Soldier of Rome: Journey to Judea (The Artorian Chronicles) (35 page)

The trial of the seditionists had been brief and expedient. The old man’s farmhouse and plot of land were confiscated, while he and the others were sentenced to death by crucifixion. Pilate considered commuting their sentences to prison time
, but reasoned that as soon as they were released they would simply find another zealot group to join and would be plotting to take up arms against Rome once more. By handing down the most severe punishment available, the intent was to deter others. There was one man, however, that would not be going to the cross.

“Jesus bar Abbas,” Pilate said as he paced in front of the wretched man.
He’d been beaten severely by Justus and his soldiers, though per Pilate’s directive, they made certain there was no lasting damage.  “You have been found guilty once again of plotting to sell weapons to insurrectionists, a capital crime. However, because you have previously received the emperor’s pardon, you cannot be given the death penalty.”

“Piss on you, Roman,” Barabbas slurred through his swollen and bloodied lips.

Artorius stepped over quickly and slammed his fist into the renegade’s stomach, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees. He began coughing violently and spewing up bile.

“As I was saying,” Pilate continued. “I cannot nail you to the cross. However, I can give you a sentence that will make you wish I had. Centurion Artorius, where did you say we should send this vile excuse of a man?”

“Mauretania,” the centurion replied. “Let him live out his days in the sulfur mines.”

“Yes,” Pilate said, grinning as Barabbas looked up at him, eyes wide. “Once you go down into the dark, you will gaze upon the sun no more. The sulfur
will burn your skin, your mouth, your tongue; it will blind you within months. Within a year, provided you still live, you will have been driven completely mad. You are the vilest of scum, Barabbas! The teacher, Jesus of Nazareth, was a righteous man who had done no wrong. He died in your place, and this was how you repaid him!”

For the first time, a look of understand
ing crossed Barabbas face, and his eyes became wet with sorrow; not for his sentence, but for what he had done. In perhaps the only instance in his life, as the soldiers drug him away, he shed tears of remorse.

Chapter XXX
I: Days of Rage

Caesarea, Judea

November, 36 A.D.

***

An unusual period of relative peace came to pass over the province, following the summer of strange sightings of the deceased Nazarene and the dispatching of Barabbas to the mines of Mauretania. Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin, while still a constant irritant, had quieted their openly hostile rhetoric towards Pontius Pilate and the Roman government. Indeed, almost three years passed before another crisis emerged.

“Another bloody prophet,” the procurator
swore under his breath.

“
Only this one’s armed,” Taurus replied.

Pilate shook his head and walked over to the table, slamming his fist down hard.
“He calls himself
Taheb
, which means ‘restorer’. Many Samaritans are calling him their Messiah.”

“Your entire cavalry regiment is made up of Samaritans,” Artorius observed.

“That is true,” Taurus admitted. “However, my men are loyal to their oaths. Almost all have heard this Taheb’s words, yet they remain firm in their allegiance.”

“Jove damn them
!” Pilate snapped. “That’s all we need is thousands of armed Samaritans causing a fucking riot!”

“Or worse, starting an insurrection,” Justus added.

“How many men do we have available?” Pilate asked his assembled military leaders.

“I have two cohorts
of infantry available,” Abenader replied.

Knowing he would need reinforcements, Pilate had sent for the commander of the Jerusalem garrison to bring what forces he could spare.

“My regiment has been reinforced and is totaling about four hundred and fifty cavalry,” Taurus added.

“The First Legionary Cohort is battle ready,” Artorius asserted.

“Give or take the strength of the Auxilia cohorts, that gives us a total fighting strength of about eighteen hundred men,” Pilate said after a short pause. “There is just one problem that I see.” He then turned to Abenader, whose face bore a look of puzzlement.

“Sir, if you are questioning the loyalty of my men…”

“They have shown great improvement in discipline and training,” Artorius interrupted in a rare defense of Abenader. “That being said, this whole region is so bloody tribal that can we be assured they will turn their weapons on their own people?”

“My men know where their loyalties lie,”
Abenader asserted. “You do not question Centurion Taurus’ cavalry, so I’d expect you not to question those under my command.” He was indignant that after all this time the quality of his soldiers was still being called into question.

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Pilate added. “I do not want another bloodbath on our hands like we had at the Antonia Fortress. Still, we cannot allow an armed mob to run rampant. These people know the law
, and it is up to us to remind them of it.”

“And these people carry not just butchers cleavers and farming tools,” Taurus added. “They are armed with proper weapons to be sure.”

“A pity then, that the arms dealers we struck down three years ago did not sway others from doing the same,” Pilate lamented.

“We may have an armed insurrection brewing,” Artorius said. “The Governor of Egypt warned us last year that there was growing anti-Roman sentiment in the region. Should we then inform the Legate of Syria, in case we need reinforcements?”

“I do not wish to have my first meeting with Vitellius involve me crawling on my knees, begging for help,” Pilate retorted.

Flaccus had returned to Rome after hi
s initial three-year tour was complete and had elected not to extend his time in the east. His replacement was Lucius Vitellius, who had served as consul just two years before. His power and influence was vast, and the last thing Pilate needed was appearing weak before the man who could most positively or adversely affect his career since Sejanus.

“Well
, if this goes bad, you won’t need to go begging to Vitellius on your knees,” Artorius mused, “You’re head will probably be on a Samaritan spear.”

“Somebody explain to me why this bloody
hill is so important,” Valens vented as the cohort marched towards Mount Gerizim.

Taurus and his cavalry were screening their front and sending out reconnaissance patrols
. It was the largest combined force assembled together since Pilate’s arrival in Judea more than ten years before.

