‘He didn’t take the temple for the supplies,’ Simon told him. Privately he doubted John had fired the entire contents of the grain stores. He was shrewd enough to keep enough back to feed the men under his command. ‘He doesn’t think we can beat the Romans simply by defending the walls. When the food starts to run out, the only way to get it will be from the enemy stores. He believes hungry men will fight harder than those with full bellies, and he may be right.’
‘So the truce is over?’
‘The truce is over.’ Simon watched as a round object soared into the air over the temple wall and fell into the natural gorge that protected the Antonia fortress. Even now one of Simon’s messengers would be running to recover it. A few minutes later the man appeared, breathing hard, in the doorway of the house Simon had taken over close to the temple walls. He displayed a battered human head by its hank of bloody hair. Simon studied the twisted grimace without any hint of recognition and nodded for it to be taken out and placed with the others. ‘How many does that make?’
‘Three hundred,’ Zacharias confirmed. ‘Including Eleazar, his deputies and Phannias.’
Three hundred men who could have helped hold the walls when the Romans came. ‘He won’t kill them all. Eleazar had three thousand men, John will want them fighting for him when the time comes.’
Word had come that something odd was happening in the temple shortly after the hammer blow of Titus’s rejection of terms for the pilgrims. But it wasn’t until the bloodied survivors started to appear that Zacharias was able to give Simon the full story.
Since the start of Passover Eleazar had made a point of opening the temple doors at noon to allow a few pilgrims to carry out their devotions in the Holy of Holies. John of Gischala discovered this and inserted a band of his warriors, their swords hidden beneath cloaks, among the waiting crowd. Once inside they’d chopped down Eleazar’s guards and thrown open the gates. Hundreds more followed to join the slaughter, killing any Zealot who stood in their way.
‘So ends the hero of Beit Horan.’ Simon shook his head. ‘A great warrior and a bigger fool. If Eleazar had joined us, Zacharias, John would have had no choice but to do likewise. What did he think he was going to achieve by holding the temple if we could not keep the Romans from the walls?’
But of course he knew what Eleazar had hoped to achieve. The fact that he had not used it as a bargaining chip meant it was still missing. Now it would be John’s men who were frantically searching the temple. But the temple was a place of many secrets and soon John would have other things on his mind.
‘We need to know which sections of the wall he’s willing to hold.’ Zacharias, as ever, appreciated the practicalities as well as Simon. ‘We don’t have enough men to hold it all, even with James and the Idumaeans. The main Roman force has moved camp from Mount Scopus to take up positions north and south of Gehenna. The Tenth continues to threaten us from the Mount of Olives, but the western side appears to be their favoured point of attack. The only question is where. North or south?’
‘North,’ Simon said decisively. ‘If they attack to the south of the valley they would have to take Herod’s Fort as well as the walls. We have few enough men to hold it, but it is as formidable a defensive position as Antonia.’
‘Which we assume John will garrison?’ Simon acknowledged Zacharias’s query with a tight nod. ‘Still, if they made a demonstration against the north wall to draw the bulk of our defenders …’
‘No. It will be north.’
‘Very well,’ Zacharias conceded. ‘We concentrate the bulk of our strength there?’ Simon agreed, though his mind was already elsewhere. ‘But keep enough men back to reinforce the Idumaeans, who will hold the north-east quadrant, in case the attack is a feint. John will hold the temple, and the south-east quadrant as far as the Tomb of David, which God protect …’
‘God protect.’ Simon’s response was automatic. ‘Arrange a meeting with John for an hour after sundown the night after next. Let him know that after we have discussed our dispositions I want a second meeting, which will include a third party.’
