by Ian Miller
As the days passed, it was clear that Vibius seemed to know what he was doing. It then occurred to Gaius that as commander, he was getting the credit, not that there was much credit to take. Roman forces had marched up and down Judea without getting lost or starting a rebellion, which was exactly what everyone expected to happen. They had trudged through dusty town after dusty town, receiving the standard surly looks, and that was also exactly what everyone expected. While it was good that nothing had happened, it was not the stuff with which to build reputations on. From Vibius' point of view, he, Vibius, had kept Gaius out of trouble.
Then, with the mission almost over, Vibius made a suggestion that would provide Gaius with enough rope to hang himself: if the two cohorts separated, they would show the presence of Rome in twice the number of smaller towns. Gaius had agreed.
A week had passed and so far, Gaius smiled to himself, nothing had gone wrong, and the expedition was nearly over. Tomorrow they would reassemble to march back to Syria. In the meantime, here was one last town.
As throughout the area, it was dusty, with buildings made of mud-brick, and some better ones made of stone. The streets were narrow, scruffy children were playing their usual games and . . . Gaius looked more closely. The usual scruffy children were not playing. In fact, there was not a scruffy child in sight. In the distance was a large building, presumably the temple, and outside it a lot of rather noisy people had gathered. Gaius signalled to the cavalry decurion.
"Get one of your more experienced men to ride down there and see what's going on," he ordered. "If there's no sign of trouble, he should just keep going, quietly. If there's trouble, he's to ride back this way. If it's not an emergency, he's not to look urgent. If I see him come back, I'll know the message, and I'll tell how immediate it is by how fast he comes back."
While the auxiliary was riding down the street, Gaius signalled for the Prime Centurion. He watched as the rider approached the crowd, then turn around and canter backwards. He turned towards the Centurion.
"Trouble," he said. "Five centuries should advance quietly and surround the temple area. Form lines, and do not permit organized groups to pass through, but if individuals wish to leave, let them. If anyone's armed, disarm them. Keep this street clear."
The centurion nodded, and turned towards the cohort. Whether he approved was beside the point. He had clear orders.
Gaius turned towards the cavalry commander.
"All your men, ready to charge down this street, if I so order, which I shall do with a command like this," and he waved his right arm, which held a gladius. "If I wave without the sword, I want a slow orderly canter together with the rest of the cohort marching to intimidate. Understand?"
"Of course," the soldier nodded. "What are you going to do?"
"Ride down there and see if I can work out what's going on," Gaius replied, in the tone of someone not wishing to hear anything further on this matter.
The cavalry commander clearly suspected Gaius was too green around the ears to know what he was letting himself in for, but then, if Gaius wished to get himself killed, he could rely on Vibius' support, or so he believed. In any case, he had the refuge of clear orders.
As Gaius' horse approached the crowd at a moderate canter, people began to notice the red of his cloak, and his purple flashing. A silence descended, and people began to make way for his horse. An invitation to the centre of the trouble, Gaius noted wryly, and a path that might quickly close if he needed a fast exit. Nevertheless, there was no going back. Remembering Libo's advice, he had to look as if he was in charge, even if he felt anything but in charge. He carefully brought his horse to a stop far enough away from anybody that there could be no accident.
"Good evening!" Gaius offered, in what he hoped was an authoritative tone, then as he directed his glance towards the temple doors, "What's happening?"
The essence was a confrontation between a group of hot-headed men, who appeared to be Christians, and the equally hot-headed keepers of the Temple. The original reason for the confrontation was obscure, so much so that probably neither side knew what it was. The Christians wanted something back, and they wished to exercise their rights as Jews to enter the temple, while the priests denied they took it, and anyway it was appropriate penance for non-compliance with some religious orders, and no, the Christians had to keep out of the Temple. That was the extremely oversimplified situation, and Gaius tried to sit as impassively as he could on his horse as the more complicated version eddied around him.
"You!" Gaius said, turning towards the head priest when a lull finally arrived. He realized he had to establish some sort of authority without antagonizing anyone. The easiest way to do this was to ask an obvious question that would give a non-troublesome answer. "Would you say that a good Jew recognizes Jewish religious orders?"
"Of course!" This was followed by a long tirade that Gaius cut short.
"And Jewish religious law does not recognize this Cristus as the Jewish Messiah?"
That was obvious, and the essence of the tirade that followed was, definitely not. So far, so good. He had to buy more time to think.
"Then it seems to me," Gaius shrugged as he turned towards the Christians, "that you must either deny Cristus as your Messiah, or accept Cristus in which case you must admit you're Christians and not Jews."
There was a stunned silence, and Gaius saw a way through this morass.
"Do you deny your Messiah?" Gaius asked firmly.
"Never!" came the roar, followed by another roar from the Jews.
"Your master," Gaius continued, "said render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's. Agreed?"
"What do you know about . . ."
"Agreed?" Gaius interrupted imperiously. He felt he had the ascendancy, as they could not deny their master.
"Agreed," came the sullen response.
"Good. By the same token, render unto the Jews that which is theirs, which in this case is their temple. Caesar has imposed the Pax Romana. That means Caesar demands you will live in peace. Your master also instructed you to love your neighbour!"
