The Parchment (10 page)

After four months as emperor, Galba made a fatal mistake. To flatter his vanity, he decreed that all senators should bow their heads before addressing him. In full view of a horrified senate, Aurelius Minicius, a curmudgeonly old senator, furious at Galba's high-handedness, stabbed the emperor through the heart. A rumor quickly spread that the night before the murder, Titus had been seen leaving Minicius's house with the commander of the Praetorian Guard. Within hours after Galba's death, the Praetorian Guard hailed Vespasian as the new emperor. A day later, Aurelius Minicius's body was found in a ditch along the road to the seaport of Ostia.

When he returned to Italy in September of 69, Vespasian sent Titus to command the Roman legions in Asia. Titus's first priority was to complete what his father had begun — the suppression of the Hebrew insurgency in Palestine. Vespasian had already pacified Galilee using the tactics he understood best. Towns and villages were reduced to rubble, and Galilean men, women, and children were butchered by the thousands. Vespasian's legionnaires joked that the only peace he knew was the peace of the grave. Adopting his father's brutal tactics, Titus moved south through Samaria and Judea, systematically destroying everything in his path.

Despite his well-trained army, however, Titus did not underestimate the Hebrews. Several years before, Jewish zealots had ambushed his father's army as Vespasian marched on the Judean town of Emmaus. In the ambush, Hebrew partisans slaughtered more than five thousand Roman soldiers and captured the eagles of the Twelfth Legion. To lose a legion's battle standards brings not only shame and ignominy on a Roman general but on his family as well. A day hardly passed when Titus did not dream of recapturing the eagles and returning them triumphantly to his father in Rome. On a more selfish note—with his support among the Praetorian Guards, returning the eagles of the Twelfth Legion to Rome would almost certainly cement Titus's claim to be emperor after his father's death. A new imperial dynasty would be born that would rival that of Caesar Augustus and his descendants.

In February of the year 70, Titus reached the gates of Jerusalem, the holy city of the Jews and the last stronghold of Hebrew resistance in Palestine. For six long months, his army laid siege to the city. Although the Jews fought bravely, the Roman juggernaut was unstoppable. The Eighth Legion had breached the outermost wall of Jerusalem a month earlier, and now the battering rams of the Tenth Legion were about to do the same to the inner wall. Once that wall was breached, all that remained in Jewish hands was the Temple Mount—the plateau on which King Herod had rebuilt the ancient Temple of Solomon. The prize that had eluded Titus for so long was about to be his.

The strokes of the goldsmith's hammer rang out through the night. “Give me the eagles, Avram.”

The young apprentice nervously handed the goldsmith the battle standards of the Twelfth Legion. With one blow of his hammer, the goldsmith broke the eagle off the first standard. With another blow, he snapped the Senatorial symbol — the letters “SPQR”—off the top of the second. Almost matter-of-factly, he threw the gold emblems into a clay bowl and, with iron pincers, placed the bowl inside the glowing kiln. When the gold had melted, the goldsmith poured the molten liquid into a clay mold in the shape of a menorah.

“Avram, run to the temple and ask the high priest to bring the original. We must compare the two.” The young boy sped off into the darkness.

The air in the sanctuary was incandescent. David ben Hochba, the commander of the Jewish Sicarii, or Knife Wielders, could feel Yahweh's presence in every part of the room. He watched the high priest Hezekiah lift the branched candlestick off the altar and wrap it in his shawl. Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had commanded the Jewish people to fashion the golden menorah as a sign of their fidelity to him. The menorah had been with them on their wanderings in the Sinai and during their exile in Babylon. When they returned from exile, Yahweh had ordered the Jews to place the menorah on the altar of the sanctuary—a location it had never left until tonight.

Ben Hochba followed the high priest out of the sanctuary. The menorah was the last of the temple vessels to be copied. Forging the copy of the menorah from the eagles of the Twelfth Legion had been ben Hochba's idea. As a soldier, he knew that the Romans would appreciate the ingenuity of the substitution. When they thought they were desecrating the temple vessels, the Romans would be desecrating the eagles of their own Twelfth Legion.

When the high priest arrived at the goldsmith's kiln, he set the menorah next to the clay mold. The mold was cracked open and the copy of the menorah taken out. The high priest compared the replica with the original.

