The Horse Changer (19 page)

In preparation for our march into Judaea I interviewed a number of our Jewish auxiliaries. I also read whatever I could find about the recent history of that region. As even the most casual observer of Judaea soon learns, the population is divided almost equally between Jews and Greeks. Those who are called Greek are in fact people of diverse nations. They may have adopted Greek religious and social customs but the majority are otherwise Asian or Greek-Asian in character and race. Most speak and write at least some Greek but carry on in Aramaic at the market place and in their domestic lives. They are the remnants of many nations: Macedonian, Persian, Babylonian, Armenian, Arab, Syrian, Egyptian, some of them even outcast Jews of mixed parentage. Having neither a racial history nor any political aspirations what they want is autonomy within their cities, and for a price they have it.

The Jews, on the other hand, amount to a nation. In many of the larger cities they coexist with the Greeks and yet still manage to follow separate customs and laws. For almost a century the Jews held authority over all the people of this region. This was thanks to the powerful Hasmonean family, a Jewish dynasty accorded royal status for having won Judaea’s freedom from the decaying Seleucid empire.

The Hasmoneans had fractured a quarter of a century earlier when two brothers quarrelled over who should sit upon the throne of Judaea. The ensuing civil war ultimately persuaded each man to seek the aid of Pompey Magnus, who was then in the east at the head of a massive army. Pompey appointed the elder brother, Hyrcanus, Ethnarch of the Jews. As the term implies, Hyrcanus ruled only ethnic Jews and had no authority over the rest of the population. Hyrcanus used this appointment to assume as well the office of High Priest of the Temple. That station at least offered some royal dignities. His brother spent the remainder of his life fashioning one revolt after another, and when he had finished with the light of day, his son, Antigonus, continued the tradition. As for the hard task of keeping the peace between Jews and Greeks, that fell to a Roman procurator.

The Pompeian solution enriched Pompey, rather the point of all of his politics, but it did nothing for the stability of Judaea. Without a Roman army residing permanently in the region one uprising after another followed until Julius Caesar discovered the talents of Antipater of Idumaea. One of Hyrcanus’s generals, Antipater was the son of a man who had converted to the Jewish faith. He also enjoyed a close link by marriage to one of the great families in Petra, which is the capital of Arabian Nabataea. Antipater possessed an extraordinary talent for administration. After awarding Antipater Roman citizenship at the rank of an eques, Caesar appointed him Procurator of Judaea in perpetuity. Hyrcanus continued as Ethnarch of the Jews, but the truth was obvious to all. Hyrcanus answered to his former general. As for the opposition, they grew quiet, though by no means content.

When Cassius Longinus seized Syria earlier that summer, Antipater provided him with an enormous amount of gold and also sent a large portion of his army to the Syrian border. This kind of support gave Cassius the ability to confront Dolabella as he marched against Syria, but it also left southern Judaea exposed. I was not sure how much resistance Antipater intended to offer my forces. For all I knew, he might welcome me as a liberator. In the more likely event that he opposed my legions, I intended to stir up his enemies and reignite the Judaean civil war.

To that end I contacted one of Antipater’s governors, a man named Malichus. According to my informants, Malichus had refused Antipater’s order to provide a tribute of gold for Cassius. Curiously, when Malichus failed to present Cassius with his portion of the total tribute, Antipater made up the amount from his own treasury.

This told me two things. First, Antipater feared disappointing Cassius. Second, Antipater had not the resources at hand to break Malichus for insubordination. In my letter to Malichus, written while I was still in Egypt, I congratulated him on his principled refusal to serve one of the assassins of Julius Caesar. Rome, I said, would not soon forget his friendship.

With that promise to Malichus smuggled into Judaea by one of my Jewish auxiliaries, I ordered my army to decamp from Memphis.

