To the Death

by Peter R. Hall

  “Live long enough to claim it, fight well, and you and your comrades will have land and slaves to work it”. Mucianus’ reply brought a rousing cheer. The next question was more sober in content.

  “Sir, why have the Jews rebelled against Rome? We allow them freedom to worship their God and manage their own affairs”.

  “Good question tribune”, replied Mucianus. “Deserves a simple straightforward answer, but it won’t get one”. This brought a ripple of laughter. Mucianus continued, “A lot of Judaean power rests with the priesthood, which means the Temple in Jerusalem. A devout Jew accepts no authority or master other than his God. However, the civil authorities who administer the city and the country acknowledge the necessity and duty of co-operating with Rome. They and the High Priest of all Israel balance civic duty with duty to Rome and Roman laws, with duty to their God. They keep them separate and maintain the peace. In fact, many high ranking councillors, Jews of power and influence in Jerusalem, are Roman citizens”.

  This brought a rumble of comment which died away as Mucianus continued, “In Jerusalem you have the misguided - Jews who for theological reasons promote rebellion. You also have the opportunists, who see a chance during a time of turbulence to seize power and become rich. Finally, there are the politicians who see a chance to peddle their brand of nationalism and take control of the country. These diverse groups are clearly rivals and are our unwitting allies. Already they are at each other’s throats. In the name of their God they have started a civil war in the city and are taking no prisoners”. This last drew a gasp from its audience and caused even Vespasian to raise an eyebrow.

  Scarcely had this amazing piece of information been absorbed when another hand shot up. “Silence”, called Mucianus. “The centurion at the back. Your question soldier”.

  “Where do we go from here sir?”

  Mucianus grinned, “To glory son”. This brought an ironical cheer. “We march to Ptolemais, which is of great importance to us and loyal to Rome. A Greek city that was once the most important harbour serving Galilee and to this day is of strategic importance. In Ptolemais we will gather our strength and march to Jerusalem. There we will plant the eagles of Rome to do battle with the enemy”.

  A week later they arrived in Ptolemais without incident and were received by the city fathers, bearing the traditional offerings of bread and salt. The city gates stood open and the civilian population welcomed them with garlands of flowers and warm applause. After discussing the disposition of his forces with Mucianus, Vespasian sent two of his legions to Caesarea for the winter. The Fifteenth he sent to Scythopolis, to avoid straining Caesarea’s resources.

  Meanwhile in Rome, Nero, who was busy working on his latest musical composition, reluctantly agreed to receive Tigellinus the Commander of the Praetorian Guard.

  A grey faced Tigellinus and three of the praetorian’s most senior officers were knelt on one knee, heads bent, in front of the seated Emperor. To his left, in a cloud of her own courtiers, the heavily pregnant Poppaea froze like a cheetah into a hunting stillness.

  “Insurrection?” Caesar whispered the word, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “Insurrection?” This time it was bellowed as the white mountain moved. Nero rose to his feet, shaking with rage. Incoherent with anger, saliva flew from his lips as he glared at the unfortunate messenger.

  An ashen faced Tigellinus continued with his report. “Galba with the Sixth, the Ninth and the Eleventh Legions who have declared him Caesar, is marching on Rome”.

  “Crush him. You have the Praetorian”. The outraged and terrified Nero was shambling up and down the room, his head swinging from side to side. Had he ever seen one, Tigellinus would have been reminded of a polar bear. The little red eyes suddenly fixed on the luckless Praetorian commander. “We can count on the Praetorian?”

  “To the death”.

  “It may come to that sooner than you think”, snapped Nero viciously. “Why is Galba doing this to me?” The bottom lip trembled and a fat tear ran down the white cheeks. Nero shivered uncontrollably. Unconsciously he lifted the hem of his toga and put it in his mouth, sucking on it noisily.

  “Vespasian”. Nero’s arm shot out and he clutched his guard commander’s arm. “Recall Vespasian and his legions”.

  Tigellinus swallowed and tried to answer, but failed - the words simply wouldn’t come out. One of his officers came to his aid though even his voice faltered. “Vespasian’s troops are either at sea or are three months away, Divinity. In any event if we recall them Judaea is lost and that will encourage others. The Empire could be overwhelmed”.

