Frail Building Blocks of History by Peter Pogany

“Some therefore cried one thing, and some another: for the assembly was confused; and the more part knew not wherefore they were come together.” (Acts 19:32)

Liquid fire flowed from the naked blue sky, but it was cool among the many columns of Artemis’ famed temple. And if the mighty Goddess of virginity and childbirth was offended, the lion and the griffon, staring into timelessness from the bottom of the terra cotta gabled roof would not let anyone guess it. Yet it was not business as usual in Ephesus.

Demetrius, the wealthy silversmith, nervously paced the main room of his house while his vividly gesticulating son, Apollo, tried to convince him about something. The sons of the most prominent Ephesian families had no better schooling than Apollo.  He studied rhetoric at the academy with the renowned Tyrannus, though, so far, he had been able to convince only his father when he needed money, not the least because Demetrius had a superstitious respect for the education he did not have.

But today Apollo’s efforts to con money out of his father’s pocket had been in vain. Not even dilating his eyes to convey helplessness, underscoring his plea with the most desperate gestures, and mentioning the names of high society youths to whom he owed gambling money had any effect. To the contrary, Demetrius became incensed:

“No, no, and no again! I don’t care to whom you owe. I make less and less and will no longer spend my hard-earned money on your frivolities. You are lustful like an Athenian and wasteful like a Roman — games and competitions! Duties? Never! Enough is enough, not a single obolo more. If you don’t shape up, son, I’m going to take my hands off of you.

The boy defiantly listened to this unusual outburst, and was ready to restart his attempt to get at least something out of his father but not a chance. Demetrius turned around and left the room.

In the courtyard, he ran into his daughter, Helena. As much as he loved her, the sight of her upset him even more. That rascal Apollo would straighten himself out with time, but his daughter would have to be married off and that required money – lots of money!

Demetrius had amassed a considerable fortune. It was only recently that his business had turned sour to the point where bankruptcy was no longer unthinkable. It became the obsession of this vain and ambitious man to get into high society through his daughter’s marriage. Unfortunately, Helena was not a pretty girl, which meant that he had to bolster her meager attractiveness with shiny gold. Indeed, to advertise his willingness to pay a substantial dowry, he covered her with ostentatious jewelry, bought her expensive purple and dark red robes with embroidered hems. To his later regret, he held out for a better party for too long. In the meantime Helena aged, and while this circumstance demanded more and more money to compensate, he earned less and less.

His anger gave way to hope. He was poor as a beggar in his youth, he would make good once again. He would have a distinguished son-in-law, after all.

Sounds of ponderous shuffling from the shadows of the columned portico. The bent figure of Demetrius’ wife appeared. As soon as she caught sight of him she began to whine:

“You don’t care about me anymore, Demetrius. I have not seen you all day, yet I felt so ill this morning that I thought I was going to die. My legs are killing me. And you know very well that only hot baths would help but beg and cry as I may, you would not spend the money. You don’t even spare a glance at your miserable wife, the mother of your children.”

She moaned and complained in an annoyingly thin voice.

Demetrius tried to reason by reminding her that he did everything to restore her health while his business flourished — to no avail. His wife was still convinced that he was the richest man in Ephesus, a veritable gold mine. During the halcyon days of his business, he indeed lived like one of the elite – chariot races, circus, theater, long hours at the baths, the barber, walking through the Agora every day. Servants did all the work; he only directed and supervised them. This life of luxury — copious meals and idleness — made him fat.

He kept a lover, a young widow by the name of Chara, who lived with her aging mother. Demetrius spent a lot of money on her but he did not mind. She was the asylum where he could escape from the suffocating grey clouds of everydayness, his eternally complaining wife.

Cursing his home that turned against him in unison, like a Greek chorus emanating ill omens; flushed with the desire for Chara’s carefree youthful breath, he walked briskly. It was hot and his forehead bathed in sweat.

