by David Blixt
Achieving extra height, the Roman catapult stone had arced over the city and torn Chava's womb clean away, smashing the contents into the cobblestones.
Retching, Judah dragged his gaze back to the tiny woman. She was still on her feet, groping horribly at her vanished belly. Rushing to her, he turned her away from her dead child. She was about to die, and Judah didn't want that image in her mind during her final moments.
“Judah? Judah, the baby…”
“Yes, the baby.”
“His name is Atlas. Tell them, his name is Atlas ben Eleazar.”
“I'll tell them.”
“Good.” Her knees buckled and she collapsed, convulsing on the ground. It took several minutes for her to die.
Asher reached them just as the light faded from her eyes. Letting Chava down gently, Judah rounded on his brother. “Where were you?” As if his twin could have prevented this.
Asher stared at Chava's lifeless form. “With Deuel.”
The flatness of his brother's tone brought Judah up short. He noticed that Asher's clothes were covered in blood. “Deuel?”
“We were walking the wall. A scorpion bolt. Punched right through him, pinned him to a wall across the yard. He yelled. Can you imagine? Deuel screamed and screamed. Worst sound I ever heard.”
Judah had no tears for either Chava or Deuel. It might have been lack of water, but it felt like all his tears had been shed. Standing, he turned to his twin. “Can you take care of this?”
Looking down on the ruined body that had once been such a sweet and funny girl, Asher nodded. “Where are you going?”
Judah lifted a precious cup of water from the well. “I'm going to see an old woman and pass along her son's last gift.”
But when Judah got to the single room on the third floor, the woman was beyond thirst. A stone had collapsed the ceiling. She had died just about the same time as her son. Which Judah considered a blessing.
♦ ◊ ♦
THE RANDOM SLAUGHTER raining down upon Jotapata was like water upon a stone, hollowing out the city's spirit. Desertion was inevitable. Each night men, women, whole families tried to slip over the wall. Vespasian caught them all, torturing the men for information before crucifying them. The women and children he sent to the slave markets at Ptolmais.
Yet somehow the city continued to resist. No one knew exactly what would happen if Jotapata survived the allotted time, but they saw the fiftieth day as salvation. Yosef had said so – and hadn't he kept his promise so far?
Everyone waited to see what the forty-ninth day would bring.
♦ ◊ ♦
22 Julius, 67 AD – 48th Day of Siege
TITUS WAS DINING with his father and the other legates. “Two more days.”
“Don't remind me – Nicanor, you're late. Come, join us.”
Nicanor remained standing at the entrance to Vespasian's tent. “Forgive me, General. I've information from inside.”
“Oh?”
“A way in.”
Titus and Trajan spun about, and Cerialis nearly leapt from the couch. Vespasian wiped his lips, then said, “Out with it, man.”
“My informant says the defenders are exhausted. To give them rest, some places on the walls are under-manned in the hours just before dawn. Tonight it's the southwest corner.”
Vespasian blinked. “That simple? No passage? No hidden entrance?”
Nicanor shook his head. “No, that's it. General, if this proves true, my informant has a request.” He explained what it was.
Considering, Vespasian shook his head. “These Judeans. Yes. If the city is taken, I'll grant the request happily. Though part of it…” He looked to his son.
“I'll talk to the Queen,” said Titus. “But father, what do you think? Can it be a trick?”
“Can it not be a trick?” Cerialis retorted.
“If it is,” observed Trajan, “it's a poor one. Is your man reliable?”
Nicanor shook his head. “I have no way to answer that. But I'm inclined to believe it.”
“As am I,” agreed the general. “The risk is minimal, and well worth taking. Titus, get the ladders. The Fifteenth attacks an hour before dawn. And make sure those cunni stay quiet!”
♦ ◊ ♦
MORE AND MORE MEN were sleeping in the day to avoid the pain in their stomach and the dryness in their mouths – and to escape the horror all around them. There was a constant droning of flies as the corpses piled up – they couldn't bury them outside the walls, nor drop them into the cisterns below the city without fouling what little water was left.
