by Craig Smith
Everyone carried daggers – concealed politely – but, for all that, the three men were unusually cheerful. Antony had thwarted a conspiracy; Pompey had at last inherited some piece of his father’s fortune and good name; and Caesar had finished taking his revenge on the assassins. On the second night of their party, Antony announced his victory in Syria. The rebel Quintus Labienus was dead; Syria was again under Roman authority.
At this news, finally made public, Maecenas glanced up at me from his table as he lay beside Caesar. I stood at attention against the wall and refused to meet his gaze, however. That was all Maecenas needed in order to believe I had betrayed Antony. I cannot say if he ever considered the possibility that Antony had sent me on my errand, but this I do know: for the remainder of his life Maecenas always treated me as a close friend.
A day or so later Pompey returned to Sicily, where he proceeded to execute the last of those senators who had murdered the divine Julius Caesar. As for our new Caesar, once he had left the heads of the assassins in the Forum for all to see, he retreated to Gaul, where he might impress Rome with glowing reports of his martial accomplishments. There was, I’m sure, a quite general relief all around when he did not attempt to write a book about it, as his adoptive father had done.
For Antony, the war he had anticipated fighting was now a mopping up operation, something best left to his subordinates. The last thing he needed was to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory – no, he must remain at his court in Athens and let Ventidius recover Syria with the men he presently commanded. Should the Parthians mount a counterattack Antony might then answer with his legions, but only after Ventidius had got in over his head, as he well deserved to do.
Before he departed for Athens, Antony said to me, ‘I suppose you might as well join Herod in Judaea, Dellius – if you still desire it.’
Italy, Greece and Cyprus: August, 39 BC
I arranged for my secretary to take Hannibal to the farm of Titus Flavius Petro, a centurion who was then retiring from Antony’s Guard. Petro’s family possessed no property on the morning Julius Caesar had crossed the Rubicon. Ten years later, having fought for Pompey, then Caesar and finally Antony, Petro had saved up enough fortune to buy a farm at auction. His farm manager was presently breeding horses and had acquired a string of broodmares that he typically bred to three or four of the region’s better stallions. With Hannibal at stud we intended to establish a partnership that might earn us both a handsome income.
We had talked about such a venture at some length, but I had no intention of retiring and I was also reluctant to lose Hannibal before a long and dangerous campaign in Syria. Suddenly, however, the idea was quite appealing. I hadn’t time to waste but needed to use relays of horses to get to Brindisi as quickly as possible. So I gave Hannibal an early retirement, while still retaining complete ownership. I then rode to Brindisi at full gallop, changing horses at every post station along the Appian Way. I left an hour before dawn and arrived at midnight. I was at sea next morning.
Once I had crossed to the Peloponnese I bought a horse, which I rode to Sparta. Within a matter of days I had gathered three hundred cavalrymen, all of whom had been previously committed to Antony’s service. In Athens, with a letter from Antony authorising it, I spent a fortnight recruiting an additional thousand auxiliary infantry. While I was doing this, I stayed at Antony’s palace. I had hoped to see Livia before departing for Judaea, but she had sailed for Brindisi at the news of the Treaty of Misenium.
In fact, I believe she was sailing around the Peloponnese while I was on my way to Athens. At any rate, I missed her by only a matter of days and had not even a note from her when I arrived. I was naturally frustrated but, to be honest, I was confident of her affection. Nor had I any time to worry about Nero giving his permission for her to divorce him. That is not entirely true, come to think of it: there were nights when I awakened in a sweat, imagining Nero had refused to release her from her vows. Of course I would then settle my nerves at once: Livia could get that old boy to do anything she asked; she was going to be my wife and I was a fool to doubt it.
Once Antony arrived in Athens, he added three cohorts of legionary infantry under the command of one of the legion’s prefects, an eques named Poppaedius Silo. Silo had been a client of Livia’s father and, though he had drifted by necessity to Antony for patronage, still had an amicable relationship with the Claudii. Antony’s appointment of this fellow was for the sake of his debt to Nero.
