The Horse Changer

by Craig Smith

  ‘But the steward is the only suspect?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you or I could have done it.’ Phasael offered this as if it were the most unlikely of possibilities, but after he spoke his dark eyes bore into mine. I was a suspect; I was sure of it.

  ‘Are the physicians certain it was poison?’ I asked.

  ‘They are.’

  ‘So it was the steward.’

  ‘I am sure of it, but he must have had help, someone who arranged for the evidence to vanish. Herod is questioning the others in our kitchen as we speak. If we are lucky someone will be able to connect this to Malichus.’

  ‘Has Malichus a motive?’

  ‘He does not gain directly by my father’s death, but he supports Hyrcanus. With my father now gone there is a chance Cassius will appoint Hyrcanus either King of Judaea or its new procurator, though it is by no means a certainty. Should that occur, Malichus would then take command of the armies Herod and I now lead.’

  ‘Surely Cassius will investigate the circumstances. Especially if Malichus is responsible for your father’s assassination.’

  ‘Cassius hardly has time for such matters, and even if he does investigate, it will cost us the rest of the summer before he makes a determination. That is time enough for Malichus to act against us.’

  ‘Do you think he intends to incite a civil war?’

  ‘He is a more subtle man than that, General. Malichus will more likely incite protest and rioting in various cities. He will encourage the governors there to make no move to stop it. If Herod or I move to quell the rioting, he will complain to Cassius that we have usurped our father’s office, without having the authority to do so. And if we do not act but let the rioting go unchecked, Malichus will complain that we are useless without our father.’

  ‘But surely you must act to keep the peace?’

  ‘That is the point. Herod and I have no authority outside our own provinces. The provinces we command will be quiet. The rest will see fire, protest, and open revolt.’

  ‘Cassius surely prefers peace to the prospect of another civil war in Judaea.’

  ‘There will be no peace unless Roman troops enforce it. Any other solution will see Malichus quietly steering power to Hyrcanus. Cassius may appreciate all that our father has done for him, but he will not jeopardize the tranquillity of the region for the sake of our friendship.’

  ‘You could ask his help, I suppose.’

  ‘If we ask for assistance he will hardly see the advantage of keeping us in power. What we need is your assistance. If you act, then all the provinces will remain quiet and Malichus will have no complaint to lodge.’

  ‘I have no mandate to act.’

  ‘You have simply to write to all the governors who served my father. I will send a letter to Cassius on your behalf. I will explain that on his deathbed Antipater asked you to keep the region safe by using your army to ensure the peace until such time Cassius appoints a new procurator.’

  ‘I was not at the procurator’s deathbed, Excellency.’

  ‘I was. My father asked me to speak with you about this matter. He knew he had been murdered, that he was dying. Even so, he was lucid enough to anticipate how Malichus and others would attempt to turn this to Hyrcanus’s advantage.’

  ‘Antipater spoke my name?’ I asked.

  ‘He did. He thought you should make it clear to all the governors that you will act only at the request of individual governors. That will put every governor to the test. They can let the violence in their provinces continue but only by appearing incompetent. I should think you might order three or four cohorts of your legions to join your staff at first opportunity. Bring others up if necessary, but I doubt you will even need to act. A letter to the governors ought to be enough.

  ‘The fortress city of Samaria,’ he continued, ‘will serve you best, I think. I can send word to let them know you are coming. From there you will be well placed to move rapidly into the most contentious provinces.’

  ‘Cassius will no doubt suspect me of seizing Judaea.’

  ‘You act in his service, General. He may not like what you have done to Trebonius, but when Judaea remains perfectly quiet at no cost to him, I will be sure he understands to whom he is indebted.’

  Seville, Spain: Autumn, 3 AD

  A lifetime before the assassination of King Herod there was the assassination of his father, Antipater, procurator of Judaea. Of course in those days I was still young and foolish. Contemplating that death for the first time in many years, I find myself wondering how matters would have turned out for Judaea if Phasael had become king instead of Herod. The sons of Antipater hadn’t the bloodlines to hope for such promotion. Of course, the world changes quickly and often capriciously. All the more so when we least expect it. Monarchy was two years away for Herod, but the crown he wore ought to have been Phasael’s, if Phasael had only lived.

