To make progress through this seemingly impenetrable mass, Neopolitanus placed a squad of heavy infantry at the head of the cohort who marched in close order, shields held edge to edge along the side of their columns. With trumpets blowing and drums beating out a steady marching cadence, the column moved forward, though not without some cursing and the odd vegetable being hurled in their direction by an irate citizen.
Neopolitanus was not alone in breathing a sigh of relief when they arrived at the Antonia fortress, the headquarters of the occupying troops permanently garrisoned in Jerusalem. A guard of honour had been turned out to meet them. They entered the fortress to a fanfare of trumpets and were greeted by the Antonia’s commander, the Praetorian Metilius.
After Gallus had inspected the guard of honour, he and Metilius left the business of standing the column down to Neopolitanus and the fortress’ duty officer Centurion Crassus Maximus. With the men and their equipment squared away, Neopolitanus asked Crassus if he would brief him about the city and its citizens. “But first”, he said, “I must bathe. I stink more than my horse”. With a grin Crassus confirmed the stink and said he would be happy to show him the ropes.
In the afternoon, refreshed and glad to be out of their armour, wearing plain linen tunics and leather vests, Neopolitanus and Crassus ventured out of the fortress into the crowded streets, the jostling crowd noisy but amiable. Passover was the most joyous of Jerusalem’s festivals; an opportunity to set aside the cares and worries of everyday life and relax. Countless thousands of pilgrims, unable to find accommodation, were squeezed into the homes of friends; sleeping in corners of already crowded rooms, in courtyards and some, in desperation, camping in doorways and tethering the Paschal lamb brought from the country to the nearest post.
Picking their way carefully through the heaving mass, the two Romans made their way along the densely packed streets, stumbling over bedding, pots and pans and bundles of personal belongings, whose mounds indicated possession and occupation of a particular bit of pavement.
“In here”. Crassus took Neopolitanus’ arm and pulled him into the portico of a pastry shop. “We can get a bite to eat and catch our breath”. Neopolitanus grinned and nodded his agreement. The two men found a quiet corner in the cool interior of the shop and after ordering a dish of fried locust en croûte, began to discuss the volatile situation.
Neopolitanus was baffled by Crassus’ unwillingness to see the Jewish nationalists’ point of view, no matter how misguided it was. “Years ago” said Crassus, “the Jews invited us here. They sent a delegation to Rome and pleaded with us to admit them to the empire, to dig them out of the shit Aristobulus had landed them in”.
Through a mouthful of pastry Neopolitanus said, “Then the Roman senate proclaimed Herod King of Judaea. Being an Idumaean, one quarter Jew and three quarters Arab, he was hated by just about everybody. Then of course there was the Jewish tyrant, Herod’s son Archelaus, who bled the Jews dry until Augustus banished him to Gaul”.
Crassus grinned. “You should go further back than that. Rome made its first treaty with the Jews two hundred years ago. At the Hebrew’s request, Rome dispatched military advisors to Judaea and followed this up by sending the troops the Jews asked for to protect them”.
Neopolitanus snorted. “The long noses need reminding that Judaea isn’t Jewish anyway. They took the country by force of arms from the Canaanites and wiped out the entire indigenous population. They spared nobody; they didn’t even take slaves. They claimed their God had ordered them to commit wholesale murder”.
“Come now, that’s many years ago”, countered Crassus, “Seventeen hundred to be precise”.
“But” Neopolitanus continued hurriedly before his companion could interrupt “the kettle mustn’t call the pot black. Discussions about rights of ownership of particular bits of the world can put us Romans in a difficult position, given the size of our empire”.
Crassus shook his head. “The Jews asked for a treaty because it suited them. We agreed because it suited us. We now have, or should have, a friendly state supporting Syria and Egypt. We Romans came here because this country is a crossroads. It is essential to the rule of our empire because we hold Egypt, which everybody wants for its limitless harvest of corn. We also have the Parthians for enemies. Palestine and Syria are the defence buffer between us and our age old foe who”, he added sombrely “has never been defeated in battle”.