Judah was just waking from a nap when he saw his twin coming in the door of their billet. The place had been hit by a dozen stones, yet still remained standing. It was becoming a badge of pride to sleep here – though there were fewer and fewer men alive to do so. More than half their tent-mates were dead.
Judah tried swallowing several times before he worked up enough spit to speak. “Where have you been?”
Asher shrugged. “Walking. Just – walking.”
Judah nodded. “One more day.”
“And then what?”
Judah shrugged. “Who knows?”
Their centurion Zamaris was sitting upright, his eyes closed. “Then the Lord decides.” Suddenly he looked at Judah. “Are you healed?”
“No. But I can fight.”
Zamaris gazed at him for a long moment. “Then tomorrow night we put you over the wall and you go get your girl. You and the big fellow both.” He looked at Asher. “You too.”
Incredulous, the twins stared at him. Asher said, “What in the name of all that's holy are you talking about?”
“It's the heat,” said Judah. “He's delirious.”
Zamaris closed his eyes again. “You have something to live for. And you've done enough.”
“I owe the Lord a death,” said Judah stubbornly.
“We all do. He only takes us when He wants us. You've fought well. You two gave us the hope to get through this last week. But it's going to end, and only a fool counts on divine intervention. The Lord helps those who help themselves. So help yourself. Get your girl out.”
Asher said, “I'll stay. Maybe we can divert them so you can get into the mountains and sneak off to the Queen's camp.”
“Shut it, the pair of you. I'm not leaving until this is over. And I'll strangle the next man who suggests I run away.”
Asher opened his mouth, but luckily Phannius chose that moment to enter the through the door, Gareb by his side. “Levi's asked us to billet with him tonight. Claims he's got some wine.”
“Praise the Lord,” said Zamaris.
“Amen,” said Asher.
Judah clambered up. “I could use a damn drink. Let's go.”
♦ ◊ ♦
SINCE LEAVING YOSEF, Levi had taken rooms at one corner of the city, just inside the guard tower. When the twins arrived they found a meal awaiting them, complete with a bottle of wine and, more impressively, a clay jug of water.
“I took some of the general's personal supply as payment,” confessed the former bodyguard.
Grinning, the five guests took off their swords and sat down to pass a pleasant evening telling stories and recalling lost friends.
“Asher's been telling me of Castor and Pollux,” said Judah, quaffing deeply from the clay jug before passing it on. Having been thirsty for so long, it was a wonder to drink well.
“Kástár and Polydeúkēs,” said Levi, using their Greek names. “The divine twins. Brothers to Helen of Troy. One mortal, one deathless.”
Judah stared. “How did you know that?”
Levi shrugged. “No man is just one thing. What about them?”
Asher explained. “During our flight of fancy we were mistaken for them. Might've saved our lives.”
Zamaris was resisting the water, sipping wine instead. “They remind me of Esau and Yacob.”
“Or the twins who called on Abraham,” said Gareb. “More mysterious.”
“It's all
the same story,” answered Levi, working hard not to spill into his beard. “Asher, surely you've noticed it. The history of our people shares the same base story with a dozen others. Even Rome.”
“I see common elements,” said Zamaris dubiously. “After all, there are only so many stories under the sun. But we have one god. The Romans have dozens, maybe hundreds.”
“All their gods are aspects of Jupiter Best and Greatest. In Parthia, the great god Ahura-Mazda is part of the greater entity of Zurvan, he who is Time Incarnate and the Creator of All Things. Every religion believes there is one supreme being. For us, we replace demi-gods and minor gods with prophets and angels – all of whom are a part of Yahweh.”
Slack-jawed, Asher marveled. “Parthian gods? Where did you – I would kill to learn about them. No one knows them.”
“The Parthians do,” replied Levi simply.
“Once they shared their learning with the rabbis,” continued Asher doggedly. “But not for hundreds of years. Where did get your education?”
