then go off to bed," Publius said. "We have had a long journey and are tired."
"As my lords wish," the woman smiled understandingly. "The charge for the room is two obols each. Will my lord pay now or in the morning?"
"Now is fine," Publius said and reached for his wallet.
The beds were, by legionary standards, reasonably comfortable and the fleas no more voracious than anywhere else, so Publius and Geta slept well and in the morning ate heartily of the bread and greens the woman set before them.
"What is the custom here?" Publius asked as he paid the pittance the woman asked for breakfast. "What gods are worshipped and in what manner?"
"The god of this place is Pan," the woman told him. "He manifests himself most wonderfully at the great festival each spring when a victim is cast into the pool up at the temple. The pool is deep, my lords, so deep that no one has ever managed to reach the bottom, no matter how much rope they have used, and when the victim is thrown in it disappears instantly, taken by the god himself. It has never happened in my time but they say that once or twice in the past the victim has been rejected by the god - either it failed to disappear or it reappeared after being taken or," she lowered her voice, "the water was stained with blood. When any of those happen the crops fail, sickness sweeps the herds and even man is cursed with plague and misfortune."
"When is this festival?" Publius asked, his curiosity stirred.
"Alas, lord, it will not be for another six months. However Pan manifests himself each day in his temple, for at certain times the priests play upon the pipes and the herd of goats sacred to the god immediately begin to dance, for the god comes among them and inspires them so that they are filled with a truly divine frenzy."
"Amazing!" Publius stared at the woman in wonder. "I've heard of wild animals dancing when a god comes among them, but I've never seen it."
"Well, you can here in Paneas," the woman affirmed. "It is usually at the second hour after noon that this happens and those who make the appropriate offerings are admitted into the sacred enclosure where Pan's goats are kept and allowed to witness the coming of the god."
"What other gods are worshipped here?" Publius asked. "Pan is a great god, of course, but my prayer is one more suited to our lady Venus or to Eros."
"Hmmmm," the woman stood and thought for a moment. "There is no temple of Venus or Aphrodite here, lord. The nearest is up at Baalbek, a day's journey north of here. Now if you wanted healing Asclepius has his temple here and of course the deified emperor is worshipped in a shrine up at the Panaeum, but that's about all."
"Do you mean that in all this country there is no temple or shrine to Venus?" Publius sounded incredulous.
"I'm afraid so," the woman began to gather up the dirty plates. "It's all these Jews, lord. They do not worship the gods and would destroy even these temples if they could. We were all very worried when Herod Phillip started building his palace down there - you probably saw it when you came into town, the first big building you pass? - but fortunately he does not meddle in holy things."
"Didn't he change the name of this place, lady?" Geta asked suddenly. "I'm sure I remember something about that."
The woman laughed shortly. "Oh, of course. Caesarea Philippi. Caesar to honour the divine emperor, Philip to honour himself. The new name is used in legal documents and royal proclamations, but everyone knows that this is really Paneas, the town of the great god Pan. Why, it's almost impious to try and change the name; after all, it's not as though either of them is a god - well, not yet, anyway."
Publius laughed and stood up. "Come on, Geta. Let's go and see if we can find a priest who can advise us. Perhaps if we use the right offering or say the right prayer even Pan might be persuaded to look with favour on a star-crossed lover." He winked. "Let's do the god proud: I'll wear that dress uniform you've been lugging all the way from Gaul."
Geta grinned broadly. "And all the girls love a man in uniform, eh, Master?"
Although the temples which stood above the town were of gleaming white marble, the rock face behind them was a rusty brown in colour and the short climb up to the temples was rough rock of the same colour. At first Publius wondered why there was no grand staircase, but then he realised that something artificial like that would be most inappropriate for a sanctuary of Pan, the god of nature and wild places.
The other thing he realised was that the huge cave, which had seemed so dark and impressive when viewed from afar and in the dull light of evening, was little more than a shallow recess cut by nature in the face of the cliff and was unlikely to be - as he had first thought it - the birthplace of the god. The only really impressive thing about the place was the sudden appearance of all that water, gushing out of the ground. Here was a stream, knee-deep and twenty feet across and there, just a couple of steps away, was bare dry rock. This truly was a miracle and it was no surprise that the gods were worshipped in such a place of wonders.
The first priest they came to when they entered the sanctuary precincts was a venerable man in white robes and with a long white beard, who rose courteously to meet them and offered his services in helping them to worship the god.
"I want to make a vow to Eros," Publius explained. "There is a woman in this town whom I wish to marry and I want to invoke the god's aid in ensuring that she will accept me."
"My son," the priest looked grave, "this is a sanctuary of Pan. I cannot tell whether the god will look with favour on such a suit, for his concern is with flocks and herds and the ways of nature."
"Are there no other gods worshipped here?" Publius demanded.
"There are," the priest conceded reluctantly. "The gods of Olympus often enjoy one another's company, yet there are those who are inimical to each other. The poets tell us of the struggles of one god against another or of the jealousy one feels for another, and therefore it is not fitting that all the gods should be honoured in the same place. Here we have the temple of Pan; next to it is the temple of the Divine Augustus, the newest god and one whose honouring is, perhaps, more political than religious."
"And the next?" Publius asked, pointing to the third temple on the shelf below the cliff.
"That may be your best hope," the priest said after a moment's thought. "That is where Fortune, that fickle goddess, is worshipped. She loves justice, which is why she smiles on you Romans and your state, so if you intend no dishonour to this lady you seek, I see no reason why Fortune may not smile on you and even aid you."
"What are the buildings beyond?" Publius wanted to know.
"The next building is the mausoleum where the goats sacred to Pan are interred. It may not be entered save by those to whom it is appointed to carry out the obsequies of animals that have been so signally favoured by the god."
"Are those the goats that dance?" Publius demanded.
"They are the animals through whom Pan deigns to manifest himself, coming with divine power to inspire them with the music of his pipes," the priest replied gravely. "It is fitting, therefore, that they should be honoured in death as well as life."
"Master," Geta broke in, "that must be what that man referred to when he asked you to pray when you saw the goats."
"I was thinking the same thing," Publius nodded. "We'll stroll along there presently and put up a petition for the sheep - what was it he said they had? Scab? Meanwhile I suppose I'll have to take your advice, reverend sir, and make my vow to Fortune."
"What did you have in mind, my son?" the priest asked.
"Well, I'm not a rich man," Publius said, "so I can't do anything extravagant like dedicate a golden house to the gods or anything like that, but I thought that I might vow a bronze statue a cubit high to whichever god grants my request and unites me with Secunda."
"A most fitting offering," the priest looked pleased. "There are workshops and artisans here who can carry out your commission and plenty of room where such a tribute might be erected. Come, I will take you to the temple of Fortune and bring you before the goddess, for I know the prayers and rituals that incline her to look with favour upon a petitioner. I will accept whatever gift with which you choose to reward me, but two denarii are a not uncommon recompense for such services as I can offer."
"Well," Publius said a short while later as they walked down the rocky steps towards the agora, "I'm ready. I've done all that I possibly can and if the gods don't favour my suit, I'll give them all up as a waste of time and money."
As they entered the agora a young slaveboy came sauntering past, whistling as he went, and Publius put out his hand and stopped him.
"Here, lad, you don't seem in a hurry. Do you know the house of the Lady Secunda, who used to be married to Centurion Saturnus?"
"Yes, lord," the boy answered promptly.
"Fine." Publius reached into the wallet that hung at his girdle. He pulled out a mite and spun it into the air. "Two of these if you guide us there."
