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Eugenios: Servant of Kings
Eugenios: Servant of Kings
Eugenios: Servant of Kings
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Eugenios: Servant of Kings

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Two thousand years ago Palestine was a minor kingdom situated between the Roman Province of Syria and the Roman breadbasket, Egypt. Strong hands were needed to keep the peace and Pax Romana prevailed because of the threat and sometimes the use of force.

Into this mix is woven a love story between Sphaerus, a personal servant to the powerful emperor Augustus, and Kallisto, a beautiful Jewish slave girl. To complicate matters, Kallisto brings into this relationship expectations of a Hebrew messiah. Whether in Egypt, Rome, or Greece, every Hebrew considered Jerusalem his home, and God help the Roman ruler who forgot that.

Delightful irony results when Eugenios, the son of Sphaerus and Kallisto, becomes an adviser to Herod. His successful family life provides a stunning comparison to the deranged families of his masters. Even a servant may learn that love is the most powerful weapon in life and the only source of true happiness.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherWestBow Press
Release dateMay 1, 2014
ISBN9781490833927
Eugenios: Servant of Kings
Author

Julian Bauer

Julian Bauer writes about integrity in governing, a knowledge he gained as CEO of his own company; as a Federal government executive; and as the president of a national non-profit organization. He has been married for fifty-six years to Carmen Espinosa and lives in Maryland.

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    Eugenios - Julian Bauer

    Copyright © 2014 Julian Bauer.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    WestBow Press

    A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.westbowpress.com

    1 (866) 928-1240

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-3393-4 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-3394-1 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-3392-7 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2014906837

    WestBow Press rev. date: 4/30/2014

    CONTENTS

    Preface

    Part One

    Weddings

    The East

    Actium

    Intrigue and Delusion

    Improvements

    Assassination

    Part Two

    A New Land

    Marriage

    A New Beginning

    Family Intrigues

    Rome Intervenes

    The Transient Heir

    A Vacuum Develops

    The Time Is Right

    The Baptist’s Mission Concludes

    The Linen Shroud

    Caligula

    Edessa

    Epilogue

    Bibliography

    PREFACE

    Two thousand years ago, Palestine was a minor kingdom important to Rome only because it was situated between the Roman province of Syria and the Roman breadbasket, Egypt. The Israelites were a rebellious people who had spread throughout the Mediterranean. Strong hands were needed to keep the peace, and Pax Romana prevailed because of the threat and sometimes the use of force.

    In 63 BC, Pompey the Great intervened in the civil war between two Hebrew brothers vying for the kingdom of Palestine, Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II. One brother was supported by the Pharisees (Hyrcanus) and the other by the Sadducees (Aristobulus). Complicating the civil war was the interference of the Bedouin of Idumaea and the Nabataean Arabs from Petra. This was not an inconsequential familial dispute; their father, Alexander Jannaeus, as high priest and king of the Israelites, had crucified eight hundred Pharisees and slaughtered their wives and children in front of the condemned men.

    Both sides sought an arbiter, a third force, to end the bloodshed and civil war. That third force was the Roman legions under Pompey. Each of the brothers tried to solicit Pompey’s support through bribes. Eventually, Pompey decided to support the older brother, the inept Hyrcanus II—the same brother designated high priest and king by his mother.

    When the city of Jerusalem fell to the Romans, Pompey entered the sacred temple. Surprising many, he didn’t touch the golden table, the holy candlestick, the pouring vessels, or any item reserved for the priests. Moreover, Pompey did not confiscate the two thousand talents of sacred money he found in the temple treasury. Because of this respect for their religion and the peace that came with it, most Israelites accepted Roman administration and Roman taxes. Peace was restored—temporarily.

    Those who supported the Romans were rewarded. An Idumaean became procurator of Judea. He in turn appointed his son Herod to be governor of Galilee, and another of his sons, Phasael, to be governor of Jerusalem. The inept Hyrcanus was left by Pompey with the religious duties of the high priest, a fairly insignificant position as far as the Romans were concerned.

