Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy)

by Ian Miller

  "The Master was quite happy to receive the rich."

  "Perhaps," Gaius replied, "but if you really believe he was the Messiah, you cannot risk it."

  "I don't understand?" she said in a puzzled tone.

  "Accept the rich, take their money for the salvation of their souls, build temples, and you know what?"

  "What?"

  "Go to the main temple in Jerusalem, and look at your fate."

  "The Master had no time for those . . ." she struggled for words, then said, "merchants."

  "Christians don't like merchants?" Gaius frowned.

  "You can be a priest," Rebecca said flatly, "or you can be a merchant, but you can't be both."

  "A point," Gaius smiled.

  "So you wish to meet James and have your questions answered."

  "I'm afraid I'm not one of you," Gaius shrugged. "I was just curious."

  "And what did you learn?"

  "The verdict?" Gaius looked at her, then he laughed as he said, "My report will say you are harmless to Rome."

  "Is that all you see in us?" she protested. "Harmless?"

  "Yes, I see a little more," he replied, "but that is all I would put in an official report."

  "Then come with me and . . ."

  "No," Gaius shook his head. "I am not one of you, and there is no point in pretending."

  "You have begun to follow our ways."

  "Hardly!" Gaius laughed.

  "What you gave to the children. The Lord will reward you."

  "I don't want your Lord's reward," Gaius replied. "I just felt sorry for those children."

  "That you did that without wanting the Lord's reward is why you will get it," Rebecca said. "The Lord touched your heart with the children."

  "I see," Gaius said slowly, then, recalling the prophecy, he continued, "You believe that if you pray hard to your Lord, you will be answered."

  "That depends on what you want," Rebecca said simply.

  "Pray to touch somebody's heart, to do good?"

  "Of course," Rebecca said. "The Lord will listen."

  "Then go to James, and persuade him to pray. Pray that your Lord will touch the Princeps' heart."

  "For what purpose?" Rebecca frowned.

  "The Princeps has ordered a statue of himself to be erected in the Temple in Jerusalem. The priests will die before they permit it. I have sent a delegation to the Princeps to persuade him to change his mind and abandon this statue. You can pray that he does."

  "And you think that is a suitable prayer?"

  "It will save a lot of pointless death," Gaius explained. "No Christian benefits, no harm is done, and it benefits those who are harassing Christians."

  "Then it is truly a good prayer," Rebecca replied. "We shall pray, and the Lord will listen."

  "I hope so," Gaius muttered.

  "And at some later time, you shall get the sign you seek," Rebecca said enigmatically, and turned to leave.

  Gaius simply stared after her and with a smile he shook his head in puzzlement.

  Chapter 41

  Eventually messages from Rome arrived. One had the Princeps' seal. With a feeling of dread, Gaius opened it. The message was simple: if they do not want the statue, remove it.

  Gaius felt a terrible weight removed from his shoulders. He almost ran from his tent and without arranging for any of the usual detachment of guards he mounted his horse and rode quickly towards Jerusalem.

  When he gave the news to Jonathon, the outcome deflated him; the priest merely grunted, and turned away. That the deaths of thousands had been averted seemed barely worth another thought!

  Accordingly it was an annoyed Gaius who returned to his camp. There was a large message from Rome, this one bearing Claudius' seal. Gaius opened it. According to Claudius, Little Boots was behaving even more erratically than usual. The Temple issue had been resolved, but possibly more through sheer luck than anything else. Philo and his party had arrived, but so had a deputation from Alexandria who were there to argue against the Jews. Then came his letter about Gods. Whatever he put in it, Claudius noted, it seemed to satisfy Little Boots, for he became almost reasonable. Accordingly he, Claudius, quickly arranged for the parties to see Little Boots. The meeting had the usual bizarre aspects.

  Philo had begun his well-prepared speech when Gaius Caesar cut him short, and asked whether this was a prelude to a request about the Jewish Temple. When told yes, Little Boots shrugged, turned to one of the Jewish leaders and muttered something about, 'How could he have guessed if he were not divine?' The Jews shuddered, the Alexandrians made some vile comments about Jews, and Caesar sat there smirking. Suddenly, he leaned forward, pointed at the Jews, and with a slight grin said, 'What are you? God-haters? Men who deny my divinity?'

