“Answer me priest, when will you pay? I demand restitution for the expenses incurred in putting down Jews who riot against authority, who defy Rome.”
Slowly the High Priest stood up. “Excellency, I cannot decide in this matter, therefore let us ask Caesar for a judgement”. The silence that followed this was absolute. The High Priest had dared to question the procurator’s judgment.
Florus, his face a mask, showed no emotion. He stared long and hard at the High Priest. Finally he burst out laughing, a mirthless bray that revealed to those who knew him the depths of his anger. He waved a hand carelessly to signal the audience was over. “High Priest, the Temple is fined thirteen talents of silver. I will debate with you no more. We shall look elsewhere for compensation. We have, however, noted before these witnesses, your refusal to redress the injury Jewish people have inflicted on Rome”.
Slowly, with downcast eyes, the High Priest and his entourage backed away. They left tearing their clothes and loudly lamenting their fate, while Florus gave orders that wagons guarded by several cohorts of heavy infantry and two wings of cavalry were to proceed immediately to collect the fortune he had just stolen.
He then returned to the business in hand. Earlier he had ordered that many of Jerusalem’s most eminent citizens be arrested. While they were Jews, most were also citizens of Rome, many of Equestrian Rank. They had been held overnight to consider the proposition, that in exchange for their lives they could expiate their crimes by signing over their property and wealth to the State.
To help them in their deliberations he had one of them stretched over a slow burning charcoal fire, with orders that the fire was to be kept burning all night and the prisoner turned regularly and basted with oil to ensure an even roast. For many hours the prisoners, who had been kept without food or water, were forced to listen to the tormented man’s desperate screams. As dawn approached the screams became a continuous low moan, finally falling silent as the sun rose on a new day. The fragrant smell of roast meat drifting through their cells, reminded the prisoners they had had no food for twenty four hours. Before being assembled for transportation to Herod’s palace, they refused in horror the only breakfast offered to them.
These men were legally exempt from the Procurator’s judgment. They all had the right to be tried by the Emperor. Florus however, had refused to acknowledge their right to petition Caesar.
As they knelt before Florus, a slave holding a bowl of water, a towel draped over one arm, came and stood slightly behind the Procurator’s left shoulder. “Well, having slept on my offer of mercy what is your reply?”
Benjaman Sabinus, who had been elected spokesmen, rose to his feet - an action that caused Florus to frown, but he said nothing. “Excellency we deny the charges brought against us and regret the circumstances which cause you to believe otherwise. As we don’t even know what it is we are accused of, we ask as is our right as citizens of Rome, to be sent to Caesar”.
“Traitors have no rights” Florus answered coldly standing up. This was a prearranged signal to the slave holding the bowl to come forward. He knelt at the Procurator’s feet. Dipping his fingers into it Florus said “I wash my hands of you. We have offered you mercy and you spit in our face. Your treacherous Jewish stubbornness challenges our authority.” He picked up the towel without taking his eyes off the kneeling men. “Very well, so be it.” Turning away he said to the captain of the guard “Scourge them and then ask them if they have had second thoughts”.
The centurion could not help a slight involuntary gasp at these orders. The eyes of the soldiers lining the court and standing guard on the walls, widened in amazement. The staff officers in attendance on the dais sucked in their breaths. They couldn’t meet each other’s eyes. Florus had just ordered the impossible. Every citizen of Rome was entitled to a fair hearing before Caesar, just as every citizen of Rome was legally exempted from punishments that were considered to be degrading. Scourging and crucifixion were at the top of the list of such punishments.
Florus had ordered the scourging to be inflicted at once. A punishment that entailed the victim being stripped naked and fixed to a tripod, his entire body being lashed with a multi-stranded leather whip that had pieces of metal and shards of bone attached to the tips of the strands.