A good feeling invaded him the moment he arrived at her house. And when the door closed behind him, all the unpleasantness, worries and dangers were locked out. He approached the luxuriously gowned Chara with youthful steps, put his arms around her, but she was defiant and his kiss landed on her large, cool forehead. “What’s wrong?” Demetrius wondered and, exhausted from carrying his enormous belly through the vaporous heat, he plopped down on a sofa.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the uncustomary surroundings, breathing in with widening lungs the redolence of myrrh and nardus, assorted cosmetics and ambrosia, the feminine atmosphere he found so pleasant. He looked up. It was not unusual that Chara received him pouting, sitting next him only after a few minutes, saying simple, childish things, while pleasing him with her lips. But now, to his surprise, she remained withdrawn. Sitting on a silver-inlaid chair he had bought for her, she hummed indifferently between her teeth.

“Speak Chara,” he asked without suspicion.

She gave him a reproachful glance and said in a voice that trembled from repressed emotion:

“You are not a man, Demetrius. You don’t keep your word. Better to say, you are like all other men. You all make promises to get what you want but are unwilling to give anything in return.”

“What are you talking about? What have I promised?”

“Come on now, stop pretending you stingy old liar.”

He suddenly remembered. Walking through the Agora with Chara a few days ago, a merchant from Tyrus had shown her a couple of bracelets and necklaces. She wanted them badly but they were very expensive. He explained to her that momentarily he was not in the position to buy such baubles but as soon as his business turned for the better she would get them.

“Yes, I must live like a slave’s wife,” complained Chara. “You are constantly on my back without fulfilling any of my desires. You treat me as if I were your slave.”

Fuming with righteous anger he held out his arms in a posture of self-defense.

“What do you say? I treat you like a slave? I’m stingy and never fulfill your wishes!?  Didn’t I buy you — despite my difficult situation — crimson curtains for your bed a month ago just to make you happy? Didn’t I buy you expensive jewelry, the likes of which my wife would never dream of having? Everything that is here came from me!  I could not buy what Tyrus offered simply because I did not have the money and still don’t have it. You forget that I have created a life style for you that even the most distinguished women of Ephesus would envy, you thankless little critter.”

Chara began to smile and tried to calm down the indignant man. She softly touched his arm and as if no word had been spoken she put her head on his chest. But Demetrius was not to be appeased. Blue from rage, wildly gesticulating, he shouted:

“This is absolutely horrible! Wherever I go, wherever I turn I hear nothing but money, money, and money again! One day all of you will gang up on me, cut me to pieces thinking that I hide gold under my skin.”

Chara showed her moist teeth and offered her lips. But her efforts did not work this time. Demetrius brutally rejected her kiss and, trembling from resentment, left the house.

Hesitant and desperate, he walked along in the narrow alley. There was no place to go where someone would not make demands on him. Had Zeus unleashed his hounds to punish him for allowing greed to rule his soul? He was quick to acknowledge his unwillingness to live like a simple silversmith. Was he not the best among them? He could not possibly give up his aristocratic habits. And how could he tell his rich acquaintances the truth?  What to do? If he continued to draw down his accumulated wealth he would certainly end up in poverty.

All was well until a new religion came along and ruined the market for his masterfully appointed miniature silver temples and shrines of Artemis.

Oh, this new religion! A simplicity that mocks sophisticated Greek tradition! Was it designed by his competitors to ruin him? During the past four months, the distributors of objects extolling the magnificence of Artemis reported practically no sales and just yesterday one of them had returned his consignment saying that the new faith prohibited the sale of such objects. He smashed the air in front of him with his open palm. Is this not ridiculous? A religion that forbids the purchase of his merchandise! No, he would not resign himself to this development, he will not return to work in a shop like a simple craftsman. Something needed to be done, and immediately, otherwise it would all be over.

This was the day when Demetrius paid off the various independent jewelers and those who labored directly under his command. Every time a drachma left his fingers he felt pain in his chest because these expenses came from the wealth he thought was safe and could only accrue rather than diminish with time. He dealt with the people who worked for him in a cold, unfriendly way, as if mere contact with them was below his rank. Others were only means to satisfy his craving for fortune and status and he knew no mercy if he could short them with a single obolo. No wonder they called him “the old thief” behind his back.