  One of the Alexandrians, Isadorus, immediately leaped into the fray. 'Lord Caesar, still more and more justly will you hate them when you learn that of all man-kind, these Jews refused to sacrifice for your safety!'

  A Jew leaped forward. 'Lord Caesar, we have sacrificed for you, and we fed not on the flesh of our victims, but made holocaust of them, not once but thrice. Firstly, when you became Princeps, secondly when you were restored from disease, and thirdly for your success against the Germans . . .'

  Little Boots nodded sternly, then suddenly said, 'Ye sacrificed for me, but not to me!'

  The Jews fell back in terror as the implications struck them. They could deny their one God, or they could deny Caesar. The Alexandrians goaded them, while Caesar simply smiled sadly at them. Suddenly, he leaped to his feet, rushed across the palace room, and muttered something about a drape not looking right. He adjusted it, asked what the parties who had followed him thought about it, and as the sycophants began making comments about Caesar's undoubted eye for beauty, he charged up the stairs to adjust another drape. Then, back down, and another drape. Then back to the first, and returned it to where it had originally been, and asked them what they thought about that. Nobody dared reply.

  Then Caesar turned on the Jews. 'Why do you not eat pork?' The Alexandrians laughed at this, but suddenly fell silent when Caesar turned towards them, a furious expression on his face. The Jewish leader explained that each people had its special customs. Some even refrain from eating lamb.

  'Quite right,' Little Boots snorted. 'Their meat is terrible.' He then lurched into a speech about public policy, but then, when he must have decided that nobody was really interested, he stopped and dashed off to adjust another drape on a balcony. The parties followed. Then he turned to nobody in particular, shrugged, and said sadly, 'Men who think me no god are more unfortunate than criminal.'

  'Lord Caesar, the statue?' Isadorus asked.

  Little Boots waved him away, saying, 'If they prefer to worship someone other than me, it's their loss.' The scribes quickly transferred this permission to remove the statue to parchment, and Little Boots signed without even querying it.

  Then, for the rest of the day, Little Boots behaved almost like Augustus, being fair, wise, and hard working. If the Jewish religion could make that happen, Claudius noted, it might be worth considering! If it were the Jewish religion, Gaius thought.

  In the meantime, he, Gaius Claudius, simply did not know how fortunate he was to be so far from Rome. Certainly Little Boots had some good days, but he had some bad ones too. Nothing was sacred. Little Boots was forcing Senators' wives to fornicate with him, and while some may have been willing, at least one was not; she had committed suicide later. Of course, Claudius added, the great Augustus, for all his talk about virtue, entered other people's wives as frequently as these Jews claimed they were entering their Temple.

  While Caesar demanded more power, he was becoming increasingly insecure and lived in continual fear of plots. One of the most active at flushing out plotters was Titus Flavius Vespasianus. Not a man to get on the wrong side of, Claudius noted.

  Little Boots, continuing his program to prove that there were no Gods, had even deified his horse. As an antireligious statement, this was a tot
al failure. Roman citizens began worshipping the horse! Gaius Caesar laughed his head off at this, but he failed to realize that many felt it better to be laughed at than to be on the wrong side of Caesar.

  Meanwhile, Caesar continued to pursue his grand ideas. He had ordered the design of one of the grandest aqueducts, to bring water fifty-six miles to the city of Rome, ten miles of which to be suspended on arches a hundred feet high. He had completed the temple of Augustus, he had repaired the theatre of Pompeius, and he had commenced work on a special harbour on Sicily for corn ships to find refuge in storms. But some of his ideas went too far, like the canal he had had designed through Corinth. How could anyone ever build anything like that! He was working too hard, and in attempting to emulate Augustus he did all administration himself. Unfortunately, he was no Augustus.