He saw Zacharias’s eyebrows go up. This was what he had been considering since learning of John’s attack on Eleazar and the taking of the temple. If it existed, it was somewhere in the temple. It could not be allowed to fall into Roman hands, where it would be destroyed or, worse, desecrated. It had to be sent from Jerusalem; even John in his egotistic madness must recognize that. But how? Who had the ability to move between Roman and Judaean lines with impunity? Which Judaean could pass a Roman guard post without being searched? And who understood the value and the importance of the thing they sought? Only one man. It was possible that this one man even knew its whereabouts. It was also possible that this one man might use it for his own purposes, but that, Simon felt, was a secondary consideration. For the sake of the children of Israel, and for Moses’ legacy, it must survive.
He told Zacharias the identity of the third party and the normally imperturbable eyes widened. ‘If John knows he is coming he will try to have him killed.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Simon agreed. ‘I am relying on the fact that he is resourceful enough to ensure he is not.’
‘How will we contact him?’
‘Are they still allowing us to feed the lepers at Gehenna?’
Work on the camp’s defences continued to the staccato clatter of a thousand hammers and the rasp of several dozen saws. The craftsmen of two legions worked to piece together the frames of six enormous siege towers, each as high as the section of wall it was designated to attack. They manufactured the frames using baulks of timber a foot square and a dozen feet long, scenting the air with the aroma of newly sawn oak, juniper, cedar and olive wood. Once mighty oaks provided the main beams, while the other trunks were sawn into rough planks. These would be used to cover the frame, give the structure added strength and shield those inside. Once they were in place the entire siege tower would be clad with uncured animal skins to protect against fire.
Two of the towers were of a more complex construction than their counterparts. Josephus identified them as combined towers and battering rams. ‘I saw them at work at Jotapata.’ His face reflected the pain of the defeat, yet Valerius heard something close to admiration in his voice as he continued. ‘Nothing could stand against them. Only the hardest woods will suffice for a ram. The arm will be created from the tallest ash tree they can find. When it is ready they will tip it with an iron head in the shape of the animal it is named for. I have seen a wall collapse with a single blow from a monstrous great ram like that.’ As the builders worked, a constant stream of horses, camels and bullocks dragged the trunks of felled trees into the camp to supply the insatiable appetite for timber. Valerius doubted there would be a stick left standing within twenty miles of the city before they were done. More timber would be needed to provide supports for the mines that would be dug to weaken the walls, still more for the earth mounds raised to support the siege towers and rams.
Josephus and his companions studied the preparations for an hour from a hillock close to Titus’s headquarters. Watching the Judaean, Valerius thought that what was happening inside the walls was of as much interest to him as outside. When the midday sun broke from behind the clouds to illuminate the city Valerius saw why the Great Temple was regarded as one of the wonders of the world. It shone in the sunlight like a mountain of white marble, or one of the mighty snow-capped alps of Noricum. A marvel, in a city of marvels if Josephus’s boasts were to be believed. Something caught the corner of his eye on one of the higher buildings. The flash of someone cleaning a copper plate?
‘I have seen enough,’ Josephus said. ‘If your servant will fetch the horses I would study the defences by the Valley Gate.’
Serpentius glanced at Valerius for confirmation and the Roman nodded. The route Josephus chose took them across the southern spur where they had an even more elevated view of the city. Beyond the western gate the defensive wall ran arrow-straight to the south, protecte
d by a steep gorge, before curving eastwards. Josephus reined in and studied the gateway.
‘The fortress you see is Herod’s Palace.’ He pointed to a massive squat building south of the gate whose flat roof provided a platform for little knots of defenders. ‘Do not be deceived by the magnificence of its construction or the fact that its purpose was originally for pleasure. Even lightly defended as it is, it is impregnable. See how the three towers, Phasael, Hippicus and Mariamme, are sited to provide mutual support and interlocking fields of fire for archers and slingers. Titus considered attacking here with the Twelfth, but I advised otherwise.’ The long stare he gave Valerius held the message: You do not fully trust me, but see how I show my loyalty to your master. ‘That is why the major portion of the legion is even now marching through the hills behind us to join the Fifth and Fifteenth for the assault.’
