by Gary M Burge
When the governor had summoned Appius for a meeting that morning, Appius quickly called Tullus to his side and made sure that each of them were ready for a formal meeting. Tullus brought a wax tablet and stylus for quick note taking. He wore his best tunic and with it attached the military belt that had been given to him at Gallica. It was handsomely tooled with the insignia of the legion and held a sheath in which Tullus wore a knife. When he arrived at Appius’s quarters, he saw him struggling with his uniform. Swiftly and without comment, Tullus attended to the parts that Appius could not reach. Together they looked orderly, fit and prepared.
“When we enter the governor’s villa, his personal guard will escort us to his reception rooms. You shall not speak unless asked to do so. Read nothing aloud unless I request it.” Appius seemed nervous and yet confident. He rarely saw the governor, in part because the governor was aloof and rarely went about with the troops he commanded.
“And do I address him when we meet?”
“Do not. I will speak for us. You are but my shadow.”
“And if I see something in writing that you need to know before you make any agreements?”
“Then speak out. Never turn your back toward him, never whisper so that he cannot hear. Ask if it might be of help to read aloud what is before you.” Appius relied on Tullus’s reading ability more than he would admit. The governor was not trustworthy. He had climbed to this post over many Roman bodies, most of which he had killed. And in this province he was known as calculating and merciless.
“We do not know his purposes this morning. We must be prepared for anything. But we also must be prepared for something he wishes to hide from us.”
Together they crossed into the courtyard of the main barracks and moved toward the far north end, where the governor kept his permanent residence. It was an enormous building, long and elegant. The villa was carefully situated within the walls of the barracks and guarded by many legionnaires who were as ambitious as this governor. They wanted to follow him to his next assignment and become his permanent guard in a grand city such as Ephesus or Sardis, perhaps even Rome.
Pontius Pilatus
Following the removal of Herod the Great’s son Archelaus from central Judea in A.D. 6, governors, or procurators, assigned by Rome ruled the province. These men generally had a military background and were supported by legionary and auxiliary troops assigned to work with them. In Judea they lived in Caesarea Maritima, which was well connected to communication networks and re-created a secure and well-protected “Roman” way of life. When they needed to conduct business with Jewish leaders, they traveled to Jerusalem and either lived in the Antonia Fortress attached to the Temple or used Herod the Great’s old palace on the western side of the city.
Figure 5.5. Aerial view of remains of Herod’s palace at Caesarea Maritima
Pontius Pilatus (also known as Pontius Pilate) was the fifth governor of Judea and ruled from A.D. 26–36. He was well known to the prominent Jewish historian of the period, Josephus. And his conflicts with Jewish leaders were notorious. When he first came to Judea, he tried to demonstrate his authority by bringing Roman standards (decorated military symbols mounted on a pole and carried by a legionnaire) into the Temple. The Jewish leaders were outraged and saw this as a pagan intrusion into their temple (something that Rome had promised not to do). When Pilate faced off with them in Jerusalem, Jewish leaders knelt before him and declared that they would rather be killed by the sword than see their temple profaned with Roman pagan symbols.
Pilate had met his match and backed down in order to avoid a major diplomatic setback. In the end he learned to work with the Jews, and because he served for ten years while Caiaphas was the high priest, we assume the two men knew how to collaborate in order to keep the province peaceful. Caiaphas reflects the political savvy we see in Pilate. When people saw the popularity of Jesus, some of the leaders complained, “What are we to do? For this man [Jesus] performs many signs. If we let him go on thus, every one will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.” Caiaphas said, “You know nothing at all; you do not understand that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish” (John 11:47-50 RSV).
Jesus was crucified when Pilate was governor of Judea and Caiaphas was high priest in Jerusalem.