“Well Centurion”, replied Neopolitanus, “If a treaty between Roman and Jew is one of mutual self-interest, why do we have endless problems with these people? Why do they not accept the benefits and advantages of the Roman way of life, the protection of Roman armies, Roman law, enjoy Roman culture and the freedom to worship their own Gods?”
Crassus grimaced. “Well we cannot impose our way of life on this stiff necked people. Pompey tried and failed. The Jews are racially prejudiced. We can either accept that and work with it or” he added ominously, “we can wipe the lot out”.
“Or” Neapolitanus said “we display the good side of Roman life and hope it will gradually be accepted for its own sake.” Wiping crumbs from his lips Neopolitanus stood up. “Come. Show me the defences of the city. The Legate recommended the top of the Antonia as a viewing point”.
“Agreed”, said Crassus, “but I will need time to change. I am due back on duty”.
In the early evening, the two men stood on top of the Antonia’s highest tower, Crassus in full armour. From the pinnacle on which they stood, the city was laid out like a map. Crassus remained silent to allow Neopolitanus to take in the splendour that was at their feet. It was Neopolitanus who broke the silence. Speaking more to himself than to his companion, he said “Perhaps it is impregnable”.
“As you can see” said Crassus “the city, like Rome, is built on a series of hills. Where it differs” he continued “is that unlike Rome, it is protected on three sides by the deep ravines the Jews call Gehenna and Kidron”. Neopolitanus stared down into what seemed a bottomless abyss. Crassus continued “You will notice that the valleys are devoid of all vegetation. The sides are bare rock, which is so steep as to be unclimbable”.
“That” replied Neopolitanus wryly “is why they build their walls along the edges”.
Crassus pointed to one of the hills. “That is the Upper City, known as the Upper Market. The second hill is the Citadel and is covered by the Lower City. The opposite part of the city”, he continued pointing to a third hill, “was originally cut off by a wide ravine. During the Hasmonaean period, this was filled in and as you can see it joins the city to the Temple. The Jews call this area the Valley of the Cheese Makers”. “But the walls”, said Neopolitanus in a hushed voice, “what walls! They seem to rise up from Hades itself and brush the very heavens with their towers and fortresses”.
“It’s the walls, their fortified towers and massive fortresses, which make this place an invading army’s nightmare”. Crassus chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “There are three walls, one behind the other, with over a hundred towers spaced along them and as you have observed, the walls are unassailable because they are on the rims of bottomless ravines”.
“How on earth did the Jews get all that masonry of such Herculean sizes to this place?” asked Neopolitanus.
“They didn’t”, his companion replied. “They dug most of the city out of the ground. Jerusalem stands on limestone the Jews call travertine. When it is in the ground, it is soft and easily worked. However, when it is exposed to air, it becomes very hard, almost impossible to cut. As a result of their excavations the Jews got a bonus. The city stands on cisterns which hold millions of gallons of water. They also have underground caverns containing several years’ supply of grain and oil, and every other kind of material necessary to not only sustain life, but supply a defending army with all its needs”.
Neopolitanus shook his head in amazement before asking ruefully, “And the fortresses I can see spaced out strategically between the towers?”
Cras
sus grinned thinly. “At the northern end of the old wall is the Hippicus. It has its own water supply and siege storage vaults, as in indeed do all the towers and fortresses. Above the high base, which is topped by a two story building, is a fortified tower. With turrets and ramparts it stands at one hundred and twenty feet high excluding the base of solid stone, which is fifty feet high. The Phasael fortress further along”, Crassus continued, “is even bigger. It is protected by breastworks and bulwarks”.
Studying the Phasael, Neopolitanus asked, “What is access like between the different levels?”
“There is a spiral staircase which allows access to each floor. Being a spiral it is easily defended. Each of the fortresses has a similar staircase. Though I must say”, Crassus concluded, “the idea of anyone ever succeeding in breaking into any of them is laughable”.
