by Brian Godawa
She wouldn’t answer him.
“I think you do not realize how changed of a man he really is. You think he will fight to the end for the temple he used to guard. But he is not that man anymore, Berenice. He is a mercenary without a soul. He believes in nothing.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I met with a young man who was personally trained by Simon. An Essene warrior monk named Aaron ben Hyam. I pled with him to find Simon and bring him to Jerusalem because I thought he could protect it, keep it from being totally destroyed.”
“Qumran,” she mused. It came clear to her now. “That is why you did not tell Titus of Qumran when we were in Perea.”
“Evidently, it didn’t help.” he said, “because Titus found the commune and killed them all anyway. But Aaron and his squad of warriors were not there at the time.”
Berenice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So you found the monk and that is why Simon came to Jerusalem.”
He answered, “I don’t want the Jews to win. I just don’t want to lose the temple. It is the key to Herodian rule. We control the temple and with it, religious authority over the nation. If we lose the temple, we lose the nation.”
She shook her head. “And you claim that I am double-minded. You are fighting on both sides.”
“Out of love for both sides,” he said. “But I am loyal to Titus.”
“And I love him,” she said.
“As you should. Or you will never rule by his side.”
“Brother, I am not sure that you will ever know what real love is.”
“Let us hope not. Because it has made you weak, sister.” Berenice felt her anger rising. Agrippa continued, “The only love I trust is the love of family.”
He stepped closer. Berenice saw that his face was soft now, inviting. He looked her up and down, and a feeling came over her of complete repulsion. She had been withdrawing from his affections, but this was the first time that she saw who he really was. And who she had become. It overwhelmed her with disgust and self-loathing. She reached for the only way to get rid of him quickly.
“Titus is on his way to see me. You need to leave now.”
He straightened up and withdrew into a cool disposition. “Well then, my sister. Do what you must for Herodian legacy.”
He left her.
A wave of guilt came over Berenice. Was he right? Was she so self-deluded that she had started to believe her own lies? Had she lost her way?
She got up to watch her brother walk away in the moonlight.
When she turned back, she saw Titus standing inside the back of the tent. She jumped with a shriek. “You were outside the tent all along?”
He nodded.
She ran through the conversation in her mind, everything she and Agrippa had spoken of. Had she said anything incriminating? Had her brother?
She felt safe when she remembered her words of love for Titus and how she’d turned away Agrippa’s advances.
Titus stepped close to her, caressed her shoulders. “So tell me about this man Simon bar Giora.”
Berenice felt a twinge of danger. She smiled. “Are you jealous?”
“Among other things.”
Perhaps she was not so vulnerable after all.
“Despite his protestations, my brother is sentimental at heart. I do not love Simon bar Giora. He was part of a world that is long gone. One that I would never want to return to.”
“Tell me about him as a leader.”
She pulled softly away from him and turned to pace around. It felt more removed, less emotional. “He was a captain of the Temple Guard. A good warrior. I had an affair with him.”
“That was beneath you.”
“It was a dalliance of mischief. I enjoy violating taboos.”
She said it seductively. She saw him move slightly toward her with desire. She jerked back into a matter-of-fact attitude and turned her back in musing. “He was useful for Herodian interests in the temple. As you no doubt overheard my brother say, the temple is the key to the nation.”
She turned back around to face him again. “Which is why you should not try to destroy it. Or you will lose the very thing you seek to control.”
Titus smirked. “Jews are a stubborn people.”
“My people have a long history of impossible rulers.”
“Your people have a long history of being impossible to rule.”
“For despots and tyrants.”
He gave her a scolding look, but then sighed. “Berenice, my father is a simple man. A fair man. He cares little for politics. As Caesar, he has no desire to oppress those over whom he rules, especially the Jews.”
“And what of his sons?” She knew that the heirs of thrones often reversed previous policies of their fathers.
She could see he felt slighted at the remark.
He turned firm. “The Flavian dynasty will be just.” His look turned pleading. “Help us to make it so.”
What did he mean by that? Was it a generic appeal to an allied leader or a hint of her future with him?
She said, “Apparently, according to my brother, I cannot help you much when it comes to Simon bar Giora because he is no longer the man of conviction and honor that I knew. I have no understanding of the mercenary mindset. I can only tell you what you already know. Haste in your attack on the city or a focus on the temple as a target will unite the divided factions of all those ‘stubborn’ Jews as you call them. Then you will have an historic catastrophe on your hands. Is that what you want?”
Titus stared at her now. He whispered, “Who are you loyal to?”
She was taken aback by the question. So he had heard everything she and Agrippa had said. She responded with a sense of indignation. “I care about the innocent victims of war. If you treat them with mercy, you will foster their loyalty.”
He repeated himself louder now. “Who are you loyal to?”
If she said, “My nation,” she would be disloyal to Rome. If she said, “Rome,” she would be a traitor to her own people. She said the only thing she could say. “You.”
