Wayward Son (43 page)

Making inquiries, Cain discovered that the most knowledgeable astronomer in Antioch was an elderly scientist with South Indian origins named Gayan. They met at his small observatory in a lush park on the eastern bank of the Orontes River. Gayan’s smooth, nut-brown features contrasted vividly with the snow-white circlet of hair on his balding pate. He wore an Indian kurta pyjama of tan-colored combed cotton, garb that struck Cain as affording both convenience and elegance in a warm climate.

“Can you tell me of your observations of Leo over the past year or so?” asked Cain, who still retained the name of Philo that he had used since his time in Alexandria.

“Yes, there was something extremely notable there, sir,” replied Gayan. “No one in Antioch was able to explain it. I even sent couriers with inquiries to Rome. From our perspective, the heavenly object appeared to be anchored stock-still for over five months in the southern sky. I should say about thirty-five degrees above the horizon.”

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Never. Nor have I found anything similar in my review of historical writings about celestial wonders, Philo. Lately, however, some strange tales have arisen here about this phenomenon. These rumors are not, I hasten to emphasize, within the domain of science.”

“And what are these tales about the star, Shri Gayan?”

“You know that there has always been a sizable Jewish community here in Antioch, sir. Some of them have interpreted the unusually bright star in the constellation Leo as a sign from their God. In particular, they are telling stories about the birth of a miraculous child in the Roman tributary kingdom of Judaea to the south. They are saying that the star was a heavenly omen, signifying the arrival of their so-called Lion of Judah. The child is being hailed as the future Messiah, or Savior, at least by some. Their claim has received support from men learned in celestial phenomena. They say the appearance of the star fulfills several ancient prophecies concerning the birth of a Jewish king in Bethlehem. A number of these men have traveled there to investigate the matter themselves.”

“Is there any report from these travelers?”

“Sir, they have not been heard from since their departure. However, the Judaean king, a man named Herod, seems to have taken the claim seriously, since he has ordered the killing of all male infants in the area, apparently to prevent any challenge to his rule.”

Cain winced at this news, remembering his painful losses long ago in Egypt. Collecting himself, he inquired of the astronomer whether anyone could explain why the celestial portent had disappeared.

Gayan smiled wanly. “I have posed that very question. Without exception, it is greeted with silence. Unless, of course, you believe the Jewish rumors. In that case…” Gayan held up his palms and a smile crossed his face.

“…in that case, well—if this Savior has been born, the need for the star has passed.”

Cain exchanged astronomical shoptalk with the Indian and then bid him farewell. There was evidently nothing more to be learned about the star—at least from the realm of science. The nexus between celestial bodies and beliefs in the divine was nothing new to him; the link was timeless.

But he did not regret his long journey. After another week in Antioch during which he gave no more thought to events in Judaea, he mustered his caravan and embarked for Rome with a fresh shipment of silk and blown glass. Plans for his fortified repository of human knowledge were uppermost in his mind.

CHAPTER 57

Rome, 1 BC–AD 12

“THE PALATINE IS AN especially desirable address, sir,” advised the seasoned land broker as he and Cain entered the estate. The property overlooked the
Tiber River
on one side and the Circus Maximus, Rome’s largest sporting arena, on the other. “Augustus himself lives in this neighborhood.” The broker, tall and balding with aristocratic features, had an aura of faded gentry that had fallen on leaner times.

After three days of house hunting, Cain had made up his mind. In the long term, his principal residence would be on the Bay of Naples, in the shadow of the great volcano. But he needed a base in the capital as well. There was enough space in the Palatine residence to store his thousand-strong collection of detailed maps and scrolls until he built his final repository. Plus, the land offered ample room for future expansion. He asked the price.

“They want four million sesterces, but they will likely settle for three and a half,” said Metellus.

“Tell them I offer three point two million,” said Cain. “I am sure we can negotiate.”

“Very good, sir. If they agree to three point four, will you accept a deal?”

“Yes, but there is one thing I want you to do for me first.”

“At your service, sir,” the agent replied.

