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kind of quiet polar challenge which he found hard to interpret. Judaea against Rome? One generation against another? The upholder of a rigorous scheme of social conduct against its careless violater? For Quintilius had insisted that the interview take place in his dining room. He ate while they stood. Ruth, sixteen, her veil over all but her eyes, watched each mouthful of meat with what could be horror. A barefooted Syrian mixed wine with wellwater. It was against the Jewish law for the faithful to enter under the roof of the infidel. Matthias, who had brought them hither, insisted on waiting in the courtyard, though that left the women unchaperoned. They considered that the need to plead for a son and brother absolved them from a taboo which, being women, they could not anyway take seriously.
           'There are two kinds of freedom, sir,' she said. 'It does not matter if the body is in chains so long as the mind is free.'
           'Free to do what?'
           'To think. To believe. That is a freedom that cannot be removed — not even by —’ She had perhaps gone too far.
           'Not even by the oppressive forces of Rome — is that what you wish to say?' He began to work on a bone.
           'It's a thing we accept,' Sara said. 'Roman rule, I mean. We in our generation have known nothing different.' Then she said: 'You seem to have difficulty with our Aramaic. Would you prefer that I spoke in Latin?'
           'I neither have nor have not difficulty with your Aramaic,' he said in Latin. 'It is not a language I wish to master. To render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. You know the saying?'
           'And to God the things that are God's,' she said in Latin with a strong Judaean burr. 'It's a common saying.'
           'And a saying that your brother spits out like a bad fig. Where did you learn your Latin?'
           'At home. We Jewish women stay at home. But I can see the world through books.'
           'She is a clever girl,' her mother said, as in apology. 'It's the way some of the young are these days. Asking questions and so on. I don't hold with it, sir.'
           'Well, woman, see where asking questions has got your son. For him I can do nothing. He defies the Roman state and he must take his punishment.'
           The mother began to wail.
           'Wait,' Quintilius said, 'I hadn't finished. He's not alone. There are others of his kind. To me indeed he's not even a name. What would you give to see another in his place — carrying the punitive cross?'
           Sara said cautiously: 'What do you mean, sir — give? You mean we can — buy his freedom?' They were back on Aramaic; her mother knew nothing else.
           'Crudely put — buy. A very crude word. Shall we say that his punishment could be commuted into a fine. A heavy one, of course. There is money in your family?'
           'My husband worked at the potter's trade, sir. He left nothing. There is my brother, though —’
           'Uncle Matthias,' Ruth said, 'has joined the Nazarenes, mother. He is going to give his money to the Nazarene poor.'
           'Aren't we the poor?' the mother wailed. 'Isn't his own sister's son more deserving than the — unwashed beggars of the town? We'll speak to him, your honour. Give him an hour and he'll come back with the money?'
           'Shall we say fifty aurei — gold pieces?'
           Sara said firmly: 'It's impossible, sir. I know it's impossible. And we have no —’ She looked for the word and could not find it.
           'No guarantees, you mean, I think. You have no trust in Roman mercy? Or in the word of a Roman officer?'
           'Just half an hour, sir,' the mother cried. 'I know he can get the money.'
           'Alternatively,' Quintilius said, 'you ladies are now, I suppose, destitute. You are hereby offered posts in the household of the deputy procurator of Judaea. Unpaid, of