“Goldsmith, I commend you. No one could tell them apart.”

The high priest handed the original menorah to ben Hochba.

“David, take it through the tunnel tonight. I will put the copy back on the altar in the sanctuary.”

The high priest turned to a tall rabbi who stood next to him. “Rabbi Yohannen, what about the temple records?”

“These are the last, Hezekiah. They are from the time Caiphas was high priest and Pontius Pilate, the Roman procurator. They cover Barrabas's revolt and the cults of Jesus the Nazarene and John the Baptizer.”

Ben Hochba looked angrily at Yohannen. “Rabbi, a Sicarius will gladly risk his life to smuggle the temple vessels out of Jerusalem. They link us to our past in the Sinai and in Babylon. But these lists of births and marriages! Of what use are they to anyone?”

“Yahweh has made a covenant with us, David. We are His chosen people. These records of births and marriages show who we are as a people.”

Ben Hochba shrugged in exasperation.

Ben Hochba and Zacharias, the deputy commander of the Sicarii, crawled through the tunnel that led from the Temple Mount under the northern walls of Jerusalem. After emerging from the passageway, the two partisans hurried to the northeast to find the Jericho road.

Ben Hochba stopped when they reached the road. He listened for a moment and whispered to Zacharias in a warning voice. “Hide behind these rocks. Soldiers are coming.”

A Roman patrol walked along the road. A young Jewish boy, his hands tied behind his back, was being pulled behind them with a rope. A legionnaire stopped to adjust his sandal.

“Better a Hebrew girl than this circumcised boy.”

“Maybe we will capture one tomorrow. But for tonight's pleasure, the boy will have to do.” The infantrymen laughed as they continued along the road.

When he heard the bantering of the soldiers, Zacharias became furious and pulled out his knife. Ben Hochba put his hand on Zacharias's arm.

“There are too many of them. We must go to the cave.”

When the patrol had passed, the two Sicarii followed the Jericho road until they reached the Oasis of the Red Waters. The oasis was empty – eerily so. For fear of encountering Roman patrols, they stayed hidden in the oasis during daylight. As it grew dark, ben Hochba and Zacharias left the oasis and continued along the road to Jericho. After several hours of walking, the outline of three hills began to appear on the right side of the road.

“Here we are, Zacharias.”

The two men climbed up the middle hill until they reached a narrow path that wound its way around a stone outcropping. They walked along the path until they saw the cave.

Lighting a torch, ben Hochba and Zacharias entered the dark passageway. At the sound of the two men, thousands of bats stirred on the ceiling.

“They will not bother us, Zacharias. They fear the light.”

A large pile of rocks lay on the ground about twenty paces inside the cave. After removing their shoulder bags, the two Sicarii lifted the rocks off the pile. Underneath the rocks was a wooden plank covering a large pit. Ben Hochba held the torch low to the ground while Zacharias pushed the plank aside. Surprised by the light, a lizard scampered out of the hole. Zacharias reached down into the opening and laid the menorah and census records next to the other items already in the pit. Zacharias pushed the wooden plank back over the opening.

Ben Hochba put out the torch. “We have finished what we came to do. Yahweh is blessed.”

The two men left the cave and followed the road back to the Oasis of the Red Waters.

It was an hour after dawn when ben Hochba and Zacharias reached the oasis again. Roman supply wagons had stopped at the well to take on water. The two partisans watched from the reeds until the carts rumbled off toward Jerusalem.

“There may be more Romans, Zacharias. Ge some sleep. I will stand guard.”

The day passed uneventfully. The only visitors to the Oasis were a group of Samaritans. They stopped at the well to draw water and quickly moved on. When the sun began to set, ben Hochba woke his companion. “We must leave soon. You know you will die if you return to Jerusalem.”

“Yes.”

“You could escape to Jericho and save your life.”

“Without my family, what would I live for?”

Ben Hochba put an approving hand on Zacharias's shoulder. “We must reach Jerusalem by dawn.”

A tribune rode up the Mount of Olives to where Titus and several of his commanders were watching the battle.

“Will the Hebrews surrender? We have the Temple Mount surrounded.”

