Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy)

by Ian Miller

  Given that the Jews needed a Messiah, Gaius mused, Pilate's actions bordered either on the crassly incompetent or on the truly inspired, depending on what he wished to accomplish. Still, Pilate's objectives were both unrealized and irrelevant. What was done was done. The Jewish population was surly and uncooperative, verging on rebellion. From their point of view, what could they do?

  By themselves, nothing, but suppose they could bring Rome into war with Parthia? Rome was not guaranteed to win, and the east might be lost. Equally, if the Nabateans lost trust in Rome, they might join the Parthians and the same would happen. If, at the same time, the Jews could organize a general revolt . . . In its own perverse way, that made sense.

  The next major caravan would set out in four days. He would send out teams of exploratores. Initially, they could be seen to set off to the East, then cut back at night, out of sight, and patrol the west. If he sent out cavalry units with them, and they saw the robbers, he might even be able to save the caravan. And if that failed, he could send out a couple of centuries to patrol the two obvious roads to the west. If they remained out of sight until the day the caravan set off, and were far enough to the west, careless robbers might rejoin the road.

  It was worth trying.

  * * *

  It was better than worth trying. Late on the second night, while preparing a place to sleep, one of the exploratores heard horses. Three of them crept along a ridge, and concealed themselves behind large rocks on a hillside overlooking the road below. The sound of the horses was now quite distinctive in the cold silent desert air. They watched twenty armed men pass below, riding in the general direction of where the caravan would be the following day. A rider was sent to find the cavalry unit, while the other two followed the twenty.

  The following day, the twenty set themselves up to ambush the caravan, and a little further up the hill, the Roman cavalry unit set themselves up to ambush the ambushers.

  Thus, when the caravan came along the road, the twenty jumped to their horses and with fearful yells rode towards the caravan. They were half way there, the caravan already beginning to panic, when the sound of a horn filled the air. The attackers turned to look behind them, to see three small cavalry units charging from the left, the right, and above. Each cavalry unit had about thirty men, so fighting it out was not much of an option. To charge the caravan would also be a poor option; caravans had guards, and although these would be no match for the attackers, they would easily hold them up long enough for the Roman cavalry to arrive.

  In the end, they split up, but there was still nowhere to flee for the Romans could devote four men to every raider. Within a minute, half the would-be raiders were unhorsed, four were lying on the ground seriously wounded, one was leading a one-man charge to break free, and the rest, recognizing there was nowhere to go, surrendered.

  * * *

  Fifteen men, leg-roped, hands tied, were led before the Nabatean king.

  "Jewish zealots, your majesty," Gaius reported. His words might have been polite and deferential, but nobody present could mistake who wielded the real power. "Their intention, it seems, was to use your kingdom as a pawn in their futile attempts to remove Rome from these lands." Gaius paused, then added, "It seems they had this hare-brained notion that Nabatea could be induced to take up arms against Rome."

  "That could never happen!" the king exclaimed. Politically correct, without enthusiasm, Gaius noted.

  "Of course it couldn't," Gaius replied, in a soothing tone. "The Roman senate is well aware of your friendship towards Rome, and it values that friendship very much. Which is why Caesar ordered the legion here to help you."

  "And I truly value your help. Tell me," he added, "what are the plans for your legion?"

  "I assume that now you know who's responsible, you can protect future caravans yourself?" Gaius asked.

  "Of course." Obviously the king would be pleased to see the back of the legion.

  "Then if you are satisfied that we have solved this problem," Gaius said, "the legion will return to Egypt." He paused, and added in as earnest a tone as he could manage, "We were only here because a loyal friend needed help. We most certainly would not wish to remain unless you needed us."

  "Then I am most grateful," the king replied. "You will thank Caesar for me?"

  "Of course," Gaius nodded.

  "And what are you going to do with them?" he asked, pointing towards the prisoners.

  "Nothing," Gaius replied simply.

  "Nothing?" the king asked, almost in horror. "But they . . ."

  "They've done nothing to Rome," Gaius replied. "Their crimes were against your caravans, so you may have them to punish as you see fit. If I were you," he added, "I would make sure the punishment deterred others from attacking your caravans."

  "I am sure that can be arranged," the king said with a cruel tone.

  "However, before that I would be tempted to interrogate them," Gaius added. "They knew when the caravan was coming, they knew it would not have legionary protection, yet they knew the legion was in Bostra."

  "A spy?" the king mused. The way his mind was working, Gaius thought, people who were not in his good books should stay out of his way for a while.

  "That would be my guess," Gaius shrugged. "It's none of my business, but I would imagine you would wish to rid yourself of such a pest."

  "I most certainly do! Thank you very much for your help. You're most welcome to come back any time you like."

  Gaius smiled as he left. Whatever else, the king would not be sorry to see the legion leave. This king would rather have his way with his subjects, unfettered by Rome.

  Chapter 37

  His orders were that once the risk of a conflict with Parthia was over, the legion should return to Egypt under the temporary command of the Tribunus laticlavius while he would return to Damascus, presumably to resume his previous position.