“Same place he learned to fight,” growled Phannius, a little drunk. “It's no use asking – he likes to play the sphinx.”
“In Parthia.” All five men stared as Levi set down his bowl and folded his hands in his lap. “I was born in Tamdor. It's a caravan stop in Syria, and controls the silk routes from Parthia.” His face twisted. “Though now that it's Roman, it's called Palmyra. We made the mistake of getting comfortable, you see – we once were nomads, and could disappear across the Euphrates at an hour's notice. But when you build, you create an anchor. Buildings have to be defended. When Corbulo came, we tried to defend when we should have run.”
“You learned to fight against Corbulo?”
“No. That's just when I ceased to have a home. Tamdor has always been a contested point between Rome and Parthia. We have – had, great wealth. Both nations made raids against us. In one of those Parthian raids, I was taken prisoner. I was five years old.” Under his beard, his jaw rippled with disgust. “At first I was just a slave. But one day my master tried to take me as his own. When I refused, he took a whip to me. I fought back, which amused him. 'You wish to be a warrior?' he said to me. 'So be it.' From that moment, he raised me to be his pet soldier. He took great amusement in seeing a boy performing with a sword. First he sent me into battle with only a sword and shield, no armour. When I came back alive, he fed me, and gave me better arms. By the time I reached manhood I had become so skilled, he adopted me for his own. That's when I slit his throat and ran. I've been running ever since,” added Levi, his eyes turned inwards.
Phannius said, “You picked an odd profession, then.”
“I did not choose it. Violence is what I'm good at. I don't know how to do anything else. It's why I envy you, and the twins here – you three know how to build as well as destroy.”
Judah frowned. “What's made your tongue so loose tonight?”
Levi shrugged. “The wine? Or perhaps because it's the forty-ninth day. One way or another, the siege ends tomorrow. If I die, I want to be remembered. And outside this room, there is no one who will remember me.”
They were all quiet after that, thinking of who would remember them after the morrow. Most had only the men in this room. Phannius had his mother, of course – though likely he would be happier forgotten than living in her memory. Asher had only Judah.
But Judah would live in Deborah's memory. That was a kind of immortality. Castor, and Pollux–one immortal, the other always forgotten. So much truth in these myths.
XXXI
Jotapata
23 Julius – 49th Day of Siege
TWO HOURS before dawn, Barbarus led his men to the appointed place. They had removed their pteryges and nailed boots, breastplates and helmets. Shields covered in dark wool, wearing soft leather armour and covered in sagum cloaks, the cohort was nearly invisible. They had to hold a rope for guidance.
At Titus' command, the Fifteenth hustled over to Jotapata's walls and raised their ladders. Barbarus was among the first to climb. Up and over, his bare feet landed without a sound. Moving right, he heard his optio Thorius drop down and begin moving left.
Barbarus almost tripped over a sleeping Jotapatan. Poor lads – escaping the thirst and fatigue in the only way they can. Best put them out of their misery. Drawing his dagger, Barbarus paused at each sleeping Hebrew long enough to slash the man's throat.
Having gained control of this corner of the walls, the Romans quickly spread out. Titus himself was among them, Frigius by his side, busily cutting throats with the rest. As dawn approached, the task grew easier – they could see their targets, thus speeding up the slaughter.
Covered in blood, Barbarus was about to descend into the city when a Judean woman, sneaking to steal precious water from a well, saw him and let out a piercing scream.
Abandoning stealth, the soldiers of the Fifteenth cheered as they taught these Judeans the final price of obstinacy.
♦ ◊ ♦
“NO!” SHOUTED ASHER, bolting awake.
Judah was beside him in a moment. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. No. Just a dream.” His heart was pounding.
“Edith?”
Asher frowned. “I used to be sure it was her. But she's changing. There's something about her face – it's like her cheek is weak on one side…”
Asher was interrupted by a scream. This was immediately followed by the blaring notes of Roman bugles. It came from inside the city!
