Stone and Steel

by David Blixt

  He ducked a swing, but the enemy brought the pommel back to strike his cheek. Asher's nose erupted in blood. Against his will he shouted, “Judah!”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  TITUS WATCHED THE growing broyle with excitement. Judeans were pouring out of Jotapata. It wasn't a battle, not yet. But if he tended it like a weak fire, fanning the embers, it could erupt into a conflagration. “Barbarus, have the men step back. Make it look like we're faltering. Draw them in!” The siege might end here and now, in a proper battle after all.

  Looks like he knows what he's about. Blessing Mithras for his legate's canny strategy, Barbarus led his century backwards, as if afraid. “Redite! Redite!”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  HEARING ASHER'S CRY, Judah spun around. Face and arm covered in blood, Asher had only a shield, swinging it wildly at the Romans closing in for the kill.

  “Asher!!” Possessed with a fury, Judah rushed towards his twin, raking his blades in wild upwards swings, scattering the Romans between him and his brother. “Run! Get out of it! I'll–”

  Asher blocked a cut with his shield. “Judah, look out!”

  It was as though a string had been cut in his leg. Falling, Judah cut wildly behind him, catching his attacker at the knee, slicing clean through the leather pyteriges and into the kneecap. The shrieking Roman fell sideways and Judah dispatched him with a contemptuous flick of his wrist.

  Another Roman was driving in for the kill. On one knee, Judah trapped the incoming blade by making a V with both his swords. One sword sent the thrust aside while the other stabbed the Roman's groin.

  Judah felt flesh against his back. Asher had stayed, kneeling just behind him and using the shield to protect them both for a few moments more. He heard Asher's dry voice croak, “With you I should love to live, with you be ready to die.”

  “No fucking poetry!” Judah was laughing and crying as eager Romans came at them from both sides. “Come on then! Finish it..!”

  “Judah! Asher! Roll north!”

  They both obeyed, rolling sideways and bumping into each other. Looking back they saw Levi leap through the flames to stab one Roman in the throat while clubbing another with his shield. The bodyguard tore into the Roman ranks, again showing his terrible skill as he massacred four Romans single-handedly.

  Phannius, Philip, and Netir were right behind him, while Zamaris, Gareb, Deuel, Chalafta and a dozen more defenders lifted Judah and Asher clear from the ground and carried them to safety.

  Shielded from Roman fury, the twins gasped for breath. Asher's teeth were bright against his bloodied face. “I guess neither of us die today!”

  “Better to be lucky than good.” Judah glanced up at the Roman command hill, where the general's personal standard remained. “Bastard couldn't even be bothered to come and fight.” He bent low and retrieved a bow from a dead Syrian. “Let's give the old man a fright.”

  Wincing against the pain in his thigh, Judah was pleased to find he could still stand. Planting his feet wide, he nocked an arrow and let it fly in a high arc over the heads of all the combatants.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  UNMINDFUL OF THE growing skirmish below, Vespasian was still reading:

  I have news, which I've heard only just this minute, that affects you nearly. Caesar has at last found a governor of Syria to replace the disgraced Cestius. None other than Gaius Licinius Mucianus. Do you know him at all? As his name suggests, he is a Licinius only by adoption. He was born a Mucian, and looks just like them – short, dark, and pouty. An appreciator of games and the arts – of all things Greek, in fact – his promotion was inevitable. He'll arrive in September.

  He'll take credit for anything, so make certain he cannot—

  A shooting pain in Vespasian's right foot made him gasp. Looking over the letter's top, he saw an arrow sticking out of his heel.

  “Jupiter!” he exclaimed, more incredulous than injured. “I've just been made into Achilles!”

  At once his aides began yelling for help. Hearing his mix of profanity and laughter, they knew the matter was none too serious.

  But as the cry passed down the ranks, the message altered:

  “The general's been shot in the foot!”

  “The general's been shot!”

  “The general's been shot dead!”

  “The general's dead! The general's dead!!”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  FIGHTING CLOSE TO TITUS, Nicanor suddenly pointed. “There, legatus! That's him – Josephus!”

