4

Jerusalem was full to bursting. Every room in the city that could be let had been taken. In addition to the thousands of Jews that had travelled from all over Palestine to be in the Holy City for Passover, another million pilgrims had arrived from abroad.

To accommodate them a temporary town had been established near the olive groves outside the city wall. As well as huts and tents for people, pens for animals had been constructed. The city authorities, well used to this annual influx, had built latrines, organised the management of rubbish, provided a conduit of fresh water and policed the whole operation, protecting the pilgrims from petty crime and settling the inevitable domestic disputes that arose.

It was this carpet of huts and tents unrolled outside the city walls that Cestius Gallus, appointed by Rome as Legate of Syria, had to negotiate before entering the city. The Legate decided to visit Jerusalem because Florus had reported unrest, which he had been forced to put down, making an example of the trouble makers. Gallus and his legionaries had passed over a hundred crucifixion sites during the last few miles, their putrefying burdens and attendant clouds of vultures, crows and kites, grim evidence of Florus’ response to unrest.

The Legate had also noted that in his report, the procurator recorded that if he had any more trouble he would take stern measures. Gallus didn’t doubt for a minute that his procurator would keep his word. The thousands of pilgrims pouring into the Holy City had not come with empty wallets. As well as having brought funds to sustain them for a round trip, they had also brought offerings for their God, which they would make at the Temple. The Legate knew that Florus would find a way of diverting some of this abundance into his own coffers. Gallus, with an eye to protecting his cut, had made the journey from Syria. He would pretend to listen to the people’s complaints. It was important that, insofar as Rome was concerned, he was seen to be diligent in fulfilling the duties of his office. He knew that there was always the possibility that Florus would go too far. Gold had the same effect on him as the scent of blood to a shark.

Among his staff officers Gallus had a young tribune, Neopolitanus, to whom he had shown favour because of his connections. He was related on his mother’s side to the late Emperor Claudius. So a flattered young officer found himself sitting on a horse next to his commanding officer approaching the Holy City. As Jerusalem came into sight, Neopolitanus was amazed. The descriptions he had been given in Rome hadn’t prepared him for the splendour that was coming into view.

It was early morning and the sun flashed in a blinding reflection off the roof of the Temple. Rising a hundred and fifty feet into the air, it seemed to float in the pale blue sky like a pure white cloud, capped with burnished gold. To Neopolitanus the massive building seemed like a mountain covered in snow, its peak crowned with a fiery splendour. Those parts that were not plated with sheets of solid gold were of a brilliant white marble, polished to a mirror finish.

Gallus broke the silence. “A million Jews have gathered to pay homage to their God. What you see before you is His Temple”. Before the tribune could reply Gallus continued, “Every Jewish pilgrim would consider it a privilege to die defending the dirt of the road you are standing on, so be careful tribune when you are in the city, and doubly careful when you are anywhere near the Temple”. Neopolitanus assured him he would follow this advice.

“I’m not giving you advice tribune”, had been the dry rejoinder. “I’m giving you an order. Walk softly, be slow to take offence and watch your manners. Jews are quick to take umbrage, particularly over religious matters which they never give ground on. Ever. No matter what the consequences”. Neopolitanus gave his commanding officer earnest assurances that he would be most circumspect in his dealing with the Jews, as he admired the magnificence of the city they were approaching. Gallus said, “Just pray that you never have to assault it, because if you do you will fail. The Jews consider it to be impregnable and I agree with them. When we get to the Antonia fortress, ask the duty officer to explain the city’s fortifications to you”.

Neopolitanus was surprised to hear a Roman general say that a city couldn’t be taken. The invincibility of Rome’s military machine had been dinned into him from childhood. Wisely he didn’t dispute this with the Legate. Instead he saluted smartly and took his leave. The column was now deep into what seemed to be a sea of people. Painfully slowly, displaying the legion’s golden eagle, its standards raised and its drums beating, the column made its way through the city gates into Jerusalem.

The road leading to the Antonia also led to the Temple and was packed with people. The pavements were lined with vendors offering a bewildering variety of merchandise. The noise was deafening, with people shouting and arguing; pedlars and merchants calling out the virtues of their particular wares; beggars soliciting alms; herds of penned animals bawling; the rumble of wagon wheels as carts drawn by camels forced their way through. Motes of dust, stirred by countless feet, danced in shafts of sunlight that sliced across the rooftops to penetrate the maze of streets latticed with hard white light and indigo shadows.