  Knowing Herod’s character, I am sure he would have stayed loyal to his brother. No family infighting for those two. That would have been essential to Phasael’s success. With that caveat, I believe Phasael would have been the more successful monarch. I do not belittle all that Herod accomplished, but where he failed, he failed spectacularly. I think the worst of it came at the end, when he charged two of his sons with treason and tried them before Caesar. Phasael would have rid the royal family of ingrates and traitors by using poison. Exactly as he did with Antipater, whom he murdered for the sake of the old man’s mounting incompetence.

  Yes, I awakened one night several weeks after my interview with Phasael. I was in a prison cell, and suddenly I knew, with perfect clarity, that Phasael had poisoned his father; I could even remember the moment he delivered the liquid into the old man’s cup. Herod knew nothing of the assassination. He had not the fortitude for such villainy. In the aftermath of Antipater’s death, Phasael directed Herod’s attention to the steward, even as Phasael was convincing him that their mother’s cousin, Malichus the malcontent, had bribed the poor man. Hot irons against the hapless steward got the necessary confession. Then Phasael persuaded his brother to hold off taking revenge. In the meantime, I went off to Samaria and a prison cell and by doing so kept the peace in Judaea.

  As king, Herod ruled Judaea like some overwrought actor in a Greek tragedy, boasting and lamenting by turns to a chorus of dancing sycophants. He tried one of his wives for adultery, saw two sons, a wife and a younger brother executed as traitors and imprisoned a third son as he lay on his deathbed. He could never pull his heart away from the desperate quarrels that characterise court life. He had no talent for political intrigue. No, Herod was more comfortable crashing into opposition at the head of his cavalry.

  Anyone will tell you Herod’s gifts to the people of Judaea exceeded in sum the gifts of all the Jewish kings to their subjects in the whole long history of that nation. He fed his people through famines, he built cities by the dozens, and finally he turned a decrepit old temple into one of the wonders of the world. Phasael would have done nothing of the sort. He would have let famines teach the stiff-necked complainers a hard lesson; he might have created a few cities, as needed, but nothing so grand that the treasury suffered. As for the temple, a votive offering to decorate one of the old porches would have sufficed. And when he had come to pass from the light of day Phasael would have left a son like his father, cool, calculating and fully capable of political murder.

  Samaria: Summer, 43 BC

  My staff and I rode north to the town of Samaria with Scaeva and our squad of mounted legionaries for escort. Phasael, in the meantime, had already sent carrier pigeons to inform Cassius of our plans. I knew nothing of those fabulous birds at the time. I could not imagine that Romans in Syria would learn where I was going ten hours before I departed. I imagined Antipater and his sons got their news by rumours from the sea like the rest of the world.

  At Samaria our party was met by a freedman who directed his slaves to show our legionary Guard to their barracks. He then led the officers to the great hall, wher
e we were supposed to meet the city’s chief magistrate. Within the hour I was trussed in chains and sitting alone inside my new home, a prison cell of stone far below the palace cellars. For most of the next year I saw no one, not even the man who lowered bread and water to me twice a day. What happened, besides the rising and setting of the sun, I could only guess.

  At some point during my sojourn in Samaria, the prefect who had arrested me led a century of infantry to Ashkelon. He announced to Allienus that Cassius Longinus intended to bring eight legions against him if he did not surrender at once. The prefect had not even bothered marching these legions down the coast; he made only the threat of it and that was good enough for old Allienus, who opened his camp gate at once and surrendered his army.

  Of course Cassius had nothing like eight legions. From the start he was scrambling for fighting men, buying mercenaries at inflated prices like all the rest of the warlords. Once he had swindled Allienus out of four legions he could boast a full eight legions but not until then. Allienus stayed on as the commander at the Ashkelon camp and his legions remained with him until the following year. At that point the entire force marched north to join Cassius and Brutus in Macedonia; there they served under Marcus Livius Drusus Claudianus, Livia’s father. Allienus, I am told, died in his bed at the camp in Ashkelon at about the time the winter rains began. I have no way of knowing for sure, though I expect it was an honest death.

