Captivity

One evening Uri’s father Joseph announced furiously that Honoratus wanted to put up his idiot son of sixteen for the post of grammateus, even though he could barely write and knew no other language but Greek and could not count either. Honoratus was a rich and influential man, the owner of three tenement buildings in the Syrian quarter, and his wife was a cousin of the banker Tullius Basileus. The only sort of person who might knock Honoratus’s son off his perch was someone like Uri.

Uri said nothing, just nodded. Gaudentius, the son, was so dumb that he stood no chance of getting the job as grammateus.

Joseph smiled happily, taking Uri’s silence as a sign of agreement. He left no stone unturned; yet it was still the idiot who was named grammateus, with the favor of Annianus.

Uri relaxed. Being a notary for a hysterical archisynagogos was not such a great deal; marriage could also wait.

Then two months later, Gaudentius, Honoratus’s idiot son, died unexpectedly, having lived just sixteen years, two months, and three days, as was nicely engraved on his sepulchral plaque. Uri, in his cubbyhole, said prayers for him; he genuinely felt sorry for the blockhead and could not help it if, by the grace of the Lord, he had been seen as good-for-nothing in life.

Joseph took a new lease on life and once again started to pay visits to influential members of the assembly.

Then the influential members of the assembly, on Annianus’s advice, decided that the next son born to Honoratus should be the grammateus,...