As Gallus’ cohorts approached the Antonia, streams of worshippers were leaving the Temple to cross the bridge into the western half of the city, heading for the souk’s markets, swelling the crowds shopping in its narrow shaded streets. The booths lining the souk were piled high with goods brought from every corner of the world - baskets, thimbles, carpets and textiles of every kind and colour. From Arabia - glassware, silver and gold craftworks. From India - spices and precious stones. From Africa - exotic animals, slaves, gold, ivory and ebony. From Edom - myrrh, aromatic oils, rare woods and precious spices, traded through India by the Parthians, the unconquered tribes Rome feared most.

From China, a land of mystery, its borders closed to foreigners, came silk. Worth ten times its weight in gold, it was only available to a handful of merchants who had survived the journey to Beijing and been accepted as trading partners. Even then they could only deal with one man, appointed by the Chinese Emperor to negotiate the sale of silk, who in turn would only negotiate sales with Rome’s designated merchants, be they Jews or Arabs.

At every corner there were vendors selling sweetmeats, water, wine and fruit juices; the sellers clashing finger cymbals to attract attention. In the fish market, stalls were brimming with fresh fish of every description, next to which were barrels of salted and pickled eels. Overhead hung poles supporting bundles of dried fish, stiff as shingles and bleached almost white. Butchers displayed cuts of lamb and goat, the heads of which were impaled on spikes, eyes glaring balefully at prospective customers. Hearts, livers and lungs were displayed on hooks like jewelled necklaces.

The warm air was redolent with a potpourri of scents, spices, incense, vegetables, fruit, flowers, herbs, animal dung, garbage from the markets, sweet smelling oils and perfumes; all mingling with the odours of frying foods and the smells that accompany humans in close contact. A pungent aroma that would intensify as the day got hotter.

To make progress through this seemingly impenetrable mass, Neopolitanus placed a squad of heavy infantry at the head of the cohort who marched in close order, shields held edge to edge along the side of their columns. With trumpets blowing and drums beating out a steady marching cadence, the column moved forward, though not without some cursing and the odd vegetable being hurled in their direction by an irate citizen.

Neopolitanus was not alone in breathing a sigh of relief when they arrived at the Antonia fortress, the headquarters of the occupying troops permanently garrisoned in Jerusalem. A guard of honour had been turned out to meet them. They entered the fortress to a fanfare of trumpets and were greeted by the Antonia’s commander, the Praetorian Metilius.

After Gallus had inspected the guard of honour, he and Metilius left the business of standing the column down to Neopolitanus and the fortress’ duty officer Centurion Crassus Maximus. With the men and their equipment squared away, Neopolitanus asked Crassus if he would brief him about the city and its citizens. “But first”, he said, “I must bathe. I stink more than my horse”. With a grin Crassus confirmed the stink and said he would be happy to show him the ropes.

In the afternoon, refreshed and glad to be out of their armour, wearing plain linen tunics and leather vests, Neopolitanus and Crassus ventured out of the fortress into the crowded streets, the jostling crowd noisy but amiable. Passover was the most joyous of Jerusalem’s festivals; an opportunity to set aside the cares and worries of everyday life and relax. Countless thousands of pilgrims, unable to find accommodation, were squeezed into the homes of friends; sleeping in corners of already crowded rooms, in courtyards and some, in desperation, camping in doorways and tethering the Paschal lamb brought from the country to the nearest post.

Picking their way carefully through the heaving mass, the two Romans made their way along the densely packed streets, stumbling over bedding, pots and pans and bundles of personal belongings, whose mounds indicated possession and occupation of a particular bit of pavement.

“In here”. Crassus took Neopolitanus’ arm and pulled him into the portico of a pastry shop. “We can get a bite to eat and catch our breath”. Neopolitanus grinned and nodded his agreement. The two men found a quiet corner in the cool interior of the shop and after ordering a dish of fried locust en croûte, began to discuss the volatile situation.

Neopolitanus was baffled by Crassus’ unwillingness to see the Jewish nationalists’ point of view, no matter how misguided it was. “Years ago” said Crassus, “the Jews invited us here. They sent a delegation to Rome and pleaded with us to admit them to the empire, to dig them out of the shit Aristobulus had landed them in”.

Through a mouthful of pastry Neopolitanus said, “Then the Roman senate proclaimed Herod King of Judaea. Being an Idumaean, one quarter Jew and three quarters Arab, he was hated by just about everybody. Then of course there was the Jewish tyrant, Herod’s son Archelaus, who bled the Jews dry until Augustus banished him to Gaul”.

