We rode along the shore of the Salt Sea and then headed northwest to Jericho, crossing the River Jordan via a ford. Alexander, Levi and Ananus stayed behind at the river to ensure our escape route stayed open. Byrd led Aaron’s horse as we rode the last five miles to Jericho. It was well past dawn when I saw the walls of Jericho for the first time, a stone circuit that encompassed the town and was broken only on the eastern side – the town’s sole gate. In the distance, beyond the town to the west, were mountains that looked down on the fertile plain in which Jericho was situated. Alexander told me that the fields around the town grew spices and flowers for perfumes but the main product was dates. Indeed, Jericho was nicknamed ‘town of palm trees’. As we approached the town gates I saw wooden poles planted in the ground on top of a small hill just off the road, some of them with crossbeams attached from which hung skeletons with grinning skulls. The Romans had planted their own unique crops in the area as well.
There was already traffic on the road, haggard-looking men leading donkeys and camels laden with wares going towards the open gates and passing others exiting the town. I halted our small contingent adjacent to the hill where the crucifixions were carried out. Giant crows were already perched on some of the crossbeams, eagerly awaiting the next batch of unfortunates who would be nailed to crosses. It could take up to five days to die on the cross and in that time the ravens would feast on the bodies of the condemned, pecking out their eyes first and then gorging themselves on their flesh.
‘Domitus and Malik,’ I ordered, ‘stay here. When Surena and I begin to kill the escort that will be your signal to free Aaron. Byrd, you stay with Aaron’s horse back up the road. When you see that he has been freed, make haste and get it to him. Then ride with him back to the ford as quickly as you can. Everyone understand?’
They all nodded and I nudged Remus forward with Surena behind me as Byrd retreated two hundred paces or so back up the road. As Remus walked towards the town there was a commotion at the gates and then a party of Roman legionaries appeared, twelve men in two files flanking a stooping figure with a heavy crossbeam across his shoulders – Aaron. His pace was slow and he shuffled his feet as he trudged towards his place of execution.
‘Surena, ride on the left-hand side of the road and I will take the right-hand side. Wait for my command before you begin shooting.’
‘Yes, lord,’ he replied.
I saw a centurion at the head of the column with his telltale transverse crest atop his helmet. The legionaries behind him were equipped with mail shirts, shields and helmets. They carried short spears rather than javelins, no doubt for crowd control should there be any trouble. That appeared distinctly unlikely for behind the soldiers trooped a small number of civilians led by what looked like a priest in blue and white robes. He sported a black beard whose ends were fashioned into coils. He seemed to be chanting some sort of prayer. Behind him came two ashen-faced women, one of them middle aged supporting the other, younger one who was sobbing uncontrollably. Aaron’s beloved I assumed.
Both Surena and I had our head cloths covering our faces as we ambled past the centurion at the head of the column and the legionaries filed past us one by one. I glanced at Aaron; his eyes cast down, and saw blood around his shoulders. The Romans had already scourged him, as was their custom, to further increase his torment once he was fixed to the cross. His arms were also spread along the crossbeam and held in place by leather straps. They made it impossible for him to struggle while hammering nails through his wrists. The Romans were above all a practical people in such matters.
Behind the wailing woman and her older friend came the usual chaff that accompanied public executions: the bloodthirsty, the sanctimonious, the curious and those whose lives were so wretched that they could only be made bearable by being witness to suffering greater than their own. These people I did not concern myself with. They would disappear faster than the crows perched on the crucifixion posts when the violence began.
Aaron was bundled off the road and onto the hillock beside it. Then he was shoved roughly by a legionary towards one of the poles. These were not high, no more than seven feet I estimated, just high enough to allow the crossbeam to be planted on top by means of a square peg of wood that had been carved from the top of the pole. There was a hole of the same shape in the middle of the crossbeam, which could easily be slotted onto the top of the pole. Simple and effective. The victim would be left to dangle and would die in agony as the weight of his body prevented him from filling his lungs with air. He would try to pull himself up but the pain in his wrists would be excruciating, and so his strength would fail and he would die of asphyxiation. Eventually.