  Nero screamed at this news. He tugged at the neck of his tunic, ripping it along the seam. Foam collected at the corners of his mouth. “You”, he pointed a shaking finger at Tigellinus, “are supposed to protect me, to lay down your life for me”.

  “Majesty, the Praetorian are loyal, I swear it”.

  Nero charged across the room to stand inches from the quaking guard commander. “Where is the army? Rome has fourteen legions to defend her”.

  “They stand aside, Divinity, to see which way the gods will declare”.

  “Stand aside - gods?” Nero was apoplectic. “I am a god, how dare they not worship me. Why would they desert me?”

  Tigellinus could find no answer to this.

  “Karkinos”. Nero’s voice rose in triumph. “Send for the magus - through him we will summon legions from Hades, soldiers who are immortal. Galba and every man who fights under him will be crucified. Go!”

  Shaking with reaction, the Praetorian officers and their commander backed out of the room. Left alone but for a silent Poppaea, whom he had either forgotten or was ignoring, the gross white figure lumbered up and down the room. Poppaea lay impassively on her side, a jewelled hand resting possessively on the mound of her belly.

  “Perhaps,” she said softly, “now is the time to declare our unborn son your heir”.

  The sweating Emperor froze in mid stride, the button eyes focusing short-sightedly on the reclining Poppaea. Without warning his foot lashed out. She screamed in agony as the toe of the heavy sandal buried itself in her belly. Grunting with the effort, Nero savagely booted her again. At last he had found something on which to vent his anger and frustration.

  “If ”, he panted between kicks, “your bastard”, - kick - “wants” - kick - “to wear” - kick - “the purple, he had better put in an appearance”.

  In helpless horror, the Augusta’s servants watched as blood suddenly coursed down the legs of the semi-conscious Empress. At the sight of blood, Nero beamed at the broken figure rolling at his feet, moaning in agony. Before leaving the chamber, he turned the twitching Poppaea over with his toe and jumped on her from a small stool.

  27

  Simon ben Gioras, a charismatic hothead with a silver tongue, attracted the disaffected to his side in ever growing numbers. Ananus, unable to control him, had turned him and his followers out of Jerusalem, in the hope that a spell of rough living in the desert would moderate his rabidly anti-Roman views.

  He had been wrong. Gioras swiftly realised that the hard life of a desert nomad had little appeal to either him or his followers, so he had continued to use Masada as a base.

  When the news of Ananus’ death reached Masada, he knew this was the time to make a move. He and his followers left for the hill country, sending scouts to the outlying villages and small towns. The message they carried to the downtrodden and dispossessed was simple. Follow Gioras and become rich. If you were a slave you would instantly be free. Why work in the fields all day for a master who took everything you produced? Gioras would put a sword in your hand; help you to take back that which was rightfully yours.

  Unsurprisingly, he quickly attracted recruits. Men sick of working like the donkeys they drove for subsistence wages.

  With what was soon a substantial force, he swept through the villages in the hill country picking up more recruits. His growing reputation as a warlord and an evangelist became fea
red in the towns and by their authorities, as respectable citizens began to support him. His next move was to establish a secure base in eastern Judaea.

  In the border area of Idumaea lies the Pharan Valley, sheltered by limestone cliffs where the dominant sound to reach one’s ears is the bleating of goats, the sound of servitude. These cliffs and their many caves provided him with a ready-made citadel; accommodation for what was now an army, storage for his loot and the vast quantities of grain he had seized.

  The authorities in Jerusalem, worried that Gioras intended to attack the city, decided on a pre-emptive strike. They assembled an army and marched out of Jerusalem full of confidence. Gioras had no choice but to meet them head on. In the ensuing conflict he inflicted heavy casualties, forcing the remnants of the citizen army to retreat back to Jerusalem.

  They left a victorious Gioras to return to his base in the Pharan valley, where having regrouped he mounted an attack on the town of Hebron, seizing its new corn harvest and a surprising amount of money from its unresisting inhabitants.