  That same autumn Malichus rode with Hyrcanus to Lebanon to meet Cassius. Cassius had sent a man to tell Hyrcanus he wished to discuss the possibility of naming Hyrcanus Procurator of Judaea. Hyrcanus asked his long-time friend, Malichus, to provide an escort. Malichus undoubtedly imagined himself now at the right hand of Judaea’s most powerful man. A squad of Roman tribunes at the head of a century of men came along the highway to greet Hyrcanus’s party. These men murdered Malichus as he saluted them. Hyrcanus and his bodyguards stood by and watched, no doubt wondering if they were next. Quite amazingly, the assassins bowed to the Pontifex Maximus of the Jews, thanked him for his service to the Temple, and then withdrew without another word.

  I am told this was the last occasion on which Hyrcanus showed any ambition. He returned to Jerusalem a chastened man and contented himself with the Temple’s many colourful ceremonies. Some weeks after the murder of Malichus, Herod and Phasael rode to Lebanon to meet Cassius. Cassius appointed Phasael procurator of Judaea, Samaria, and Idumaea. Herod became procurator of southern Syria and Galilee.

  XIII

  THE PROSCRIPTIONS

  Italy and Gaul: Autumn, 43 BC and Winter, 42 BC

  Caesar took his seat as a child-consul. For his companion he sat with his cousin, Quintus Pedius. This was the same Pedius we had rescued in Spain. Young Caesar’s refusal to compromise his stance with respect to the assassins was bad news for Cassius. So bad, I expect, that Cassius gave no further thought to avenging the murder of Gaius Trebonius.

  Good news came to Cassius late in the summer, however, when he learned that Aemilius Lepidus had surrounded Mark Antony’s army. In fact, Cassius was told that Lepidus was presently starving Antony into submission. This was good generalship, if not the bravest, but Antony, ever at his best when things went badly, answered by calling the legions of Lepidus into his camp and making converts of them. Soon Antony had more of Lepidus’s soldiers than Lepidus. Antony did not rub it in, of course. Lepidus was family – or would be when their children finally grew up and married one another. Once Lepidus had surrendered his remaining cohorts to Antony, they marched together into Italy.

  Cassius of course had hoped to see the end of Antony, but he was not especially disturbed by this odd turn of events. Cassius imagined that Antony and young Caesar would bash into one another for a second round of fighting, with Antony probably winning this time. In either case, enough corpses would litter their battlefield that the assassins might hope to return to Italy and collect the spoils.

  Bologna, Italy: Autumn, 43 BC and Winter, 42 BC

  But then young Caesar executed another of his remarkable pirouettes. As a newly elected consul, Caesar left Rome and joined his legions in the north. Rather than fight Antony and Lepidus, as everyone expected him to do, he asked for a meeting.

  They convened on a small island in the River Lavinius in northern Italy. This was not far from where they had fought only a few months before. Elements of their respective armies lined either side of the river. Hostages were exchanged as per custom. Lepidus, in his role as Pontifex Maximus, played the negotiator. The three of them very quickly divided the empire, that is the empire that still remained in their power: Sicily, Gaul, western Africa, and Spain. They all agreed to share and share alike in the plunder of Italy. Their map would prove to be of no consequence a year later, for after their victory over Cassius and Brutus, the Triumvirs, as they called themselves, drew up a new map. Still, the first map is telling in one detail: they grabbed all the provinces of the empire as their own and left nothing for others.