    In the following years, the defeated side in the civil war gathered together under Aristobulus’s son, Antigonus. He offered the enemies of Rome, the Parthians, one thousand talents and five hundred women if they would help him retake Jerusalem. Of course, the Parthians, a strong force on the eastern border of Rome’s Syrian province, were only too happy to do so. With their support, Antigonus took Jerusalem and captured the high priest, his uncle Hyrcanus. Antigonus then had his uncle’s ears cut off so he could never again be high priest, and he sent him into exile with the Parthians.

    The situation in Rome as the story opens in 38 BC is no better. Bitter rivals Pompey and Julius Caesar have both been assassinated. This time a very different civil war looms between Octavian, the adopted son of Julius Caesar, and Antony, the man who was consul when Caesar was assassinated and who may have known of the plot to kill Caesar. Both men wanted control of the Roman Republic. Both men wanted peace in Palestine, and both felt the man to ensure that peace was the Idumaean, Herod.

    While all this was going on, the average Israelite prayed for a messiah. In those years of turmoil, every nation had one or more gods protecting it; the Sacred Scriptures of the Israelites promised a messiah to save the nation of Israel, or so it seemed. Our characters come on the scene to tell us how it might have been—the expectations and the reality.

    Julian Bauer

    Columbia, Maryland

    January 21, 2014

    PART ONE

    SPHAERUS

    38 BC - 17 BC

    1

    WEDDINGS

    T he two praetorian guards almost carried the girl between them into the room. Her hair was disheveled, but there was no hiding her beauty. Nor did the skimpy tunic hide the curves of her young body. In spite of the haughty manner in which she presented herself, I felt sorry for her immediately.

    My master, Gaius Octavian, and his two lifelong friends, Marcus Agrippa and Gaius Maecenas, were preparing for the wedding of Octavian to his fourth wife, Livia Drusilla.

    The guard holding the girl’s right arm said, We were protecting the wedding gifts at the house of Tiberius when King Herod’s gifts arrived. They included this Hebrew girl from Joppa. We were about to have her made presentable, but the Lady Livia told us to take her to you as she was.

    And Livia will want to know, Agrippa said with a broad smile that barely softened his stern face, exactly what you did with her before you fall into the conjugal bed tonight.

    Is it possible that Livia could be jealous of a slave girl? Octavian asked, his bright eyes mocking the thought.

    The Etruscan, Maecenas, a man who adhered to the Greek philosopher Epicurus’s contention that pleasure is the only good, adjusted his stylish yellow toga over his protruding belly. This is serious. He chuckled, belying his words. How can we ensure that our esteemed triumvir can honestly tell his bride he had thoughts only of her on this, his wedding day?

    Sphaerus, my master said to me, what do you think I should do with this girl? The three turned to me as I put down the watered wine I had been serving. As attendant to Octavian since the three entered the ludi litterarii elementary school together, I had often been asked Why? by him when he was young. Now that he was twenty-five, I was more like a favorite clasp for his toga than someone who walked him to school answering silly childish questions.

    Master, I said with my eyes properly lowered, the decision is yours. However, if you married her off to one of the servants, our future mistress may see the matter as settled.

    Sphaerus, that is so exquisite. I don’t think I could have devised a better strategy, Maecenas said, admiration in his voice. This was high praise from the one who had superbly negotiated a temporary solution to the conflict with Marcus Antony two years earlier.

    Octavian stared at me, and a grin spread across his face. And just who among our servants deserves such a prize?

    Why, there is only one, Agrippa said, his hand slowly settling on my shoulder.

    Who would that be? I asked, bewildered as the three stared at me. A moment passed, and I understood.

    Sphaerus, you will marry her, Octavian said, placing a grape in his mouth. I’ve watched your moping face now for eighteen years, and it’s time you were rewarded to put a little light in your eyes.

    I almost fainted. But, Master, I have no time for a wife.

    Maecenas reached for the buttered snails. We couldn’t return the girl to Herod. It would be an insult. Giving the girl to just anyone could also be taken as an insult. Turning to Octavian, he added, Herod knows that Sphaerus is like a brother to you.