  Gaius found eating breakfast rather difficult. This was the final day of his command, and he had heard noises of the legion assembling on the on the parade ground for over an hour. The time had now come for him to make the final formal inspection and receive the salute. Although little had happened while at Bostra, the men appreciated competent resolution of a problem and he had earned some level of respect and popularity. More to the point, he had really enjoyed being in command. He had solved a problem, he had solved it very quickly, and nobody else had even imagined the actual answer. Unfortunately, while he had been extremely effective, the solution had been seriously lacking in glory. A whole legion deployed to stop twenty raiders was nothing to get excited about, not that he had deployed the legion. The problem was, that was one of those successes that simply did not count. Not that he should dwell on that. Rather reluctantly he had to admit his rightful place was still back as a Tribune.

  He had just completed formal dressing when he glanced ruefully at the silver mirror. This would be his last day dressed as Legate, at least for a while. Still, there was nothing to be gained by delay and the men deserved more than to have to stand around while he was having his quiet regrets. He donned his helmet, and strode to the tent flap. As he emerged, a messenger stood there.

  "A message from the Governor, sir."

  Gaius frowned. Why could this not wait until he got back? Then, as he began to loosen the seal it occurred to him that he might not be going back. He opened the paper, read, smiled, then frowned, then shook his head in despair. He ordered the messenger to wait for replies.

  When he reached the makeshift dais, he surprised the Tribunus Laticlavius by demanding that he speak first.

  "I apologize to those who thought they would be rid of me today," he began to a surprised, if disciplined and impassive audience, "but this little ceremony will have to be delayed. I have just received orders to retain command temporarily and proceed with all speed to Jerusalem. The legion marches at first light tomorrow. Tribunes, please, to my tent. Centurions, complete preparation."

  A legion did not simply get up and march, altho
ugh it seemed as if it could do that. Feeding five thousand men plus auxiliaries required organization. Feeding several hundred horses in near desert conditions required more organization. The legion, however, was expecting to march in two days time hence while this order would cause a certain degree of grumbling and swearing, it could be executed readily. Even more importantly, as one of the Tribunes noted, the legion had only been there for a few weeks, and that was not long enough to accumulate the level of "necessities" that made rapid movement impossible. While the coming day might be extremely busy, there was also a certain sense of anticipation throughout the legion. A rapid forced march meant that something was going wrong, something that needed a legion to fix it.

  The problem was nominally a religious problem, which in this part of the world was the worst of problems. The citizens of Jannia, to show their zeal and desire to please Caesar, had raised an altar to him. The local Jews had regarded this as blasphemy. That this altar had been nowhere near their temple was irrelevant; a statue to a false God had been erected in the lands of the Jews, and that violated the Word of God. Accordingly a mob descended on the statue, tore it down, and smashed it to pieces. The local procurator, Herrenius Capito, had tried to punish those who tore down the statue, and for his troubles a riot had started.

  When Gaius Caesar heard that this statue to him had been torn down, his response was simple. A large statue of him would be constructed and erected at the head of the Temple of Jerusalem. If the Jews tore that down, his legions would tear down the Temple, crucify the Sanhedrin, and erect a similar statue in the next biggest Temple. Opposition would be put to the sword; these wretched Jews would learn exactly who controlled Judea.

  Petronius had tried to reason with the Jews; the Jews would not be reasoned with. The desecration of the Temple went past the point of no compromise. The Jews would all die rather than yield to such blasphemy. Petronius was clearly at his wits end; to kill an entire race was beyond him, but to defy the Princeps meant his own certain death. To Gaius, this situation was stupidity of the worst kind.

  Gaius stood before the Tribunes, and it occurred to him that they would see him as little better than one of them. If they did, they gave no sign. They entered the tent, stood to attention, saluted, then stood at ease. Gaius calmly outlined the immediate aspect of the problem. The legion was to march towards Jerusalem, but not enter unless required. The Prefect in Caesarea was nominally charged with sorting out this problem, but it was unlikely that either Caesar or Governor Petronius seriously believed that he would.

  The Tribunes nodded. They knew that Judea was neither large nor important, hence the Prefect would not have the necessary force. They would also know that the unrest in Antioch and concern over Parthia limited the assistance Governor Petronius could provide. He had sent one legion, and since the Cyrenaica was nearby, it could assist at Jerusalem.

  He, Gaius, although formally the junior, was given overall command of both legions through Petronius' direct authority and was ordered to show imagination and attempt to settle this issue without excessive bloodshed. The reason, Petronius added, was because he felt that Gaius just might find a way out of this mess, while the other Legate certainly would not. Thus he, officially a Tribune, would command two Legions!

  The first matter to be addressed was to move the legion to the vicinity of Jerusalem. He required a report on the logistics and sites for camping by noon, together with a list of any other matters that might provide difficulties. The greater problem of what to do when they arrived was his, however all suggestions on how to solve this problem other than by brute force would be welcomed, now or at any time.

  Gaius dismissed the Tribunes, then began writing. He wrote a quick message back to Damascus, acknowledging the order and making some requests. He then began to write a further message to Claudius in Rome. He had written many of these, but this was the first one in which he requested Claudius to do something.