When the scourging was over, the centurion asked the barely conscious victims to reconsider their refusal to sign away their possessions. When the answer was no, he then produced the victim’s death warrant, which had been pre-signed by the Procurator. Death was to be by the slowest, most painful way of dying man had ever devised. Crucifixion.
Of the dozen men Florus had scourged, six refused to sign and died in agony cursing the Procurator from the cross.
Meanwhile, Florus made arrangements for the property and wealth of the other six who had signed, to be transferred to him before sending them and their families into exile – on pain of death never again to set foot in the empire.
6
Florus decided to stay on at the palace. Not only was it an ideal base from which to provoke the civilian population, it was a convenient point from which to manage the wealth and property he had extorted from the men he had scourged.
Among his officers who were closest to him, tied to him as co-conspirator and sharing in the spoils of his crimes was a Tribune, Marcus Severus. Marcus was not only second in command to Florus, he was a trusted confidant.
The day after the scourging, the procurator and the Tribune were discussing how to sell a piece of valuable property in Rome when Neopolitanus, who was officer of the day, entered the room and after saluting reported “Excellency, Queen Berenice has entered the city and is approaching the palace”. Berenice, the daughter of King Agrippa I, would when visiting Jerusalem expect to stay at the Hasmonaean Palace, built by her grandfather Herod the Great.
Florus acknowledged the report and sat thinking. The Queen’s authority didn’t concern him in the least, but her brother did, for he was King Agrippa II and had been appointed client King by the Romans for Upper Galilee, part of Jordan, and Chalcis. He also had responsibilities in Jerusalem and the use of his grandfather’s palace when he visited the city.
But, thought Florus, first things first. “Why had she come to Jerusalem?” Marcus voiced the same question.
Florus answered thoughtfully, “Good question. She and her brother are Jews. I suspect she had come to perform a Nazarite vow”.
“I thought”, said Marcus, “she had come to celebrate Passover”.
“Maybe”, said Florus, “but spies tell me that having got away with incest in Caesarea, they have scandalised the good people of Chalcis. I have a feeling the lady has left town to let things cool down”.
The burly Tribune laughed “Jews stone women for adultery. What’s their remedy for diddling with your brother?”
The procurator shrugged. “You may well have the opportunity to see for yourself at first hand, if the news of the lady’s proclivity reaches the High Priest. Your original question is the only one that matters to us. Why is she here?”
The procurator received his royal visitor with an outward display of warmth. “Your Highness, forgive me for not calling on you but we had no warning of your arrival. Had we known you intended visiting Jerusalem, for your safety we would have sent an escort to meet you”.
Berenice, tall to the point of being statuesque, crossed the room with a sinuous grace and sat down opposite the procurator. As Florus waited for a response, he was struck as much by that feline quality as by her beauty. She had a delicate heart shaped face, its pointed chin giving it an elfin quality. Her widely spaced hazel eyes were tilted slightly, reinforcing the cat like impression. Lips slightly turned up at the corners gave her a mischievous look, which was her natural nature, betrayed by a cheeky smile whose whiteness contrasted with a café au lait skin, the creamy texture of which was a perfect foil for the lustrous dense black hair, arranged in the Alexandrian fashion.
She was also dressed in the Alexandrian mode - a s
tyle that showed off her figure to perfection, with its firm high breasts, narrow waist, sensually rounded hips and long shapely legs. The fingers and toes of her small finely boned hands and feet were decorated with jewelled rings, the nails painted a brilliant green. Even in repose she had a calm, naturally authoritative manner.
When she replied to Florus it was in a voice that was surprisingly deep and slightly husky.
Every man on hearing it for the first time became instantly aware of its owner. “Excellency, having suffered no personal harm during the recent unrest we are pleased to see you.”
She would have continued but Florus interrupted her. “Nevertheless lady, we should have been advised of your proposal to travel. Nationalists are urging the people to rebel against Rome. Towns and villages are being attacked by both sides, often by opportunist bandits. Even”, he continued, “in Jerusalem riots are commonplace. My men are hard pressed to keep the peace”.
