[Gaius Valerius Verrens 06] - Scourge of Rome

by Douglas Jackson

  ‘Barbarians,’ he muttered, and set off across the floor with delicate footsteps.

  Valerius and Josephus emerged from Gamala’s blood-soaked gateway to find Albinus making his report to the legate on the flat slope to the north of the city. Legionaries had cleared the field of the dead and now worked to raise the banks of tonight’s fort using rubble from the mud-brick walls being dismantled by their comrades. They made their way towards the little knot of officers.

  ‘We’ll leave one cohort up here to finish the job,’ Lepidus said. ‘They can act as the rearguard when we march tomorrow. An extra ration of wine for every man, but I want them ready to leave at dawn, Albinus.’ The primus pilus nodded. Lepidus grinned when he saw Valerius, but his expression sobered as he saw the blood staining his tunic and armour. ‘Albinus tells me I have you to thank for not having to haul my artillery all the way up here.’

  ‘I was one of a thousand,’ Valerius dismissed the compliment. ‘Every soldier of the First cohort was a hero today. You are fortunate to lead such men.’

  ‘Why, I do believe Albinus is blushing,’ the legate laughed. ‘Nevertheless, despite your modesty you may be sure I will say so in my report to Titus.’ He looked across to where another section of wall crumbled and fell under the legionary picks and mattocks. ‘I’d expected to be delayed another two or three days, which would have made the Tenth less than popular in certain circles.’ He turned to Josephus. ‘Were there any rebel leaders among the dead?’

  ‘I do not believe so. They were disaffected survivors from the Emperor’s Galilean campaign who have been terrorizing the communities that have accepted Rome’s rule.’ The Judaean’s voice was a brittle mix of anger and sorrow, but Lepidus was too elated by his victory to notice.

  ‘It is of no matter,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow we march south to join Titus.’

  XXIII

  Valerius spent the night on the plateau with the men of the Tenth. The victory celebrations had been subdued because the legionaries knew they’d be on the march at first light. As the sun crept over the eastern mountains they made their sullen, heavy-footed way down the track from Gamala with the Sea of Galilee shimmering like a great bowl of liquid fire in the distance. The sight made Valerius shiver. There was something mystical about this land, mystical and terrible, that he doubted he would ever fully understand.

  The fatalism and comradeship of the Judaeans who’d leapt to their deaths and whose shattered bodies now rotted in heaps among the nearby rocks kept coming back to him. You might defeat such men. You might kill them. But you could never destroy their spirit. If one tenth of that spirit existed behind the walls of Jerusalem, many of those he had fought beside at Gamala would die there. Who knew, perhaps it would be the grave of Gaius Valerius Verrens.

  But he had lived too long with death to dwell on the inevitable. It would come in its own time, and no doubt sooner rather than later, but that was in the future. For the moment he revelled in the brotherhood of the men around him. They were the best of men and the worst. Illiterate savages who would rape and plunder and slaughter the unarmed and the helpless without compunction or conscience; who would beat an outsider to a pulp for the slightest hint of an insult. Yet they’d give their last sip of tepid water to a thirsty comrade or hold him in their arms as he took his final breath, weep over his body and pay for his gravestone. They were builders, engineers and craftsmen; artists in stone and wood and metal. Given the order, they would climb any mountain or swim any river. It was a privilege to serve with them and a privilege to lead them. All the doubt he had experienced after Paternus’s warning had been swept away by the terror and exhilaration of battle. When he reached the camp below the heights he saw the scarred tribune watching his arrival along with his servant. He ignored them. Whatever threat they posed, and he was still uncertain if any existed, they couldn’t touch him on the march.

  Less dangerous, perhaps, but of more immediate significance, were the reproachful looks from Tabitha and Serpentius as he took his place in the column. He’d found a way to clean his armour of blood and borrowed a clean tunic before they saw him or the looks might have been worse. Part of him wanted to go to them and explain why he’d joined the attack, but he had good reasons not to. If he did face some kind of threat from Paternus, making contact might put Tabitha in danger. And then there was the mystery of her acquaintance with Josephus, which neither of them cared to acknowledge. Serpentius was more straightforward. As a former gladiator he believed that anyone who risked their life without good reason was a fool. Nothing Valerius could say would change that.