The crucifixion party had halted now and were grouped around the waiting pole. There was a ladder propped up behind it. Once the victim had been lifted into position by two legionaries holding each end of the crossbeam, another on the ladder in a final act of cruelty would adjust the leather straps to allow the victim to sag slightly, at the same time giving him the means to breathe, if he could pull himself up with his arms.
The small crowd had gathered around the legionaries as Aaron stood with his eyes closed, his lips moving as he recited a prayer I assumed. We all seek the comfort of our gods when death is close. I looked at the young woman who was barely able to stand due to her grief, her friend supporting her as she wailed. The centurion stood and faced the crowd, a look of boredom on his face, while two of his men stood either side of Aaron and turned him so that he also faced the onlookers.
‘Let it be known that Aaron, son of Jacob,’ the centurion’s voice was emotionless, ‘has been found guilty of being an enemy of Rome and the Judean authorities and has been sentenced to death.’
A legionary threw a bag of nails on the ground at Aaron’s feet. Another put his spear and shield on the ground and pulled a hammer from his belt. I looked over to Surena and nodded. I glanced at Domitus and Malik who had dismounted and moved among the crowd. I reached behind and pulled my bow from its case, then extracted an arrow from my quiver. The centurion continued.
‘The people of Rome condemn you. The gods of Rome condemn you.’
He turned and nodded to the two legionaries standing beside Aaron and I released my bowstring. The arrow hissed through the air and struck the centurion in the middle of his back, causing him to first arch his body and then pitch forward onto the ground. Surena’s first arrow hit the legionary holding the hammer in his chest, the bronze arrowhead going through his mail shirt and into his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. My second arrow hit the legionary who had been carrying the bag of nails in the belly, knocking him to the ground.
I strung another arrow and saw Domitus draw his gladius and thrust it through the neck of a legionary who had heard the dull thud of the arrows hitting his comrades and had turned to see where the noise was coming from. He never saw the face of his killer as blood sheeted from his neck and he collapsed on the ground. Malik had run his sword through the legionary who had been standing next to the one that Domitus had killed and was running towards Aaron.
Chaos erupted as people scattered in all directions to avoid being killed. They had come to witness another man die but now faced danger themselves. A legionary grasped his spear to throw at Malik, who was desperately cutting at the leather straps that pinioned Aaron’s arms to the crossbeam. My arrow felled him before he could throw it.
Half the Romans had been killed by now as Malik freed Aaron and Byrd galloped down the road leading his horse. Malik bundled a stunned Aaron towards his waiting horse as Domitus, who had grabbed an abandoned scutum, fought the rest of the Romans single-handedly. A legionary ran at him with his spear levelled but Domitus jumped aside and went down on his right knee as his opponent passed him, then cut deep into the man’s hamstring with a wicked back slash of his gladius. The man yelped and halted, and was knocked off his feet by an arrow shot by Surena. I killed another Roman who attempted to flee back to the town, who in his blind panic did not see the man on a wh
ite horse in front of him who calmly pointed his arrow straight at his chest and then released his bowstring. It was all over in less than two minutes.
Surena whooped with joy as he surveyed the dead Romans on the ground and held his bow aloft. He then spotted the Jewish holy man who stood like a rock in the middle of the road and who was berating me like a man possessed, his eyes wide and his voice booming as he aimed a stream of invective in my direction. What he was saying I did not know but by his tone and demeanour I assumed he was calling on his god to strike me down.
Twang.
The holy man fell silent when Surena’s arrow went through his ribcage.
I trotted over to where he sat in his saddle with a smug expression on his face.
‘It is considered bad luck to kill holy men,’ I told him, ‘lest you offend their gods.’
‘I don’t believe in the gods, lord,’ he grinned, holding up his bow, ‘only in this and the man who shoots it.’
I rode over to where Malik was shoving Aaron into his saddle.
‘How is he?’