Silo was nearly a decade older than I and doubtlessly resented being my subordinate. Still, as long as we stood in Antony’s company, he refused to show his colours. As soon as our fleet set sail, Silo approached me. We were in fact still in the harbour. I was looking at golden Athens on its famous hill when I felt his presence. ‘I’m taking the legionary and auxiliary cohorts to Ventidius,’ he said. ‘You can do as you like with the Spartan cavalry, but the rest are mine.’
‘Those are not the orders Antony gave,’ I answered.
‘Of course they are. I was standing right next to you when he gave them.’
I considered taking Silo into custody, but the legionaries were loyal to him. As for my Spartan recruits, they were all still quite new to military protocols. This was not a game I could win. So I acquiesced.
We sailed as a fleet as far as Cyprus. Once I had disembarked my men and horses, Silo continued to Tarsus and from there into Syria. Ventidius, after all, had suddenly become a rising star and Silo welcomed the chance to bring him what amounted to half a legion.
Herod’s friends in Cyprus sent a carrier pigeon into Galilee with a note attached to its leg. This informed him succinctly that Q. Dellius came with three hundred cavalry. Within hours of sending the message another bird returned with instructions for me to make port at Acre three days hence.
Herod had arrived in Acre early that spring; he too had led some three hundred mercenary cavalrymen. He had then proceeded to recruit the Galilean bandits who operated along the Syrian and Galilean border. These were the very same villains Herod had sought so earnestly to eradicate when he was first procurator and then later Tetrarch of Galilee.
Of course these fellows had no love for Herod, but neither did they care for Antigonus or his Parthian allies. What they did possess was a grudging respect for Herod’s fighting talents. So with gold and promises of perfect autonomy in Herod’s new kingdom, he turned them into allies. By mid-summer Herod’s raids on Antigonus’s strongholds in Galilee had inspired still more of the bandit gangs to support his cause. He had also negotiated terms with certain of the Samaritan nobility. These men despised the pro-Judaean Antigonus, who, like Herod, now sported the title of king. The Samaritans were not yet willing to provide fighting men for Herod’s army, but they were willing to shelter Herod’s men on Herod’s promise that they would have some limited autonomy in his new government.
Ever since Ventidius had broken into Syria at midsummer, Herod’s fortunes had been on the rise. In fact, after months of assaults on Jewish strongholds, which had always included plunder, Herod’s Galilean bandits finally agreed to attack the Judaean army besieging Masada. These bandits were extremely tribal in their view of the world. Early on, they had resisted the idea of going to Masada and insisted on staying in territory they knew. Flush with riches from a profitable summer they might have preferred retiring for an early winter holiday, but Herod begged their help. Without it, he said, he would lose his mother, his wife, his son, his sister and his two younger brothers.
Even bandits love their families, and so they agreed to risk everything for Herod’s sake. Of course, there were also deals with certain of the patriarchs of these bandit clans, including promises of high position in Herod’s new government, but Herod knew that the rank and file must believe in a cause, especially one that did not offer instant gratification in the form of fresh plunder.
I learned much of this shortly after my arrival, and I must say the news left me uncertain. I had imagined Herod brought several legions of mercena
ries into Galilee and then rallied old friends from the area for support. I had not imagined that he had been forced to recruit his former enemies. In fact, he was nothing more than a king of bandit country, boasting at most a thousand fighting men. We had enjoyed a larger force when we fled Jerusalem.
An accomplished general with more than twenty years in the saddle, Herod had shaped his army of mercenaries and bandits into a potent force, but the Galileans were still only bandits at heart. Such men know one thing above all else. In a tight spot, it is always best to run. They were constitutionally incapable of engaging and holding an enemy line for several hours the way legions fight.
Nor did I bring much to the banquet. My recruits were not even blooded. I had made sure they had some training during our brief sojourn in Athens, but afterwards we had no further opportunities. They were all young men who had learned to hunt, but few of them had ever seen mortal combat outside the arenas; I don’t think any of them had ever held a knife in anger. Truth is most of them were on their first journey away from their mothers.
