35

With the capture of Gioras, Titus left Philippi for Beirut in high spirits. With Berenice at his side, he was looking forward to performing a very pleasant duty. He planned to celebrate his father’s birthday with a spectacular series of games. The couple’s welcome was fulsome. Beirut, a city in Phoenicia, was a Roman colony settled by veterans and expanded by Greeks and Syrians into a magnificent cosmopolitan provincial capital. It was also a city where Jews had always lived in large numbers. The biggest Jewish colony, however, was at Antioch, which was their next visit. It was while staying in Antioch, that Titus learned that his father had made a royal progress round Italy, and been received rapturously wherever he went.

Titus’ games at Antioch in honour of his father, were to be remembered as the most spectacular ever staged in the city. Vast numbers of Jewish prisoners died, with an equally large number of exotic wild animals. The captives perished participating in lavish and spectacular shows, dressed in a variety of costumes and playing numerous roles. The spectators, enjoying this largesse, were also treated to free food and drink as they marvelled at the entertainment. From Antioch, Titus and Berenice made an unhurried progress through the principal towns of Syria whose citizens, coming out to meet them, lined the roads throwing flowers in their path and calling down every blessing on Titus’ head.

He then set out for Egypt, looking forward to showing Berenice the wonders and beauty of the Nile. Before leaving Syria he enlarged Agrippa’s kingdom with the district of Acra and announced his appointment as titular King of the Jews – which Agrippa received with a feeling of quiet satisfaction and fierce pride.

On the way to Egypt he visited Jerusalem to check on the progress with the levelling of the city. As the work had progressed, huge quantities of treasure were being dug up in the ruins. Even more was located as former slaves informed on their old masters. This wealth had been buried by its owners as the only hope of keeping it safe during the turmoil of war. Leaving Jerusalem behind, Titus and Berenice crossed the desert in a leisurely fashion, camping under the desert stars, enjoying nights of love neither would ever forget. They slept in each other’s arms, safe in the knowledge that the Fifth and Fifteenth legions had thrown a discreet ring of steel round the pavilions of their campsite.

Titus had laughed uproariously when, before setting out, Berenice informed him that she never travelled light. She was a Queen after all. His jaw had dropped when they had made their first night’s stop at an oasis. Already in place was a central pavilion lined with silk and strewn with Persian carpets. Furnished with low tables and cushions, it was lit by hanging silver lamps. The six other pavilions linked to it were, Berenice informed him, for their servants, particularly the cooks and musicians. There was also, she told him, accommodation for her maids and Titus’ aid-de-camp. Further accommodation housed private toilet facilities. The piece de resistance of this entourage was the leather bath and its frame, housed in its own tent. Where the hundred gallons of water required each day for its operation came from in the desert, he didn’t bother to ask.

After twenty two idyllic days, they arrived reluctantly in Alexandria. Having been given a civic welcome, Titus received a deputation representing the Greek majority who lived in the city. They requested that the few remaining Jews in the city be stripped of their civil rights and banished. He refused this, reminding them that as authorised residents they had the right in law to domicile. Providing they obeyed the law, the law would protect them as citizens of the Roman Empire. He now intended to sail for Italy, so he thanked the two legions who had accompanied him and Berenice and sent them back to their old stations.

Before leaving Antioch he had ordered that Simon and John, with ten thousand picked male Jews, be sent to Italy to await his arrival.

After an uneventful voyage, Titus and Berenice arrived in Italy to a rapturous welcome - at least, it was for him. For Berenice there was studied politeness. Roman society was wary of foreign Queens. The disastrous liaison between Anthony and Cleopatra was still fresh in the memory.

But all this was swept aside, when Vespasian himself, and Titus’ brother Domition, turned up at the quayside to welcome them. Berenice, always gracious and unflinchingly smiling, was introduced to Roman society. Even in the face of veiled disapproval, she remained regal and charming, her poise never deserting her, her beauty wowing the men and causing the mother of every unmarried daughter to grind her teeth.

After allowing the couple a week of receptions and banquets, Vespasian claimed Titus to join him in planning a joint celebratory triumph, though the senate had authorised each to have a separate Triumph. But father and son were unanimous. There would be one Triumph, shared equally between them. The date was set for six months’ time. The senate agreed and criers proclaimed it throughout the city and the Empire.

Came the day and every man, woman and child stopped what they were doing to find a place in the packed streets.

Josephus had also got up very early. He had been dreading the day ahead and would have given anything to have stayed at home, But Titus had invited him to attend and his absence from the stand, with its reservation for special guests, would not just be notice, it would be deemed an insult. Setting his teeth against the bile that rose in his throat, he had bathed and dressed, before being carried in a litter to the Palatine from where the procession would be watched. Much to his discomfort, he found himself sitting next to King Agrippa and Berenice who returned his greetings with a cold politeness.

Berenice was wary of her cousin Josephus, unable to acknowledge the jealousy she had for Titus’ friendship with him. Agrippa was equally uncomfortable because Josephus reminded him of the many compromises and accommodations he had made in support of the Romans, in order to gain their favour.

