Scourge of Rome

XIX

Valerius ordered one section of men to check the ground towards the causeway for any sign of stragglers or a surprise attack. Perhaps the rebels had been warned of Gaulan’s presence and moved out to meet him, but he didn’t think so. They would have left their women behind with their baggage. Here there was nothing but the detritus of an abandoned camp. He called the signaller bowman to his side and held out the glowing brand of the torch. The archer placed an arrow wound with pitch-soaked cloth against it until it lit. The moment the flame appeared the man drew back his bow and loosed so the fire arrow arced into the night before falling with a sharp hiss just off shore.

‘Now loose another.’ Valerius hoped that Gaulan would realize the second arrow signified a change in circumstances and would make him wary enough to rein in the headlong charge they’d planned. As the second arrow sailed skywards he called the men together and led them down to the shoreline, where the watchfires were beginning to burn down. ‘Throw more wood on the fires and make sure your white cloths show clearly,’ he ordered. ‘No point in dying now.’

He sat on the trampled ground and stared out to where the faint outline of the island could be seen against the first hint of dawn. Tabitha would be watching the shore and wondering why she didn’t hear the noise of men fighting for their lives. Would she think he was dead? He wished he had some way of sending a message to her.

The sound of muted thunder reverberating in the distance interrupted his thoughts. Not a charge, Gaulan wouldn’t cut them loose until they could see their enemy, but hundreds of hooves approaching at the canter. Valerius motioned the others to stay where they were by the fires and stood up. The thunder came closer and the sound intensified until it seemed to shake the air and the very ground beneath his feet. A grey mass appeared, approaching at speed in the faint gilded light of the new dawn, rapidly transforming into individual groups of horses and men. Valerius could see the pennant of Gaulan’s Chalcideans at their head. He stepped out into the open space between the shore and the trees.

If Gaulan saw the man standing in his way there was no slackening of the pace. Valerius felt as if the wall of horsemen were about to charge right over him. A blast from a trumpet finally saw the speed slacken as the leading troopers reined in their horses less than ten paces away. Gaulan stared impassively from beneath his pot helmet, his signaller and his standard-bearer curbing their excited horses by his side.

‘It seems you have won this battle on your own, Gaius Valerius Verrens.’

‘Alas, there was no battle,’ Valerius said. ‘Your fame preceded you and the rebels fled at the first hint of your coming.’

The two men grinned at each other for a long moment, before Gaulan sobered. ‘Why would they leave when they had us trapped? You were wrong about the west shore. It had been well fortified. If they’d stayed they would have slaughtered us.’

‘Then let us be thankful they didn’t. As to the why, I think we will find out soon enough. But first let us send out pickets to guard the road while Paternus brings the baggage ashore.’

They discussed their next move while a message was sent out to the island. Gaulan surprised Valerius by suggesting they retire to Caesarea Philippi and wait until the situation became clearer. ‘We can replace our supplies and get the latest news on Titus’s whereabouts. Two or three days will make no difference now. Yes,’ he answered the question in Valerius’s eyes, ‘all this has made me cautious, perhaps overly so. But these Judaeans are more numerous and cunning than I had been led to believe. We could have been wiped out.’

His view was borne out when it became light enough to count the Judaean huts. There were at least five hundred of them and signs of many more men sleeping out in the open. They’d been facing twice as many rebels as they’d estimated. Even if things had worked exactly to plan Valerius knew he’d have been fortunate if a quarter of the Emesan and Chalcidean force had survived. Despite that, he argued against any retreat. The rebels had given them a chance and they should take it, working their way south as swiftly as they could and resupplying at cities loyal to Rome.

As it turned out, the decision was made for them.

Tabitha and Claudius Paternus had just reached the shore at the head of the baggage train when one of Gaulan’s scouts galloped in from the causeway. Before he could pass on his message Valerius heard a blare of trumpets that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced at Paternus and the scarred tribune smiled.

‘A cornu,’ he confirmed, referring to the curved trumpet used by legionary signallers.

‘A legionary column marching down the road from Caesaria Philippi,’ the rider blurted to Gaulan.