  When news of this reached Jerusalem it was the cause of much sorrow and anger. The Jews of the Holy City held the little town in special reverence, it being the oldest town in the region. At two thousand, three hundred years old it was older even than Memphis in Egypt.

  It was also a sacred site of immense importance to both Jew and Arab, who acknowledged Abraham as a common ancestor, who had settled there after migrating to Hebron from Mesopotamia when his descendants moved to Egypt. Cut from single blocks of limestone, the sarcophagi of the father of nations and his wife Sarah were housed in a cave on the edge of town; a place of pilgrimage for Jews and Arabs.

  From Hebron, Gioras with his whole army, now fifty thousand in number of which fifteen thousand were heavy infantry, swept across Idumaea. Meeting with little resistance, he determined to build a reputation as a great general, a man to be feared as much as respected. Aping the Romans, Gioras put the land to fire and sword.

  The Zealots in Jerusalem, afraid to face Gioras’ forces in open battle, started a hit and run campaign against him. The barren hill country was ideal for laying ambushes. Its stony heights and steeply sloping canyon walls of bare rock were its only passes. Even these had to be negotiated with care. As a constant reminder of their instability, shards of razor sharp scree constantly dribbled down their unstable flanks. In this fissured wasteland, such a trap resulted in the capture of Gioras’ wife and her servants. Delighted with their prize, the zealots raced back to the city, convinced that Gioras would immediately surrender to ensure his wife’s safe return. The result was the very opposite of what they had hoped for. Incandescent with rage, Gioras camped outside the city walls. Anybody who ventured outside, for whatever purpose, irrespective of age or sex, was taken prisoner and tortured to death.

  At night, many were burnt alive in cages hung on poles outside the city gates, their agonised shrieks shattering the night air, making sleep impossible. Others had their hands chopped off, and endured the agony of having the bleeding stumps cauterized with a red hot iron. These unfortunates were then allowed to return to the city, with their severed limbs in baskets strapped to the backs of mules. They also carried a message, a warning that worse was to come if Gioras didn’t get his wife back. These threats terrified the citizens and the zealots equally, so they returned his wife.

  Meanwhile, Vespasian launched a campaign to subdue those parts of Judaea that had not surrendered. Cerealis, commanding the Fifth Legion, swept through upper Idumaea, smashing through the town of Caphera, razing it to the ground. He then assaulted the town of Capharin, which promptly opened its gates. Without pause, Cerealis pointed his legion towards Hebron which kept its gates closed, but with little effect. Within days Cerealis had forced an entry and put the entire population to death, before burning the town to the ground.

  This marked the subjugation of the entire region. Only the great Herodian fortresses remained defiant - Herodium, Masada and Machaerus - marooned to be dealt with at a later date. Now the Roman eagle was poised to swoop on Jerusalem.

  In Jerusalem hundreds of Idumaeans who had joined John’s forces rebelled. Taken by surprise, many of John’s zealots were cut down. The rest fled, taking refuge in an old royal palace once owned by the Adiabenian royal family.

  Hard on their heels, the chasing Idumaeans followed them in before the gates could be shut. From there the retreat continued as a bloody running battle into the Temple, where John had set up his military HQ as well as his living quarters. Seeing John besieged, the citizen army spread througout the city rallied to his side. The citizen army’s leaders, who were the remaining chief priests, held a council and voted to admit Gioras into the city.

  Gioras, convinced that he was destined to be King of the Jews, chosen by God to be the nation’s salvation, agreed to be their ruler. He entered the city hailed as deliverer and protector, resulting in John of Gischala and his supporters becoming trapped in the Temple.

  Supported by the citizen army led by the priests, Gioras attacked the Temple. John, making a stand on the colonnades and battlements, beat off these early assaults but not without heavy losses. One advantage John did have was that of looking down on his enemies, which enabled his archers to fire down on Gioras’ forces with deadly effect.