We marched past two unfortified towns at the Judaean border. When these offered no resistance, we continued to Ashkelon. There we made camp before the gates of the city. With Egyptian and Judaean enemies now at our backs and a walled city before us, I had brought my army into some jeopardy. The risk was calculated, however. I did not care to come into Judaea ravaging and burning whatever I found. Instead, I sent word to the elders of Ashkelon that I required hostages before I moved north along the coastal road. Nor was I much disturbed when they answered that the city elders must consult Antipater in Jerusalem before they responded to my request. That was fine with me. As they awaited instructions, I dug in for a siege.

That evening, only hours after I had issued my request, a party of a hundred women and children appeared at our gates. These were the hostages I had requested. The man presenting them asked that I come into the city and speak with Herod and Phasael, the elder sons of Antipater. I was somewhat surprised to find the sons of Antipater waiting for us, but I knew Antipater was well informed about all matters dealing with Egypt.

I took Scaeva and a small legionary escort with me and entered the city. Inside the citadel I left my escort and appeared alone before the two brothers. Both men stood at my entrance and came to me as fellow citizens of Rome. Other than the handshake they both offered, neither man appeared to be Roman, though in fact both men enjoyed Roman citizenship and possessed the gold ring of an eques. They wore beards and long hair and decidedly oriental tunics. Phasael, the older of the two brothers, was nearly as tall as I. He was considerably thinner and also quite bald. Phasael was then only a few years past thirty, though I imagined him a man in his fifties. There was nothing cheerful in his manner; nor did he show any willingness to offer more than the barebones of Roman courtesy. I knew Phasael had served at his father’s side in combat, but it was clear to me that he was not the man to inspire the rank and file. He was a born magistrate, this one, cool and detached, made for meetings like this – not the chaos of battlefields.

His brother, at least on the surface, seemed the very opposite, as brothers often do. Handsome, full of passion, mercurial in all things, Herod was a fighting man’s general. A single glance at his powerful physique promised a commander who rode in the vanguard of the charge. Men would follow Herod into war, I thought, because he asked it of them. Herod was then about thirty years of age. With long thick black hair and a neatly trimmed beard, he was a handsome man; I should say even charismatic. When we shook hands he actually seemed pleased to meet me. In fact, as I later learned, he was pleased. He already knew what I had done to Cleopatra and dearly wished he could have acted against her as I had done. Of course I did not understand this at the time. I imagined he was simply putting on a bit of a show for the latest Roman visitor.

We began our meeting in Greek, but to my relief Herod switched to Latin after only a few exchanges. Phasael followed his example but would sometimes interject the occasional Greek expression, for he was not as talented in Latin as Herod. Our introductions finished, Herod told me he was afraid he had some bad news. I was surprised by this. I had expected our discussion to be about my sudden appearance in Judaea. ‘What news?’ I asked in perplexity.

‘Cornelius Dolabella is dead, General.’

‘Dead! How? When?’

‘Less than a month ago. We are told he took his own life rather than surrender to Cassius.’ I pressed for details but got very little more. Dolabella had been trapped in Laodicea, on the Syrian coast. When it was clear Cassius had taken the city, Dolabella ordered his legions to surrender. Before Cassius arrived at the citadel, Dolabella took his own life. What was left of Dolabella’s army now belonged to Cassius. While I still struggled with this news, Herod added, ‘There is more, I’m afraid.’ I stared at the man dumbly. Trapped in a hostile land with enemies before and behind me, my only ally dead, I could not imagine more bad news. ‘The legions of the new consuls of Rome, Pansa and Hirtius, have defeated Mark Antony in northern Italy.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ I answered.

‘Neither did I, when I learned the news,’ Herod remarked. ‘Nonetheless, I’m afraid it is true. It seems Antony effected a brilliant manoeuvre in his first encounter with Pansa by coming at the consular forces from a swamp and striking a deadly blow at their flank. Then, as Antony’s army returned victoriously to its camp, Hirtius hit Antony’s column. Antony lost half his men before darkness ended the fight. A second battle some days later gave the consular armies complete victory.’

