[Gaius Valerius Verrens 06] - Scourge of Rome (40 page)

‘A carpenter?’ Titus studied him as if a snake or a lizard had spoken. ‘All the better. You may have the privilege of fashioning your own cross.’ He turned to the guards. ‘Make sure he is scourged until it is perfect.’

‘You may kill ten of us, Titus Flavius Vespasian,’ the tall Judaean cried out, ‘a thousand, or even a hundred thousand, but Judaea will rise again and Rome, the Whore of Babylon, will fall. It is written. As is your end. You may wear the purple when your dog of a father is in his grave, but not for long.’

Valerius saw his friend’s eyes harden. ‘My end may be written,’ Titus’s voice was little more than a whisper, ‘but one thing is certain, you will not be there to witness it.’ He nodded to the guard commander. ‘When he is on the cross break his arms and legs so he knows the true meaning of punishment, and the price of insulting the Emperor.’

Titus would never admit it, but the sortie by the Judaeans made him more cautious. He abandoned any thoughts of taking the wall by storm and the rams hammered at the stone blocks by day and night. One of the Roman engineers, eager to ingratiate himself with his commander, estimated the wall would fall within a week. Instead, it took thirteen days of relentless effort before the masonry began to crumble beneath the iron heads. After two more, Simon bar Giora surprised everyone by ordering his warriors to abandon their positions and retreat to more defensible positions in the inner city.

Valerius accompanied the men of the Fifteenth legion as they swarmed into Bezetha through the breaches and orchestrated the great sweep Titus hoped would denude Jerusalem of half its defenders. All they found were a few dead bodies among the shattered houses, already turning black beneath the hot sun, and the odd elder abandoned by his family. Titus decided to move his legions into Jerusalem. He ordered the third wall torn down and every house and temple in the New City demolished to create space for his camp. The rubble would supply material for new siege ramps required for the next stage of the campaign. Not even Josephus’s plea could save the magnificent Tower of Psephinus from destruction.

As the work continued, Vespasian’s son called a conference of his commanders. All four legates were in attendance, plus Tiberius Alexander. Valerius, his shoulder still throbbing from his wound, was invited as an observer. As they waited in the stifling atmosphere inside the heavy cloth pavilion the generals alternately mopped their brows and plucked at the necks of their sweat-soaked tunics. Valerius had his first sight of Paternus for almost a month. The heat had turned the tribune’s injured face, never the most appealing sight, a vivid shade of purple.

Between the threat of a Judaean counter-attack and his growing relationship with Tabitha it was easy for Valerius to forget that Domitian’s assassins might only be a step away. Serpentius, however, was always on the alert, and never far from Valerius’s back. He reported that Paternus’s dangerous-looking servant – Valerius smiled when the Spaniard referred to Gavvo, without a hint of irony, as the scarred tribune’s pet killer – had gone missing. They spent the ensuing days in a high state of tension in case he was preparing some sort of attack, but nothing materialized. Valerius took the opportunity to ask politely about Gavvo’s whereabouts.

‘I sent him away.’ Paternus stared at him with his single cold eye. ‘I have a legionary more attuned to the ways of the camp than my servant. In any case,’ his unscarred lips flickered into a sneering half-smile, ‘anything that requires completion I am well able to carry out myself.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘You may take it any way you like. My brother’s death remains unavenged. I see that you, on the other hand, prosper. I read our general’s report on the conduct of the siege thus far and your actions took up an entire page. It seems you may yet wear your general’s armour in earnest.’

‘I only did my duty.’

‘As must we all.’ Paternus turned away as an aide ushered Titus into the command pavilion and took his cloak and helmet. The general was followed by Josephus, who met Valerius’s eye with a grim smile.

A table at the centre of the room held a model of Jerusalem roughly outlined in sand and Titus walked directly to study it. ‘The demolition?’ he demanded.

Tiberius Alexander turned to Claudius Paternus. ‘It goes well,’ the disfigured tribune said. ‘We have destroyed four hundred paces of wall and three towers, plus three districts of the New City. But it will take a few days before we are ready. We had to renew the ram heads.’

‘And of course,’ Tiberius added significantly, ‘we need to know where to transport the rubble spoil.’

Titus nodded slowly, still studying the model. ‘That is why we are here.’ He turned to Sextus Cerealis, grizzled commander of the Fifth Macedonica. ‘Legate?’

Cerealis frowned and ran a wrinkled hand over the top of his bald head. ‘There has been a slight change in the situation since our last discussion. As well as holding the inner wall, the rebels have created a defensive line on the approaches to this monument …’ He used his
pugio
to indicate an area in the west of the city close to the Valley Gate. Titus looked to Josephus for an identification.