‘He will live,’ said Malik, ‘but his back needs tending to.’
‘That will have to wait. Byrd, get him out of here.’
‘Thank you, majesty,’ said Aaron weakly.
Domitus ran over with his and Malik’s horse.
‘That was easy enough. We had better get out of here.’
Suddenly the young woman who had been weeping was by Aaron’s side, kissing his hand, tears running down her face. Then the other woman appeared beside her friend.
‘We must take them too, majesty,’ said Aaron. ‘They will be in danger if they remain.’
Domitus hauled himself into his saddle. ‘We must go, Pacorus. We can’t take any women with us.’
‘Please, majesty,’ implored Aaron, the young woman still clutching his hand. The older woman looked up at me with sad brown eyes.
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Malik, the young woman will ride with you and Domitus can take the elder one.’
Domitus was not amused. ‘What?’
‘Just do as I ask,’ I ordered as Malik pulled the young woman up behind him.
Domitus shook his head and did likewise, just as Byrd pointed towards the town.
‘Romani horsemen come.’
I turned and saw a column of riders gallop through the town gates, about ten in number and armed with spears and carrying round shields on their left sides.
‘The rest of you go now,’ I shouted. ‘Surena and I will form the rear guard. Move!’
They rode back towards the ford as I pulled an arrow from my quiver and followed them with Surena beside me.
‘Aim for the horses,’ I shouted to him.
They were closing on us fast as I tensed my thigh muscles to keep me locked in the saddle and twisted to the left to look behind me. They were riding two abreast about fifty paces behind us. I released my bowstring and the arrow hit the right front horse, pitching its rider over its head as it collapsed on the ground. Surena’s arrow was shot too high and missed the flanking horse but struck its rider. The result was that our pursuers were thrown into disorder as they swerved left and right to avoid colliding with the head of the column.
I halted and turned Remus around as the others galloped towards the ford. Surena pulled up his mount when he realised I was no longer beside him and rode back to me.
‘Is Remus lame, lord?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘We have slowed them but we need to drop a few more to deter them from pursuing us.’
I strung an arrow and hit another of their horses, then hit a rider who was charging towards me. I kept pulling arrows from my quiver and shot them in quick succession until it was empty. Surena did the same and my gamble paid off, for the enemy riders, those who still lived, retreated back towards the town. We waited there for a few minutes to ensure they did not rally to continue their pursuit, before continuing our journey to the ford.
At the river we found a waiting Byrd and no one else.
‘Others have gone on ahead, back to camp.’
I told him and Surena to ride ahead as I halted Remus on the eastern bank of the Jordan and watched and waited for any other pursuers. After ten minutes of seeing no one save a poor farmer pulling a surly donkey weighed down with a great load of firewood, I followed my companions back to camp. Alexander had posted sentries all round the campsite when I reached it half an hour later, and had also positioned lookouts on the surrounding hills.
‘We can’t stay here much longer,’ he said, wincing as Domitus cauterised a wound on Aaron’s back with his dagger that had been heated in a fire.
‘How long do we have?’ I asked him.
‘The authorities have probably sent an urgent message to Alexandreum for reinforcements. They won’t do anything until they arrive. I would say we have about three hours before they send riders to track us down.’
After leading Remus to the stream to drink I sauntered over to where the young woman was applying a bandage to Aaron’s wounds.
‘How’s the patient?’ I enquired.
Domitus wiped his dagger on a rag and replaced it in its sheath.
‘He’ll live.’
I watched as the woman tenderly assisted Aaron in putting on a fresh tunic, after which she kissed him on the lips. She then stood and faced me. She was dressed in a simple light brown robe, blue belt at her waist, white head cloth and sandals on her feet. She was certainly a striking woman. She fell on her knees before me, took my right hand and kissed it, speaking me to in her native tongue that I did not understand.
Aaron spoke up though his voice was weak from the flogging he had received. ‘She thanks you for saving the life of her beloved and asks god to be kind to you.’