  He outlined the problem, and stated that he had recommended to Petronius that he send a small delegation to Rome to plead with the Princeps. If Petronius did, he requested that Claudius meet them first, discuss the situation with Philo if he were available, advise them on protocol, and to try to make an appointment on what was likely to be a more propitious day, to make sure that they made a good impression. He sealed both the messages, and handed them to the messenger.

  He sat back and drew a deep breath. This was the type of exercise that could make or break his career. The problem was, the results would be assessed by the highly erratic Gaius Caesar. He could mess up, and end up with a career boost, but equally he could be brilliant and then be sidelined. Such was life in the current Rome. What would the great Augustus have made of this?

  He must forget the consequences. He drew himself up, smiled wryly as he put on his cloak of office, and strolled outside. He was still in command of a Legion, he had clear orders and a near impossible task before him. So he wanted a military career? Welcome to the army!

  Chapter 38

  Gaius was aware of the hatred of his presence as he looked up at the Temple of Jerusalem. Taking a statue from the base of the Mount to inside the temple would be quite an engineering exercise. The temple was huge, yet it seemed trivial compared with the massive stonework structure on which it, together with what seemed little better than a commercial centre, was built. The commerce puzzled Gaius; perhaps it told more than met the eye about these people. One interpretation was that this Mount protected the religion and the commerce had taken advantage of the protection. That view was simply nonsense. A trading spot can be set up anywhere as quickly as the goods could be assembled. No! The trade was there to be controlled and tithed by the priests.

  Now, when Cristus had insisted that the temple was a place to pray he had challenged the priests and had been crucified to save the priests' tithes. The priests might take their religion very seriously, but they took their money very seriously too. They might be able to get Cristus crucified for threatening their cash supply, but the Roman army was a different matter. That might be a better approach to his current problem!

  Gaius walked towards an official who was haranguing the steely-eyed Jonathon and raised his hand. The official immediately ceased talking, and bowed before Gaius. The priest remained impassive, and stood without any sign of subservience

  Gaius looked at Jonathon, nodded, and said, "I would greatly appreciate it if you would sit with me under that tree over there, and have a quiet, private conversation."

  Jonathon stared with animosity. "If you think you can bully me into . . ."

  "That is not my intention," Gaius remarked softly. "I wish to see if there is any way at all of resolving this issue to both our satisfactions."

  "That, I doubt," Jonathon said, but he did begin to walk towards the tree. When the official tried to follow, a Centurion took him by the arm and held him back. Immediately soldiers stepped forward and began moving the people so that nobody was closer than fifty meters from the tree.

  "So?" Jonathon stared at Gaius.

  "It occurred to me," Gaius replied, "that if I were in your shoes, I would probably be angry . . ."

  "I am angry," came the cold reply.

  ". . . and I might say something which could be construed as seditious. Now, if you were to say such things in front of witnesses, I would be forced to act, whereas this way if you can restrain yourself from shouting, we can overlook them."

  "Very thoughtful," came the scowling remark. "You think you can talk me around."

  "I hope we can find some sort of compromise," Gaius said.

  "I doubt it," came the reply.

  "You know the price of failure to compromise?"

  "You will try to kill us."

  "I will succeed," Gaius said coldly. "Your temple will be a river of blood, and there will be crosses from here to Caesarea."

  "Perhaps," Jonathon shrugged. He looked almost disinterested in taking advice, and Gaius could see a man that might even organize rebellion.

&nb
sp; "If you recall Carthage and Corinth, you will know that Rome is very good at killing," Gaius said in an even colder tone, "and you know very well it does not permit sedition."

  "What do you mean?" Jonathon replied, this time with a mixture of bluster and fear.

  "I seem to recall that your Caiaphas demanded of Pilate that a preacher be crucified for such sedition as requiring that Caesar's taxes be paid," Gaius' eyes bored into Jonathon. "You saw an innocent man chastised and crucified, did you not?"

  "He was a heretic!" came the defiant but very frightened response.

  "Believe me, you fight Rome and you will find out what his last day or so felt like," Gaius continued. He paused for a moment, then continued, "You know that I will crucify you if you fight the Princeps' will?"

  "If you have to," Jonathon muttered, a little above a whisper.

  "Nevertheless, that is the very last outcome I wish to see," Gaius added calmly.

  "Then destroy that statue."

  "I can't do that, and you know it," Gaius replied.

  "Then you will have to kill us all," Jonathon replied coldly, his courage now beginning to return, "because that statue is blasphemy. Your Caesar wishes us to worship a statue of him in our temple? Never!" The priest began to get up.

  "Sit down!"

  "Why?" Jonathon asked. "Our temple will not be defiled."

  "The other way would be to persuade the Princeps to order its removal," Gaius replied.

  "That's not very likely," Jonathon said, although he did show slightly more interest in Gaius' comments.

  "It's not entirely impossible," Gaius shrugged. "When the Princeps is made aware of the seriousness of the situation . . ."

  "He simply won't care! You Romans think you rule the world, and . . ."

  "I care," Gaius said. "Under this tree, where nobody can hear, I agree with you, and furthermore, the Senate has more than once guaranteed religious freedom. Roman citizens have been executed for damaging a copy of the Talmud."