‘The tomb of John Hyrcanus, lord, son of Simon Maccabaeus.’

‘Under normal circumstances,’ the legate continued, ‘a makeshift defensive line would make an attractive point of attack. As you can see, this is different. Once we take the bank and ditch we would still be faced by the western portion of the second wall dominated by this tower. We would also, in effect, have been drawn into a salient and subject to crossfire from
ballistae
and
scorpio
artillery here and here.’ He pointed to the sides forming the apex of a triangle whose point was one of the three great towers shown to Valerius by Josephus on their tour of the walls.

‘What about this Antonia fortress the Judaeans make so much of?’ Titus surprised Valerius by appearing to abandon his carefully laidout strategy. ‘If we take the fort and the temple our artillery would dominate the entire city and the rebels would have no option but to surrender. Can it be done, do you think, Lepidus, with your Tenth attacking the walls while the Fifth and the Fifteenth come at it simultaneously from the north?’

Lepidus’s handsome face creased in a frown. ‘We’ve done some damage to the wall with our catapults, but we haven’t been able to get a ram close because of the terrain. We’ll need to put in a ramp. I should also point out that the wall is at its strongest and highest where it backs on to the temple.’

‘There is also the question of the approach to the tower.’ Titus Phrygius, legate of the Fifteenth, nervously ventured another potential flaw in his general’s plan. ‘It too is protected by a hidden gorge and we would need ramps to get the rams close. It would also leave us open to flanking attacks.’

‘At which we have seen the Judaeans are adept.’ Titus took no offence at being proved wrong. ‘Very well. We are left with the central section of the second wall. Have the engineers start work immediately on ramps here, and here. The Fifteenth will attack east of the central tower and the Fifth to the west. Marcus, I’ll want four cohorts of your Twelfth again to exploit any breakthrough, and the Tenth,’ Titus smiled at Lepidus, ‘will once again provide covering fire with their
ballistae
. Josephus here assures me they are the pick of the army and feared by the Judaeans.’

Lepidus nodded his thanks to Josephus. ‘We won’t let you down.’

The officers, including Josephus, filed out, but once more Titus called Valerius back. ‘How is your wound?’

Valerius assured him it was healing well.

‘I’m glad,’ Titus smiled. ‘I may have work for you. I hope you still own this fabulous armour Paternus tells me about? Good. I want you to keep it and yourself at the ready.’ Valerius left the tent shaking his head at his friend’s attention to detail, but he soon had something else to consider. A messenger from Queen Berenice’s court was waiting with a slip of parchment.

My mistress would talk with you. Please come soon. T
, he read.

Puzzled, he told the courier he’d call on the queen when his horse was saddled. He left word with an orderly and went to look for Serpentius in the horse lines. The Spaniard’s mount was missing and he pondered whether to search for him while a stable boy saddled his horse. The fine house Berenice temporarily occupied lay just beyond the hills to the north; close enough for Titus to be reached in emergency. Valerius reckoned he could be there and back by the seventh hour, unless … unless the entreaty was really from Tabitha?

The road was little more than a dirt track, its surface packed hard by the constant passage of Titus’s timber-gathering convoys. As he rode, Valerius passed dozens of camels and oxen hauling tree trunks or stout branches harvested from land all but stripped bare of vegetation. Units of bored auxiliaries escorted the foresters, guarding against any attempt to disrupt Titus’s preparations. Valerius guessed they wouldn’t be worked hard in this part of Judaea. Any route so regularly traversed by the army commander with such frequency would be kept clear of any threat.

He turned off on to a side track. By the time he reached the estate the sun was past its height and he was glad he’d worn the all-enveloping cloak of light cloth provided by Ariston. At the thought of the lugubrious easterner he felt a sharp pang of conscience. Could he have done more to protect him? Reason told him not. If Serpentius hadn’t been able to save him, nobody could. Still, the thought remained. He had called Ariston friend and, like too many other friends, Ariston had died.

A groom took Lunaris and the chamberlain relieved Valerius of his helmet and led him to the Queen’s private chamber. Berenice sat upright on a carved wooden throne in front of a pair of doors leading to a courtyard. Tabitha stood slightly behind and to her right and Valerius felt the breath catch in his throat at the sight of her. He would have smiled, but her expression held a warning. Instead, he bowed his head in greeting and Berenice acknowledged the courtesy with a nod. The throne was the only seat in the room and he stood to attention in front of it, already half aware of the reason for his summons.

‘Tabitha has told you of our dilemma?’