I lifted her up and smiled at her. ‘Tell her that she is very welcome. What is her name?’
‘Rachel, majesty.’
I bowed my head to her. ‘Rachel.’
The elder woman was brought to me. Like the younger one she had an oval face, dark brown eyes and olive skin. She was a tall woman dressed in a blue flowing robe that covered her arms and legs. She too wore a white head cloth.
‘This is Miriam, majesty,’ said Aaron, ‘Rachel’s mother.’
I embraced her as befitting her status. She also thanked me but kept glancing at Malik.
‘I think your tattoos are alarming our guests, Malik. Aaron, tell your future mother-in-law that Malik is a great prince of the Agraci and that he means her no harm.’
To spare the women’s modesty we gave them each a pair of leggings to wear under their robes so they could ride more easily. Then, an hour after I had entered camp, we mounted our horses again for the journey back to Dura. Alexander cautioned against returning via the Jordan Valley and so we headed east into the desert. Malik assured me that we could make our way from oasis to oasis while staying well clear of Judea and Syria, and the Romans. Aaron wanted Rachel to ride behind him but his lacerated back would have made his journey intolerable and so she rode behind Malik. Miriam again rode behind Domitus who protested loudly, but I think he secretly liked the idea of being a woman’s champion.
Before we left we said our farewells to Alexander and his men.
‘When we get back to Dura, Aaron and my governor will work out the details of our arrangement,’ I said to the Jewish prince.
‘How soon will you be able to supply me with weapons?’ he asked.
‘The first consignment will leave Dura the day the first payment in gold arrives, that I promise.’
He offered me his hand. ‘I look forward to a long and mutually beneficial friendship.’
I took his hand. ‘That is what I also wish for, lord prince.’
And so, with full waterskins and sacks filled with fresh provisions and fodder provided by Alexander, we rode east into the sun-blasted land of rock and sand east of Judea. Surena and I acted as a rear guard for the others, and I glanced back one last time to look at the shimmering figure of a Jewish prince silhouetted against
the bleak yellow hills of eastern Judea where that kingdom’s great wealth lay hidden.
We rode for three hours directly east, travelling through sparsely vegetated wadis that ran between limestone and granite cliffs. The steep-sided rock faces dwarfed us as we moved through them, the sounds of iron-shod hooves echoing around the canyons. I kept looking back to see if we were being pursued but saw nothing but a saker falcon or bustard in the sky. I also saw an ibex, a large mountain goat with magnificent curved horns, staring down at us from a precipitous rock ledge high above.
As the day waned the temperature dropped quickly but that night we lit no campfire for fear of alerting any would-be pursuers. We organised a guard rota but I hardly slept a wink as I leaned against a rock wrapped in my cloak with my knees drawn up to my chest. I must have slept a little because I awoke stiff, tired, dirty and chilled to the bone. The others in our party also appeared to have had a less than comfortable night. Rachel and Aaron, however, looked blissfully happy in each other’s company.
We set out east again, following the course of a wide stream that coursed through a great wadi. People think that the desert is a barren wilderness filled with sand dunes and death, and great tracts of it are indeed so. But the desert also contains an abundance of water, animals, plants and people, if you can find them. As our horses waded through water that ran between large boulders and canyon walls rose sheer on either side of us, I was struck by the abundance of greenery in this place. Reeds and small bushes lined the banks of the stream and trees sprouted from the cliff face to resemble a great hanging garden, made green by the water springing from the rock.
The sky was clear blue and the sun beat down to warm the earth, but the cliffs shaded us from its heat. Around midday we halted in a spot where the stream filled a vast rock pool, its waters clear and cool. Surena and Domitus stripped naked and threw themselves in as Rachel and Miriam averted their eyes and Malik laughed. The Agraci prince also disrobed and immersed himself in the waters, his back and chest adorned with black tattoos that were the hallmark of Agraci warriors. I stripped to the waist and washed the grit from my body. I thought it improper that the King of Dura should show himself naked to his subjects, a notion that Domitus ridiculed.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 34