Berenice smiled. “Perhaps my arrival in the city will act as a moderating influence.”
Florus, with a wintery smile, extended his hand indicating that she should be seated, at the same time introducing his second in command. “I do hope so lady. In the meantime allow me to present my second in command Tribune Marcus Severus, who will be personally responsible for your safety while you are in the city”.
Severus saluted and got a short nod in return. “Thank you your Excellency, but I have my own bodyguard. I also travelled with a cohort of infantry and a troop of my own cavalry. With so much trouble on your hands”, she concluded dryly, “you will have need of your tribune”.
“Very well”, replied Florus, unperturbed by the refusal. “We will make arrangements for your troops and cavalry to be rested and your personal escorts and slaves escorted to the Marriam. In the meantime, is there anything in particular we can assist you with? We are entirely at your service.”
Berenice inclined her head in acknowledgement of this offer. “My brother King Agrippa II has arrived from Rome and is in Alexandria. He comes from Caesar, who has rewarded his faithful service to the empire with the addition of the cities of Tiberias and Taricheae in Galilee and Julias in Perea, with their dependant towns and villages, to his dominion”.
Florus was stunned at this reply. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he coughed to hide his discomfort.
With a slight smile and a lowering of her eyelids, her thick lashes shielding a glint of satisfaction, Berenice continued smoothly “I have come to Jerusalem to perform a Nazarite vow. This requires I be in the Holy City thirty days”.
The Procurator shifted in his chair and studded the nails of his left hand. “The city is dangerous lady. Passions are running high. Terrorists commit murder daily. Honest citizens as well as Roman soldiers are assassinated to foster insecurity. In the name of nationalism riots are created. Thousands are being killed in disturbances which occur almost daily.” The Procurator paused, but getting no response ended abruptly “You would do well to return to your brother while it is still safe to do so”.
Berenice looked up and held the procurator’s gaze, her face taught with anger at the veiled insult. Getting no reply the Procurator continued smugly “I will provide you with a cohort of heavy infantry and a squadron of cavalry to augment your forces. They will escort you as far as the border with Galilee whence no doubt” he concluded sarcastically “your brother can provide for your safety against the thieving Jewish scum that roams the country, killing and burning in the name of freedom”.
A dish of plums stood on the low alabaster table. Berenice selected one and with a tiny jewelled dagger taken from her sleeve, proceeded to peel it. Without looking at the procurator, she replied with studied casualness. “I will return to Chalcis under the protection of King Agrippa, for we agreed I would await his arrival in his palace”.
There was a slight emphasis on his palace, which caused Florus to tighten his lips. But he remained silent.
“The king arrives directly. However, he has Caesar’s business to conduct before we return, so we will remain in the city until this has been concluded and I have completed my vows.” Before the procurator could say anything she continued “I have sent messengers to the King at Alexandria to acquaint him of the situation.” Again Florus would have interrupted but an upraised hand indicated that she had not finished. “When the King comes, Excellency, it will be at the head of an army”.
The Procurator leaped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “You have no authority to invite a foreign army to enter my province, particularly the Holy City. You will leave at once for your brother’s kingdom and advise him to keep his troops at home.”
Berenice stood up. “You forget yourself Procurator. I can only assume it is the result of the strain you are under.” Florus would have interrupted her but she ground on relentlessly. “My brother the King has duties and responsibilities in this city, both as a Jew and the servant of Caesar. It is not by my authority or your leave, that he will come here, but Caesar’s”.
Without waiting for a reply Berenice rose and marched out of the room. As she reached the door war she stopped “It is the custom of the King to stay in his own palace when he visits Jerusalem on the Emperor’s business. We would be grateful if you would vacate it as soon as possible so that all may be made ready to receive him”.