  But most seriously of all, Gaius Caesar was spending too much of the treasury on ridiculous spectacles for the people, or to get the people to like him. For if Gaius Caesar had an overriding weakness, it was that he wished people to like him, and he behaved in a fashion that almost guaranteed they did not. Actually, that was not quite true. It was likely that the masses did like him, and a number of equestrians, like the Flavians, were doing very well. For it was the senatorial class that Caesar disliked so much. These, he thought, were the plotters, they were the lazy, and in Caesar's eyes, they were blocking progress. For what Caesar admired were people who were trying to achieve something.

  When he came to power, Gaius Caesar had become very popular for putting an end to Tiberius' system of spies and informers. Now the spies and informers were back. Spiteful Romans were informing on their neighbours, people like Vespasian were rounding up those neighbours, and some of the interrogations were not very pretty.

  There was bad news for him, too, and it was imperative that he control himself. His father and mother were dead. It was unclear exactly what had happened. All that was known was that his father had constructed tunnels into the hill behind the family estate, and seemingly there had been a cave-in while his parents and some staff and relations were inside the caves. The official version was that they must have been carrying out some religious ceremony and the roof caved in. There were, however, rumours that Caesar himself had had them killed. It was known that Caesar had uncovered a plot against him, and that plot involved a plan to assassinate him and then restore the republic. Unfortunately his father had been seen prior to this in the company of known republicans, and according to Caesar's spies, he had been acting somewhat furtively.

  Whatever the reason for what had happened, some of the remaining staff had later spent days digging, but the cave-in was very substantial. Finally, given that whoever was in the tunnels had to be dead he, Claudius, had used his relationship with Tiberius to order that the tunnels be refilled and an oak be planted over the entrance, with an imperial order prohibiting anyone disturbing the site. He apologized that it was all he could do; the family would rest in peace. If there was any good news it was that Lucilla was alive and well; she was with Quintus at the time.

  Oh, and do not return to Rome! The following day the Princeps was questioning your loyalty, and wondering whether the removal of his statue from the Jerusalem Temple was part of the plot. I immediately suggested to Caesar that if you were plotting, a riot in the east would distract Caesar, and make it easier to carry out the plot. Caesar responded with the comment that a war there would make it impossible for a soldier to leave the area. So I have assured Caesar of your loyalty. Caesar muttered something about, "We shall see." So whatever happens, whatever you do, do not try to come back to Rome. The more you look as if you have no interest in Rome, the better.

  I am sorry, but I did what I thought best.

  Your stuttering Claudius.

  Gaius stared sourly at this piece of news. His father was dead. Murdered! For no better reason that that he was acting furtively, according to a spy. By the Gods, he would so like to get his hands on that spy. He became more and more angry, as he pictured his mother lying against a wall, a sword being thrust into her by some arsehole of a self-styled soldier, someone too scared to join a legion, but really brave against unarmed women. Well, he would return to Rome and he would enjoy the surprise on that arsehole's face when confronted by someone who knew how to use a gladius! That piece of excreta would very quickly learn . . .

  It was then that Gaius almost felt his mother imploring him. No! Please, do not do that! He took two deep breaths, and stared at the entrance to his tent. He could easily find a boat to Rome, but that would be a boat to his death. If he returned, he would achieve precisely nothing, because Gaius Caesar would be one of the first to know, and he would not wish to have his murderers brought to the public gaze. For there was no doubt on one point: his father had been murdered on Caesar's orders. There was little doubt on another point: if he really wanted revenge, it had to be on Little Boots, and there was no practical way to achieve that, at least not right now.

  He reached his decision. He would weep for his family, but he could do nothing more, at least not yet. He must write back and inform Claudius that he would remain in the east, and he must thank Claudius for his efforts.

  A few days later, Gaius received fresh orders from Caesar. Gaius opened them with trepidation, but this quickly turned to puzzlement as he read, "I have removed the Legatus of the Fulminata for incompetence, sloth and dereliction of duty. The temporary Legatus, Lucius Vibius, has done a good job for some time and accordingly I have made his position permanent. Since you were his senior, and have also been successful, I shall not insult you by asking you to serve under a previous junior. Accordingly, you are to order the Cyrenaica to march back to Egypt. For the time being, you are relieved of command. Remain in Judea and await further orders."