Crassus grinned. “You should go further back than that. Rome made its first treaty with the Jews two hundred years ago. At the Hebrew’s request, Rome dispatched military advisors to Judaea and followed this up by sending the troops the Jews asked for to protect them”.

Neopolitanus snorted. “The long noses need reminding that Judaea isn’t Jewish anyway. They took the country by force of arms from the Canaanites and wiped out the entire indigenous population. They spared nobody; they didn’t even take slaves. They claimed their God had ordered them to commit wholesale murder”.

“Come now, that’s many years ago”, countered Crassus, “Seventeen hundred to be precise”.

“But” Neopolitanus continued hurriedly before his companion could interrupt “the kettle mustn’t call the pot black. Discussions about rights of ownership of particular bits of the world can put us Romans in a difficult position, given the size of our empire”.

Crassus shook his head. “The Jews asked for a treaty because it suited them. We agreed because it suited us. We now have, or should have, a friendly state supporting Syria and Egypt. We Romans came here because this country is a crossroads. It is essential to the rule of our empire because we hold Egypt, which everybody wants for its limitless harvest of corn. We also have the Parthians for enemies. Palestine and Syria are the defence buffer between us and our age old foe who”, he added sombrely “has never been defeated in battle”.

“Well Centurion”, replied Neopolitanus, “If a treaty between Roman and Jew is one of mutual self-interest, why do we have endless problems with these people? Why do they not accept the benefits and advantages of the Roman way of life, the protection of Roman armies, Roman law, enjoy Roman culture and the freedom to worship their own Gods?”

Crassus grimaced. “Well we cannot impose our way of life on this stiff necked people. Pompey tried and failed. The Jews are racially prejudiced. We can either accept that and work with it or” he added ominously, “we can wipe the lot out”.

“Or” Neapolitanus said “we display the good side of Roman life and hope it will gradually be accepted for its own sake.” Wiping crumbs from his lips Neopolitanus stood up. “Come. Show me the defences of the city. The Legate recommended the top of the Antonia as a viewing point”.

“Agreed”, said Crassus, “but I will need time to change. I am due back on duty”.

In the early evening, the two men stood on top of the Antonia’s highest tower, Crassus in full armour. From the pinnacle on which they stood, the city was laid out like a map. Crassus remained silent to allow Neopolitanus to take in the splendour that was at their feet. It was Neopolitanus who broke the silence. Speaking more to himself than to his companion, he said “Perhaps it is impregnable”.

“As you can see” said Crassus “the city, like Rome, is built on a series of hills. Where it differs” he continued “is that unlike Rome, it is protected on three sides by the deep ravines the Jews call Gehenna and Kidron”. Neopolitanus stared down into what seemed a bottomless abyss. Crassus continued “You will notice that the valleys are devoid of all vegetation. The sides are bare rock, which is so steep as to be unclimbable”.

“That” replied Neopolitanus wryly “is why they build their walls along the edges”.

Crassus pointed to one of the hills. “That is the Upper City, known as the Upper Market. The second hill is the Citadel and is covered by the Lower City. The opposite part of the city”, he continued pointing to a third hill, “was originally cut off by a wide ravine. During the Hasmonaean period, this was filled in and as you can see it joins the city to the Temple. The Jews call this area the Valley of the Cheese Makers”. “But the walls”, said Neopolitanus in a hushed voice, “what walls! They seem to rise up from Hades itself and brush the very heavens with their towers and fortresses”.

“It’s the walls, their fortified towers and massive fortresses, which make this place an invading army’s nightmare”. Crassus chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “There are three walls, one behind the other, with over a hundred towers spaced along them and as you have observed, the walls are unassailable because they are on the rims of bottomless ravines”.

“How on earth did the Jews get all that masonry of such Herculean sizes to this place?” asked Neopolitanus.

“They didn’t”, his companion replied. “They dug most of the city out of the ground. Jerusalem stands on limestone the Jews call travertine. When it is in the ground, it is soft and easily worked. However, when it is exposed to air, it becomes very hard, almost impossible to cut. As a result of their excavations the Jews got a bonus. The city stands on cisterns which hold millions of gallons of water. They also have underground caverns containing several years’ supply of grain and oil, and every other kind of material necessary to not only sustain life, but supply a defending army with all its needs”.

Neopolitanus shook his head in amazement before asking ruefully, “And the fortresses I can see spaced out strategically between the towers?”