The night before the big day, the legions in their centuries had formed up on the field of Mars, the Campus Martius, the old parade ground by the Tiber. At daybreak, Vespasian and Titus arrived from the Temple of Isis, where they had spent the night. Now clad in the traditional crimson robes and wearing wreaths of bay, they walked with measured tread to the Portico of Octavia to join the members of the senate, knights and senior magistrates, who were awaiting their arrival.

A dais had been built in front of the colonnades and furnished with ivory thrones. As Vespasian and Titus mounted the dais, there was a spontaneous cheer from the serried ranks of legionaries. Vespasian gave them a moment before acknowledging them and signalling for silence. In absolute quiet, Vespasian strode centre stage and offered the customary prayers. Titus followed suit. Vespasian then made a short speech and sent the soldiers to breakfast, while he and Titus repaired to the Porta Triumphalis for the same purpose and to change into their robes of office, for they were to sacrifice to the gods that stood on either side of the gate.

Then, to the sound of trumpets, they crossed to the field of Mars to be presented to the vast crowd gathered there. From here the Triumph got underway, a spectacle of dazzling, awe-inspiring magnificence. Only those persons fortunate enough to be in Rome on such particular and infrequent days would ever witness such a sight.

Over three miles long, the column of tableaux, chariots, marching legionaries, military bands, wagons filled with booty, and exhibits of every kind including animals and people, would take six hours to complete a single circuit of its planned route. A stunned population gazed in wonder at structures sometimes four stories high. These theatrical sets included costumed players who re-enacted the famous battles that Vespasian and Titus had fought during the Jewish war. Placed on each stage was the leader of a captured town, dressed as he would have been when captured. Later he would die in the arena or face summary execution as a sacrifice to the gods.

Cages mounted on flat bed carts and filled with exotic beasts from Africa and India, were hauled along by captured Jews who would later face these monsters in the arena. Then came the treasures; the wealth of Israel.

Hauled by oxen, one thousand carts overflowing with silver coins were followed by an endless convoy of wagons brimming with priceless works of art and precious objects. Garlanded maidens skipped along the sides of these wagons with baskets of silver coins into which they dipped and flung into the air a sparkling shower of wealth; Vespasian’s beneficence to the people who had come to adore him.

Next came the Jewish captives, chained to wagons draped in purple and loaded with the priceless treasures of the Temple. Displayed on its own, made of solid gold, was the sacred table on which the shewbread had been displayed daily. The next wagon also carried a single priceless item - the Menorah – the lamp of God; a seven branched candelabra made of solid gold standing nine feet tall. This symbol of Israel since ancient time was used to celebrate Hanukkah, the festival of lights, an eight day Jewish holiday commemorating the rededication of the Holy Temple. Next, displayed on frame, was a huge tapestry. This was the “Veil” that had separated an inner room from the rest of the Holy Temple. The Jews believed it was God’s special dwelling place in the midst of his chosen people. It was the Holy of Holies. The tapestry, made of fine linen, was richly embroidered. Figures representing the angels who served God were depicted in great detail.

Next came gangs of Jewish captives carrying biers on their shoulders displaying life-size images of the Roman Gods, made from ivory and inlayed with gold. The first of these was Jupiter representing victory. Behind them, in two magnificent chariots enamelled with lapis lazuli and malachite, decorated with precious stones, and drawn by matching white horses, came Vespasian and Titus. Domition, mounted on his black stallion, rode respectfully at their side.

To honour ancient customs the procession eventually came to its conclusion at the temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill. Here they would wait until Gioras the Commander in Chief of the enemy was dead. John escaped execution but was sentenced to life imprisonment – a living death in the Empire’s mines.

Gioras, who had acted like a king, was treated like one. At a signal from Vespasian, he was dragged to the spot in the forum declared by Roman law as the place of execution for those condemned to death. But first Gioras was stripped and flogged. Then, barely conscious, he was tied to a post and, to loud applause, garrotted. With him dead, the priests led the sacrificial animals to the altar and cut their throats, according to ritual. Then the haruspices split a beast down the middle and pulled out its entrails. These, with the liver and heart, were examined for any abnormalities. With the omens pronounced favourable, the crowd cheered wildly.

Agrippa, his face expressionless, his emotions carefully hidden, gave no indication of his thoughts or feelings. Berenice, a shadow creeping across her heart, gripped his arm. Unable to contain herself she said “What have we done?” The King, astounded by this outburst, was literally rendered speechless. Josephus, ashen faced, bowed his head in anguish. Berenice had given voice to that which he had always failed to acknowledge. That in the future all three of them would be judged as traitors.

Vespasian and his sons, unaware of the sudden tension, joined their principal guests. Accompanied by the city’s consuls and senators, judges and priests, they returned to the palace for the celebration banquet.

As they left the dais, Berenice murmured to Josephus saying, “Did we make a mistake?”

Unable to speak, struggling with his tears, he stumbled down the steps. What Agrippa, Vespasian, Berenice, or for that matter any one of his fellow Jews thought, was irrelevant. Neither the state nor its laws, emperors, priests and their theologies, took precedence over conscience.

With an enormous effort of will, Josephus straightened his shoulders and held his head high. He genuinely believed he had acted according to his conscience. God would judge him.

As he left the stand Josephus murmured to himself the Shema, the great prayer of the Jewish people; the proclamation of their faith in God.

Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.

And you shall love the Lord your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.

And these words which I command you this day, shall be upon your heart.