    She is a virgin, Sphaerus. I assure you, Octavian said.

    Of course she was a virgin. We knew Herod wouldn’t dare offer someone who wasn’t a virgin.

    But, Master, I said, I don’t want her. I have too much work to do to be bothered with a wife. I had an easy life, caring for the most powerful man in Rome. I didn’t need any complications.

    I suppose she could be a member of my household, Maecenas said with a leer.

    No, Octavian said before I could agree. Sphaerus will either marry her or I’ll send her off to the legionnaires for entertainment.

    That’s not fair, Agrippa said with a strong voice. You know that Sphaerus’s heart is too big to see her harmed. Look at him; he shudders.

    I was indeed shuddering. These three men knew me well. I had watched them play together as schoolchildren and now they were men—and not just any men, but three of the most powerful men in Rome. If I rejected the girl, she would not last long in the barracks.

    Who said I wanted to marry a plain-faced idiot with big hands and feet? the girl sneered.

    Gasps in the room, and then snarls, told me to do something or she might not leave the room alive. She suddenly realized what she had done, for it was not against Roman law to rape, maim, or kill a slave.

    I took off a sandal and threw it at her, barely missing a guard. She tried to duck, but it was too late. The sandal hit her in the head. She quickly picked it up, and for a second, I thought she was going to throw it back at me. Instead, she brought it over to me, kneeled, and kissed my foot.

    Her head was still lowered over my foot when Octavian laughed. She may not be properly submissive, my friends, but she learns quickly. What shall it be, Sphaerus? Will you wed her, or should we send her to the barracks?

    What could I say? If we married, her behavior would reflect on me. Still, she would warm my bed at night. Yet I was afraid. She was too valuable a gift for a slave. Octavian didn’t see the danger to me and quickly ordered the guards to take her to my room.

    The room then turned to the matter at hand: wrapping Octavian in his wedding finery. As he was brushing his curly nearly blond hair, I placed his golden slippers at his feet. Is it possible that Mariamne suggested this girl be sent to us? Agrippa asked his friends.

    Octavian had ordered King Herod to marry Mariamne, the granddaughter of both Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II. She was still too young to consummate the marriage and, being that young, had the audacity to think she was indispensable. Still, a marriage with Mariamne would ease tensions in Palestine by joining Herod, the Idumaean, with the last of the much-beloved Hasmonean dynasty. They would be betrothed for another year, and in that year, Mariamne might make many demands.

    It’s possible, Octavian said. At Mariamne’s insistence, Herod put aside his first wife, Doris, and exiled her together with their son, Antipater. Yes, I can see the childish Mariamne demanding this beautiful slave be sent here instead of remaining in Herod’s palace. He laughed at Mariamne’s youthful conniving.

    I didn’t say anything, but Livia, Octavian’s intended, was only nineteen years of age. She had two children: Tiberius and a newborn, Drusus, born only three days before. Their father had agreed to divorce Livia so she could marry my master. Such was life in pagan Rome.

    One should understand that my master is not just anyone; he is the nephew of Julius Caesar. When Caesar was assassinated six years earlier, his will provided for Octavian by making him Caesar’s adopted son and heir. All Caesar’s clientela, together with considerable lands and monies, were willed to my master. Octavian, in turn, had bought the loyalty of Rome by distributing much of this newly obtained wealth to Roman citizens. With that, he became the equal of Antony, the soldier, and Lepidus, the elder statesman.

    The Senate recognized this equality by creating a triumvirate, a commission of three for the ordering of the state. Antony took on the task of defeating Brutus and Cassius in the east and the Parthians threatening Syria. Octavian contended with the navy of Sextus, son of Pompey, to the south of Italy. Lepidus was sent to protect Egypt, the breadbasket of Rome.

    Livia’s husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, had been on the losing side of an earlier conflict with Sextus. In return for the divorce, Octavian had agreed to return a portion of her husband’s vast estates. Naturally, the divorce was considered a small price to pay for the return of his property. After all, in Rome, one could marry and divorce at will, but property was difficult to come by.