“A legally binding contract requires full Roman citizenship. Alas, my origins abroad have excluded me from that status, at least until now.”

Cain gave his name as Marcus Flavius Pictor. He had told Metellus that he had been raised in Alexandria, the son of a Roman father and an Egyptian mother.

“Sir, citizenship is legally available to you, at a price,” Metellus pointed out.

“So I have heard. How can this be arranged?”

“There is no problem,” Metellus waved his hand airily. “If you can come up with one million sesterces, I can have the papers drawn up within a couple of days. My cousin is one of the censors.”

Cain smiled. He had been willing to bet that Metellus was well connected.

***

After spending the night at an inn on the neighboring Aventine Hill, Cain returned down the Tiber to Rome’s port of
Ostia
, where the large merchant ship he had purchased in Antioch was moored. A message from Metellus soon arrived indicating that the seller had agreed to a price of three point four million. Metellus also reported favorable progress on the application for Roman citizenship, which would confer important privileges on him in the areas of law, marriage, contracts, and property ownership.

It was therefore the opportune moment to off-load the large quantities of silk and blown-glass products, placing them on smaller launches that could navigate the fifteen miles up the Tiber to Rome and its thriving markets. Cain would use a portion of the proceeds to buy the small estate on the Palatine. Then he would sail to the Bay of Naples to scout the area around Vesuvius, the mountain of fire, for the perfect site.

While he waited for the various transactions to be completed, he took in the sights and sounds of Rome. In the age of Augustus, the city bore little resemblance to the Rome he remembered from his visit two and a half centuries earlier. Now ruling most of the Western world, the Romans had, in their way, accomplished a feat as astonishing as the First Emperor’s unification of China. At the center of this vibrant culture was Augustus Caesar. Like the First Emperor of China, Augustus also had to fight for his supremacy and knew the potency of political propaganda. But the similarities ended there, Cain reflected. The Chinese Empire, though barely known in the West, dwarfed the Roman Empire in scale, population, and military might. He wondered if the two superpowers would ever clash.

Several weeks after moving into his new residence on the Palatine Hill, he invited Metellus to dinner to show his appreciation.

“What do you know of the Bay of Naples, my friend?” Cain asked as they reclined on couches in the villa’s dining room, where the servants offered heaping platters of tenderly roasted suckling pig and chicken.

“Many of my clients have houses there. In fact, it is not at all unusual for people of a certain status to own a town house here in Rome and a villa on the bay. Pompeii, Baiae, and Herculaneum are the favored spots. The medicinal springs at Baiae have made it a premier resort. Julius Caesar had a villa there.”

“You have kept current with the estate scene in the area, then?” asked Cain.

“Oh my, yes. I go down to the Bay at least six times a year. Some of my cousins own properties there, and I am always welcome. Are you thinking of investing in another property, Marcus? Perhaps a refuge from the summer heat here in town?”

Not wanting to appear too eager, Cain demurred. “It’s a possibility. How would you like company on your next visit there?”

“It would be both my pleasure and my privilege,” the agent replied suavely.

***

Thus it was that, a month later, the two booked passage on a sleek new ferryboat from Ostia to Naples. The journey itself was a brief two-day sail. Cain was astonished at the development along the shoreline. Wealthy Romans had discovered this coastal playground in droves. As they looked at various villas that were on the market, Cain was amazed by the level of luxury. He even recognized some of the cameo glass vases that his vendors had sold to high-end clients in Rome.

Everywhere around the idyllic, shimmering Bay of Naples was evidence of the thirst of the Roman elite for the prestige and status that Greek culture conferred. Only half jokingly, Metellus quoted to Cain the maxim coined by Horace, one of the emperor’s favorite poets: “Captive Greece took captive her savage conqueror.” Yet the Romans, in Cain’s view, had succeeded in forging commendably original styles in art and architecture.

Despite the opulent standard of living, however, he saw nothing that appealed to him so directly and immediately as the estate on the Palatine in Rome. Instead, savoring the creative challenge of engineering that had always motivated him, Cain determined to design and build the villa and repository himself. He would put his distinctive stamp on this gift for the ages.