Nevertheless, he was teary with genuine emotion when Kimon the enamel-maker said:

“The material became more expensive Demetrius. I have told you this several times but you keep giving me the same amount of money. This cannot continue. I would make more if I worked for any other silver- or goldsmith or jeweler. I stuck to our arrangement because we have worked together for a long time. But from now on, if I don’t get what is my due, you can look for another enamel-maker.”

Kimon, actually spoke on behalf of most of the men who supplied Demetrius. And when he reported to them that — instead of turning red and blue, and yelling at the top of his lungs — Demetrius seemed dejected, they all wondered what got into “the old thief.”

Next day, Demetrius invited all his associates to his courtyard.

“Men!” he addressed them “I know that you are all good, decent, diligent workers. This is beyond doubt; I ask only that you take to your heart the fact that without me you could not have enjoyed the fruits of your labor. You have all been beneficiaries of my business acumen, my savvy; my good fortune. That’s why I’m asking you, as long-standing business partners and old friends, to listen me with patience and understanding. I’m in a tight spot, at risk of losing everything. You, who eat the same bread as I, ought to know that a stupid new religion is spreading not only in Ephesus but throughout Asia. It feigns that gods made by our own hands are no gods at all.”

“The person who spreads this madness is a Jew by the name of Paul from Jerusalem, a tent-maker. As we all know everything that comes from Jerusalem is detrimental to us, Greeks. I’m telling you, if we allow this riff-raff to plunder freely in Ephesus, with the clear intention to ruin us, we’ll all end up in poverty.”

“Understand men, how difficult my situation is and, as a result, the danger that faces all of you. Instead of demanding my last money you ought to think about what could be done against this scum to save our livelihood.”

Angry murmur in the audience with shouts: “Demetrius is right! What should we do?”

The men gesticulated, interrupting one another in a heated debate that lasted late into the night. They parted with the shout — “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”

Demetrius was satisfied. As he laid down to rest he kept murmuring: “By Zeus, I shall sever the throat of that man.”

The next morning he paid a visit to his brother-in-law Silas, a priest of Artemis.

“I have something important to tell you my cherished kin,” he began.” It concerns Paul, the depraved Jew, of whom we have talked before. His words are not only an affront to our religion but if he is allowed to spread his idiotic ideas of creating gods out of thin air, all of us going to be ruined. Paul has confused and bedazzled many during the past three years and unless something is done against him I would have to abandon the fabrication of decorative and ritual temples dedicated to our Goddess.”

“And they take their offerings to Paul, instead of to Artemis,” echoed Silas. Since I live off offerings I have become needy and struggle with worries I never had before. Indeed, this Paul is turning us into beggars, while he is becoming richer everyday. Although it seems unbelievable, the entire Artemis priesthood is in danger. What do you intend to do?”

“We must render him harmless. I, myself, don’t yet know how. All I know is that his sins must be avenged. He must be brought before justice, or must be chased away, banned from Ephesus, if possible from the whole of Asia. This is what I and many others want. And you, Silas, should be with us, your welfare depends on this matter too. You should talk to the people; urge them to be faithful to Artemis. They will heed the words you utter because you are a priest. And you need to give your best because Paul has power over the crowd. Tyrannus even invited him to speak at the academy, saying that his students in rhetoric could learn from him. We must defeat this intruder and we can. He is still too weak to be dangerous when confronted. But it is obvious that if no one resists he will soon become invincible. We must act against him while we have the power. Those who see Paul as an enemy are still in the majority. Once we open their eyes, the people will be on our side.  After our victory, the respect of our Goddess will be even greater, and our current neediness will turn into a new wave of prosperity. The gratitude for saving the one and only true faith will make us popular and we will end our lives in riches.”

The words of Demetrius had the desired effect, although Silas expressed some doubts:

“According to the law an accusation will have to be supported by witnesses who can present evidence.”