The procurator was in full armor and in command of the taskforce. It had been many years since Pilate had taken to the field, and though most of his time was spent as an artillery officer, he had lost none of his ability to lead and coordinate large numbers of soldiers.
In reality, there were only three men he had to give orders to directly; Artorius, Abenader, and Taurus.

“According to Samaritan tradition, it is the one place not swallowed up in the Great Flood,” Cornelius explained.

All
centurions and options rode together, along with Pilate, at the head of the long column of legionaries. Abenader also rode with them; his first cohort marching ahead of the legionaries, the other behind.

“It’s not even that big of a hill,” Magnus observed. “And what great flood exactly are they talking about?”

“Many cultures in the region speak of it in their mythology,” Cornelius continued. “The Jews, Samaritans, Babylonians; all have stories of when God flooded the earth in a rage and wiped out most of mankind.”

“Well
, that’s certainly cheerful,” Pilate remarked dryly. “And no disrespect to Centurion Taurus, but all of his cavalry are Samaritans!”

“About half of the auxiliary
infantry are as well,” Artorius added.

There was a noticeable tension in the air.

“In other words,” Magnus replied, “if the auxiliaries elect not to turn on their brethren, we’re pretty much fucked.”

“That sums it up,” Pilate said
with a macabre grin. He then looked over at his auxilia centurion. “No disrespect to you, Abenader. But even if they don’t openly turn on us, should the auxiliaries refuse to fight, one cohort of legionaries cannot possibly withstand the onslaught of four thousand men when caught out in the open.”

“You realize we’ve gone this entire time without a single fatality within the cohort,” Magnus observed. “
It would be a shame if all of us die today or tomorrow.”

Mount Gerizim lay just thirty miles from Caesarea
, along the main road between Judea and Galilee. Pilate’s forces had left in the afternoon two days before the expected ascent of Gerizim by the armed force of pilgrims. As they approached the mountain the night before the climb, they were met by Centurion Taurus and members of his cavalry.

“Taheb and his men are all encamped in the village of
Tirathana, not far from here,” he said as he rode up to Pilate and saluted. “I sent scouts under cover into the village, and they are all there, celebrating the liberation of their sacred mountain.”

“And are they armed?” Pilate asked.

“They are,” Taurus confirmed. “They have mostly spears, smaller curved swords, with bucklers for shields. A few of the leaders even have hamata chain armor.”

“It’s as we suspected,” Artorius said.

Pilate gave a nod.

“To our advantage,” Taurus continued, “
they do not know of our approach. They may have seen some of my cavalrymen, but as they are fellow Samaritans who frequently patrol this road, they likely paid them no mind. From what we gathered, they have no knowledge of your force’s approach.”

“We best not try to blockade the village,” Artorius spoke up.
“It is too large to encircle with the small force we have, plus then we would not be able to mass our numbers.”

“Agreed,” Pilate replied. “We’ll bivouac on the far side of the mountain under the cover of darkness. That means no cooking fires tonight
. All of us will have to eat our rations cold. In the morning we will be waiting for them.”

The next morning
Artorius had his legionaries formed up in the center behind Pilate. Each century was operating independently with their soldiers four ranks deep. He had placed his First Century in the very center of the formation. Abenader’s Auxilia infantry were on the flanks, with Taurus’ cavalry covering the wings approximately one hundred meters off to each side. The slope was steep enough that it would give legionary javelins greater reach, as well as allowing for momentum should they need to attack. The ever-present sun shone down on them, the reflection off their armor glared into the faces of the advancing Samaritans.

The
horde of ‘pilgrims’ radiated pure hostility and contempt for the Romans. Those closest to their leader brandished their weapons. Most carried short, Arabian curved swords, with small wicker shields. There could be no doubt that this was a mob ready for battle. There were many chants and prayers emanating from the throng, in a language that Artorius could not understand. Yet even if they were calls for peace, their tone was sinister and threatening.

Pontius Pilate stood well in front of his assembled soldiers, Artorius and Abenader on each side, a step behind him. He wore his tribune’s armor of gleaming muscled cuirass breastplate with white leather straps hanging off the shoulders. His gleaming helmet bore its tall feathered crest that ran front-to-back. It was the same armor he’d worn all those years ago, when he and Artorius first served together on the Rhine. Though polished and well maintained, the scouring told of countless battles the procurator had seen long before he stepped into politics.

“Halt!” he shouted, raising his hand.

“You defile our mountain with the presence of your soldiers,” a man they guessed to be Taheb said as he stepped forward, a handful of bodyguards at his sides.

“It is you who defiles this place,” Pilate retorted calmly.

On either end, the cavalry slowly started to advance, making their way towards the flanks of the Samaritan force. “This is supposed to be a holy pilgrimage, which are more than welcome in these lands. But no other force of
wayfarers comes armed such as yourselves. This is an army, and an illegal one at that. If you wish to continue on your excursion, then lay down your arms immediately!”

“Ha!” Taheb retorted. “And why should we? If we lay down our weapons, your men will attack us!”

There were mutterings of consent from the assembled mass, coupled with jeers and insults shouted towards Pilate.

“I promise no harm will come to you,” the procurator emphasized. “But I cannot
allow any armed force to pass!”

“You would have us enslaved like our brethren who wear your cursed uniforms!” one of the men next to Taheb shouted.

The so-called Samaritan Messiah decided in an instant to end the discussion. “
I’ll save our people, even if I have to martyr myself!”
he screamed as he drew his sword and lunged towards Pilate.

The procurator quickly drew his
gladius and stepped back. His foe’s sword slashed against the cheek guard of his helmet.

“Shit!” Artorius swore as he and Abenader drew their gladii.