Immediately inside the front gate was a courtyard, open to the sky and leading to gardens and fountains. Men were plastering and painting the inner walls, improving on what had been inherited from the previous ruler. Artisans were sketching the outlines of characters that would enliven frescoes yet to be painted. Clearly the governor liked Hercules. One entire wall of the garden was being sketched out to depict a drinking competition between Hercules and Bacchus, the god of wine. In the first frame the mighty Hercules dominated his rival with threatening gestures. In the final frame Hercules was drunk and defeated, his sword fallen, his bravado gone. Bacchus laughed as he held aloft a chalice decorated with grapes.
“His name. What do I say if he addresses me?” Tullus had lowered his voice.
“Do not use his name. A slave is never permitted to refer to it. He is your lord. That is enough.”
Within minutes a senior tribune approached from an inner chamber. He was immaculately dressed and looked to be the governor’s assistant.
“Pontius Pilatus will see you.” He turned, seeming to expect that they would follow his pace and direction.
Inside, Pilatus was sitting on a dais that elevated him above his audience. He was a short man who (gossip said) made up for his height by the severity of his rule. When Appius entered, he was introduced as “Appius of Attalia, former primus pilus of Legio Tertia Gallica.” Pilatus stood and stepped down to greet them. Tullus was not introduced.
“I hear you are wounded, Appius of Gallica, and your arm is of no use. Is this true?” Tullus was stunned. These are Pilatus’s first words? The guards attending the meeting looked at the floor. Tullus did the same.
“So the physicians say. I took an arrow in Dura-Europos when my cohort rescued the fort from Parthians.”
“But you took it in the back, no? Were you not facing your enemy?”
“He was in hiding, lord.”
“And you were uncovered, without armor?”
“I was.”
“You were at war, uncovered and unaware that the Parthians were not defeated?”
“Two were in hiding and none of us could see them in—”
“Is this how you train our men? To bare themselves naked before all is secure?”
“No. This was an error. But the gods have spared me.” At this the guards looked up, while Pilatus paced in front of his dais. He seemed satisfied.
“Very well. Are you ready to serve me and so serve the emperor?”
“As you wish. I led Legion Gallica and so can lead any you give me.”
“So you are willing to do as I wish. I desire for you to command a small town in what the Jews call Galilee. It is small but important. It is from here that we collect many of our taxes in the north. And yet the region is a nest of fighters. You will take thirty of our men. And when you arrive, you will be welcomed by those who manage our tax revenue in that area. They will arrange for your needs.” He paused. “Are you encumbered?” It seemed like an afterthought, as if Pilatus were trying to fill in gaps about what he didn’t know.
“I have a small familia consisting of a few slaves. There are no attachments.”
“Very well. My men will supply you with wagons and horses. And to begin with I will send extra troops to stay until you are secure.” Pilatus handed Appius a sealed scroll as he continued to discuss the particulars of the move. Appius slipped the scroll to Tullus, who quietly broke the seal and unrolled it, skimming its details. Appius had been demoted—the words were clear—and this would affect his pay. But he was free to gain as he might from the taxes, so long as the province was paid its due. The town they were going to was cal
led Capernaum. But the scroll said nothing specific about it except that previous soldiers had found it difficult. There was nothing here that Appius needed to know immediately. Tullus rolled it back up, and Appius looked at him eagerly. Tullus nodded. And then the meeting was over.
Pilatus walked with the two men as they left the villa. The governor began to say how he was eager to see the progress of his gardens and to show Appius the clever theme that would grace his walls. The guards accompanied them as they entered the center courtyard.
But the senior tribune stood apart. He had heard something, an unexpected commotion coming from the main gate. The guards had been yelling, but now seemed to have it under control. So he went on, unobtrusively sending two of his personal guards toward the gate.
Appius saluted the governor and promised that he would bring success to Galilee. Tullus made no gestures, remaining behind the centurion.
“I want you to leave within the week. I want no trouble in this region. And it is a territory that favors making trouble.” These were Pilatus’s final words.
Appius left the gardens and walked through the small, skylit courtyard. Ahead four soldiers were holding someone who was struggling in their grasp. Tullus moved to Appius’s side as they entered the gate. And there they saw Livia: disheveled, roughly held by the guards, with panic in her eyes.