“No problem, I can bring witnesses. Beginning with myself, all the silver- and goldsmiths, jewelers, enamel-makers, craftsmen, traders and vendors — all those who make their living from objects dedicated to the worship of Artemis can testify that piousness has declined. There are witnesses who can confirm that Paul has denigrated and besmirched our faith. My son Apollo, who studies with Tyrannus, and a woman whom I know quite well, can testify against Paul. Both of them will follow my instructions to the letter.

“Yes, our tolerance has come to an end,” concluded Silas. “Time has come to act. This man should be rendered harmless. I will fulfill my duty and will bring with me vendors of worship objects who can also testify that Greek religion is in danger. Yes, we all have reason to hate Paul.”

The lively conversation between Demetrius and Silas – accompanied by occasional yells of rage — continued in the courtyard, as they walked around the altar of Artemis.

Upon arrival at his house, Demetrius talked to Apollo:

“You have caused me much chagrin son, but now here is the opportunity to make yourself useful. What’s more, render me a service that would benefit you too. If you accomplish well what I ask you to do, I’ll give you the money you demanded the other day. I have been a good father to you. You know that, and you should also know that the only reason I denied your request was that my business is on the verge of bankruptcy. You have heard Paul speak at the academy. All you need to do is to testify before the people and the law, according to my instructions. To make your words more effective bring along some of your most vocal friends.”

A handful of men who worked for Demetrius gathered in his courtyard. Laden with ornamental silver temples, shrines and boxes, the group proceeded to Chara’s house. Demetrius went in alone for a private talk with her.

“Chara,” he began, “being unable to fulfill all your wishes pains me the most.  I’m now asking for your help in a matter, which, if successfully resolved, would allow me to buy you the gifts I had promised. All you have to do is to follow my instructions. It involves lying but you are no stranger to that. You have lied enough to me. At least now you will do that in the service of Artemis in addition to serving your own interests.”

Demetrius and the men in his company went to see Kimon. With his help they had tracked down all the craftsmen who had made their living from Artemis objects. They brought along friends, relatives, and acquaintances.

As they went from house to house, they met Silas who, in the company of several others, united with Demetrius and his group. The providers of materials used in fabricating the ornaments, vendors; then Apollo and his friends increased the crowd that grew spontaneously with men interrupting their bargaining, with curious passers-by and idlers on their way to the Agora.

“Artemis is great, Ephesus is great!” yelled Demetrius.

The swelling multitude echoed “Great is the Artemis of Ephesus!”

“Great is Artemis of Ephesus,” the side streets answered and by the time the profusion reached the Agora it turned into an impressive mass rally.

Demetrius began to speak in a forceful, self-assured tone:

“Men of Ephesus! I, a citizen widely honored in our city, want to speak to you about a very important matter.  Lend me your ears and consider my suggestions. As most of you know, three years ago, a Jew named Paul came to Ephesus and since then has caused much damage by insulting the honor of our Artemis. This man who clearly strives for power and fame wants people to believe things that no individual with a sane mind and good morality could take seriously. So much so that even most of his compatriots in Israel disown him. Can we, good-natured and trusting Greeks, allow any Pariah to come here and exploit us?  Paul is not permitted to set foot in the synagogues of his own country. And what do we, pushover and gullible Greeks of Ionia do? We invite him to speak at our academy under the pretext that he is a good rhetorician and the students would benefit by listening to him. Of course, he uses the opportunity to belittle Artemis, the protector of our welfare. He went so far as to ridicule the lunar crescent on the brow of our many-breasted, chaste and graceful Goddess.”

“Those who advocate alien gods,” interrupted Silas, “must be hit on the head; the ears of those who listen to them should be filled with hot wax.”

Many raised their fists, yelling:

“Paul should be brought before the law!”

Demetrius turned passionate and raised his voice:

“That’s right. Every Greek who listens to this vicious madman should be put to death.  He has been in Ephesus for three years and has already done more harm to Artemis than the one who burned down her temple and whose name, we law-abiding Ephesians should not even mention.”

“That one was Greek, at least,” ventured a Templar, adding, “Paul’s religion prohibits the worship of Artemis!”

“Anyone who listens to him is an enemy and should be forced to buy holy ornaments,” proposed a vendor.