There were jeers from the Jews.
"That may be a little difficult," Gaius laughed derisively, "but you will at least refrain from fighting them. You recall your master said that the meek would inherit the Earth? Prefer not to remember the inconvenient ones? Never mind. I suggest you leave here and go away and be meek. You're not Jews, so stay away from their temple."
"But we have nowhere to . . ."
"You'll have to build something of your own," Gaius shrugged. "Please, go away, now! If you don't, my troops will remove you on the end of swords, and that does nobody any good. Agreed?"
There was a muttering, and the Christians began to turn away.
"Now, you," Gaius said, turning towards the priests. "They are not Jews, therefore they are not subject to Jewish law. They may live as they wish, subject only to Roman law. That which you have taken from them will be returned."
"But . . ."
"Failure to do so will be taken as evidence of open revolt against Caesar. There is no punishment other than crucifixion."
There were stares of fear. Before self-confidence could return, Gaius shrugged and added, "I don't want that, but you don't either. You may wish to become martyrs, but think of this. If I have you all crucified, the Christians'd get your temple, and you really don't want that do you?"
After a pause, he added, "Of course you don't. Give them back their property, and they will leave you alone. Those are Caesar's orders." He then turned slightly so he could address both groups. "Rome does not expect you to like each other," he said coldly, "but Rome requires you to respect each other's property. While you consider yourselves separate you will each remain away from the other's property. Consider this to have the power of Caesar's words. Disobey and be crucified."
With that he wheeled his horse and cantered gently back towards his troops, and unseen by any, he let out a sigh of relief.
* * *
"You
realize," a disgruntled Vitellius remarked later, "that if that had got out of hand, I would have had to back you up and order the crucifixions?"
"I felt that a strong dose of fear was required," Gaius explained, "or one of those revolts you are so keen to avoid would have sprung up. I was very sure that I would not have to order such executions."
"Then perhaps you read the situation very well," Vitellius shrugged, "and then again, perhaps it was plain dumb luck."
"Even if I were lucky," Gaius replied, "good luck should not be turned down."
"Nor squandered. Some people ride their luck, others make their luck. Try to be one of the latter." There was a pause, as Gaius decided that there was no reply. Vitellius stared at him, then changed topic, "So, what did you think of your fellow Tribune?"
"He seemed very efficient."
"As a person?"
"Vibius seemed to want to keep to himself," Gaius replied. He knew fine well that Vibius had wanted Gaius to fail, but he understood why. In any case it did him no good to attack Vibius. "He was efficient, and he suggested we split up once we arrived in Judaea, so as to get more work done more quickly. As long as we were not fighting major battles, the idea seemed to be a good one, so I agreed."
"Thus leaving you to your own devices. He was supposed to help you, including by supplying you with background knowledge."
"I had alternatives," Gaius replied, then suddenly deciding that this was not the time to involve Timothy he quickly added, "The centurions are a rich source of practical information."
"Yes, they are," Vitellius grunted. He paused, then added, "Vibius was reasonably impressed with what he heard of your performance outside the temple . . ."
"Good," Gaius said, with a touch of self-satisfaction.
"By showing a little courage and enough ability not to let the situation get out of hand," Vitellius continued, ignoring the interruption, "he and the men have concluded, at least for the time being, that you're not just another rich pansy sent to blight their lives." He paused, and noted this time Gaius remained quiet. "Well, since you're so keen on interrupting, presumably you have something to say?" he added harshly.
"I apologize for interrupting," Gaius replied, then after a slight pause, and when he noticed Vitellius was looking for something further, Gaius added, "I can see why he would think that, but . . ."
"Most successful Governors and Generals start the way you are starting," Vitellius interposed, "but so do a lot of young fools that have to be sorted out right away." He paused, grinned a little, and challenged, "Your but . . ?"
"I've had a start he hasn't," Gaius replied, "but then again, as an equestrian, he's had a start others in the ranks don't get either. I see no point in throwing away my . . ."
"Nor should you!" Vitellius interposed.
"So we have to accept the system," Gaius shrugged.
"Only to a point," Vitellius grunted. "You can make it work better. Try being a bit more friendly to Vibius. I know," Vitellius held up his hand to stop the interruption, "he's got a chip on his shoulder, but it's your responsibility, being the senior, to try to get around that."
"I'll try," Gaius replied.
"Even better, do it! That's an order."
Chapter 29
Gaius knew that he had to be seen to be doing something, rather than be seen as someone sitting in a tent or riding about on a horse. Somehow the men had to know he was going to do his job. The trouble was, how to do this? The only obvious way was to maintain a high level of drills and exercises. The soldiers under his command would groan more than a little at the continual marching but that was a lot better than having them sitting on their backsides in barracks, which was what too many of the others were doing, thanks to that drunken Legatus. And if he was to order drills, it was important that he was seen to be participating, rather than sitting on his own backside.
He was wandering through the training ground for new recruits, looking for any opportunity to do something, when he saw a newly promoted Centurion struggling to control himself as a young trainee was flailing a practice sword, rather than carrying out the correct striking drill.