Valerius smiled at the Chalcidean. ‘Then let us go to meet them.’

But if Gaulan’s men and the Emesan archers were going to meet a column of Roman legionaries their commanders were determined they’d be dressed like soldiers. They’d been forced to leave their protective mail behind on the island when they’d swum their horses to the gathering point for the attack. Now they had to wait until it was unpacked from the camels.

In the meantime, Valerius exchanged his bloodstained robe for a fresh tunic before riding out to meet the Roman column with Tabitha and Paternus, now resplendent in the uniform and armour of a tribunus laticlavius.

By the time they reached the causeway the legionary detachment’s commander was already in conversation with the horsemen Gaulan had sent to guard the road. The Chalcideans looked none too happy, surrounded as they were by twenty or thirty of the legion’s own cavalry. The questioner was a compact, stocky man wearing a legate’s sash and gilded armour, which meant they were dealing with a full legion, or the better part of one. That surprised Valerius, but not so much as the man’s identity.

One of the general’s aides alerted him to the arrival of the newcomers, and he broke away with his escort from the little knot of men. He was naturally drawn to the figure in the tribune’s armour, but Valerius met his eyes and saw a hint of recognition that lasted all of a heartbeat.

Paternus rapped his fist against his breastplate in salute and gave his particulars and his orders to join Titus. He introduced Tabitha as a member of the Emesan royal family, but curiously didn’t mention Valerius by name, only as ‘a Roman citizen travelling with our column’. Valerius bowed his head and the legate acknowledged it with a tight smile before turning back to Paternus. ‘Aulus Larcius Lepidus, commanding Tenth Fretensis, and you are a welcome sight, tribune, for I am short of senior officers. It may be that I have work for you if you are willing. We both have the same destination, after all.’

Paternus said he would be delighted, though the part of his face Valerius could see didn’t mirror the sentiment.

‘These men,’ Lepidus indicated the Chalcidean horse soldiers, ‘have been telling me something of your predicament and it corresponds with our own experience. The Emperor cleared this area of rebels, but like rats they have a habit of wriggling their way back if you don’t keep killing them. They were able to build up their strength during the troubles with Vitellius. The Tenth has been given the job of destroying them once and for all.’ He removed his helmet and wiped sweat from his forehead before replacing it. ‘We were clearing the mountains around Caesarea Philippi when we heard of a force blocking the road by the lake. You must have been a day ahead of us. We destroyed one of their bands last night and my spies told of a larger one camped in this area, though for what purpose they could not say. It was my intention to attack them at first light, but,’ he gave a weary shrug, ‘I see they are already gone.’

A bearded man dressed in voluminous eastern robes rode up to join the general. Tall in the saddle, his aristocratic features and air of careworn nobility reminded Valerius of a man he had once seen die on a cross. Flecks of grey speckled his beard and the immaculately styled curls of his dark hair, but he couldn’t have been more than forty years old. Valerius sensed Tabitha tense as penetrating brown eyes swept over them. When he glanced down her knuckles were white with the fierceness of her grip on the reins.

‘My adviser on Judaean matters,’ Lepidus introduced the newcomer with a hint of mockery. ‘His given name is Joseph Ben Mahtityahu, but since the Emperor took the misguided decision not to cut his throat he’s taken to calling himself Josephus, which is easier on us all. Josephus can smell a rebel from twenty miles, can’t you, Josephus?’

‘You honour me, lord legate,’ the Judaean bowed low in the saddle and his tone matched the legionary commander’s, ‘but I fear you exaggerate my powers. There is no magic or sorcery involved. Long acquaintance with these rogues has given me an insight into their ways.’

‘Long acquaintance indeed.’ Lepidus’s eyes fixed on the other man and Valerius noticed that there was no love there. ‘We suspect Josephus was one of the instigators of the rebellion. He may even have been the man who planned the ambush that took the Twelfth’s eagle, though he’s understandably reluctant to claim any credit for it. Long enough certainly to become a general in their army, who commanded this entire area. Is that not so, Josephus?’