“Men, to support our indictment of Paul,” Demetrius continued, “listen to my son Apollo who heard him speak at the academy.“

“True,” Apollo intoned, “Paul heaps insults on the Goddess. He even denies that Zeus sent her image to us from Olympus. He claims that there is some Jewish God who is much more powerful than she is. I heard this with my own ears at the Academy and I’m willing to repeat everything I have said under oath, before the law.”

His friends voiced strong, unanimous support.

Feeling the moment propitious, Demetrius struck a theatrical pose and began to talk in an intimate, complacent tone:

“Men, we face the danger that the temple of Artemis, which had been worshiped since eternity, will lose its sublime splendor.”

“As one of the many honored citizens of Ephesus, I have dedicated my entire life to the humble service of our Goddess by producing silver replicas of her temple, deploying all the dexterity of fingers and keenness of eyes I could muster to make them worthy of her magnanimous, shining glory; selling them at as low a price as humanly possible, sacrificing lucrative opportunities to earn the kind of money a master silversmith and jeweler can.  But far be it from me to complain. As long as faith had prevailed among the citizens of Ephesus, the volume of sales compensated for the ridiculously low price, allowing me to eke out a decent living. But ever since that worthless Jew wormed his way into our midst my family faces poverty and deprivation. The only reason I bring up my personal problem is to prove to you that Ephesus has strayed from the righteous path. Because it is clear; the extent to which people no longer buy the objects that represent Artemis, they honor and worship her less.”

“Now, I see amongst you some of the tradesmen who sell objects dedicated to almighty Artemis! She is the true wonder of the world. All of you who have gathered here today, remaining faithful to her, permit me to urge you to buy the silver replicas of her temple, thereby atoning for the sin this community has committed by turning to barbarous idols.”

Upon hearing these words, some actually bought miniature silver replicas, but others began to laugh. Many showed disgust.

Seeing this, Demetrius raised both hands in protest and shouted:

“Men, listen! Don’t misunderstand me! I have no intention of drawing drachmas out of your pockets for my benefit. As I have told you I barely make any money on these objects. I asked you to buy them solely in order to make it possible for those who work for me to be able to continue their sacred labor. I want to prove to you that I’m selfless when it comes to devotion. You don’t have to pay now if you have no money with you or want to pay later. You know where I live. Stop by for a visit when you have time and erase your debt when you can. I trust you because you are Greeks and you ought to trust me because I am Greek too.”

Outburst of enthusiasm! People quickly surrounded the vendors who carefully jotted down the names of those who bought on credit. The merchandise brought along was soon gone and Demetrius had to send for fresh supplies.

“Long live Demetrius, defender of Artemis,” yelled Kimon. Other silversmiths and jewelers, and many in the crowd echoed the cheers.

Seeing this, Silas along with other priests huddled in intense consultation. Then, as if they had come to an agreement, they calmed down and Silas rose to speak. He elaborated at length on the holiness and might of the Goddess, urging Ephesians to remain faithful to their traditions and through adoration and sacrifice appease her indignation, thereby avoiding disaster for the city, decline in its prosperity and morals. He ended his speech with these words:

“Men of Ephesus! Artemis has been offended. But she is ready to forgive as long as she sees sincerity. And how else to express it if not through an appropriate sacrifice! We, the priests of the Goddess, being the closest to her; in possession of the deepest understanding of her moods, wishes, and intentions, were so certain that you would be ready to expiate the transgression of our city that we have brought along the vendors of the Temple. Approach them. They have only limited supplies of sacred objects, blessed by thrice-anointed chief priests in front of the main altar. Buy these items, take them to your home and enjoy the protection that she extends especially to those who acquired them in order to make amends for people who forgot that she is the virgin daughter of Zeus, the  powerful and magnificent protector of you, your family, our beloved city, Ephesus. I declare this day to be the ‘Day of Atonement.’  . . .”