  Their map drawing finished, Caesar and Antony turned to the more troubling issue of how to pay for the legions they commanded. The wages for a fighting man had reached unimaginably high levels, five or six times the amounts paid only two years before; even the divine Julius Caesar’s purloined fortune was insufficient to carry them forward. In later years Caesar blamed Antony for the idea of the proscriptions. This is our august leader at his best, for he has always held that any lie told often enough becomes the prevailing reality, if not exactly the truth. The truth is quite simple. Caesar proposed murdering the aristocracy and seizing their fortunes. Estates were to be sold at auction even as the bodies of the murdered aristocrats cooled. For the better part of the next two years, murder created a steady stream of cash for army payrolls. All of it Caesar’s idea, though he never owned up to it.

  Antony told me some years later he could not speak when young Caesar made the proposition. It was not the idea of mass murder that astonished him; Sulla had employed proscriptions when Antony was still a boy. ‘It was the serene manner with which the little twit proposed it, as one speaks of raising taxes or selling slaves.’ Antony was quite good at mimicking ‘the little twit’ and often performed a pitch-perfect recitation of Caesar’s proffer. I think his astonishment was genuine; Antony was capable of any abomination, but for that he needed wine to fuel some bit of mania that he kept buried in his soul. Caesar committed his abominations in the clutches of a chilling sobriety.

  Of course, Antony always finished his version of the story at the proffer. He claimed that, after Cicero, he had no grudges. The truth is once he got his voice back, if one can believe anything would ever rob Antony of his speech, he realised he actually had quite a few old grudges to settle. Rumour has it, from slaves and attendants at that infamous congress, the Triumvirs divided the world within an hour but spent the next two days negotiating The List. Lepidus stayed out of it mostly, or claimed as much in later years; I expect, however, he too managed to name a few of the men who had scorned the manner by which he had won the office of Pontifex Maximus. It is only human nature to want revenge, and on such a long list, what mattered a few names more?

  With a sack of wine for his inspiration Antony eventually rattled off a few hundred family patriarchs who had irritated him at one time or another; he even threw in a few freedmen of great fortune who had loaned him millions and still held his mortgages. He admitted this to me once but claimed he offered their names by way of negotiation. He quarrelled for none of them. Only one man was essential for Antony. He wanted Cicero. More specifically, he wanted Cicero’s right hand and tongue nailed to a stake beneath his accursed head and set upon the speaker’s platform for everyone to see until Cicero’s flesh rotted to oblivion. The other names were only bargaining chits to that end. For his part, young Caesar made sure he named every patrician who had snubbed him on his first journey from Brindisi to Rome. By chance this did not include Cicero. So a head, hand and tongue for Antony, the fortunes of the wealthiest patriarchs of Rome for young Ca
esar. I am told both men eventually gave up friends and family for the sake of keeping their most cherished rivals on the lists.

  Having posted their list and then, subsequently, several versions of an expanded list in the Forum of Rome, Caesar, Antony and Lepidus were finished with the worst of that business. They had simply to make sure the estate auctions followed in a timely fashion. The actual murders were conducted by gangs of bounty hunters. These fellows were required by law to deliver the head of a proscribed man in order to earn their fee. Yes, it was all sanctioned by the divine name of the law. The slaughter was quite indiscriminate. If any man assisted someone on the list he was fair game as well, and naturally, as a traitor to Rome, there was a bounty for his head once his property went to auction. Blood eventually stained every family of any reputation before the killing ended. And not only patriarchs. Mothers and children perished in great numbers during the proscriptions, for the gangs cared nothing about the details of their task. Having killed the father legitimately they raped the rest for the pleasure of it. After that the usual policy was to leave no witnesses.

  There are tales about a few loyal wives and sons – and even slaves – who dared to hide men named on that fatal list. Even strangers would sometimes spare a desperate nobleman on the run. Humanity is not always as morally bankrupt as the worst of our kind would have us believe. On the other side of it, lest we get too sentimental, quite a few sons brought the heads of their fathers into Rome for the sake of the bounty. With no patrimony, they thought at least to gain a few coins for the old boy’s head. Then there were the neighbours who denounced gentry not originally on the lists. Denunciations of treason were never examined with much care. Once the charge was made, it was treason. And so men expanded their fine estates by buying the land of their neighbours at auction.