"Got a problem?" Gaius commented to the Centurion.
"Nothing that can't be corrected, sir."
"Of course," Gaius nodded. "Mind if I try?"
"Help yourself." The Centurion was not terribly impressed by the willing but incompetent upper class and he was more than half afraid this exercise would do nothing but make discipline more difficult, however if he wished to impose discipline, he could hardly ignore the commands of a senior officer.
"You!" Gaius coldly addressed the young soldier. "Face me!" He paused, then pointed at two recruits. "You two, stand beside him, one on each side, while he carries out whatever he thought he was doing." He turned towards the Centurion, and said, "Practice sword and shield, please."
He took the lead-tipped wooden sword and gave it a flourish. He turned back towards the young man, who now had the other two standing beside him, at sufficient distance they would not be struck by his sword. "You think that's appropriate?"
The recruit said nothing.
"You two," he ordered the others, "no matter what happens, you will stay facing forwards towards the enemy as if you were fighting. You! Prove it! Defend your line!"
"What?"
Just as the young man spoke, Gaius rushed forward, then paused as the young man swung. As the swing passed and the soldier on his left gave a startled jerk to one side. Gaius then leaped forward and crashed his shield into the young man, who was now slightly off balance, then with considerable force drove the wooden sword into the young man's diaphragm. As the young man collapsed backwards onto the ground and was struggling to breathe, Gaius pushed his boot into the man's stomach to keep him down, then he stepped across and lightly back-stabbed the man on his left, then, after again using the fallen man as a launching pad, back-stabbed the other.
"You," Gaius explained to the man on the ground, "are dead. The men on each side of you, who were relying on you to hold the line and had to face forward because that's where the enemy are, are also dead. Thanks to your antics, the enemy have started to punch a hole in the line, and unless your Centurion does something very quickly, half your century'll be dead in a matter of minutes. You have something to say?"
The young man said nothing, as he lay gasping in the dust. The Centurion was watching with a smile, partly of disbelief, partly of relief, and partly at the face of the young man lying on the ground, still under the boot of the Tribune.
"You men!" Gaius addressed the other trainees. "You will fight battles exactly as you carry out these drills, and you will drill as you carry out real battles. You may not care whether you live, but the man beside you may. Also, you may fight under me, and I most certainly do care whether I live, so you will learn discipline, and you will learn your drills so you do them in your sleep. When the drills are automatic, you win in battle. Centurion," he said more quietly, but loudly enough that most could hear. "These men look far too soft. The arms need strengthening, so I suggest rock drill after this."
"Yes sir!" the Centurion replied. The Centurion was clearly surprised. Under the current Legate, training was reasonably light, and nobody bothered to check. Here was the youngest Tribune already pushing some of the more rigorous aspects of training. This was unexpected but if that was what was wanted, it was the Centurion's job to provide it.
"Ensure they have plenty of water and leave it until later in the afternoon," Gaius continued. "It's to strengthen, not punish, although of course that comment should not prevent your exercising certain options if you are having trouble with them."
And so, later in the afternoon, only the new recruits associated with the first cohort were marching around the parade ground carrying packs stuffed with rocks high above their heads.
Vibius noted this training, and approached Gaius.
"You think that's necessary?" he asked curiously.
"I'll tell you what," Gaius replied. "Why don't
we have a contest in six weeks? Your recruits against mine?"
Vibius accepted, then Vitellius heard about it, and ordered the contest across all cohorts. Although the first cohort had twice the number of soldiers, it had fewer new recruits, as it had the right to acquire more experienced soldiers from other cohorts or other legions.
"And so," Gaius informed the recruits, "you will have to train even harder to do even more work!"
After two weeks of quite exhausting drills, the recruits of the first still had to dig their trenches, and pile the rock and dirt above it as the Roman soldier did every day on march. When they were finished, they were lined up on the top of their mound, and given practice swords and shields. Then, up came an equal number of volunteer veterans that Gaius had arranged. They were similarly armed, and with broad grins they lined up before the recruits.
"You are to defend your line," Gaius said to the recruits, "while the others try to dislodge you. The veterans will advance, now."
The shields of the veterans closed up, and they began to march forward, then up the slope. The recruits tried to defend, but in no time were pushed back, and within ten seconds all but two at the end of the line were lying in their own trench, with the veterans showering them with dirt.
"Now you know what someone fighting against the legion is up against," Gaius smiled, as he looked down at the spluttering recruits. "You had height, and height should give you an advantage, so strengthen up! I'm sure the Centurion will find ways to accomplish that." He paused, then added, "I noticed a couple of you felt the cane for throwing dirt at each other. Consider yourself lucky. You!" he pointed at one recruit who had been something of a bully, "initiated it, and the Centurion can't have noticed. In fact I've noticed a couple of times you seem to like to get the others into trouble, when you think nobody'll notice. Unlucky for you! Three weeks of latrine duties, on top of whatever the Centurion decides is appropriate!" That, Gaius knew, would hurt. The Centurion, having had a shortcoming of his pointed out publicly, would lay into that recruit to ensure that whatever else, that recruit would not be laughing behind his back, and to ensure that the Tribune did not think he was being soft.