Demetrius’ head became scarlet with anger. The idea that money would not be spent on his articles enraged him. He interrupted the ranting Silas:

“Men of Ephesus! It is grand that you sacrifice to conciliate Artemis, but this will hardly cause any damage to Paul. He will continue to exhale his poisonous breath in our city. We must do more! We must move against him!”

Encouraged by the murmur of approval, he continued:

“Paul represents a much greater menace than you would think. Not only does he vilify and defame our Goddess by proclaiming false gods  . . .”

“He loves an ass that feeds on blood,” shouted Silas with passion.

“An ass,” another priest interjected, “an ass instead of our beautiful, gracious Artemis.”

Laughter.

“ . . . Not only does he defame Artemis” yelled Demetrius over the cacophony, “but he is a common fraud, a cheater and a liar who wants to get rich by exploiting our goodness, our trustworthiness. Look at my predicament and you will see what his preaching has brought to hardworking, honest, devoted men like me!”

“The only reason he brought his Gods to Ephesus is to take away our livelihood,” thundered Silas.

The explosive bitterness emanating from a highly respected priest had a great effect. People were cursing Paul, cheering Artemis, Silas and Demetrius.

“He takes away our bread,” yelled one of Demetrius’ vendors “deprives honest Greeks of their bread.”

“Is it not enough that the Romans are on our backs?” began someone but Demetrius was quick to cut him off –

“My accusations have not yet been completed, men! This villainous man debased our nation, spat on our honor and pride.”

Faces darkened with rage.

Demetrius put his arm around a demure Chara, dressed in a traditional Greek costume, and drew her closer to himself:

“Look at this beautiful Greek woman; a respected young widow — our own race. This morning I found her in tears at my door. When I asked why she was crying, she told me that Paul stopped her on the street. He impudently eyed her attire then labeled it to be immodest! Have you heard of such an affront, men? That foreign knave has the gall to accost an honorable Greek woman!  He is a slanderer of the Greek Nation!”

Chara covered her face in a simulated attack of chagrin, first moaning with sadness then sobbing convulsively, her round shoulders heaving with the indignation of a defenseless child.

Rancor began to pulsate in the dark depths of the worked-up crowd. With the string perfectly tuned, Demetrius felt the moment propitious to play the martial tune:

“Men of Ephesus, we have had enough! What this man is doing to us cannot be further tolerated. Defile and tarnish Artemis, our Artemis, our pride and honor; endanger entire crafts and professions, abuse our hospitality, show the most arrogant disrespect toward our traditions. Our patience has come to an end. This man should not be allowed to come and go freely in our city. Follow me, he must be captured!

“Let’s capture him,” the exclamation echoed a hundred times and the crowd turned into a wrathful animal ready to sink its angry fangs into anyone in its way.

“He must be captured and killed. Where is he, where is he?”

“Let’s go the Academy,” Demetrius commanded. “He resides in the same neighborhood where that treacherous Tyrannus lives. Great is Artemis of Ephesus! Follow me!

“Artemis of Ephesus is great! Great is Artemis of Ephesus!”

And thronging, stepping on each others’ feet, people began to follow Demetrius. Many who did not even know what the uproar was about joined in, shouting with great enthusiasm.

Demetrius used both his fists to beat on the door of the house where Paul presumably hid. A frightened man clad in a dirty chiton emerged but perceiving the danger he tried to go back into the house. He could not. Strong arms caught him. Trembling for his life, he protested his innocence. With a broad gesture, Demetrius pointed his finger at him:

“Look at this Greek who has betrayed his brothers!”

“Where is Paul?” others shouted.

“I don’t know,” the man declared. “Perhaps they know it in the synagogue.”

“To the synagogue, to the synagogue!

“And you come with us,” Demetrius told the man, apparently a housekeeper, who in a few minutes managed to disappear in the confusion.

“Paul, Paul, Paul!!!”

When two caftaned Jews conversing in the street and a couple of temple servants busy around the synagogue saw the approach of the truculent deluge, they escaped into the building.

Savage shrieks of “Where is Paul? Where is Paul?”

“We don’t know,” the answer came from behind the heavy door.

“Where is Paul? Where is Paul?”