6
From Caesarea
to Capernaum
Appius interrupted the scene at the gate where the tribune’s two guards had clearly taken over. Four armed men were now surrounding Livia, who was between them in the dirt. “Stand at ease. I know this woman.” Tullus exercised enormous control not to get involved and tried to look indifferent.
The two regular gate guards immediately stepped away, backing against the stone wall. They looked as if they wanted to disappear. They knew their rank, and they recognized Appius from other events at the barracks. But the two soldiers who had come from the tribune’s staff had considerable legionary service. Appius did not know them, but he assumed they would soon be made centurions. They were older, experienced and self-assured.
And they did not back off. One held Livia by the hair as she knelt, clearly in pain, at his feet.
“What is your concern here, centurion?” The soldier holding Livia didn’t move. He was firmly planted in the sandy gate-road.
“She belongs to my familia. Stand at ease.” It had been months since Tullus had seen Appius like this. This was the primus pilus he knew. This was Appius of Gallica, not Appius of Dura. Appius quickly glanced back into the courtyard. Pilatus and the tribune were watching.
The soldier still did not move, staring at Appius.
Appius stepped closer and now spoke inches from his face. “She is mine. And I have given you an order.” Tullus could see the anger rise in his face. He knew this was a moment Appius could not take lightly. “Release her. Now.” Tullus could see spit hit the soldier’s face as Appius’s intensity mounted. Appius had now rested his hand on the hilt of his gladius.
“Release her.”
The soldier looked into the courtyard. He glanced down at Livia and then back at Appius, appearing to weigh his options. Tullus thought he must be wondering: Was this an opportunity to show strength? To show his readiness for promotion? Or would his insubordination cripple his future?
The second soldier now had stepped out of the way completely and joined the gate guards. He expected blood.
“What is your business with her?” The soldier scowled at Appius. Looking Appius in the eye, he then let his gaze migrate down to Appius’s left shoulder. Then, feigning pity, he gave a wry, secretive smile.
“That is of no regard to you.” Appius took another step closer and was almost pressing against the man, armor to armor. The next sound was unmistakable: that of Appius drawing his gladius partway out of its sheath. The next seconds would mean everything. One man might soon be dead.
No one seemed to breathe. Everyone waited to see who would back off and whose career would be ruined.
“STAND DOWN!” Appius shouted in the man’s face, and with his right hand he grabbed the guard’s wrist that was holding Livia’s hair. He twisted the wrist backward as he continued to stare at the man. “I will break it if I must.” His tone was uncompromising, and his strength was apparent. Appius had decided. He would stand or fall in this gate.
Quietly the senior tribune left Pilatus’s side and began walking briskly toward the scene. This conflict had now become unseemly. The standoff would not serve anybody. It had to end. A crowd had formed outside the gate and was ready for the entertainment of two Roman soldiers fighting with a woman between them.
The soldier reached for his sword, but Appius was ahead of him. With his left hand Appius grabbed its hilt and pulled it partway from the guard’s belt. When the soldier’s tried to reach it, he only felt the sharp edge of his own blade slicing deeply through his palm. He winced, released Livia with his other hand, freed himself from the centurion and stepped back. Blood was flowing freely from his hand. As he let loose a storm of curses at Appius, the tribune stepped between the two men.
Livia scrambled to Tullus and fell at his feet. Tullus looked at her with a confusion of feelings. Should he protect her? Embrace her? Care for her? Be indifferent in front of the province leaders? Could he even kneel down to see if she was hurt? He didn’t know his role, and so he stood impassive. But he could see that she was covered with sand. The shoulder of her tunic was torn, and somehow the soldier’s blood had splattered it.
“Axius of Carthage, help me understand what I see here.” The tribune was not amused.
“We were arresting a peasant slave who tried to enter the barracks against our orders.”