Crassus grinned thinly. “At the northern end of the old wall is the Hippicus. It has its own water supply and siege storage vaults, as in indeed do all the towers and fortresses. Above the high base, which is topped by a two story building, is a fortified tower. With turrets and ramparts it stands at one hundred and twenty feet high excluding the base of solid stone, which is fifty feet high. The Phasael fortress further along”, Crassus continued, “is even bigger. It is protected by breastworks and bulwarks”.

Studying the Phasael, Neopolitanus asked, “What is access like between the different levels?”

“There is a spiral staircase which allows access to each floor. Being a spiral it is easily defended. Each of the fortresses has a similar staircase. Though I must say”, Crassus concluded, “the idea of anyone ever succeeding in breaking into any of them is laughable”.

Neopolitanus silently digested this information. He was beginning to agree with the Legate’s earlier remark about the city being impregnable. After a long silence he asked, “And the third fortress in the old wall?”

“That’s the Marriam, shorter than the others being eighty two feet high. The building on top of the fortified base is a magnificent palace Herod built in memory of his wife Marriam. The Hippicus was named after a friend and the Phasael after his brother”.

“Remarkable monuments”, said Neopolitanus.

“He murdered all three”, laughed Crassus.

Neopolitanus, no stranger to political murder, made no comment on the savagery. Instead he pointed to the North West. “There, on the corner opposite the Hippicus, what’s the very tall octagonal tower?”

“That’s the Psephinus Tower; it’s a hundred and fifty feet high. From the top you can see the furthest extent of Palestine; sometimes on a really clear day you can even see Arabia”.

“Remind me, how many fortresses and towers are there?”

“The third wall has ninety towers, each a hundred yards apart. The middle wall has fourteen and the old wall sixty. The circuit of the walls is four miles. Of course as well as the one hundred and sixty four fortified towers, there are the three fortresses we have spoken about, which are part of the walls”.

Overwhelmed, Neopolitanus turned to the Temple which joined the Antonia. “That looks like a city within a city”.

Crassus glanced sideways at his companion. “Covering three and a half acres, it is”, he replied, “as is the Antonia. But the Temple is best seen close up and not in uniform. Tomorrow I am off duty for a few hours; we can visit it then”.

“Delighted”, replied Neopolitanus, “but before we go to supper, tell me about the Antonia. From what little I have seen this place is as big as a small town”.

“You are right. It is virtually a town, but with fortifications like no town you have ever seen. In general design it is a massive tower with four other towers attached at each corner. Of these, three are seventy five feet high and the fourth - the one we are standing on - is one hundred and five feet high. Where it joins the Temple, stairs lead down to the colonnades giving our soldiers access at all times to the Temple’s inner courts”.

Crassus pointed. “As you can see, fully armed Roman infantry are stationed along the tops of the walls surrounding the Temple and the colonnades. We always have a show of strength at festivals, to watch for any sign of discontent. The city is dominated by the Temple and the Temple by the Antonia. So the Antonia houses the guards of all three. The Upper City has a stronghold of its own, Herod’s palace”.

The two men stood gazing at the crowded streets below them. Even at their great height the hum of voices was clearly audible. From time to time the men in the streets would hurl insults at the silent legionaries manning the walls, some of whom were chewing olives and spitting the stones into the crowd. Stoically they ignored the verbal abuse hurled at them.

The two Romans were on the point of leaving the tower when a remark particularly offensive and insulting to Rome was shouted at the silent guards. One of them could stand it no longer. He turned his back on the jeering mob, lifted his short skirt and hauled down his undergarments. Presenting the outraged Jews with his bare arse he blew them a monstrous fart. The Jews howled in fury at this insult and suddenly real trouble flared up.

Crassus groaned, “I must leave you”, and sped away pulling his helmet on as he dashed to the stair well. Neopolitanus followed him more slowly. This wasn’t his fight, though if called on he and his men would reinforce the garrison troops.

Trumpets were sounding and the Antonia’s soldiers were pouring out of their barracks, rapidly forming up on the parade ground. Neopolitanus noted with pride and satisfaction the order with which this was done. Every man in his armour, weapons in hand, standing calmly to attention awaiting their orders.

The fighting in the streets quickly boiled over on to the colonnades and the outer court of the Antonia. A full scale riot was getting under way.

Gallus and Metilius appeared on a balcony overlooking the parade ground in time to see Florus, mounted at the head of a squadron of heavy cavalry, order the gate to be opened. The procurator meant business. The fact that he was grossly outnumbered meant little to him. He knew that the mob outside were virtually unarmed. A few knives, staves and chunks of broken masonry were about to face a well-equipped, heavily armoured killing machine that seriously knew its business.