I did not care to confess to Herod that Silo had disobeyed Antony’s orders. Instead, I explained that Silo would eventually support Herod’s cause but had first wanted to report to Ventidius and coordinate with the legions in Syria. We spent a week sending couriers into Syria to ask for reinforcements. In the end, Herod received much encouragement and with it the promise that Ventidius intended to send Silo into Judaea before winter.
And with that discouraging message Herod told me we had no more time. We had to move at once or lose everyone at Masada.
The Road to Masada: October, 39 BC
The fighting at Masada had been quite desperate the previous autumn. Antigonus had wanted to kill all of Herod’s family and so brought his army to the mountain fortress hoping to overwhelm Masada’s defenders.
A month into it Antigonus had finally acknowledged the folly of his plan. Masada was a magnificent fortress and simply could not be taken as long as there were men to defend the only road leading to its high plateau. He could buy off Masada’s defenders easier than he could kill them. Which is exactly what he decided to do.
This change in policy left Herod’s younger brothers, his sister Salome, and even his mother making desperate promises on Herod’s behalf. Any man betraying Herod could count on being hunted down and killed. Any man remaining on the mountain would know Herod’s eternal gratitude. It is doubtful such promises meant very much to his veteran mercenaries, and by early winter most of Herod’s former army had left the mountain. The only men who remained were the four hundred wounded Spartan cavalrymen I had been forced to leave behind. If they abandoned the fight, they knew Antony would have his revenge on their families in Sparta. No bribe or promise was ever going to bring them off that hill.
During the winter there had been some raids against the mountain’s defences, but these had cost the attackers dearly. With spring word came that Herod had come into Galilee with an army. When he did not immediately rescue those at Masada the last of Herod’s mercenaries slipped away. But still the Spartans remained; not a single man deserted.
The problem at Masada was the same we had suffered in the citadel at Jerusalem. The water reservoirs were insufficient for the population. In fact, if not for the desertions, Herod’s family could not have survived through the summer. Some unexpected rainfall in late summer had extended the days remaining before the water was gone, but after that there would be no choice but to break out and make a run for Arabian Nabataea; this of course would include only those civilians capable of such a desperate journey. The rest must either be killed or abandoned to torture and crucifixion.
Before leaving Acre, Herod sent a carrier pigeon to friends in Jericho, who then forwarded birds to Masada and certain friendly Idumaeans in the south. We then packed our supplies on some fifty spare horses and departed Acre two hours before sunrise. This brought us down the coastal road as far as Strabo’s Tower by midday. Here we made camp and rested for three hours. These days Strabo’s Tower is the famous harbour town of Caesarea; in those days it was nothing more than a post station along the coastal road without even a cove for ships to take shelter.
We departed late that afternoon and rode until nearly midnight before our second rest. This camp was five miles north of Ashkelon, where twenty-five hundred infantry and cavalry were set to stop Herod’s advance on Masada. Outnumbered two-to-one, we ought to have abandoned all hope, but Herod had arranged for the men we had left in Egypt to join us. Two hours before dawn, according to their orders, these cohorts brought artillery forward and began lobbing fire into the city. When the garrison responded by sending cavalry against them, they retreated quickly to some makeshift fortifications. The Judaean cavalry, seeing the chance to destroy the entire force, called for infantry reinforcements.
Our scouts were watching for just this moment and we were soon riding through the darkness and into the rear of the Judaean infantry. The moment we hit them, our Egyptian cohorts attacked as well. With the enemy trapped between us, the slaughter that followed left a thousand dead or wounded; as for the rest of them, they hadn’t the courage to keep on fighting and ran into the sea.
We had no time for happy reunions. We gathered what extra horses we could find and rode double for the rest. Masada lay fifty miles due east and Herod wanted to cover as much ground as he could lest the remnants of the force at Ashkelon regroup and give chase. We took thirty miles by midday and then called for a rest. Next morning, four hours before dawn, we rode the last leg of the journey.