“Axius, now help me understand your difficulty with our centurion.” The tribune moved to stand alongside Appius, and the two senior men squared off against the soldier, who was now holding his clenched fist as blood oozed between his fingers. He did not otherwise acknowledge the pain or the blood that was now staining his tunic and running down his leg.
Competing for Honor
The conflict between Axius and Appius is a shame/honor conflict. The aim of ancient Mediterranean societies was to accumulate honor and avoid shame, and this was pursued at all costs. In this instance, Axius hopes to accrue honor from the conflict because he has an audience of highly honored leaders watching him. If he does well, they will honor him and he will advance in society. But it is a risky gamble, since Appius likewise needs to establish his honor as a centurion newly assigned to serve the governor. And a challenge from a subordinate has toxic shame. For Appius to succumb to his threat or to be defeated in any way would mean he would regress or descend through shame. If the challenge had gone much further, Appius would have had to kill the soldier to save himself.
However, Appius makes a brilliant move. Rather than kill the soldier, he shows him mercy by wounding him and so shames him more deeply and gains even greater honor for himself.
Roman societies also believed in limited good and limited honor. Honor was something Appius and Axius were competing for. Only the most delicate resolution could have enabled them to share any honor that was available before them at this moment. But both could not come away fully “honored.” One would have to incur shame.
This conflict is not about Livia per se. It is not about Appius’s affection for her. She is his property, and another man is presuming on it, exploiting it, dishonoring it. Appius is protecting himself, not Livia.
“I did not recognize him.”
“But you were in the audience with the governor. You could hear what was said about his role in the province. And can you not recognize a centurion’s uniform when it is before you? Just because we are not in a legion here does not mean that rank has no meaning. Are these things not clear in your mind?”
“They are, my lord.”
“Go to the physicians. You are fortunate this centurion did not kill you. He offered you mercy, or else you would be lying here at our feet.
This has been a poor day for you, Axius of Carthage. Leave us.”
The tribune turned to Appius and saw Tullus and Livia nearby. “Go prepare yourself to move. You depart in five days.” The tribune seemed to want to be done with the episode. He had stood by Appius, but the scene had tarnished his own reputation in some manner.
Tullus could see that the tribune was confused about why Appius willing to risk so much for a peasant woman. The tribune was left with questions he did not ask, and his face showed it.
Appius nodded to the tribune, and together they watched the defeated soldier walk away from the gate, his shoulders slumped. He knew he would never become a centurion after this, and Appius would never forget his name or face.
Tullus knelt and brought Livia to her feet, looking her over for injuries. She seemed to be paralyzed by the scene. Appius looked at her, then at Tullus, and back again. But then his eyes betrayed a look that Livia read quickly. She pulled herself away from Tullus and began brushing the dirt from her clothes and straightening her hair.
For many weeks the provincial leaders had been preparing for the staffing of Capernaum. And when the request from Gallica arrived, they saw Appius’s arrival as a perfect solution to their need: they could now provide a centurion to Galilee without depleting their own leadership. None of the centurions in Caesarea wanted to go there. Appius did not have their knowledge. There was no reason to brief him on the attitudes and suspicions of the rest of the troops.
On the day of their departure, two Roman wagons pulled by mules were filled and ready to leave by midday at the fort where Gaius and the household were staying. Tullus was with them. Appius was with the soldiers assigned to him at the barracks in town, and they were to be accompanied by fifteen cavalrymen, who would ride as temporary escorts. Three wagons would carry the soldiers’ large tents, tools, food and extra weapons. The permanent men joining Appius were young and very inexperienced. It was likely that some were trying to make their way into one of the legions and so hoped that by serving with Appius they might find a home in Gallica. One man did have legionary experience, Marcus of Sardis, and he was assigned to work as Appius’s military assistant and personal guard. Marcus was a lot like Tullus in many ways. He could read, and he had a thoughtful demeanor. But he also resembled Appius himself as a younger man: tough, strong and possessing a quick temper.