    Octavian freely admitted marrying Livia for love, unlike his first three wives, whose families provided for political advantage. The other servants and I had prepared the house on the Palatine with flowers, sweet-smelling balm, food, and drink everywhere for the return of the wedding party. Servants scattered every which way, ensuring a spotless reception.

    As the personal servant of Octavian, I accompanied my master, together with Agrippa in his dress uniform and Maecenas in a stylish yellow toga, to the house of Tiberius for the wedding. Tiberius was deferential to the triumvir, and all the household servants and guests respectful. Octavian ignored Tiberius, and the latter got the message and stayed in the background. The pontifices, with their coned hats, prepared to conduct the ceremony by directing the attendees to their positions.

    Livia looked exquisite, with a saffron-colored cloak covering an unhemmed tunic. I thought her mouth and chin a little small, but that was just my taste. Her maid whispered to me that she was wearing six pads of artificial hair, and I could see that they were crowned by a wreath of sweet marjoram. A fashionable metal collar covered her neck. The pontifices had already sacrificed a pig to the gods, so we didn’t have to go through the religious aspect of the wedding.

    With a wave of her hand, Livia indicated that she wanted to move right into the marriage formula. My master was also indicating a desire to quickly dispense with the formalities so they could return to his house. The pontifices placed Livia and Octavian so they faced one another, and Livia was given the verbum sap to begin. It was only one sentence. She said, Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia. It was over.

    As was customary, Livia had used his praenomen, or first name, instead of his nomen, or clan name. You can understand how to do otherwise might have been confusing, for with Caesar’s death, Octavian had assumed the name Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus. He was now born into the Octavii, assumed the leadership of the powerful Julian clan as Caesar’s heir, and married into the influential Claudian clan. In any case, with the words being spoken, the guests burst out with Feliciter! The congratulations spread throughout the room, and many pats on the back were bestowed on the bride and groom.

    As the law provided, the three-year-old Tiberius and the newborn Drusus were left with their father. Lest anyone think this cruel, please remember this was common practice among all civilized nations, for the father held life-and-death decisions over his children.

    I carried many of the new gifts as we departed the senior Tiberius’s house for our own. He was probably happy to see us depart. Our guards cleared the way while flute players led us home. Octavian, Agrippa, and Maecenus lifted Livia through the front door. This was to ensure that one man would not lose his balance and cause Livia to trip over the threshold, presenting the newly wed couple with a very bad omen.

    For several hours I served the newlyweds and their guests, before Octavian pulled me aside and ordered me to complete my own wedding with the Hebrew slave. It was a moment I dreaded. Walking down the hallway, I motioned to the guard at the door to my room that I wished to enter. He stepped aside.

    Just who do you think you are? I heard as I entered my room.

    How are you called? I replied. This was a technique I had learned from Maecenus, the clever diplomat. Always answer an uncomfortable question with another question.

    I am Kallisto, she said with her nose in the air.

    How appropriate, I said, one most beautiful. I could see her soften at my recognition of the meaning of her name. You do understand I have no control over the situation. Either we marry or you go … I left unsaid what would happen to her. She knew full well the end of the story.

    I am Hebrew, Kallisto said, pulling her lovely shoulders back in pride.

    So I understand. I nodded and pulled up a chair to sit down. It had been a long and difficult day. And being Hebrew means you’re a wanderer, I know. I was fully aware of the fact that the Israelites lived throughout the world in large numbers. No single god of any Mediterranean nation had more adherents than the single God of the Hebrews.

    You would not be my first choice, she said.

    Perhaps not, I replied. But I am your only choice.

    My father had slaves.

    He was wealthy?

    Very wealthy, Kallisto replied proudly. He was killed when Herod took Joppa last year. Many of my people were brought to Rome to be sold on the market.

    Herod supports the Romans and helps keep the peace. Besides, he is a Hebrew.

    He is Idumaean. She threw that at me as if she detested the people to the south of Judea.