He grabbed her arms and shouted again. “WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO?”
Her arms hurt. She stiffened and teared up with fear.
“WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO?”
She blurted out again, “You! I am loyal to you!”
He stared into her eyes searchingly. Then he kissed her hard on the mouth. Deeply. He pulled at her clothes with desperation.
She felt herself relax like a silken sheet in his arms. All fear fell away. And once again she experienced the exhilaration of complete surrender to his power.
Outside the back of the tent, a new eavesdropper adjusted his stance for a better look through the hole in the tent flap.
Herod Agrippa smiled to himself as he watched the two lovers lose themselves in each other. So there is a benefit to my sister’s rejection of me. Her weakness may be a strong asset, not merely for the Flavian dynasty but the Herodian dynasty as well.
CHAPTER 17
Pella
The angels Uriel, Gabriel, and Raphael hid amongst the stone and foliage near the banks of the Jordan River. They watched the eight hundred legionaries pass them by on their way into the Pella Valley just a mile and a half away. They were led in the unseen world by four gods of Canaan: Ba’al, the mighty storm god, Asherah, Tyrian battle maiden called “Great Lady of the Sea”, Dagon, notorious deity of the Philistines, and the despicable Molech, abomination of the Ammonites.
Uriel whispered to the others, “Anat is not with them.”
Gabriel whispered back, “She was sent to the Abyss with the ancient ones.”
“Well, that makes our task more enjoyable,” quipped Uriel with his sense of humor. “I hated her most.”
“More enjoyable you say,” added Gabriel. “But not much easier.”
The archangels were normally very capable of overcoming the gods, but these four Canaanite deities would be fighting furiously for their lives. Messiah had legally disinh
erited them from their Land, so they had nothing left to lose but their eternity—and that was everything to them.
Michael and the three other archangels were with the human Kharabu warriors protecting the Pella Christians from the Romans. This split up the supernatural forces, but the survival of the Christians was equally as important as the death of the gods. It would do no good to bind the Watchers into the earth if the Kingdom of God was crushed before it could expand upon the earth.
“Let’s go,” whispered Uriel.
• • • • •
Quintus Magnus lead his cohort through the wadi valley that lead to the city of Pella. The fifty-mile march had taken them six days through mountain passes and several skirmishes with wilderness rebels. Ahead of them was a forest where many efforts of sabotage could be launched against them.
Let them try, he thought. We will rip them to shreds.
He had given the order to his men that there were no restrictions. They were to kill every man, woman, and child. Plunder the city for anything they wished. Then raze it to the ground in flames, salting the ground as a symbol of the complete annihilation of the Christians forever.
Quintus himself cared nothing for the spoils or for these worthless fanatics. He wanted a speedy massacre so he could get back to join the siege of Jerusalem. That would be the real challenge.
He did wonder why this insignificant little group of people was so important to Titus. Quintus was the Primus Pilus, the most senior centurion of his legion, and one of the general’s most experienced and trusted leaders. Titus wouldn’t send him and the First Cohort unless he wanted absolute assurance of victory.
But this task was a bit like ordering a gladiator into the arena with a dog. It seemed like overkill to Quintus.
The sound of distant thunder in the east made him consider their timing. Black storm clouds were coming, but they were far enough away. There was plenty of time to take this target before the storm got close enough to cause any trouble.
They marched through the forest and kept on the alert for any traps or surprises. A forest was the perfect place to hide an ambush.
But there were none. They made it through to the other side that opened up to the wide valley. On the southern side was an old dilapidated Hasmonean fortress on the top of a steep hill. Quintus saw lookouts on the battlements alerting their fellows inside of the arrival of their enemy.
On the north side, he saw another hill upon which the city of Pella stood.
He announced to his centurions riding with him, “They’ve seen us in the fortress. Let us take the city first and burn it to the ground.”
Quintus was confident that the Pellans did not know the Romans were coming. So they would not know what hit them.
One of his centurions mocked, “Let them come out of their little fort and attack us while we are raping their women!”
The centurions gave orders to their bannermen, who promptly alerted their soldiers with the appropriate flags. They marched in formation toward the city and passed right by the weakly fortified castle on the hill.
The cohort made their way up to the city, ready for slaughter. Quintus saw no civilians outside the city.
When they reached the top and entered the city, no one was there. Pella was completely empty.
Quintus shook his head. He said to his centurions, “They must have discovered us coming.”
One of his centurions queried, “They couldn’t have gotten far in such little time. Women, children. Could they all be in the fortress?”
Quintus stared at the old Hasmonean fort across the valley.
“No,” he said. “It’s not large enough for the population, and it’s almost in ruins. They wouldn’t consider it enough protection.”
He turned back into the city and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I think they’re hiding here.”
His leaders appeared surprised. One of them laughed. “They’re like children playing hide and seek. Well, let’s go find them.”
Another centurion asked, “Why not surrender? They don’t know our intent.”