Masada: October, 39 BC
An army the size of a legion waited for us, but their singular duty was to guard the path leading to the top of the mountain. As that road lay on Masada’s eastern flank, the army’s camp was located there too. This was not far from the waters of the Dead Sea. We came out of the west using the cover of the hills. Still in darkness, we broke into the open and raced toward the mountain. Judaean sentries raised the alarm then retreated hurriedly.
Herod took twelve hundred riders along the northern route; I went south with my six hundred Spartans, all of whom by this point had seen battle. Herod came into the fight a quarter of an hour before we did. The Judaeans were still coming awake when he hit them, and for a time Herod’s men ran down squads as they tried desperately to organise a defence. Once the Judaean commanders had called their men to order, Herod sounded the retreat. The Judaean infantry, now well positioned to repulse Herod’s second attack, suddenly discovered my Spartan cavalry coming at their camp from the south.
Herod gave their generals no time to organise a second line, but reversed course and charged with his entire cavalry once more. I hit the Judaeans from the opposite side simultaneously, using a combination of horse and infantry.
Once the dust had blinded everyone, Herod’s Galilean bandits pretended panic. Giving a cry of terror, they broke and ran, as bandits are known to do. Seeing an easy victory there for the asking, the Judaean commander ordered an attack against Herod’s exposed flank.
The Galilean bandits, however, quickly reversed direction and came crashing into those Judaeans furthest in advance. Before the Judaeans could pull themselves back into formation, my Spartan auxiliaries on the mountaintop came down on foot and drove into the enemy at its western flank. With enemy forces now on four sides and no hope of forming any kind of defensive line, the Judaeans threw down their weapons and begged for mercy.
Those who had abandoned Masada to join the enemy were sorted out and executed in the aftermath of the battle. The rest were given the opportunity to return to Antigonus in Jerusalem or join Herod’s army. Some few men left, but those with no political stake were happy to swear allegiance to Herod, upon whom it seemed Fortune now smiled.
Afterwards, Herod and I ascended the long road to the mountaintop and greeted those of his family and friends whom we had not seen for sixteen months. I found Salome beyond the press of bodies, her eyes bright but tearless. ‘I must tell you, sir,’ she said, ‘I was beginn
ing to think you’d forgotten us.’
Jericho: Winter, 39 – 38 BC
Following his victory at Masada, Herod advanced on Jericho. His numbers now exceeded three thousand fighting men. There was some resistance at the walls of Jericho but friends in the city opened the gates on the very day we attacked. At that point, Antigonus’s garrison threw down their weapons. Once again, Herod gave the captured men the choice of joining him or returning to Antigonus and once more his numbers swelled. As for the rest of us, we were soon installed inside the walls of that most ancient and splendid city. Once we had taken Jericho, Silo marched into Judaea with nearly a full legion under his authority. These included the three cohorts Antony had sent, plus auxiliaries and some mercenaries provided by Ventidius. We imagined the war would soon come to a conclusion. Instead, Silo negotiated a treaty with King Antigonus.
This amounted to Antigonus providing Silo with Judaean gold. With these matters settled, Silo retreated with his army back across the Syrian border, claiming yet another Roman victory for Ventidius.
Jericho is an oasis town at the base of the Judaean mountains. It is rich in produce of every variety but most famous for balsam. Due largely to the wealth of its population, Herod had enjoyed a great many contacts in this city when his father served as a Roman procurator. Despite the city’s close proximity to Jerusalem, Herod elected to winter his troops here. Antigonus sent a force down the mountain to hold us in place, but there was otherwise very little contact between the two armies that winter.
With the seas closed for the season, I had no choice but to spend my winter in Jericho with Herod. With the coming of spring Herod’s army broke out of Jericho and fought its way north along the Jordan valley. In the wake of his victories at Ashkelon and Masada and Jericho, he found fresh recruits in Galilee. The Samaritan lords eventually provided him over two thousand additional cavalry. For my part, I had fulfilled my promise to those Spartans I had left behind and sailed with them to Greece with the help of Herod’s friends in Cyprus.