‘Have you seen enough?’
‘Here, yes. But come, we will cross the valley and consider the defences from their southern aspect.’
They rode into the dip and followed the contours of the valley. A courier passed at a fast gallop, probably carrying a message to Titus from the commander of the Twelfth. A little later they were stopped by a patrol from the same legion. Josephus showed a warrant personally signed by the army commander and the patrol officer allowed them to proceed. When they reached the Twelfth’s camp it became obvious why Titus had chosen to attack in the north. Clemens had sited his base on a shelf of flat land set back from the gorge separating it from the walls. His legionaries occupied small outposts along the crest. Eight-man sections stood guard, their boredom mitigated by the jeers and insults from the defenders two hundred paces away. The military presence was so obviously more about containment than threat that Valerius wondered why Josephus had brought them here. Then he noticed something curious.
A little further south a small group of civilians appeared without warning from the base of the city wall and descended into the gorge by a set of steps cut in the rock. Valerius held his breath, waiting for the moment when the legionaries reacted.
‘Mars’ sacred arse,’ Serpentius muttered. ‘Are they trying to commit suicide?’
But the expected hail of spears didn’t happen. Instead, the group crossed the base of the gorge, forded a narrow stream and climbed the Roman side using a mirror image of the stairway they’d just descended.
‘Let us see what is happening.’ Without waiting for an answer Josephus spurred his horse down the slope towards the nearest guard post, and Valerius and Serpentius had no choice but to follow. They reached the post – a small, square defensive position behind a hastily scraped ditch and bank – just as the first civilian reached the top, gasping for breath. He was an elderly man with a long beard and Valerius saw that he carried a small cloth sack. The Roman wondered if some kind of illicit trade was being conducted between the Judaeans and the men set here to guard them. But they’d hardly do it in daylight with officers watching.
They dismounted and led their horses to where the guard commander was now in discussion with the bearded elder. The remainder of the civilians, a mixture of men and women all of a similar age, struggled up the steps to join him.
‘What’s going on?’ Valerius demanded.
The optio whirled at the unexpected voice. When he saw it came from a civilian there was a moment when he was tempted to tell the owner to mind his own business. He changed his mind when he realized the tone had a soldierly authority and the man the kind of face you didn’t want to mess with. If anything his feral-featured companion was even more intimidating. A man in eastern clothing stood a little apart to one side.
‘General agreed to give safe passage to eight civilians at noon each day,’ the soldier pointed to a wooden stockade a little further south, ‘so they can feed the lepers.’ He jerked a thumb at the elderly man and, followed by his companions, the Judaean stumbled wordlessly off in the direction of the enclosure. ‘None of us would go anywhere near them, but he thought it wasn’t right to let the poor bastards starve. They’ve been doing it for years and they seem harmless enough.’
Valerius watched as the elders approached the stockade and pushed their offerings through some kind of aperture in the barred gate then returned the way they’d come. As they passed the watchers one woman broke away from the group and rushed to Josephus, who frowned as she clutched at his hand, pleading in Hebrew.
‘Here,’ the guard snarled. ‘Get away from the gentleman, or I’ll take a stick to you. My apologies, sir. This has never happened before.’
Josephus stepped back with a bewildered smile. ‘No, do not punish her. She was only asking for alms for the lepers, but unfortunately I have nothing to give.’ He shook his head sadly and walked off towards his horse.
As they watched his retreating back, Valerius and Serpentius exchanged an intrigued glance.
It had been cleverly done and it took a practised eye to discern it, but both men had quite clearly seen the woman pass something to the Judaean traitor.
XXX
When Titus summoned Valerius to his headquarters pavilion the next day Josephus was already waiting, dressed not as a Judaean aristocrat but in the homespun robes of a common tradesman.
