The Kingdom of the Wicked Read Online Free Page B

ten gold pieces a man — for not following Sejanus in his revolt; the legions in Syria had received equal sums for refusing to set specially blessed effigies of Sejanus among their standards. And he, Marcus Julius Tranquillus, had been honoured for his loyalty by this present appointment, forced to warm his hands at the central fire of corruption, madness, danger. But Tiberius could not live much longer. The son of Germanicus was, it was certain, to inherit the purple. Germanicus, adopted son of Tiberius, great soldier, fine man, unfortunately dead untimely in Syria and everyone knew why and how, had no bad blood to transmit to the boy who had been the darling of the military camps. Always in soldier's boots; they had nicknamed him 'Little Boots'. Caligula, which meant that, was a name that already made one smile in referred affection. There could be nothing but good in a son of Germanicus.
          
          
    In one of the outer courts of the Temple, upon which Syrian guards looked down indifferently from Antonia's Tower, the Rabban Gamaliel discussed with his senior class the dangers of zealotry and the virtues of compromise. 'Compromise,' he said. 'Some of you wrinkle your noses and curl your lips, as though compromise were a dirty word. But it is only through compromise that we may keep the faith alive. We have ruling here in the holy territory of Israel an infidel race with unclean habits and an undisguised contempt for our religious laws. With one stroke of the sword they could sever the silken cord that binds us into one people. With their battering rams they could destroy the Temple. We live uneasily with the Romans, but at least we live.'
           'That is Sadducee talk.' So spoke Caleb the son of Jacob.
           'What,' said Seth the son of Zachaeus not the fishman, 'is wrong with Sadducee talk? If it weren't for us Sadducees you'd be kissing the little toe of Tiberius's statue. You'd be burning incense before Jupiter and Mercury and the rest of the godless crew. Rabban Gamaliel is right. Diplomacy is the way. Jewish intelligence can always defeat Roman stupidity. You Zealots would have us all strung up on that hill over there.'
           'Nailed up,' Stephen shuddered. He was a Greek Jew.
           'Look,' Caleb said. 'The Zealots ask only for a restoration of the Jewish birthright. Jewish rule in a Jewish land. Rome grows weak and Rome grows frightened. An old mad Emperor and a Senate full of squawking chickens. Interim rule in Syria, and how long can they hold Syria? Strike at Rome in Palestine and the provincial structure would collapse. Rome wouldn't send out any legions. The Roman Senate would say good riddance to Judaea and then go off to dinner. Let the Jews rule themselves, they'd say; they were almost more trouble than they were worth.'
           'I think,' Gamaliel said, 'that you underestimate the Roman appetite for power. I see no sign of debility in Pontius Pilatus. His Syrian troops would rush in and eat your Zealots for breakfast.'
           'Some say,' Stephen said, 'that he saw the light.'
           'If you mean the Galilean,' Caleb said, 'it was a very shortlived light.'
           'A shortlived light for all his followers.' This was Saul, a young man already growing bald, his eyes in dark caves, the frontal lobes unnaturally bulging. 'We've had a succession of these false prophets, almost one a year in the last ten or so. Most of them knew the scriptures, I'll say that. The scriptures drove them mad. But this one was an ignorant carpenter burbling about love.'
           'A carpenter's trade,' Gamaliel said slyly, 'is not inferior to a tentmaker's.'
           'If I make tents,' Saul said, 'it is in accordance with our Jewish tradition. We must all work with our hands. But I think of myself first as a scholar.'
           'He was a scholar too,' Stephen said. 'The scriptures were never out of his mouth. And what was wrong with burbling about