  On a separate piece of parchment was a further message. "Gaius Caesar is still sour about his statue, and I think he is acutely interested in what you will do next. I suggest you keep a low profile, and this will blow over. Whatever else you do, do not even think of returning to Rome, and do not petition Caesar. Claudius."

  At first Gaius felt furious. Now he was removed from command! He stormed from his tent and ordered the Tribune of the fourth cohort, who had the misfortune to be accidentally passing by, to get the remaining Tribunes and form a plan for a prompt march to Egypt. The Tribunes would report with the details at the evening meal. Before this unfortunate Tribune could respond, he jumped on his horse and rode.

  He had done his level best, he had avoided bloodshed, he might even have saved a colony because, what with religious fanatics as opposition, the Parthians, and the Roman treasury empty, immediate victory was not a foregone conclusion, particularly if Little Boots commanded with the authority he showed for the invasion of Britain.

  But those problems were averted because he, Gaius Claudius, had found a peaceful solution to a problem that should never have occurred, a problem solely of Gaius Caesar's making, and a problem made solely through an over-inflated ego. For which he, Gaius Claudius now had to pay with is career!

  After a few minutes, he finally noticed where he was. Nowhere! At least, nowhere in particular. He was riding along a stony gully, the sides of which offered little cover. He reined in his horse. He was being stupid. He turned the horse around and began to canter slowly back, this time keeping a clear watch on the hilltops.

  There was absolutely no point in being angry, or at least in being seen to be being angry . . . That, suddenly, gave him an idea. He had charged off in a hurry, away from the direction of Jerusalem. He should go somewhere. Then, return to camp and send the legion to Egypt with whatever good grace he could muster.

  But back to the present. Go where? Then he remembered. A few miles to his right was a small village. He would go and deal with the situation there. So there was nothing to deal with there? Nobody else would know that!

  As he rode into the village a strange feeling came over him, for there was something to deal with. The problem was, he did not have the force to deal wi
th it.

  A caravan was surrounded, and a small number of Roman auxiliaries, none of whom would be truly Roman, were laying into the local Jews.

  "Stop!" Gaius roared.

  Strangely, everybody did. Both sides recognized him as the Legate who liked to ride into squabbles alone, but with part of a legion outside town. They would have to think very long and hard before disobeying the most powerful man in the local forces of the Roman Army.

  A few quick questions established that the caravan was supposedly going to Egypt, the Jews were demanding payment for services, which seemed to entail saving them from being robbed.

  "In short, extortion!" Gaius nodded, then before anybody could reply, he scowled and added, "Extortion requires power, so let me show you who has power around here. The Princeps is in a foul mood over Judea, and, as it happens, I am also in a really vile mood. If you don't believe me, try me out.

  "Suppose I report to the Princeps that a band of Jews was fighting Roman soldiers, he will probably order the demolition of the temple and the enslavement of all the Jews, a plight which seems to occur periodically throughout your history. By all means seek your God's help, but it might also occur to you that your God might be a little irritated at always having to rescue you from these disasters of your own making, and he might leave you to stew for a while.

  "So, how do you avoid my getting your whole nation enslaved and your temple destroyed? You pay penance, that's how! You pay cash and you learn a little humility. Nearby, there is a man called James, the brother of the Cristus that your leaders had crucified. Find him, give him plenty of money, and tell him that it is ordered that that money must be used to feed the poor. I will check, and if I think the gift is adequate, this incident is forgotten. If it isn't, at the very least I'll come back and crucify the lot of you.

  "Now, you!" Gaius turned to the auxiliaries. "Fighting without authority! You will empty your pockets of all the money you have just been given. Do it now, and if I find anyone hiding any, I will hand them to my Centurions to be thoroughly chastised. Good, I see you have seen my point," he added as the money poured onto a heap. "You!" he indicated the senior auxiliary, "check your men for compliance. Don't even dream of trying to cheat on me.