  Titus spied the handsome long face with the scythe of a nose. The enemy general was in the field! “Now, Barbarus, now! Wrap them up!”

  “Yes, sir!” The centurion signaled the bugler. “Porro! Porro!”

  But just as the bugler was about to blow the order, the military tribune Titus Frigius came up at the gallop. “Titus Flavius! The general, sir! The general is dead!”

  Barbarus looked to Titus. Press the attack, young legate. Forget the news! Press on! You'll never have another chance!

  But in the struggle between son and soldier, the soldier lost. “Fall back! Fall back!”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  “HOW'S THE SHOULDER?” asked Judah, kneeling and rubbing dirt into his thigh to stop the bleeding.

  Sitting beside him, Asher flexed and winced. “If I'm alive tomorrow, it's going to hurt. Your leg?”

  “The same.” Both were covered in blood, dirt, and small burns. Judah looked around at the Judean soldiers protecting them. “I think I love them.”

  Asher laughed. Then they heard a cheer. Standing, it took both twins a moment to comprehend what they saw. “They're pulling back? They're pulling back!” Asher pumped his fist into the air.

  Judah was about to do the same when he saw Philip and Netir laying side-by-side, their eyes open, the ghost of laughter still on their faces. The tax collectors had finally expiated their sin with the best coin they could offer – their own blood.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  “WHAT IN HADES is Titus doing?” asked Vespasian, seeing the Fifteenth retreating. “He has them! All he has to do is bring his flank around and block their retreat!”

  “I imagine he's heard you're hurt, sir,” replied an orderly, using a blade to cut the arrowhead from the general's foot.

  Vespasian groaned, not at the pain but the stupidity. “Is the foot bad? Can I ride?”

  In answer, the man removed the arrowhead intact from the flesh of Vespasian's heel. “Most of its strength was spent, sir. It's amazing it made it this far. Hardly deep at all.”

  “Then hurry and wrap it, man!” Vespasian cried. “I've got to get out there and show them I'm not dead.”

  “You really should soak it for poisons, sir —”

  “Pah! Just get it wrapped and put me on a horse!”

  Five minutes later Vespasian was galloping down from the crest, waving and exhorting his men on. This lasted until he reached Titus, who embraced him unashamedly while the legionaries formed a protective square about them.

  “Pater! They said you were dead!”

  “Let this serve as a reminder,” said Vespasian, wincing. “Always lead from the front! Now let's see if we can salvage this battle! Placidus! Get that cavalry around their flank!”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  YOSEF HAD FOUGHT his way to the front ranks, determined to be seen as brave. That it was actually brave did not occur to him. He was in the thick of it when suddenly a miracle occurred – the Romans pulled back! The Judeans swelled, pressing their attack against a disorganized foe. Could they repeat their feat at Beth Horon? Was God giving the Judeans another victory? Is this my reward?

  But then something changed. There came a palpable shift as the Romans settled down. The retreating shields began to advance again. When Yosef heard the thunder of horses, he knew that the moment had passed. “Back! Back to the walls!”

  They listened. He had not lost their love. By fighting in the front ranks, he had retained their respect, and the Lord's favour.

  ♦ ◊ ♦


  LITERALLY CARRIED BACK to safety, the twins' feet didn't touch the ground. Hugged and blessed by crowds of women and children, Asher and Judah were finally allowed to rest in the yard to General Yosef's own palace. Asher's left arm hung limp, and Judah was sitting sideways to relieve the pressure on his thigh.

  Their joy at being alive was tempered by the deaths they had caused. It was hard not to think that the joking brothers had died in their stead.

  The gates to Yosef's home opened and the deafening cheers began again. Amid the cheering, Asher heard a familiarly musical voice. “Asher ben Matthais! Judah ben Matthais! Your bravery has given this entire city hope. Hear their acclaim! And hear too the Roman reply!” He cupped a hand to his ear theatrically. “Silence! The siege works have lost their voices. Come what may, your bravery will be remembered forever!”

  Even as he congratulated them, there was a glower in Yosef's eye. But he played the perfect host, arranging a feast and declaring that the twins might drink all the water they desired – a great gift.