Neopolitanus silently digested this information. He was beginning to agree with the Legate’s earlier remark about the city being impregnable. After a long silence he asked, “And the third fortress in the old wall?”
“That’s the Marriam, shorter than the others being eighty two feet high. The building on top of the fortified base is a magnificent palace Herod built in memory of his wife Marriam. The Hippicus was named after a friend and the Phasael after his brother”.
“Remarkable monuments”, said Neopolitanus.
“He murdered all three”, laughed Crassus.
Neopolitanus, no stranger to political murder, made no comment on the savagery. Instead he pointed to the North West. “There, on the corner opposite the Hippicus, what’s the very tall octagonal tower?”
“That’s the Psephinus Tower; it’s a hundred and fifty feet high. From the top you can see the furthest extent of Palestine; sometimes on a really clear day you can even see Arabia”.
“Remind me, how many fortresses and towers are there?”
“The third wall has ninety towers, each a hundred yards apart. The middle wall has fourteen and the old wall sixty. The circuit of the walls is four miles. Of course as well as the one hundred and sixty four fortified towers, there are the three fortresses we have spoken about, which are part of the walls”.
Overwhelmed, Neopolitanus turned to the Temple which joined the Antonia. “That looks like a city within a city”.
Crassus glanced sideways at his companion. “Covering three and a half acres, it is”, he replied, “as is the Antonia. But the Temple is best seen close up and not in uniform. Tomorrow I am off duty for a few hours; we can visit it then”.
“Delighted”, replied Neopolitanus, “but before we go to supper, tell me about the Antonia. From what little I have seen this place is as big as a small town”.
“You are right. It is virtually a town, but with fortifications like no town you have ever seen. In general design it is a massive tower with four other towers attached at each corner. Of these, three are seventy five feet high and the fourth - the one we are standing on - is one hundred and five feet high. Where it joins the Temple, stairs lead down to the colonnades giving our soldiers access at all times to the Temple’s inner courts”.
Crassus pointed. “As you can see, fully armed Roman infantry are stationed along the tops of the walls surrounding the Temple and the colonnades. We always have a show of strength at festivals, to watch for any sign of discontent. The city is dominated by the Temple and the Temple by the Antonia. So the Antonia houses the guards of all three. The Upper City has a stronghold of its own, Herod’s palace”.
The two men stood gazing at the crowded streets below them. Even at their great height the hum of voices was clearly audible. From time to time the men in the streets would hurl insults at the silent legionaries manning the walls, some of whom were chewing olives and spitting the stones into the crowd. Stoically they ignored the verbal abuse hurled at them.
The two Romans were on the point of leaving the tower when a remark particularly offensive and insulting to Rome was shouted at the silent guards. One of them could stand it no longer. He turned his back on the jeering mob, lifted his short skirt and hauled down his undergarments. Presenting the outraged Jews with his bare arse he blew them a monstrous fart. The Jews howled in fury at this insult and suddenly real trouble flared up.
Crassus groaned, “I must leave you”, and sped away pulling his helmet on as he dashed to the stair well. Neopolitanus followed him more slowly. This wasn’t his fight, though if called on he and his men would reinforce the garrison troops.
Trumpets were sounding and the Antonia’s soldiers were pouring out of their barracks, rapidly forming up on the parade ground. Neopolitanus noted with pride and satisfaction the order with which this was done. Every man in his armour, weapons in hand, standing calmly to attention awaiting their orders.
The fighting in the streets quickly boiled over on to the colonnades and the outer court of the Antonia. A full scale riot was getting under way.
Gallus and Metilius appeared on a balcony overlooking the parade ground in time to see Florus, mounted at the head of a squadron of heavy cavalry, order the gate to be opened. The procurator meant business. The fact that he was grossly outnumbered meant little to him. He knew that the mob outside were virtually unarmed. A few knives, staves and chunks of broken masonry were about to face a well-equipped, heavily armoured killing machine that seriously knew its business.
5
Florus’ cavalry cut through the densely packed streets which surrounded the Antonia like wire slicing cheese. Heavy infantry with locked shields and drawn swords followed closely behind. The angry crowds clogging the streets were virtually unarmed. Even so, they fought back with anything to hand, but to little purpose.