“We will find out soon enough,” said Quintus. “Break up into contubernia and search for hideaways, cellars, underground shelters.” Contubernia were groups of eight soldiers led by an officer called a decanus.
“Do what you will with them,” added Quintus. “But kill them. If it turns out they’ve run away into the hills, we’ll hunt them down.”
The cohort broke up into groups and began searching through the alleys and buildings for their hidden targets.
As one of the cities of the Decapolis, Pella had a Hellenistic heritage that had resulted in Greek architecture and planning. There were temples, theaters, and colonnaded streets of stone and marble. The orderly beauty combined with the lack of people gave it an eerie atmosphere as though its inhabitants had vanished without warning. Houses and markets were still full of foodstuffs, clothes, and even beasts of burden. If the citizens were not hiding here, they must have picked up and ran without preparation.
• • • • •
A group of eight Romans walked through a large temple to Jupiter in the middle of the city. The decanus looked around with wonder. All the Greek images of worship had been taken down. It appeared that the structure had been converted into a different purpose. He had heard that Jews and Christians despised images and all other gods but their own. It seemed like an arrogance unbefitting a powerless people. It seemed ungrateful.
As the decanus stood in the middle of the grand hall looking up into the ceiling high above him, he heard the sound of a bird whistle. He knew what that meant. But the Romans didn’t have time to raise their shields or draw their weapons. From behind the pillars all around them, a group of shadow warriors drew their bows and pierced every member of the squad with deadly aimed arrows.
As the decanus lay dying on the floor, gasping for breath, his punctured organs bleeding out, he saw the face of a warrior in strange armor looking down upon him. The Roman managed to grunt out, “Who are you?”
The warrior smiled and said, “You had best concern yourself with who your Creator is because you are about to meet him and stand to account for everything you’ve done.”
• • • • •
Another Roman contubernium found a large sewer entrance that led beneath the city. Such water canals were often a place of hiding for civilians trying to escape capture. The eight legionaries drew their weapons, raised their shields, and entered the darkness with a lit torch in search of refugees.
They had no plans for capture.
A single warrior, Saraqel the archangel, entered the sewer behind them. A small squad of Pellan warriors who were with him waited outside, guarding the entrance.
They heard the sounds of surprise, then grunts and clangs of battle.
And finally the silence of death.
A lone pair of footsteps echoed through the watery tunnel as Saraqel exited back into the daylight, his sword dripping with gore and a satisfied look of victory on his face.
“Time for the rendezvous,” he said, and they slipped back out into the city.
• • • • •
Thelonius led a squad of warriors hiding in a back alley of one of the upper-class districts. He had been given command of a group by Michael, and they had prepared for this moment.
He’d wanted to explain to Cassandra what had happened to him. But there wasn’t time, so it would have to wait until after the battle. If he survived. He prayed that he would.
Now he sat hidden on a rooftop watching a group of eight Roman soldiers tread cautiously through the alleyway below.
He glanced over at the young man Jonathan hiding next to him. The kid looked scared, but he had been brave. Thelonius had deliberately chosen Jonathan for his squad in order to protect him. He hoped the young man would survive because Thelonius knew he was a suitor for Rachel, and Thelonius thought Jonathan would make a fine husband—if Cassandra would only give him the chance.
A small group of five Pe
llan Christians appeared at the other end of the alley as though accidentally stumbling upon the Romans. When they saw their enemies, they fled, causing the Romans to take chase.
With their senses focused on their prey, the Romans were unprepared for the trap that collapsed beneath their feet, plunging them into a ten-foot-deep pit.
Thelonius and his fellow Pellans on the rooftops then stood up and launched javelins and arrows into their captives, killing them all.
Their next orders: move to their rendezvous point.
Other squads of hidden defenders executed similar ambushes all over the city. It was the way that Michael had determined they could best fight the more experienced Roman warriors. By hiding out and using the element of surprise upon small groups of soldiers, they were able to achieve what their lack of trained fighting skills could not.
A hundred legionaries had fallen victim to these guerilla tactics in sporadic across the city before the Romans caught on and announced with their trumpets a withdrawal and assembly into the city square.
• • • • •
Seven hundred legionaries reached the square and immediately organized a square formation, shields edge to edge, thrusting spears pointing out toward their hidden enemies. In the center Quintus Magnus assessed his options for dealing with these annoying gadflies.
He yelled out a command. “Let us burn this dung hill to the ground!”
The gods were there in the city square as well, but unseen and unheard by human senses. Ba’al yelled out in the heavenlies, “Come out and play, Michael! No more of your little tricks!” The sound of thunder, still miles off, punctuated the god’s voice with exclamation.
But no angel showed himself in response to the challenge.
“Coward,” Ba’al grumbled. Asherah, Dagon, and Molech held their weapons tight but found no use for them.
A decanus and his group of eight arrived late to the square and announced to Quintus, “Commander, they are escaping the city into the valley!”
Quintus yelled the order, “Let us go catch these mice!”