  “Please, we must say this was not our plan,” declared Judah. Asher looked at him curiously, but Judah pressed on. “Philip and Netir, the publicans, were the real architects of this scheme. They died today protecting us. Give the credit to them.”

  Asher nodded. A prayer was said. As the revels began, they were taken aside to have a doctor look at their wounds. “Nicely done,” said Asher softly.

  “Thanks,” grunted Judah, wincing.

  “Having trouble sitting?”

  From his tilted angle, Judah grimaced. “Thigh wound, you hear me? It's a thigh wound.”

  The doctor working on Asher raised an eyebrow. “As you say. Though, in point of fact, you were stabbed in the arse.”

  Judah raised a warning fist at his chortling brother. “If you tell Phannius, I'll murder you myself.”

  Asher clutched his own wound. “Dammit, don't make me laugh!”

  Grinning, Judah held out his hand. Asher took it. They had survived. It was a miracle.

  Seeing Levi approach, Judah called to him. “You should be celebrating!”

  “I am,” answered Levi, stopping beside him. “I celebrate my liberation. I am no longer bodyguard to Yosef.”

  “Good for you!” Judah could admire the way Yosef had led them, and he certainly appreciated the general's inventiveness. But Judah couldn't forgive the attempt at escape, nor shake the certainty that Yosef was not here for the people, but thought the people were here for him.

  “Yosef is a fool.” Asher's feelings were more complex, his anger deeper. “Did you resign?”

  Levi shook his head. “I was released. By chasing after you two, I failed to honour my contract.”

  “That would do it,” chuckled Judah.

  “Well I, for one, thank you,” said Asher.

  “Yes,” said Judah, a little light-headedly. “That's the second time you've saved my life. I'm grateful, sure. But it begs the question, why?”

  Levi spoke in his normal, affectless tone. “I had promised to deliver a message to you. I am a man of my word.”

  Still smiling, Judah looked puzzled. “Message?”

  “From Deborah. She is alive, and close at hand.”

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  WHILE JUDAH heard this news, while the defenders celebrated, while Jotapata rejoiced, the Romans laboured. At dawn the next day, the engineers rolled out new catapults. The siege continued.

  XXX

  “WHERE IS SHE? Where?” Judah looked about, half expecting to see her magically appear within the walls.

  “She's in Sogane, in the palace of Queen Berenice,” said Levi. “She sent word through someone I knew when I was in the king's employ. He says she —”

  “Judah! Judah, you bastard!” Phannius barreled over to where they were being treated and started smacking Judah about the head. Unable to stand, Judah had balled his fists before he realized the huge idiot was being playful.

  “You incredible, monstrous fool! Do you expect me to go rescue Deborah, only to tell her you've gotten yourself killed before you even knew she was alive? What kind of bastard does that?”

  “My kind,” said Judah, smiling ruefully. “Is she truly safe?”

  “She told Levi's friend that she was safe until she reached Mount Tabor, then she ran into ruffians – those same fools who robbed the king's courier.” Phannius' face darkened. “She might have been killed – or worse. You know whose fault that is, right?”

  Judah nodded. “I know.”

  “But she wasn't,” said Levi.

  “No,” agreed Phannius. “By pure chance, the Queen was on her way here from Gamala, crossing the River Jordan south of Lake Gennesar. Running from the band of scoundrels, Deborah fled right into the Queen's arms. She's been there all summer.”

  “Thank the Lord,” sighed Judah. Asher reached out a hand, and Judah clasped it, uttering a quiet prayer of thankfulness. Then he looked to Phannius. “You have to get out of here.”

  The large chinless mason was visibly startled. “What?”

  “We have to get you out. You didn't come here to fight. You came to save your sister. We'll get a message to her through Levi's friend, then somehow sneak you up into the mountains. Get you both away from here.”

  For some reason, Phannius looked absolutely furious. “Why don't you go?”

  Judah pointed to his wound. “I'm not sneaking off anywhere. And I'm not going to tell her I left her brother to die. It has to be you.”

  Phannius ground his teeth together. “You bastard.” Turning, he stalked away.

