Scourge of Rome

XXX

When Titus summoned Valerius to his headquarters pavilion the next day Josephus was already waiting, dressed not as a Judaean aristocrat but in the homespun robes of a common tradesman.

‘Josephus has persuaded me to make one final attempt to convince the Zealots their position is hopeless.’ The Emperor’s son seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease. ‘He believes this Simon bar Giora may be open to persuasion, given suitable incentives, and that he in turn may be able to convince Gischala. Is that correct, Josephus?’

‘I believe it is worth the effort if it means the possibility of saving Jewish blood.’

‘It will be dangerous, of course.’ Titus turned to Valerius and his eyes were troubled, as if despite his earlier warnings he’d never thought it would come to this. ‘This cannot be done in plain sight. Josephus must be able to contact Simon discreetly before they attempt to persuade John the only way to save the lives of the pilgrims is to give up the city. There is no question of marching up to the gate with a green branch and requesting entry.’

‘I doubt I would live to reach it,’ Josephus smiled. ‘I am not much loved in Jerusalem.’

‘But you still think it worth the risk?’ Titus sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. Josephus nodded solemnly. ‘And you, Valerius? Are you willing?’

‘You tasked me with this man’s protection. If he is willing to try how can I refuse?’ Valerius said. ‘As for Serpentius, he’s a free man and can make his own choice. But yes, I will go, though I don’t see how we can get inside. Unless we use the lepers’ gate there’s little chance of a mouse getting in or out of Jerusalem without being seen.’

‘I believe there is a way.’ Josephus’s voice betrayed something Valerius hadn’t thought to hear. Fear. ‘If you are prepared to walk in the valley of the shadow of death.’

‘I have walked there often,’ Valerius assured him. ‘And I do not hesitate to walk there again.’

‘Then be ready in two hours.’

Valerius found Serpentius outside their tent playing a board game with Apion, a young legionary he’d befriended from the Fifth Macedonica. This unlikely bond was another manifestation of the change in the Spaniard, who had always tended to keep a distance between himself and other people. Valerius could only think that it was because Apion, black as a Nubian but a Roman citizen from Syria, was another outsider. When they saw Valerius, Apion marked the position of the stones and left with a sharp salute.

When Valerius explained what he knew of their mission Serpentius didn’t hide his irritation at the paucity of information from Josephus. ‘If he doesn’t trust us let the bastard go alone,’ the former gladiator spat.

‘He’s being careful.’ Over his tunic Valerius slipped a leather jerkin of the type favoured by Titus’s German auxiliaries, following it with the short chain mail vest Dimitrios had supplied in Emesa. The mail was exceptionally light, but the links were so tightly interlocked it would probably protect him as well as any plate armour. ‘I thought we should be the same.’ He threw the Spaniard a set of chain mail borrowed from the same source as the jerkin. ‘That should fit, more or less. Apart from that all he said was that it will be cold where we’re going. We should take cloaks, but make sure they’re short.’

‘Sounds like an invitation to a tomb robbing.’

‘You may not be far wrong,’ Valerius said evenly. ‘But I told you, there’s no reason for you to risk your neck.’

‘Apart from covering your back, which is why I’m coming.’

‘Good.’ Valerius tried not to show his relief. ‘How’s your head?’

‘Throbbing,’ the Spaniard grinned. ‘The way it does when somebody’s trying to get me killed, which is most of the time.’

‘Can you think of anything else?’

For answer Serpentius strapped on an odd leather chest harness Valerius had never seen before. It held the twin throwing axes he treated like his children in separate sheaths. ‘It’s all very well having them in your belt if you know you’re going to need them,’ the Spaniard said defensively. ‘Sometimes a man needs to be a little faster. I had a word with that Dimitrios fellow in Emesa and he came up with this. Even with a cloak over it you can reach and throw in one movement.’

Mention of Dimitrios reminded Valerius that his own secret weapon might require attention. He poured olive oil into a wooden bowl and dipped a cloth into it. Then he pressed the button on the back of the wooden fist so the blade appeared. The button all but disappeared into a tiny depression and Valerius squeezed the cloth so a few drops of oil ran into and around it. He pushed the blade back into place and repeated the procedure with the inner button.

‘Always nice to have an edge.’ Serpentius nodded his approval. ‘Even better if it’s the whole knife.’

They met with Josephus at the appointed hour. To Valerius’s surprise, instead of heading south towards the city gates they retraced their journey of a few days before until they reached the Tenth’s fortified camp on the Mount of Olives. This time they were stopped and questioned several times by auxiliary cavalry, but Josephus produced his warrant and they were allowed to continue. Likewise, the warrant guaranteed them entry to the camp and an audience with Lepidus. They found the Tenth’s legate squinting through reddened eyes as he pored over a sand table that replicated his area of responsibility. He looked up as they entered and his face broke into a tired smile as he recognized Valerius.