  However, he wasn’t surprised when the Spaniard appeared at his side an hour after the column set off along the eastern shore of the Galilean sea.

  ‘That old bastard Albinus tells me you were a hero up there.’ Serpentius kept his eyes on the road, but his voice held a grudging respect. ‘Tell me there was a point.’

  ‘There was a point.’ A dozen explanations came to mind, but the Roman let them lie.

  ‘Then we’ll say no more about it.’

  They rode on for a few moments before Valerius turned to his companion. ‘Has the famous gladiator turned into a mother hen watching over her chick?’

  Serpentius suppressed a grin. ‘Watchful enough to notice that your little knife looks as if it’s had some use. Curious enough to wonder why, given that the shield I packed away had more dents and cuts in it than Paternus’s face.’

  Valerius told him about the encounter with Josephus in the cellar of the library.

  ‘You think this Judaean followed him there?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  The Spaniard nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then there’s another one who needs watching. At this rate we’ll need four pairs of eyes, not two.’

  ‘What about our other friends?’

  ‘Nothing suspicious,’ Serpentius frowned. ‘Paternus is an odd one. A man with two faces, but neither of them reveals his true feelings. They keep themselves to themselves. Just sitting around their fire and watching. They remind me of some people I know.’

  Valerius’s interest was aroused. ‘Who?’

  ‘Us.’

  That afternoon they camped outside Scythopolis, a city which had stayed loyal to Rome throughout the rebellion. The legionaries constructed their temporary fort on the flat crown of a low rise overlooking the river, the favoured location for such places. While the men worked and Lepidus rode off for talks with the city council, Valerius went to wash away the day’s accumulation of dust in the waters of a nearby stream. He’d been there for only a few moments when Tabitha appeared like a wraith from the scattered bushes lining the banks. He’d stripped off his tunic and stood up to his knees in the water wearing only his subligaculum. His first instinct was to cover himself, but the feeling only lasted until he remembered what they had shared. She wore the dust-stained cloak she’d travelled in and her dark eyes studied his body in frank admiration.

  ‘I had forgotten you had quite so many scars.’ Her head tilted a little to one side as if that gave her a better aspect. ‘Is the water cold?’

  ‘Why don’t you come in and find out?’

  ‘Nothing would please me more.’ Her laugh was like the tinkling of a tiny silver bell. ‘I am carrying so much dust that if I shook myself I would cause a sandstorm. But I fear this stream will soon be very popular with our travelling companions. I only came to give you a warning.’

  ‘Warning?’ He pulled himself out of the stream and she handed him his tunic, managing it in a way that allowed her fingers to trail through the hairs on his chest. A shiver of pleasure ran through him and she must have experienced something similar because she instantly pulled her hand away as if she’d touched a glowing coal.

  ‘When first we join Titus it must be as if we barely know each other.’ She paused as Valerius slipped the tunic over his head and belted it using only his left hand. ‘You are wondering why? Because it is safer for both of us. Like every court, those of Berenice and Titus are subjec
t to undercurrents and factions. It is better that I discover who is in favour and who is not. Who is plotting and for whom. When I know everything there is to know I will go to Berenice and create some pretext for us to be together without any need for subterfuge.’

  ‘I would like that very much.’ He moved closer so he could smell the salt tang of her sweat, and something else that started a fire in his loins. The dark eyes widened and her lips twitched into a smile.

  ‘Perhaps I will play the spy.’ Tabitha’s voice thickened. ‘Or the concubine.’

  He had an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms. Before he could act on it she put her hands on his chest to push back. But he was the stronger and he felt her body melt into his as he held her.