  Judah looked to Asher, who shrugged. It was left to Levi to explain. “He came by accident. But he's been here for the whole siege.”

  “All the more reason to want to escape.”

  “He thinks you view him as a coward. You'll stay here to die, while he creeps away and tells his sister how brave you were, and he wasn't.”

  “O for the love of…! I'm trying to get him to save the woman we both love!”

  “Deborah is safe for the moment. The city needs him more than she does. He wants you to see that.”

  Judah rolled his eyes incredulously. “Since when did it matter to that great lummox what I think?”

  “Since you became a hero,” said Asher.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  THE PROPHESIZED FORTY-NINE days were nearly up, and Vespasian's honour demanded he not allow Yosef that symbolic victory. These things mattered, if only to the spirit of the people of Judea. If Vespasian was to win this war, he had to break that spirit.

  Every day of the following week he sent Big Julius rolling out to bash the walls from dawn until dusk, when fighting devolved to minor skirmishes through the night.

  But Vespasian did not place all his hopes on the ram, which seemed to have no effect on the thick city walls. Daily he inched his legions nearer behind fortified banks. Others tried to emulate Asher and Judah, but there was now a wall of shields around every siege engine, and plenty of sand and water to put out any fire.

  As the Romans drew nearer, their catapult stones reached deeper into the city. At any moment sudden death could fall upon any place in the city.

  For days Judah and Asher's wounds kept them from joining in any fighting. But Judah was soon walking, and Asher had full, if painful, use of his arm. Phannius was part of the raids every night, whether it was Zamaris leading the men or not.

  “What's he trying to prove?” demanded Judah. If the idiot got himself murdered, Deborah would never forgive him. Or herself.

  But he wished he could be out there fighting, too. Life in the city was a nightmare. Stones were falling with terrifying rapidity, crushing homes and palaces and taverns and men.

  Worse, thirst was turning the people against each other, as throats closed and fathers saw their children suffer. There were attacks on the wells, and even attempts to dig down to the warren of tunnels beneath the city – not to escape, but just to find something to drink.

  At midday on the forty-fifth day of the siege, Juda
h was in a plaza at the heart of the city, standing guard over a well with Gareb. It was necessary, and also a blessing to have something to do.

  “We have a bet, you know,” said Gareb.

  “Oh? A lottery? When the Romans will run out of stones?”

  “This is Judea. They'll never run out.” As if in counterpoint they heard a crack, followed by the rumble of a building wall collapsing. They were deep enough in the city that stones couldn't reach. “No, we have a pool as to which of you slips away to rescue your woman first.”

  Judah was silent. He'd thought of little else for five days. His eagerness to heal was spurred by the thought that Deborah was close. Every night he argued with Phannius, telling him to surrender to Levi's friend Nicanor and go be with his sister, take her back to Jerusalem where it was safe. But Phannius refused. “You go! You're no use to anyone else right now. I'm here and I'm going to fight!”

  Now Judah and Gareb were standing with a dozen other men, some wounded, some needing rest, all encircling one of the city's main wells. Suddenly they heard a voice shout, “Judah! Gareb!”

  Turning, they saw Chava waddling across the square towards them. The short woman looked nearly as wide as she was tall, her swollen belly threatening to topple her.

  “Look at you!” said Judah smiling. He winced as he waved her over. “Ready to burst.”

  “Any day!” she called, making slow progress towards them.

  “Let's hope he waits another week or so,” said the lean Gareb. “If he's born on the fiftieth day, he'll make his daddy proud. Defiant with his first breath!” Chava smiled at that, perhaps the first real smile since her husband's death.

  She was still approaching them slowly when they heard a loud crack. Chava seemed to disappear, replaced by a red cloud as blood misted the air in front of her. Judah heard her gasp even over the crash of the round stone striking on the paving stone. He stared, but it was a long moment before his mind comprehended what he was seeing.

  Chava's swollen belly was suddenly concave. Tracing the trail of blood from her to the ground beside her, Judah saw a pulped, bloody mass smeared across the ground. Among the smear there was a tiny, perfectly shaped hand. Judah gagged, and several of the other men turned to vomit or weep outright.