‘I’m just trying to work out the best positions for the heavy artillery,’ he explained. ‘We have plenty of elevation, but that’s not much good when you’re trying to hit walls in the valley below.’

Josephus coughed to get the legate’s attention and handed over a sheet of papyrus. ‘I do not wish to keep you long, sir.’ Lepidus darted a questioning look at Valerius as the Judaean bowed with unusual deference. ‘I merely ask that your guards are informed to pass three strangers through the lines at dusk and allow them to enter the Cedron valley. Likewise to return at a time I am afraid will be unspecified, preferably without welcoming them by means of a pilum in the ribs.’

Lepidus still looked mystified, but the blank expressions on the faces of the three men told him he wouldn’t get an answer to any of the questions their presence posed.

‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But you will need the watchword. Tonight it is ballista and the reply is onager. Tomorrow,’ he nodded to Valerius, ‘I will make it Corbulo, and the answer will be Armenia.’

Valerius smiled. ‘That should be easy enough to remember.’

Lepidus drew the one-handed Roman aside. ‘I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, my friend. The Judaeans haven’t made any more major forays, but their patrols are as active in the valley and on the slope as ours are. You’ve seen for yourself how fractured this country is, all gully and cliff and scree slope. Only the locals understand how to move about quietly in the dark here.’

‘That’s why Josephus will be leading the way.’ Valerius kept his tone light, though Lepidus had voiced exactly his own fears. ‘I suspect he’s lighter on his feet than he looks. And we can depend on Serpentius for quiet. I’ll just be blundering along at the back.’

The legate shook his head. ‘This is no joke, Valerius. This morning we found what was left of two of our wounded who’d been carried off during the raid the other day. The Zealots hadn’t been gentle with them.’

‘I appreciate the warning, but I have as much choice in this matter as you have about sending your men against those walls.’ He would have liked to let Lepidus know that if they were successful his attack might not be necessary. The only thing stopping him was that the likelihood of survival, never mind success, was so slim it was futile to raise his friend’s hopes. Instead, he said: ‘I think it is time for us to go.’

Lepidus assigned a centurion to guide the three men to the Tenth’s outpost line. It was held by a half cohort of the First Montanorum, Valerius’s comrades from Noricum who had climbed the cliffs at Gamala. They left the camp by the southern gate and made their way carefully through the gloom, avoiding the uneven scatter of ragged stumps that was all that remained of the olive groves. Eventually, they reached a point where the ground fell away sharply. A figure seemed to rise out of the ground in front of them with a whispered ‘Ballista’? In the momentary hesitation that followed Valerius knew they were the target of a dozen pila, but the centurion hissed the reply and he sensed a collective sigh as the auxiliaries relaxed. They edged forward until they were in a huddle around the guard who’d challenged them. ‘Anything happening?’ The centurion’s voice barely carried to the four men in the circle.

‘The odd scrape and rustle.’ Valerius heard the grin in the man’s voice. ‘They’re out there all right, but I doubt they’re looking for trouble.’

‘Legate’s orders. These men are to pass through into the valley.’

In the growing darkness sharp eyes studied the shadows and planes of the three faces. ‘More fool them,’ the auxiliary chuckled quietly. ‘Those rebels can see in the dark. They have horrible long knives and they’re not slow to use them. Like as not this is goodbye, comrades. But if it’s Legate’s orders …?’

‘Which it is …’

‘The ground slopes away to the right. It’s maybe a pilum throw before you reach a narrow path …’

‘I know it.’ Josephus spoke for the first time. His head turned to the centurion. ‘Thank you, and may your gods stay with you.’

‘And yours.’

Josephus rose and Valerius put a hand on his arm. ‘Serpentius should lead,’ he whispered. ‘He’s really very good at this kind of thing.’

‘But he doesn’t know where we’re going,’ the Judaean pointed out. Which was as good an argument as any, when Valerius thought about it.

As they passed through the front line the Roman heard the sentry mutter, ‘Mars protect you … though I doubt it.’

‘That’s reassuring,’ Serpentius muttered as he followed Josephus into the darkness.