“Let us look at tracts of raw land, Metellus,” he said after a few days. “Which of these towns is the most secluded, the most exclusive?”

“I would say Herculaneum, without a doubt,” the agent replied. “Only the most affluent can afford the land there. Herculaneum is much less frequented than Pompeii.”

“How close is it from the shoreline to Vesuvius?”

“Approximately seven kilometers, sir.”

Cain gazed at the volcano in the distance, rubbing his chin.

“Let us look in Herculaneum, then, near the water.”

On the third day of prospecting, Cain found what he was searching for: twenty acres on the shore, with excellent locations for docking and boat storage. The price was six million sesterces, but Metellus’s knack for negotiating sliced the final sale price by ten percent. After arranging for a thorough survey, the visitors left, with Cain eager to return to Rome and begin drawing up the extensive plans for his summer villa and repository.

***

Having acquired the necessary real estate, Cain now needed to replenish his resources for the construction of the repository itself. And so, in AD 1, he decided on a foreign mission. He had used the signet ring bestowed on him by Ptolemy in Alexandria to claim the lands in Spain and North Africa that he had bargained for with the Roman aediles on his previous visit two and a half centuries earlier. Stating that he was the lawful heir, he claimed and in due order received his “ancestor’s” property.

One of the benefits of the
Pax Romana
, or “Roman peace,” was that the rule of law prevailed in previously unstable regions. He was reasonably confident that he would find his lands undisturbed.

Before he sailed from Ostia to New Carthage on Spain’s southeast coast, Cain gathered a cadre of skilled engineers and a company of soldiers if protection against pirates or trespassers should prove necessary. He also took three hundred experienced mining slaves on board, and he arranged for the purchase of thousands more slaves to be brought in a trailing fleet of ships within the next few weeks.

Slavery had been so common in his world—in Enoch, Egypt, Greece, Babylon, and Xi’an, not to speak of here in Italy—that he didn’t give the matter a second thought. Nevertheless, having witnessed firsthand the cruelty masters were capable of, he was determined to treat his slave laborers humanely, giving them better food than most masters did, seeing to their injuries, and strictly warning his staff of overseers against any brutal mistreatment.

As Cain witnessed, conditions were wretched enough in the deep-vein mines. Workers dressed in tunics with leather aprons labored in all-day shifts to locate and then hew the ore out from the silver-bearing seams, sometimes six hundred feet below ground. Space was so cramped in spots that men lay on their backs or their sides as they used their iron picks, chisels, wedges, and tongs. Some galleries extended over a mile. Boys scrambled through the tunnels to collect the ore. Notwithstanding numerous advances in technology, the problems of poor ventilation, lighting, and drainage remained pervasive. And there was always the danger of roof collapse in the mines.

Despite the challenges of deep-vein mining, Cain’s operation in Spain had produced forty-five thousand pounds of high-grade silver by the end of the year. Leaving a trusted foreman in charge of his Spanish mines, he sailed to North Africa. Here his plan was to use the purest of white reef sand to manufacture expensive blown-glass products for the market in Rome. At Carthage, he set up a large factory and supervised a team of skilled craftsmen, teaching them how to add ingredients to the glass in precise proportions to make it absolutely clear. Vases, glasses, and pitchers were soon being churned out of the factory at a rate of hundreds of pieces per day. Cain’s entrepreneurial genius, combined with his eye for detail, resulted in glass products fit for a king.

With this factory up and running, Cain established a routine. Every year during the six-month sailing season, he traveled the western Mediterranean in his cargo ship, supervising his operations in Spain and North Africa and arranging new trade contacts. He lived in Rome for the other six months, making occasional visits to Herculaneum as he worked on the plans for the villa and repository he would build there.

One evening, while seated on the deck of his ship under a blanket of stars, Cain reflected on his commercial successes of late. He was no stranger to prosperity, but the pace in his accumulation of wealth since he’d dedicated the archival project to God was truly amazing. He hoped this was no coincidence and that his efforts would finally find favor with the Almighty and achieve the lifting of his curse.