‘So Antony is dead as well?’

‘Actually,’ Phasael answered, ‘Hirtius and Pansa are dead. Antony has escaped into the Alps.’

‘Caesar now commands the consular armies,’ Herod added.

‘Caesar?’ I could not help myself. The named elicited an image of my Caesar. A moment later I knew he meant Caesar’s heir, the little twit.

‘We are told,’ Phasael added, ‘Caesar remains in the north with his army. He demands to be made consul when he returns to Rome.’

‘A consul? At nineteen? Perhaps I should seek a consul’s chair next year.’ My sarcasm failed to affect either man.

‘Cicero is urging the senate to accept the proposal,’ Phasael explained.

‘Cicero? Siding with Caesar?’

‘His support is on condition that Junius Decimus assumes the second chair.’ Decimus was the ousted governor of Cisalpine Gaul and one of the assassins of Julius Caesar.

‘At the moment,’ Phasael explained, ‘Caesar refuses any form of compromise. He claims he will not share power with one of the men who murdered his father. More than that no one knows.’

I cannot describe the despair I experienced at learning these things. It was closest, I suppose, to the emotion one must experience as one falls from a great height; midway between heaven and earth the moment hangs without resolution. While it does, a man must certainly imagine there is something he can do, even as he knows he is doomed. Should Octavian – Caesar, as we were now calling him – consent to Cicero’s proposal, it would mean peace. Pleasant as that idea might be in the abstract, peace meant that Cassius and Brutus would become legitimate; by extension I could expect to be named an enemy of Rome.

‘May I be so bold as to offer my opinion, General?’ This from Herod.

‘By all means,’ I answered. ‘To tell you the truth, I am not sure what to make of any of this.’

‘Cassius believes Caesar will refuse any form of compromise with the assassins. Caesar has taken an oath to avenge his father’s murder. His army marches with him for the sake of that oath. If he now forms a political alliance with his sworn enemies, he risks losing the support of the very men who have elevated him.

‘Cassius may be wrong, of course,’ Herod continued, ‘but at the moment he prepares for war. He welcomes every nation to his army, but what he values most are Roman officers who know how to command his auxiliary forces.’

‘Matters with Cassius are more complicated than they appear,’ I answered.

‘You are worried that Cassius will want revenge for the murder of Gaius Trebonius?’ Phasael asked me.

I looked at him in surprise, but I did not bother dissembling. He obviously knew the truth, or at least some part of it. ‘Even if Cassius pretends to accept my oath of loyalty,’ I answered, ‘I fear he will avenge Trebonius once I am in his power.’

‘If you imagine you can escape by ship to Caesar,’ Herod told me, ‘you should know Cleopatra has her navy patrolling our coast. They have orders to board all ships not in the service of Cassius or Brutus. They are looking for any officers involved in the assassination of Trebonius.’

‘As it seems Cleopatra affords me no opportunity of escape, perhaps I should turn around and march back into Egypt.’

‘Make an alliance with our father first,’ Phasael answered. ‘Once you do that, you can remain here on the Egyptian border, ready to attack.’

‘And where is my advantage in that?’ I asked.

‘Cassius desires tribute from Cleopatra,’ Herod answered. ‘So far, she has refused to send him anything. If allies of Antipater hold an army at her border, the queen may well discover some gold in her treasury after all. If she still refuses, Cassius will want to send a punitive expedition against her. All the better if the core of that invading army is already waiting here and ready to move quickly. Especially one commanded by a general she utterly despises.’

‘Can Antipater protect me from Cassius?’

‘Cassius treats Antipater’s allies as his own. He requires none of them to swear an oath of loyalty to him but is content if they are sworn to Antipater.’

‘But sooner or later,’ I answered, ‘Cassius will want revenge.’

‘Deliver Egyptian gold to him in enough quantity,’ Herod answered, ‘and I promise you Cassius will soon forget the name Gaius Trebonius.’