The Judaean set a surprising pace over the rough ground and Valerius struggled to emulate it without dislodging pebbles or tripping over the ubiquitous olive stumps. It was all he could do to keep the blur of Serpentius’s dust-coloured cloak in view. Fortunately, the going became easier when they reached the dusty path the sentry had identified. It cut diagonally across the steep incline and Valerius’s feet told him it had once been a cobbled road. Despite the easier going, he sensed an increased alertness in Serpentius that warned against complacency. This was just the type of place the Zealots and their allies would set up an ambush in wait for a Roman patrol. He hurried to keep up, his eyes darting between the Spaniard’s back and the rocks and bushes to his flank. His left hand never strayed far from his sword hilt. At the last minute he’d shortened the leather baldric holding the scabbard. Now it lay snug against his right side beneath his armpit, covered by the shortened cloak Josephus had advised they wore.

Without warning, Serpentius stopped and dropped into a crouch. Valerius froze, his mind screaming danger as he fought to identify the threat. After a few moments a pale hand waved him forward and he breathed again, though his heart thundered against his ribs like a Parthian battle drum.

He scuttled forward to join the other two men and Josephus drew his head close, indicating an indistinct structure to Valerius’s left. ‘The tomb of Absalom, son of David,’ he whispered, identifying the tall stone column. ‘In a few moments we will pass those of the sons of Hezir and of Zechariah. This has been the burial place of my people for a hundred generations. Mark them well, for you may have to return this way without me. From here we descend into the valley and the place of greatest danger. If you lose me keep going south and stick to the valley bottom. I will find you.’

Valerius desperately wanted to ask how they were going to get into the city, but before he could put the question Josephus moved ahead with Serpentius in his wake. The Judaean seemed entirely at home in this all but invisible, fissured landscape, and confident they would reach their destination, though the gods only knew what awaited them there. On they went, down into the depths of the valley and the dangerous, boulder-strewn bed of a dried-up stream where they could feel the loom of the city walls over them. There would be guards on those walls and they would be scouting the darkness for just this kind of patrol: Roman engineers inspecting the ground to check whether it was suitable to sink a mine. Whether a siege tower would require a ramp to cross the rocky approaches or whether it could be heaved into place without. Whether the mortar that bonded the wall was solid, or whether it would crumble at the first blow from a ram. All around the perimeter men would be-

Valerius froze in position at a bright flash of light on the wall above, instantly followed by the flickering glow of flames. He looked around desperately for some cover, only to find there was none. All he could do was stay in the open and try to be part of the landscape. Fifty paces ahead a fireball arced from the ramparts and a bundle of pitch-soaked hay plummeted to explode in the stream bed, silhouetting the two men ahead. The flaming missile lit up everything around for a dozen heartbeats before subsiding into a soft flickering pyre that turned the rocky ground into a maze of shape-changing shadows. Valerius tried to still his shaking legs as he waited for the inevitable cry that would call down a hail of spears on the three intruders. Gradually, the glow subsided and they were left in darkness again. A total darkness. Where was Serpentius? He felt a moment of panic. The Spaniard must have moved off before his own night vision had recovered from the flare of light. He was alone.

‘Stop standing about like a fornicating statue. We’ve been waiting for you.’ Serpentius’s hissed order came out of the darkness close to his ear. Valerius let out a long breath and followed the grey blur to where Josephus waited.

‘Not far to go now,’ the Judaean whispered. ‘A hundred paces and then a short climb on the left.’

The left? Valerius was bemused. The left took them away from the city. He’d imagined a concealed doorway at the base of the wall, like the one the lepers’ carers had used, though how Josephus would open it was beyond him. On the left lay nothing but boulders and dust. He clawed his way up through the dirt until he reached a partsheltered hollow where Josephus was already on his knees poring over the ground like a soothsayer studying a chicken’s entrails.

‘Where is it?’ Valerius could hear the Judaean whispering to himself. ‘The tomb to the south. Yes. The mulberry to the north. I know it’s here somewhere. The rock shaped like an eagle’s beak. Or was it a dove’s? They all look the same in the dark.’ His hands scrabbled at the stones for so long that Valerius feared he’d gone mad.

‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ Serpentius’s whisper came from four paces away.

Josephus jumped up and hurried to him, peering at the rock in his hand. ‘God be thanked.’ He closed his eyes and fell to his knees.

‘This is no time for prayer,’ Valerius hissed, but the Judaean was oblivious. He identified the spot where Serpentius had picked up the stone and meticulously removed the rest until he’d opened up a space two paces square. Valerius knelt beside him and ran his hand over the cleared area until he found a notch in the solid rock. His face was inches away from the Judaean’s and he could see the triumphant glint in Josephus’s eyes.

‘You seem to have a disturbing gift for finding holes in the ground that shouldn’t be there.’

Josephus’s teeth shone white in the shadowed features. ‘The Conduit of Hezekiah.’