  ‘No, Valerius,’ she said urgently. ‘Now is not the time. We will be together, but …’

  Reluctantly, he released her. Tabitha turned away, breathing hard, as if she knew that there could only be one outcome if she stayed. When she reached the trees she looked at him over her shoulder and he saw the same desperate need he knew was in his own eyes.

  ‘There is one other thing. Do not trust Joseph Ben Mahtityahu.’

  ‘Why?’ His voice sounded harsh in his ears. Now was the time to ask her about the discussion Serpentius had witnessed, but some inner voice urged him to keep his counsel.

  ‘He will flatter you and you will find yourself revealing things you will later regret when they reach the ears of those with the power to hurt you.’

  ‘Is he some kind of wizard?’

  ‘No.’ The smile was back in her voice. ‘But, as we say in the East, he was born with a golden tongue. A man who can charm the birds from the trees as easily as the coins from your purse.’

  ‘Then I will try to resist his charms.’ Valerius returned the smile, but she was already gone.

  He stooped to pick up the sheathed sword from where he’d left it on the bank, drawing it free and turning in a single movement at a rustle from the bushes.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you it’s dangerous to be alone in this company?’ Serpentius appeared a little further upstream.

  ‘How long have you been there?’

  ‘Long enough to know things are getting very complicated. Of course,’ he grinned, ‘I wouldn’t have stayed if …’

  Valerius felt the blood rush to his face, but he matched the Spaniard’s grin. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong to free you. I liked it better when you had to do as you were told.’

  For the next two days Lepidus led his legion by the glistening waters of the Jordan until they reached Jericho, where an Imperial courier galloped in to pass on an order from Titus to march immediately.

  For Jerusalem.

  XXIV

  Jerusalem.

  Valerius joined Lepidus and his staff as they spurred their way to a height east of the city where the Tenth would construct their encampment. When they reached the summit they walked their horses through a tangle of ancient olive groves.

  ‘Venus’ withered tits, have you ever seen anything like that?’ The legate produced a growl of what might have been pain or admiration. ‘It makes Gamala look like a morning fornicating stroll.’

  The entire metropolis was laid out before them like some gigantic child’s toy. Below, the ground dropped in rugged, fissured steps into a deep, rock-strewn valley, and beyond it the city sprawled across the far slope to fill the horizon. Smoke from thousands of fires formed a haze above it. Valerius could make out several huge public buildings among the claustrophobic warren of streets that populated most of the slope. His mind attempted to judge the scale of the massive walls.

  ‘Three of them,’ Lepidus confirmed what he was seeing, ‘and the outer one must be at least fifty or sixty cubits, perhaps higher in places. Thick too, I’ll wager. We won’t know until the engineers take a look, but I’m not sure how much damage our normal rams will do. We may need something special.’ The last was almost to himself.

  ‘I count fifteen towers on the part of the wall we can see,’ Paternus ventured, ‘so there can’t be fewer than sixty. Not so many on the inner walls …’

  ‘Plenty of wood for siege towers.’ Valerius tried to inject an optimistic note. Lepidus looked at the trees around them and grunted approval.

  ‘That’s the first thing we’ll do. I want the entire hilltop cleared and a defensive ditch dug by nightfall. Only post a small guard until dark; we’ll need every man we’ve got to get the work done in time. You’ll stay and help with the organization, Valerius?’ Paternus gave Lepidus a look of surprise, but Valerius didn’t argue. He’d planned to report directly to Titus, but the Tenth was short of tribunes and he couldn’t refuse his friend. The legate’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you make of the large building to the left in the walled compound? Almost a fort within a fort.’

  ‘That is the Great Temple.’ They turned to Josephus, who’d just ridden up. ‘The most sacred building in all of Jerusalem, but currently in the hands of the least religious of men. It is protected to the north by the Antonia fortress and to the east by the cliff you see. Even if all Jerusalem were to fall you would still have a fight on your hands to take it. John of Gischala and his Galileans will defend it to the last, may his black heart rot. Do I have your leave to report to General Titus? I have information he might find useful.’