  The dead and the dying were strewn everywhere. Corpses of priests and laymen were piled one upon another. The blood of men and sacrificed beasts pooled into lakes in the sacred courts. In the meantime, increasing numbers of heavy missiles smashed against the altar and sanctuary, debris falling on the priests and worshippers who, in spite of everything, were still paying homage to God. Destitute, homeless people had had no option but to flee to Jerusalem for sanctuary. Satisfied that he had added to the city’s considerable burden of refugees, Gioras again camped outside the walls, killing anybody who ventured outside.

  The weeping citizens declared they feared Gioras outside more than the Romans - and that the zealots inside were more terrifying than either. Of these the Galileans were the worst. It was they who supported John of Gischala and he rewarded them by giving them licence to loot the city. The houses of the prosperous were sacked and their owners killed after being tortured to reveal any hidden wealth. Their wives and children were raped for sport, before being allowed to die.

  The factions fighting for control of the city were now divided into three. Simon and his zealots, who had captured the Temple treasury; John of Gischala and his supporters, who were being directly targeted by the zealots; Gioras and his Messianic army, who was determined to emerge as the outright sole winner.

  The entire city was a sectarian battle ground. Between them, the citizens were being ripped apart as though by hyenas. The old prayed for the Romans to come and save them. Loyal peace loving citizens, terrified and utterly dismayed, knew they had no say in the tragedy being played out. With their lives engulfed in catastrophe, they could not even flee. In their grief and fear, they were bottled up inside by the warring parties and outside by the Romans.

  Large flocks of vultures gathered over the city, riding the thermals, ominous smuts of black spiralling in a cobalt sky.

  28

  Vespasian had returned to Caesarea to assemble his forces and prepare to march on Jerusalem itself, when a messenger arrived from Rome. The man, who had arrived by ship, was a senator, Silvius Emidius, who worked closely with Vespasian’s brother Sabinus in the civil administration of the capital. Whatever news the senator had brought, it would be of great importance. That the messenger was not a military man, suggested it was of a political nature.

  Vespasian received the senator with the usual exchange of pleasantries. He ordered refreshments and, when they were both seated, opened the conversation. “You have, I suspect, important news for me”.

  Emidius, who was sweating slightly with anxiety, drew a deep breath to steady himself. “General, I have to tell you that the Emperor Nero is dead”.

  Vespasian, though shocked by the news, remained impassive. “
How?” was his only response.

  Emidius pursed his lips and said “Suicide. But” he continued hurriedly, “after the senate, by an overwhelming majority, declared him to be an enemy of the state and issued his death warrant”.

  The silence following this declaration was prolonged. Deeply shocked, Vespasian’s mind was in turmoil. The senator said nothing. A career diplomat, he knew when to keep quiet. “Who rules now?” Vespasian finally asked.

  The senator cleared his throat. “Galba”, he said shortly.

  Vespasian considered this without speaking. Galba was from a noble family and was extremely wealthy. He had earned a reputation in the provinces of Gaul, Germania, Africa and Iberia.

  On Nero’s death, supported by Nymphidius the Praetorian Prefect, he had assumed the title of Caesar and marched straight to Rome. Vespasian finally spoke. “Of course I will immediately swear my allegiance to the new Emperor. I will also send my son Titus to pay homage to the new Emperor, to request his instructions with regard to the Jewish rebellion”.

  The senator nodded and murmured his approval. Vespasian, his mind clearing, rose and paced the room. “I will summon my Generals and inform them of the Emperor’s death, and Galba’s succession. I will also inform our allies, particularly King Agrippa. Tomorrow the whole army will be assembled and we will swear allegiance to the new Emperor. I hope you will be our guest at the ceremony”.

  Emidius, aware that his presence as a witness to this hugely important ceremony would serve Vespasian well, said “I would be honoured, Legate, to join you and will include this in my report to the senate and the Emperor”.

  Vespasian smiled absently, before saying “While you are in Caesarea, this villa is at your disposal. I will return to my camp just outside the city. Arrangements will be made for the ceremony to take place in two days’ time. Now if you will excuse me”. Emidius, satisfied with the outcome of what he had feared could have been a difficult meeting, stood and bowed as Vespasian took his leave. What was to transpire following this meeting was a string of events, unprecedented in the Empire’s history.