Florus was incandescent with rage but he dared not ignore the demand that he quit the palace. In a filthy temper he moved into the Hippicus fortress, where huge crowds gathered daily, shrieking and lamenting, complaining bitterly about the Procurator’s behaviour. For a time he ignored them while he pondered his next move. It was Marcus who persuaded him to act.
The pair was alone in Florus’ private apartments sharing a flagon of wine. The tribune, voicing his concerns, said “The crowds are becoming bolder in their complaints. Their slanders might reach the ears of Rome. The bastard nationalists egg them on. They take inactivity to mean weakness”.
Florus glared at the Tribune. “The damned bitch needs spaying”.
Marcus was delighted at his master’s anger but didn’t take the request against Berenice seriously. “I would love to let her feel what a real man’s like. A bit different to being diddled by her pansy brother”.
“The whole army can fuck her for all I care”, Florus grated, “but she mustn’t leave this city alive.”
Marcus licked his lips. He and his men enjoyed gang rape. The more well-bred the victim, the greater the pleasure in her humiliation. He wasn’t, however, reckless. He had survived too many hard and often brutal wars to simply charge in without regard to consequences. “Agrippa is well in with Caesar and his army is a force to be reckoned with”.
The Procurator tapped the side of his nose and with a conspiratorial smile said “We shall send him her body with full military honours. I will personally lead the column and express my condolences on her death. Murdered by the mob, who were angered at her presence in the city on account of her love for her brother”.
Marcus grinned happy that the blame could so easily be shifted to the Jews.
Florus stood and stretched and said jovially “Get your fat arse in gear and give that fucking mob what for. A few swift, short actions. A few thousand dead will stir things up. Burn some streets down, loot their shops and screw some of their women”. Marcus nodded, agreeing enthusiastically.
“If we stick it to them hard, fast and very nastily, the bitch will complain and” said Florus “to do that she will have to leave the palace”.
“We can gaff her like a hooked fish”, concluded Marcus.
“Wrong”, snapped the Procurator. “She will die trampled to death by the mob as you and your men fight to save her”.
During the next three days, Marcus harried the citizens of Jerusalem. Craftily he didn’t confront the large crowd that gathered in the city’s main square, but constantly sprang up where least expected to strike hard and fast. Day and night made no difference to the German. A district or a street would suddenly be surrounded
and cordoned off, and trumpets blown as a signal for his men to explode into action. Cavalry and heavy infantry would charge down streets killing everything in their path. Doors were smashed down and before the terrified occupants could flee, they were hacked to pieces. Possessions were scattered in a search for valuables that were hastily snatched up, before a torch was hurled into the building.
Berenice responded to this savagery by repeatedly sending in her own small cavalry troop. Often they arrived too late to do any good and when they weren’t, they suffered heavy losses.
At the end of day two of the terror, she had taken ten per cent losses. Her officers grew anxious about their continuing ability to protect her, which was their first duty.
Sick at heart at the butchery she appealed to the High Priest and the city’s leading citizens to discuss the situation. Among them was Menahem Ben Judas, a wealthy and influential Galilean, who was also a fanatical nationalist and secret leader of the Sicarii,. Not that they needed any persuasion to come. It was decided they would present themselves to the Procurator as penitents. They would beg mercy for the people, they would appeal to Florus for Caesar’s mercy, for a return to normality. To achieve this end, it was agreed amongst themselves that they would accept any reasonable conditions.
The next day, the crowds, subdued and weeping, made their way towards the Hippicus fortress. The senior priests tore their vestments and led the slowly moving mass of people. They rolled like lava across the city. Pouring ash into their hair, the priests begged the people to avoid violence, no matter what the provocation. Ananus personally pleaded with them not to be goaded into some intemperate response.
With his head covered in ashes that smeared his face and fouled his beard, his magnificent ceremonially robes ritually torn, Ananus beseeched the solemn silent crowd that had swollen to thousands. “Do not provoke the Procurator to commit some unpardonable outrage”.
To the Death Page 5