  ‘Very well, Josephus.’ Lepidus pointed to a large hill a mile to the north-east. ‘He has his headquarters on the mountain. You can accompany the Emesan archers, but ask him if I can have them back at his pleasure. I’ll feel exposed here until we get the defences set up.’ The Judaean bowed and turned to leave, but Lepidus had one more question. ‘What do they call this place?’

  The Judaean reached up to pick a green fruit from the tree that shaded them and displayed it in the palm of his hand. ‘Why, they call this hill the Mount of Olives, legate, and the valley down there is the Cedron.’

  ‘Well, it will be the Mount of Olives no more by the time my lads have done with it.’ Lepidus called for his aides. He nodded a farewell and rode across to where the Tenth’s vanguard had just appeared over the brow of the hill, leaving Valerius and Paternus staring out over the valley to Jerusalem.

  ‘Will they stand against four legions, do you think?’ the scarred tribune wondered. ‘Titus already has the Twelfth and Fifteenth in position, and the Fifth arrived an hour before we did.’

  Valerius remembered the determined defence of Gamala and the little clusters of Judaeans throwing themselves to their deaths. You will see the true mettle of the Jews at Jerusalem, Josephus had predicted. ‘Yes, I think they will stand.’

  Paternus touched his hand to his ridged cheek in a gesture Valerius guessed was born of habit. ‘Then I fear they will pay for it in pain and blood.’

  ‘You will be reporting to Titus?’ Valerius asked.

  ‘Yes. I’ll go with the Judaean.’

  ‘Please pass on my compliments and tell him I will seek an audience when he has time to see me.’

  ‘Of course.’ The right side of Paternus’s features twitched up in that curious emotionless smile. ‘It appears Lepidus values your services.’

  Valerius could have admitted the truth, that he’d served with the legate in Armenia, but he decided Paternus hadn’t yet earned it. ‘He knows a proper soldier when he sees one,’ he grinned.

  The smile froze. ‘Just so. I will ensure Titus receives your message.’

  He disappeared off among the trees and Serpentius rode to Valerius’s side. ‘Lady Tabitha is leaving us.’ Valerius nodded distractedly. The Spaniard looked past him to the city walls. ‘So that’s Jerusalem. We won’t get in there as easily as we got into Rome.’

  ‘What makes you think we’ll be trying?’ Valerius stared at his friend.

  Serpentius produced a bark of laughter. ‘If there’s any shit around someone always makes sure we’re the ones who’re in it.’

  They spent the next hour sweating in the sun with three centuries of the First cohort, helping construct the ca
mp’s fledgling defences. They began digging a proper ditch at the lower end of the site where it was most vulnerable to attack. From the slope above came the sound of axes as men cleared the dense olive groves, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly hewn wood. Serpentius dug with the rest, but Valerius noticed that he kept glancing in the direction of the city.

  ‘You think something’s wrong?’ He’d long ago learned to trust the Spaniard’s instincts.

  ‘I was just noticing the walls are empty, apart from a few guards.’ Serpentius leaned on his mattock and stared towards Jerusalem. ‘If four legions appeared on your doorstep you’d be up there with all your mates, counting their numbers and hating the bastards.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Valerius followed Serpentius’s gaze. ‘Maybe the city council has told them to stay out of sight so we don’t get a chance to gauge their strength.’

  ‘Maybe.’ The Spaniard laid down his entrenching tool and stretched for the long sword that lay within reach of his right hand. ‘But I think I’ll take a look— Shit!’

  A hundred and fifty paces down the slope thousands of Judaean rebels suddenly exploded from a hidden gully and raced up the hill towards them armed with spears and curved swords. The attackers had climbed the rocky gorge in complete silence, the shadowy depths and their dust-coloured cloaks making them invisible to the guards above. Now they raced screaming into the open.

  Valerius yelled at a trumpeter standing nearby, hypnotized by approaching death. ‘Sound the alarm!’

  Before they had time to react the guards posted on the lower slopes were either slaughtered or had turned and run. Valerius saw in a single glance that unless someone made a stand the whole camp was about to be overwhelmed.