Any attempt to flee into less crowded streets was cut off by the cavalry that was now savagely working the edges of the crowd, slicing the tightly packed bodies like a butcher cutting salami.
As the enraged mob surged below the Antonia’s walls, members of the Sicarii who had secretly infiltrated it seized the opportunity created by the panic and confusion to assassinate a number of prominent Jewish citizens. The men they murdered were killed for their moderate views, dubbed traitors because they had tried to run a civil administration that recognised Rome’s authority. It was easy in the turbulence and confusion to take a blade which had been hidden in a sleeve and slip it between a man’s ribs, the victim unable to identify his attacker, his shriek of pain inaudible above the pandemonium created by the roaring mob. His assassin would ease himself away from the scene, to lose himself in the crowd. Over a dozen Jews of high standing, men of authority and power, were murdered by the Sicarii during the riot which lasted half a day.
These murders were nothing compare to the thirty thousand Jewish citizens who died that day. Most crushed to death in the narrow streets in which Florus’ men had penned them.
The Romans suffered no losses but about a hundred men were wounded, two of them seriously. One man had lost an eye and the other had a broken leg.
Florus didn’t return to the Antonia. Instead he went to Herod’s palace to further the next move in a plan he had conceived during the riot. What he had in mind, was a way of contriving a nationwide revolt. This would forestall any enquires into his own criminal behaviour.
The next day he had a dais erected on the marble veranda overlooking the palace courtyard, where he took his seat. Florus was a tall, heavily built man with reddish hair and pale almost colourless eyes. Dressed in a white toga of finely spun wool he lolled on a golden throne, a goblet of the same metal held loosely in one hand. In the other he held the ivory baton of his Imperium, the visible symbol that he was Caesar’s legally appointed representative. He was Rome. The power of life and death was in his hands. Only a Roman citizen could appeal his judgement by asking to be sent to Caesar.
In front of the seated prefect, was a low table of marble inlaid with jewels forming an intricate design of flowers and birds - a gift to Herod from an Indian prince.
Florus was attended by a scribe and his staff officers, who stood in a d
iscreet half circle around the seat of judgment.
Ranged along the tops of the palace walls, five hundred hand-picked soldiers armed with javelins stood virtually shoulder to shoulder, while the floor of the courtyard was encircled with a triple row of infantry armed with shields and swords. Several mounted cavalry were positioned strategically, resplendent in dress uniform, crimson capes fastened at the riders’ shoulders, draping over their mounts’ haunches. Plumed helmets burnished to a parade ground finish, added to the wearers’ gravitas. Polished lances decorated with pennants were held at the rest position. This ceremonial cavalry was there as a reminder. The whole wing was standing by ready for action should they be required.
“Sir may the Jews enter?” asked an equerry.
Florus sipped the wine in his goblet and let his eyes travel round the court. Having checked that his men were in place he gave a barely perceived nod. The equerry signalled the men on the gate. The supplicants, who had been waiting in the hot sun for over four hours, could enter.
The first to come in were the chief priests wearing their ceremonial robes. They were led by Ananus. The priests prostrated themselves, before kneeling to address the procurator. Ananus was their spokesman. “Excellency, the whole city is in mourning, on this the eve of our greatest and most joyous celebration. Thousands of its people are dead. The weeping of widows fills the air.”
“Who” cut in Florus “do you blame for these deaths? Point them out to me and I will judge them.”
“Excellency, thousands of innocents were crushed to death as they fled the rioting” Ananus replied, carefully avoiding Florus’ part in the massacre.
“I am sick of Jews rioting. I give you peace. You give me war. War that costs me dearly. Tell me, how do you propose recompensing me for the expense of defending the city from troublemakers who inflame the people, causing them to attack the authorities?”
The assembled deputies gasped at the way things were going and muttered amongst themselves. Ananus chewed his beard and said nothing, but his eyes burned with hatred.
To the Death Page 4