We took a table and benches apart from the others who ate and drank. A
few, mostly Roman soldiers, regarded us askance, but with little malice or
pronounced disapproval. I could not tell if it was because he was a Jew, or
because he was unwashed and disheveled, or both. We were told what was on offer.
I took a portion of roasted baby pork, he a plate of deep-sea oysters and
garum. Two fresh breads were brought to us, oyster-bread for him, bread of
emmer for me, and wine.
“I
am forbidden by the Book to eat such things,” he said, gesturing to the oysters.
I
looked at him.
“All
that have not fins and scales in the seas, they shall be an abomination unto
you,” he said in a tone of mock gravity. Then in the tone that was his own: “So
commands the Book.”
He
savored the oysters and garum, tore off a piece of bread, ate it, washed it
down with wine.
“And
the swine,” he said, returning to his tone of mock gravity, “though he be
cloven-footed, he cheweth not the cud, and thus he is unclean to you.”
I
cut off a piece of the charred suckling pig, placed it with my knife on his
plate. His eyes closed with pleasure as he ate it.
“It
seems to me that your Book denies you much,” I said.
“It
denies me nothing. It denies to my people any delight in this world which their
God is supposed to have created.”

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