    Both were the descendants of Abraham, but the Idumaeans had descended from the slave girl and not from the wife of Abraham. Now that Kallisto was a slave girl herself, perhaps she would think differently, given time.

    Herod ruled a client kingdom of Rome. For his service to Rome, the Senate had made him king of Judea, Galilee, Peraea, and Idumaea two years earlier. He would serve Rome as a buffer force between their common enemy, Parthia. For many years, the Parthians sought access to the Mediterranean and control over some of the world’s greatest cities: Damascus, Antioch, Tyre, and Palmyra. The prizes Parthia sought lay straight west, through Roman occupied Syria and Galilee. Herod would aid Rome by protecting these lands.

    I would have to be careful. I possessed the gift of King Herod to Octavian, and perhaps the interest of their women, Livia and Mariamne. Any little discourtesy or misadventure would not bode well for me.

    There are many slaves from Israel in our household, I said to Kallisto. Tomorrow we will hold a wedding and invite several to the ceremony.

    Don’t be silly, Kallisto remarked in a haughty manner. "Even a widow’s betrothal needs a month before the hakhnashah, or uniting. It is the custom in my land for the betrothal of a virgin to wait a year before the wedding."

    I could see that she had not been a slave for long and had never been whipped, perhaps because no one wanted to damage such a valuable gift. We don’t have a year. We don’t have a day. I explained. Immediate compliance is expected. I will go and make the arrangements for the wedding … tomorrow. Once that is done, my master will understand the short delay.

    And where do you intend to sleep tonight? she asked.

    Dumbfounded, I replied, Why, here, of course.

    Oh, no you won’t, she said, wagging her finger in my face. Go sleep with some friend of yours.

    I promise you, I said, exasperated, I will not touch you. We will wear our tunics and keep space between us. If I don’t sleep here with you tonight, the morning may find me in the mines and you in the barracks. Before she could answer, I left the room to settle the wedding plans.

    _________________

    The door slammed open, and in it stood Livia, my new mistress. Despite my best intentions, somehow or other my arm had fallen over Kallisto during the night. We were both dressed, but the impression Livia received must have been one of two lovers sleeping.

    Oh, said Livia, her small chin quivering, you are here, Sphaerus. Where she expected me to be, I don’t know. I was just wondering how your wedding went.

    She was wondering no such thing. She was seeing whether Octavian intended to keep the slave girl as a plaything. Now she would know that Octavian had no intention of sharing the girl with a servant. It would be beneath him.

    Just continue doing whatever it was you were doing, Livia added as she turned to close the door after her.

    Yes, mistress, I said in relief to the closed door. Thank you, mistress.

    Kallisto hadn’t said a word, but I could feel the shuddering beneath her tunic. That was close. Had I slept in a friend’s cubicle as Kallisto ordered, the penalty would have been severe.

    Once the wedding took place, we would be moved into the adjoining slaves’ quarters, for only a few select singles lived within the master’s mansion. That was fine, for I didn’t relish many more visits like this one.

    I hardly slept for the rest of the night, and when morning came, I made sure I found the time to notify everyone that the wedding would take place that evening at bedtime. I found Eli, a Samaritan rabbi, among the servants cleaning the kitchen, and he told me what needed to be done to satisfy Kallisto’s craving for a proper wedding. He was invited to preside and bring everything necessary.

    _________________

    But he’s a Samaritan! she shouted. I will not have a Samaritan rabbi preside over my wedding.

    He’s a Hebrew rabbi, I said, beating my head against the wall.

    Samaritans are heathens. They accept only the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Holy Writ.

    The enmity between Judeans and Samaritans existed from the splitting up of the Hebrew nation into two parts after Solomon’s empire collapsed. It was exasperated when Alexander the Great conquered the lands of the Hebrews and allowed Samaria to build a second temple on Mount Gerizim to rival the temple in Jerusalem.

    They are a herd of drunkards, she cried. Rabbinic law says, ‘A piece of bread given by a Samaritan is more unclean than swine’s flesh.’