‘A man of any ability will rise quickly in a rabble,’ the Judaean replied with false modesty. ‘And as you said yourself, my dear Lepidus, take any hundred Jews and you will find at least one general, two princes, a moneylender and ninety-six priests. As for the rest? Rumour and base falsity put about by my many enemies. If there was any truth in them would the Emperor have allowed me to keep my head and raised me so high in his trust that even you accept my advice?’ Lepidus’s smile tightened, but before he could reply the Judaean ostentatiously sniffed the air. ‘My nose tells me that this particular band of rebels are even now returning to their stronghold at Gamala.’

‘Gamala?’ Lepidus shot the Judaean a look of alarm. ‘Vespasian razed the defences at Gamala three years ago and wiped out every rebel defending the place.’

‘As you have often told me, general,’ Josephus’s dark eyes twinkled, ‘the Jew is like the weed in a vegetable patch. Stamp him down one day and he’ll reappear the next with ten of his offspring. Gamala is a natural fortress. They have restored the walls as much as they are able with their limited resources.’

The legate frowned. ‘Can we take it with four cohorts?’

‘Oh, I think that should be possible,’ the Judaean said cheerfully. ‘After all, I designed the original defences.’

Lepidus made his decision. ‘Pass the word to the tribunes to water the horses and have their men fed. We march in two hours and we’ll be marching fast. Have them track down any centurions who took part in the original siege of Gamala and I’ll meet them in my tent in an hour.’ He turned to Paternus. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to appropriate these archers of yours, tribune. My camp prefect will give them their positions in the column, but I’ll need one squadron to act as a screen out front.’ Paternus frowned, but Lepidus forestalled any protest. ‘Titus will thank you for it. Jerusalem will be the toughest nut he’s ever had to crack. If he’s going to do it his supply lines must be secure. You,’ he turned sharply to face Valerius, ‘mysterious traveller with no name. Come with me. I want to inspect your documents.’

In a tent by the side of the causeway, Lepidus removed his helmet and dropped into a padded chair with a sigh. An orderly brought a jar of wine. The legate filled two cups and handed one to Valerius. ‘You are thinner than I remember, Valerius, and something tells me you haven’t laughed for a long time. Can it really be four years?’

Valerius returned his old friend’s smile. The two men had served together under Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo during his campaign against the Parthian king Vologases. Lepidus had been a tribune in the legion he now commanded. ‘Four years or a lifetime, Aulus. A civil war doesn’t give a man much to laugh about. You, on the other hand, seem to have prospered since Armenia?’

Lepidus stood up and started to pace the tent, as if he found stillness oppressive. Valerius had a feeling he wasn’t even aware of it. ‘Traianus, who then commanded the Tenth, was kind enough to commend me to General Vespasian for my diligence during the campaign. By his good offices I was awarded the quaestorship of Creta et Cyrenaica. The appointment was Nero’s but the province is so insignificant that I was left to my own devices as Galba and Otho fell. When the legions hailed Vespasian I was able to repay his kindness by supporting him.’ He shook his head as if he could barely believe his good fortune. ‘When command of my old legion fell vacant he turned to me. Now I spend my days killing Judaeans and my nights planning to kill them.’

‘I take it from the caution of your welcome that you’re aware of my current status?’ Valerius said warily.

‘Condemned, reprieved – I congratulate you on that – and sent into the wilderness. Under normal circumstances I’d appoint you to my staff, but Titus …’

‘I understand,’ Valerius interrupted. ‘You have to be cautious. How is he?’

‘You’ll find him changed. Being potential heir to the Empire weighs upon him, but not as much as the responsibility his father has placed on him in Judaea. These archers you’ve brought may put a smile on his face for once. When Mucianus left for Rome with the Sixth Ferrata last year he took a detachment from the Tenth and two other legions with him. Worse, he persuaded Vespasian to give him just about every auxiliary cavalry ala in Judaea and Syria. Titus thought he’d have them back by the time he marched on Jerusalem, but Mucianus now has his own problems on the Rhenus frontier. We need every man we can get if we’re to storm those walls.’ A shadow fell over the legate’s handsome features. ‘This is not like other wars, Valerius. You give the Germans or even the Parthians a bloody nose and they’ll go back to their huts or their palaces and nurse their injuries. Only when the memory of the pain fades will they come back for more. The Judaeans are different. You destroy them in one place and they turn up in another. Josephus’s tale of the vegetable patch wasn’t far wrong. Kill one and another ten spring up to replace him. They’re persistent. Good haters. They’ll kill for a slight to their god, their religion or their family, and they don’t mind dying. When Vespasian captured Josephus at Jotapata, he was the last man left alive. The rest had drawn lots and killed each other one by one. Men, women and children. They’re barely human. Fanatics.’