Judah limped to the window and saw the Fifth and Tenth legions marching for Jotapata's gates. “They're advancing!”
“No, they're in!” Zamaris was at the window that looked down into the city behind them.
Levi appeared, already dressed in his armour. “The city is lost.”
Judah refused to believe it. “There must be something we can do!”
“What about the general?” asked Asher. Despite all the ill-will, there was a bond. Asher did not wish to see Yosef dead.
But rescue was clearly impossible. The city was swarming with plumed helmets and crimson banners. If Yosef was still in there, there was no helping him.
“Jotapata has fallen,” said Levi. “We must run.”
“No,” said Judah.
Phannius blocked the door. “We can't fight them all!”
“You heard my brother,” said Asher. “He said no.”
Phannius rounded on Judah. “Use your eyes! The city has fallen!”
“Not until the Romans open the gate,” said Zamaris suddenly.
“What?”
“The gate!” echoed Judah, excitement rising. “If we hold the gate, the other legions can't get in. Then we hunt down the Romans inside – and we win!”
Already Zamaris had barreled past Phannius, shouting, “Judeans! To me! To me!”
Following, Judah, Asher, Phannius, Gareb, and Levi gathered every soldier manning the nearest tower, nearly thirty in all. Well armed and unencumbered by armour, together they carved passage up onto the wall and along the western ramparts, towards the main gate.
♦ ◊ ♦
YOSEF WOKE TO hear fighting close at hand. Before he could gather any semblance of wit, a Judean covered in blood burst into the chamber and thrust a sword into his hand. “General! They're upon us! Save your honour – slay yourself!”
“What?”
“You must!” gasped the man, bubbles of blood issuing from his lips. “Otherwise they'll ship you to Rome – to die in their games!” The man expired on the spot, the word games rattling in his throat. Yosef did not even know the man's name.
Yosef exited his chamber at a run. In the courtyard beyond, the noise was louder and more identifiable – screams, oaths, prayers, and the Latin shouts of triumphant Romans.
O Lord, speak to me in this moment of extremis! Provide me victory from the jaws of defeat!
There was no answer.
When Yosef had allowed himself to imagine dying, it had been a glorious fall in battle, not alone, half-dressed, unprepared
and unclean.
Unclean. Though he espoused the Pharisees, he had trained as an Essene. Purification by water. He had to die clean. In the center of the courtyard stood a well. Sword still in hand, he ran to it. Behind him the horrible sounds grew ever nearer.
Somehow, between his first step and his last, words came to him, words he would reflect upon for however long he might live. For all his prayers, his soul-searching, his questions regarding the nature of sacrifice, the words expressed a single, simple thought:
I don't want to die.
And again the single word of answer came to him: Live.
Reaching the well, he did not haul up the bucket. Grasping the rope in one hand, he instead shimmied down into the well to hide.
♦ ◊ ♦
ZAMARIS STOPPED SHORT. Judah and the others skidded to a halt beside him, their hopes and dreams of snatching victory from defeat dashed before their eyes.
A full Roman cohort was already at the gates, bristling with spears and shields and swords. Engineers were working the mechanism. In moments the portal would be open.
“There's nothing we can do,” said Levi. “We must escape.”
Phannius nodded. “Maybe if we drop off the north wall…”
Gareb was nodding, and even Zamaris looked ready to flee. Still Judah protested. “We can't run—!”
Asher grabbed his brother by the arm. “You promised me we'd only run if there was no other choice. Is there? Because I'll fight to the death if there's a use. Just tell me what to do!” Tears were in his eyes, and Judah knew his brother was reliving Alexandria.
Looking back at the gate, Judah saw legionaries climbing the rampart steps. In moments he and the others would be facing the short Roman swords behind a wall of shields.
“The north wall,” said Judah.
Asher looked his brother in the face. “Are you sure?”
Judah nodded, and Levi said, “We're the only witnesses.”