    I quieted her down and explained that if we ever found someone more suitable, we would perform the ceremony a second time. She finally realized we had little choice in the matter. A ceremony must be performed and recognized by the household, especially Livia and Octavian.

    The room filled up quickly at the expected time with smiling faces and small gifts of wildflowers and sweets left over from our master’s party. Kallisto was surprised to see the Samaritan rabbi was a dwarf, and she could barely suppress her giggles. Eli, a kind and generous man, was used to the first impressions of others on seeing his height.

    Greetings to this house, Eli said as if my tiny room were a mansion. May all who dwell here enjoy the wondrous bounty of the One God. I knew better than to tell him we were presently in servitude to Octavian and not that open to wondrous bounty.

    "Where is the mohar?" said Kallisto, a look of bewilderment on her face.

    I realized this was going to be a challenging marriage. Eli explained to her that the text in Deuteronomy requiring a gift of fifty shekels of silver to the father of the bride could not apply here, for we had no money. It was unnecessary to remind her also that her father was dead. Eli, in a soft voice, told her that I was a gentle person, full of love, and that that would be the only mattan she would receive. A mattan was the dower of gifts the bridegroom gave his bride. In any case, many of these old-fashioned customs were no longer being followed even in Jerusalem. Perhaps Joppa was different.

    The dozen guests who had crowded into my tiny room were forced to stand, for there was no room to sit, much less something to sit upon. There were no wedding clothes on guests or on the bride and groom. Slaves were lucky when they had more than one tunic. The guests tried to engage in small talk about the weather and the beauty of the bride. At the same time, they pretended to not hear Eli’s calming answers to Kallisto’s unreasonable demands.

    Isaac, a gardener, brought in gifts from Octavian and Livia: a tunic for each of us, a hairbrush for Kallisto, and a silver clasp for my tunic’s belt. Few Roman masters would have given anything, much less these valuable and useful gifts.

    Eli went on describing a shortened ceremony he expected to perform. There would be no canopy, or huppah, for the bride to sit under, no dancing or singing. We did have watered wine and cheeses. Soft conversation by the assembled guests would be allowed. I could see Kallisto’s eyes watering. I could tell this was not the wedding she had expected in her expensive home on the seaside in Joppa.

    Eli was magnificent. When the ceremony began, he even uttered the words of the bridegroom that this Gentile couldn’t even guess at: Come … so beautiful, so well beloved … hiding thyself as a dove hides in a cleft rock … I stood there dumb as Eli and Kallisto shared the words I was supposed to say. Finally, Eli placed a pomegranate at my feet and told me to crush it with my heel. I did as I was told, and the Hebrews in the room let out a mighty shout. Even Kallisto smiled.

    When the wine ran out, the guests started to leave. I tried to give Eli the silver clasp for his service, but he refused to take it. It was probably just as well, for it would not do to have the master see his gift on another servant.

    When we were alone, Kallisto said, I thank you for accepting my nation’s customs. You have been very good about all this. I’m sorry I spoke of your big hands and feet.

    I looked at my bride. For the first time, I saw her as one with me. Perhaps marriage would not be so bad. She was attractive, and now, for a change, she considered my feelings.

    Still, she added, "I deserve at least a widow’s privilege … thirty days between the betrothal and the hakhnashah." She took my hand when she saw the dejection in my face. It won’t be long, I promise you.

    I knew better than to argue. Any Roman worthy of the name would just have taken her then and there. I was not a Roman. Peace between us was more important that conjugal rights, for the master and mistress would take notice of any discord, and I’d rather be seen as a piece of furniture than a source of dissension in the household. As it turned out, we were both seen as pieces of furniture … for one year.

    2

    THE EAST

    I don’t trust that man, Livia said as I set out the papyrus, quills, and ink. She wasn’t talking about the enemy of Rome, the Jerusalem high priest Antigonus, but rather about the friend of Rome, King Herod. Pointing her thin finger at Octavian’s chest, Livia added, You need to advise Antony against giving Herod too much power." Antony had placed two legions and one thousand cavalry under Herod’s command and ordered him to retake Jerusalem from

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