“They will not, Imperator. They would rather die for their God than submit to our yoke.”

“Then they will have their wish! What do they call this God of theirs?”

“Yahweh.”

“I will show these Jews how much Rome fears him. Tribune, when do these Hebrews make sacrifice to this Yahweh?”

“On the day they call the Sabbath — the seventh day of the week.”

“When is their next Sabbath?”

“In five days.”

“Good. The day before their next Sabbath, bring me twenty prisoners — men, women, and children. I will prepare a little entertainment for these Jews.”

“Imperator, in the Hebrew language,
chai
is the word both for life and for the number eighteen. Because of its association with life, the Jews revere the number eighteen as a symbol of life.”

“Do they? I will show them how wrong they are. Eighteen prisoners will do as well as twenty.”

Titus lifted the naked woman off the ground and began to rape her. He groaned with delight as the slave bit hard into his shoulder. He grew even more passionate seeing her mixture of shame and horror at his rough treatment. This was his way with women, and he was well known for his shows of sexual inventiveness and debauchery. “You rode her well, Imperator.” Several of his legion commanders laughed as they applauded their leader. An exhibitionist, Titus
derived intense gratification from having others witness his sexual prowess.

“Sigidius, I am told you have a special talent in these matters. Take this slave and entertain me.”

“Majesty, you have exhausted the woman. Bring me someone else.”

“Centurion, find another slave for Sigidius.”

A slender green-eyed girl was quickly brought into the tent. Sigidius ordered her tied down to a stake in the floor. Sigidius gave a harsh laugh and told her, “Now we will give you everything you want.” Cheering loudly, the other commanders formed a line to have their turn with the woman.

After a while, Titus noticed one of his most trusted commanders sitting off by himself. “Varrò, get on line or you will miss Sigid-ius's entertainment.”

“Imperator, I need the quiet of my tent for such matters.”

“Varrò, you served my father well for over thirty years. If you do not like Sigidius's entertainment, I have prepared one that I hope will be more to your liking.”

A servant quietly entered the tent and whispered in Titus's ear.

“My banquet is ready.” Throwing on a toga, Titus led his commanders into a nearby tent where a sumptuous feast of desert quail and wild pig had been prepared. For those who preferred fish, the banquet master offered caviar and dried sturgeon from the Caspian Sea. When the main course was ended, brass trays piled high with crimson fruit and green grapes were set before the guests.

Titus rose from his couch. “The fruit may be too bitter for some of you. If so....” Titus clapped his hands gleefully. A naked slave girl, her body painted with red sugar, walked into the tent. “Rub your fruit on her body. It will sweeten the taste.” Titus laughed. “Sigidius, you try her first. You always appreciate exotic pleasures.”

At the end of the meal, Titus shouted for quiet.

“Commanders, come with me. I wish to introduce you to some special guests — eighteen of them to be exact. I have saved my best wine so I can include them in the festivities. They wait for us on the west rim of the hill.”

There was an audible gasp when the commanders saw the entertainment that Titus had prepared. Eighteen Jewish prisoners had been hung on crosses along the rim of the Mount of Olives. Titus proudly strutted along the line of crosses with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Varro, I left it up to my tribunes to choose the victims. I must commend them — they made excellent choices. Look carefully at this woman, for example — she is pregnant. And the boy next to her, he looks no more than seven. Maybe they should have crucified an old Jewish hag. I am told the Jews revere their elders. What do you think, my old friend?”

“The tribunes selected well, Imperator. An old woman would have died too quickly.” Varro kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Even for an infantry commander hardened by years of battle, the sight of women and children hanging on crosses revolted him.

“You are right, Varro. These Jews deserve slow deaths.”

When he had come to the end of the line of crosses, Titus shouted to his servants. “Bring the wine. We must toast our neighbors on the Temple Mount.”

“But Imperator....”

“Yes, Sigidius?”

“It is too dark here. The Jews will not see our toast.”

“You are right, Sigidius. It is too dark here.”

Titus signaled to a centurion to bring a torch.

Rabbi Yohannen and David ben Hochba stood at the edge of the Temple Mount looking across to the Roman encampment. They saw a light move across the Mount of Olives.

“What is that, David?” The rabbi's eyes had grown dim with age.