‘Josephus has persuaded me to make one final attempt to convince the Zealots their position is hopeless.’ The Emperor’s son seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease. ‘He believes this Simon bar Giora may be open to persuasion, given suitable incentives, and that he in turn may be able to convince Gischala. Is that correct, Josephus?’
‘I believe it is worth the effort if it means the possibility of saving Jewish blood.’
‘It will be dangerous, of course.’ Titus turned to Valerius and his eyes were troubled, as if despite his earlier warnings he’d never thought it would come to this. ‘This cannot be done in plain sight. Josephus must be able to contact Simon discreetly before they attempt to persuade John the only way to save the lives of the pilgrims is to give up the city. There is no question of marching up to the gate with a green branch and requesting entry.’
‘I doubt I would live to reach it,’ Josephus smiled. ‘I am not much loved in Jerusalem.’
‘But you still think it worth the risk?’ Titus sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. Josephus nodded solemnly. ‘And you, Valerius? Are you willing?’
‘You tasked me with this man’s protection. If he is willing to try how can I refuse?’ Valerius said. ‘As for Serpentius, he’s a free man and can make his own choice. But yes, I will go, though I don’t see how we can get inside. Unless we use the lepers’ gate there’s little chance of a mouse getting in or out of Jerusalem without being seen.’
‘I believe there is a way.’ Josephus’s voice betrayed something Valerius hadn’t thought to hear. Fear. ‘If you are prepared to walk in the valley of the shadow of death.’
‘I have walked there often,’ Valerius assured him. ‘And I do not hesitate to walk there again.’
‘Then be ready in two hours.’
Valerius found Serpentius outside their tent playing a board game with Apion, a young legionary he’d befriended from the Fifth Macedonica. This unlikely bond was another manifestation of the change in the Spaniard, who had always tended to keep a distance between himself and other people. Valerius could only think that it was because Apion, black as a Nubian but a Roman citizen from Syria, was another outsider. When they saw Valerius, Apion marked the position of the stones and left with a sharp salute.
When Valerius explained what he knew of their mission Serpentius didn’t hide his irritation at the paucity of information from Josephus. ‘If he doesn’t trust us let the bastard go alone,’ the former gladiator spat.
‘He’s being careful.’ Over his tunic Valerius slipped a leather jerkin of the type favoured by Titus’s German auxiliaries, following it with the short chain mail vest Dimitrios had supplied in Emesa. The mail was exceptionally light, but the links were so tightly interlocked it would probably protect him as well as any plate armour.
‘I thought we should be the same.’ He threw the Spaniard a set of chain mail borrowed from the same source as the jerkin. ‘That should fit, more or less. Apart from that all he said was that it will be cold where we’re going. We should take cloaks, but make sure they’re short.’
‘Sounds like an invitation to a tomb robbing.’
‘You may not be far wrong,’ Valerius said evenly. ‘But I told you, there’s no reason for you to risk your neck.’
‘Apart from covering your back, which is why I’m coming.’
‘Good.’ Valerius tried not to show his relief. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Throbbing,’ the Spaniard grinned. ‘The way it does when somebody’s trying to get me killed, which is most of the time.’
‘Can you think of anything else?’
For answer Serpentius strapped on an odd leather chest harness Valerius had never seen before. It held the twin throwing axes he treated like his children in separate sheaths. ‘It’s all very well having them in your belt if you know you’re going to need them,’ the Spaniard said defensively. ‘Sometimes a man needs to be a little faster. I had a word with that Dimitrios fellow in Emesa and he came up with this. Even with a cloak over it you can reach and throw in one movement.’
Mention of Dimitrios reminded Valerius that his own secret weapon might require attention. He poured olive oil into a wooden bowl and dipped a cloth into it. Then he pressed the button on the back of the wooden fist so the blade appeared. The button all but disappeared into a tiny depression and Valerius squeezed the cloth so a few drops of oil ran into and around it. He pushed the blade back into place and repeated the procedure with the inner button.
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