‘Yes, lady.’

‘And you are willing to undertake the task?’

Valerius glanced at Tabitha, but her face was set like a statue’s. ‘If you feel I can serve you.’

‘Tabitha believes you capable, and I trust her judgement.’ Her tone softened. ‘And I suspect that it is her interests you serve, not Berenice of Cilicia.’ Valerius would have protested, but a smile accompanied the words. ‘I am glad you agreed, because should you succeed you will serve not only me or even the Judaean people, but Titus Flavius Vespasian and Rome. When Titus becomes Emperor – and it will happen soon, for his father plans to anoint him joint Emperor on his return to the city – he will want a Judaea at peace, a bulwark against barbarian incursion on the Empire’s eastern frontier. A Judaea from which the grain flows in abundance into Rome’s granaries in a bulk that will rival that of Egypt. A Judaea not riven by factional rivalries nor hidebound by traditions created by ambitious priests to protect their own interests. Only I can deliver this Judaea, but to deliver it I need control, and I can only control Judaea if I possess the Book of Enoch to act as my sword and my shield. You have seen Josephus at work?’

Valerius nodded.

‘Then you know his true worth.’ She paused. ‘You are an interesting man, Gaius Valerius Verrens; a warrior, a diplomat, a man prepared to play the spy, not for his own gain, but to advance his Empire. When you deliver the Book of Enoch to Berenice of Cilicia, you may ask what you wish of her.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Within reason, of course. At the very least, you will be a rich man who will want for nothing.’

‘I would ask only one thing.’ Valerius met Tabitha’s eyes. They shone like glittering gemstones and not because of the light from the oil lamps. All the air seemed to be sucked from the room.

After a moment’s hesitation, Berenice sighed with genuine regret. ‘You would deprive me of my greatest treasure?’

‘I would, lady.’

‘Then so be it, and you will have my blessing.’

The interview was at an end and Valerius walked from the room. As he reached the outer door Tabitha caught him by the arm. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she was smiling. Before he could react she kissed him hard on the mouth, and pulled him up the corridor. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘We must make what use we can of the time we have. Soon your duties will take you away from me.’

‘There will be a later,’ he said solemnly.

‘Yes, there will be a later.’ She led him into her room and held him close, with her dark head on his shoulder. ‘But for the moment we must only think of now.’

The track was empty as Valerius made his way back towards the camp with a head full of hopes and dreams in the dry heat of the afternoon. Find the Book of Enoch and Tabitha was his for ever. They would make a life together. Not in Rome, because Rome, with Domitian close, was too dangerous by far. Somewhere in the provinces, where Titus’s friendship would protect him and Vespasian’s thanks for past services would provide a position. They would not want for gold, because Berenice insisted she wouldn’t allow her handmaiden to become a pauper. But first they must find the book. And the book was in Jerusalem.

It troubled him that only Tabitha could get them into the temple and knew the exact location of the book, yet there was some consolation in that they would face the danger together. They would have to use the tunnel again, and the thought gave him a shiver. What if …

He turned a sharp bend to find a rider facing him twenty paces ahead. The man wore a voluminous cloak in the Judaean fashion, but Valerius identified his horse as one of the big Roman cavalry mounts. His first thought was that Josephus knew of the summons from Berenice and had come – for whatever reason – to intercept him before he got back to Titus. But why?

A clatter of hooves from his right answered the question. In the same instant the waiting rider urged his horse into motion and drew a long cavalry
spatha
from the scabbard at his waist. Valerius hauled his
gladius
clear of the cloak. Mars’ arse, how could he have been so careless? One in the road to draw his attention and pin him in place, while the real threat came from the dried-out gully. He tried to turn Lunaris to meet the attack. Too late. Three of them, and they were already on him. The first rider hammered into the gelding’s flank and both horses went down screaming. As he fell, Valerius threw himself aside so he wouldn’t be pinned by his mount. Jagged rocks tore at his flesh as he rolled in the dust but he clung to his sword as if it were life itself. He struggled to his knees, half blinded by the hood of the cloak and lashed out at a shadow that came too close. The man laughed dismissively and kicked him in the chest so that he sprawled backwards, to be blocked by a rock wall. The hood fell back and he found himself facing a grinning, bearded auxiliary holding a long spear that darted expertly between his eyes and his throat. Valerius flicked the point away with the blade of his
gladius
, but it only came back all the faster. The other two watched from their horses in menacing silence, their faces emotionless. Half of Valerius’s brain applauded the expert professionalism of the ambush and acknowledged the likely outcome, while the other half worked feverishly to find a way to stay alive.