“I’ve told you we don’t know. Why would we hide that scum?”

The crowd was about to break into the synagogue when its door opened and a body rolled out.

“Let Alexander show you the way,” someone yelled from inside and the door was quickly closed again.

“It’s not true, I don’t know” countered the man called Alexander.

“You lie,” the crowd roared, “lead us to him. Where is Paul?”

“Artemis is great, Artemis is great!”

The sickly pale Alexander was grabbed and moved back and forth with the restless swarm as shouts multiplied “Lead us to Paul, off with his head, Artemis is great, Artemis is great!”

The profusion subdivided itself into side streets, each separate mob looking for Paul, banging on doors, interrogating inhabitants.

Now excited voices could be heard from a group that moved from a neighboring street toward the spot where Demetrius and his entourage stood: “Gaius and Aristarchus are Paul’s accomplices. They should lead us to his hiding place.”

“Lead us to Paul!”

The two men desperately denied any knowledge of Paul’s whereabouts:

“We don’t know where he is. He must have left.”

“Lying ruffians, lead us to Paul!”

A half-dozen or so men began to beat and kick Gaius and Aristarchus:

“Speak scumbags!”

Demetrius became scared that they might be killed and then he would get entangled with justice. He tried to calm the spirits:

“Stop, stop the beating! Men, if you kill them you will be held responsible. They are stubborn like asses. Instead, let’s bring them to the town clerk. He will question them and will help us find Paul.”

“To the town clerk,” voices shrieked — “Artemis is great, great is Artemis of Ephesus!”

The town clerk was an ambitious, greedy man who could not care less about justice. His main concern was to ingratiate himself with the local representatives of Rome, hoping to rise in the occupying power’s administrative hierarchy. Knowing that Paul was a citizen of Rome, he had made up his mind in a second. He would protect him and liberate the three hostages.

“What offenses have these people committed and what do you want from me?” the town clerk asked in a matter of fact voice.

Demetrius:

“We have come to indict Paul whom we can no longer tolerate in Ephesus. He slanders Artemis, deprives us of our bread. Order his arrest and we’ll have witnesses to support our accusation. These two, Gaius and Aristarchus, are his accomplices. And this third is Alexander, we have brought him from the synagogue  . . .”

Since he could not say anything against Alexander, he fell silent. The town clerk noticed the hesitation and interrupted:

“What harm has he caused you?”

“He refuses to lead us to Paul, yet he is most likely one of his followers since the Jews gave him to us voluntarily.”

“This is hardly any reason to deprive someone of his liberty. He is not obligated to obey your wishes. I can see already that you don’t have the slightest idea what you want. As far as arresting Paul that’s not your business but ours, enforcers of the law.”

“But that’s exactly why we are here. Put these three under arrest and capture Paul.”

“Empty talk,” replied the town clerk. “Whatever you have said about Paul is unknown to me. Besides he is a Roman citizen who cannot be arrested without strong evidence. If you have complaints against him you will have to turn to the court. For the same reason I have no ground to put any of these three men in custody. By bringing them here you seem to have violated the law. I cannot make arrests based on accusations arising from politics.”

“We’ll go to the court,” Demetrius shouted but his hold over the crowd had already waned. People began to sense aimlessness and danger.

“Your comportment surprises me, men of Ephesus,” continued the town clerk, “Everybody knows that Ephesus guards the temple of the Goddess whose image was sent to us by Zeus. Since no one can possibly negate this fact it makes no sense to behave like you do. If you want to sue Paul, go ahead, I have nothing against it, the court will decide about the merits of your case. In the meantime you must let these three go and disband. If you don’t there might be a case against you for instigating public disorder. Go after your business people — go in peace!”

The town clerk gave a sign to the armed guards who had assembled around him. They had to move only one step and the crowd dispersed. Exhausted from the excitement and the ceaseless yelling that had lasted for more than two hours, the official order came as a blessing.

In a few minutes, the acute tension vanished into the shimmering horizon of tomorrow and the shallow waves of the Aegean Sea left the ebb and flow of life remarkably unchanged.