‘But not Josephus.’

Lepidus produced a bark of bitter laughter. ‘Josephus is a survivor. In the early days of the rebellion his own people tried to kill him more than once …’

‘Sicarii?’

‘Or some other Zealot faction. You know of them?’

‘We came across some of their work on the way here.’ He explained about the encounter with Tabitha, but kept his voice emotionless as if her rescue were something he’d already put behind him.

‘A rare beauty,’ Lepidus grinned. ‘Especially to a man who’s been on a diet of fat slave girls and skinny Judaean matrons for the past year. Paternus said she was handmaiden to Queen Berenice? That doesn’t surprise me. They say the lady likes to surround herself with pretty things. She’s another worth a second look, by the way, but only if a man’s willing to risk a posting to a dusty fort by the Dead Sea.’

‘Why did Vespasian let him live?’ Valerius manoeuvred the subject back to Josephus.

‘Josephus may be an unprincipled turncoat who would betray his own brother, but he’s a clever unprincipled turncoat. He knows the history of his own people better than any priest. When they dragged him before Vespasian, he first charmed the general, as he was then – you’ve seen the bastard at work – then quoted an ancient prophecy that he claimed forecast the war between Jews and Romans. And not just that. Vespasian would become Emperor of Rome. Mystical rubbish if you ask me, but Vespasian was convinced enough to keep him as a hostage and interpreter. Never underestimate Josephus’s talent for survival.’

‘You are surprised to see me.’

‘I’d hoped you were dead.’ Anyone watching them together by the tent Josephus shared with his servant would have seen Tabitha smiling sweetly, but her voice was filled with loathing.

‘Of course.’ Josephus ignored the contempt in her tone. ‘I can understand that, but we must be friends, you and I.’

‘I would rather befriend a cobra,’ she glared. ‘I’d certainly feel safer in its presence. You make my skin crawl.’

‘Insult me as you will,’ the Judaean said with a magnanimous wave of the hand. ‘But I serve Titus Flavius Vespasian, as does your mistress. That places us on the same side of the balance – at least for now.’

‘You betray your people and you take pride in it? Is there no end to your corruption?’

‘I am a pragmatist.’ Josephus’s irritation betrayed itself for the first time. ‘And in the long term my people will benefit from it. The ancients predicted that there would be a great cataclysm and a new messiah would emerge to lead the people of Israel.’

A hint of vanity in his tone made Tabitha’s jaw drop. ‘You think you are the messiah?’ she demanded incredulously. ‘A man who encouraged his followers to slaughter each other but didn’t have the courage to do the same to himself?’ He froze and she saw for the first time just how dangerous he could be. Still she couldn’t stop herself baiting him. ‘Oh, yes, Titus Flavius Josephus,’ she spat the name out as if it were poison on her tongue, ‘you were not the only one to survive Jotapata. There were others who saw through your false sacrifice. Others who knew you would not have the will to wield the knife on your own flesh, if you ever intended to. I do believe it suited you to have no witnesses after you spent most of the siege cowering in your palace. No one to stain the myth of Joseph Ben Mahtityahu, the great Judaean warrior. Well one did survive, and she reached Emesa …’

Her words tailed off as she realized she’d gone too far, inflamed by her hatred of this man. Josephus still had power. Within a few hours his agents would be on the way to Emesa to track down the source of these ugly truths. Tabitha had foolishly identified it as a woman survivor from Jotapata: she might as well have given them her informant’s name.

A dismissive smile confirmed her suspicions. ‘Lies and exaggerations from a single source? Who knows whether this … person was even at Jotapata? My enemies would do anything to smear my name. Anything to stop me. Of course, your dislike of me would lead you to believe her, but will others? In any case, it is of no matter. Jotapata and what happened there is in the past. Believe me, I take no pride in my surrender.’ He looked her in the eyes and challenged her to disbelieve him. ‘But that surrender and what I achieved in the hours following it have positioned me to deliver a greater service to my people than shedding my blood in a dusty cellar.’ All around them legionaries were preparing their equipment for the march, checking straps and buckles, honing spear points and polishing swords. Josephus looked around to confirm they were all occupied and lowered his voice. ‘Your mistress sent you to Chalcis and Emesa to seek out something of great value?’

Tabitha took a step back as if to escape the aura of entrapment emanating from him. Her teeth closed on her lip to ensure her silence and she wondered that it didn’t bleed. Still, it wasn’t enough.

‘I see the answer to my next question is no. A pity. It would have saved much pain and blood if it had been in the library at Emesa.’ He saw the shock on her face and smiled. ‘Oh yes, I know what it is you seek, lady. How could I not when your mistress tasked me with the same mission, albeit using different methods? You are surprised? Why should that be? Surely you understand that this thing is more important than pride or anger. More important even than one man’s life – or even a woman’s.’ Her hand went to the little dagger at her belt and now it was Josephus who took a step back, the smile widening. ‘Oh, you need fear nothing from me, little Tabitha. My point is that we must be prepared to work together. I assume you have proved to your own satisfaction that this … treasure … is not in Sohaemus’s library or in the keeping of Aristobulus, and I have searched every shrine and sanctuary in Galilee.’ The fingers slipped away from the knife hilt and he knew he had her interest. ‘So where is it and do those who keep it know the power it holds?’

She laughed at the unsubtle attempt to draw her in, but she knew that if what he said was true she had no choice but to humour him – for the moment. ‘If we are to cooperate as you suggest, it might help if you were to share your thoughts with me.’

‘Masada?’ he suggested, naming the great mountain fortress taken from the Romans by the Sicarii three years earlier, and still occupied by them.

‘If the Sicarii have it why would they send Ben Judah and his band to try to extract information from me?’ Josephus’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise and this time it was Tabitha’s turn to smile. ‘Oh, yes, there are things even the great Josephus does not know. For a time I even believed you might have set them on me, but I see from your face I was wrong.’

‘Then you are even more capable than I realized.’ There was genuine admiration in his voice. ‘Ben Judah is a formidable opponent by any measure. A man responsible for more deaths than the plague that robbed him of his looks. You must have required all your powers to thwart him?’

‘I was fortunate,’ she said curtly, sensing that the conversation was getting too familiar. This man was just as formidable as the Judaean killer, and much more dangerous, as he proved with his next words.

‘Who is the one-handed Roman my good friend Lepidus is so interested in?’ The way he asked it suggested the answer was of little interest to him, but Tabitha knew otherwise.

‘Just a traveller who sought our protection on the way south.’ She dismissed Valerius’s presence as she would a servant’s. ‘Another dull soldier with little wit or conversation. He lost everything in the war and now seeks to restore his fortunes with Titus.’

Josephus stared at her, testing the answer this way and that, but not finding it wanting. ‘Perhaps,’ he nodded slowly. ‘But I would not underestimate him. He may look worn out and beaten, but there is a fire burning in him that I have seen in only a few. A man like that will not be cowed by the loss of a hand or a few possessions.’ She saw a shudder run through him and fought to hide her surprise. ‘It was men such as he who took Jotapata.’

‘You fear a one-handed man?’

‘I am Joseph Ben Mahtityahu.’ The grizzled head came up, lips bared in a snarl that showed Josephus, the wolf who had kept the Romans at bay in Galilee for two years. ‘I fear no man. I merely counsel vigilance. I urge you, lady, to put aside your anger …’

They talked for a few moments more before Tabitha left. As her handmaiden took station beside her she failed to notice Serpentius sitting among a little group of legionaries outside a nearby tent.