To the Death (21 page)

Like all dictators, Nero worried about possible rivals. He began to imagine enemies everywhere as his behaviour massively alienated the senatorial class. Increasing paranoia deepened his suspicions. Prominent senators were charged with imaginary crimes and executed if they refused to commit suicide. Nero wasn't the first emperor to employ a system called
bonadamnatorum.
Condemning men to death and confiscating their estates and all their worldly possessions; the dependents of his victims left penniless and banished from the empire on pain of death if they ever returned. In sixty five, Nero had ordered the Empire's best general, Corbulo, to return from the east and then ordered him to kill himself. Tragically, in the following year, Nero recalled the commanders of the legions in Lower and Upper Germany, the talented Scribonius brothers, Rufus and Proculus, ordering them to commit suicide or face execution. This brought about the demise of Rome's three outstanding generals, whose loyalty to Rome and the Emperor was unswerving.

As a further safeguard against a putsch in his absence from the capital, the entire senate and their families had been
invited
to join him in Greece. Among these was the fifty eight year old retired general Flavius Vespasian, who had played a part in Claudius' invasion of Britain where he had captured the Isle of Wight and later Maiden Castle, for which he was awarded the insignia of a Triumph. Made a
consul
in fifty one, he retired two years' later to the country. This took him away from court and particularly Nero's mother Agrippina, who had taken a dislike to him. With good reason, Vespasian feared the daughter of Germanicus Caesar and sister of Caligula. When Claudius died in fifty four it was from being poisoned by Agrippina, who was his second wife.

Ferociously ambitious and determined to be Empress she contrived to get Nero, her son by her first husband Domitius Ahenobarbus, accepted as heir to the purple in place of Britannicus, Claudius' own son by his former wife Messalina.

Within a year of Nero's succession Britannicus was dead, having fallen victim to a poisoned dish of mushrooms served to him by Agrippina. She was consolidating her hold on the Empire by sleeping with her son Nero and having herself declared Augusta - an act which eventually prompted Nero to have her assassinated.

Called out of retirement, Vespasian became governor of the province of Africa which he successfully administered for two years. While he was in Africa his wife died, leaving him with the responsibility of two sons. The eldest, Titus, a serving officer in the army; the youngest aged thirteen, Domitian, was a strange youth, with a liking for pain – other people's - particularly when he was the cause.

Returning from Africa, Vespasian was surprised and chagrined to be invited to join the Court in Greece. The general, who was indifferent to the arts, particularly singing and music, could not find a credible excuse to turn down the royal invitation. It was during an excruciatingly boring poetry reading by Nero - one of his own of course - that a courier arrived from Judaea; a senior
tribune
sent by Cestius Gallus from Antioch. The crash of his hobnailed sandals on the marbled floor announced his presence, interrupting the senators, court nobles and their wives, who were gathered in an admiring circle round Nero as he proclaimed one of his excruciatingly bad poems.

Flanked on each side by Nero's personal bodyguard, the
tribune
saluted and dropped to one knee. Nero, incredulous at the interruption, stared at him in silence. The entire court held its breath. The
tribune
cleared his throat. “My Lord Caesar, I bring greetings from your most loyal subject Cestius Gallus,
Legate
of Syria and Judaea”. The soldier paused before continuing. “The
Legate
sends you a report of the grave circumstances that have arisen in Judaea”. At this the
tribune
offered the scroll he had brought.

Sensing that whatever was written on the proffered report was something he didn't want to know, the Emperor refused to take it. Instead he caught Vespasian's eye and, with a barely perceptible nod, indicated he was to accept the unwelcome news. Vespasian dismissed the courier and waited. He made no attempt to give the message to the Emperor, though he knew without being told that it contained dire news - as indeed did Nero, who had flung himself into a chair frowning heavily, lips compressed in anger.

After what seemed an age, he held out his hand with a deep sigh and breaking the seal unrolled the report. Its contents brought him to his feet with a roar. “Rebellion”. The word was literally spat out, saliva splattering those nearest to him. “The filthy, ungrateful Jews have rebelled”.

The gasp from the assembled courtiers was lost in the tirade unleashed by the Emperor. Pounding up and down on the dais, sweat streaming down his face, he castigated his absent
Legate
and the rebellious Jews in equal measure. In the middle of his rant, Nero stopped as suddenly as he had started, remembering he had murdered Rome's best generals. Who could he send to Judaea; somebody who would do the job, and would not have dreams of Empire? That man, he suddenly realised, was standing next to him; a capable soldier from an ordinary family with no political background - a safe pair of hands.

So in February, the fifty-seven-year old Vespasian was appointed to the rank of
Legatus
. His orders were to avenge Rome for the loss of a legion and its eagle, to punish the Jews for insulting the Emperor by ceasing to offer the daily sacrifice for Rome and for the Emperor, to set an example to the world of Rome's power and be a lesson to those who thought to challenge it. His orders were that Israel was to cease to exist, Jerusalem to be razed to the ground and the Jewish people annihilated.

With him would go the man who would replace Gallus - Gaius Licinius Mucianus who, like Vespasian, was ‘old school', a statesman and a soldier.

Vespasian, glad to take his leave of a court he detested and an Emperor he held in contempt, set out for Antioch via the Hellespont and Turkey. Here he took command of two legions, the Fifth Macedonica and the famous Tenth Fretensis, and marched to Ptolemais. From there he made his way to Acre and was met by King Agrippa who pledged his loyalty. Together they marched to Sepphoris, already garrisoned by Roman troops. This would be Vespasian's headquarters for the coming campaign.

First he would gather all his forces and only when they were under his command would he move. Throughout his military life Vespasian had stuck to a policy of attacking each target with maximum force, eliminating the enemy to ensure there would be no survivors to trouble him later. Having settled at Sepphoris his first task was to send orders to his son Titus and an old friend, Tiberius Julius Alexander, who had served as a staff officer under the senior general Gnaeus Domititius Corbulo during the campaigns against the Parthians in sixty two. He was an experienced soldier who, under Claudius, had been appointed procurator of Judaea in 46–48.

Meanwhile, Judaea was an opportunity for Vespasian, who saw the war as a chance to get away from Nero. It would be Tiberius who would advise Vespasian to adopt the strategy of allowing the Jews of Jerusalem to destroy themselves. He also pinpointed the three rival leaders and their followers - Eleazar ben Simon, leader of the zealots; the private army of John of Gischala; and Simon Ben Gioras, who was supported by men from Idumaea, the southern part of Judaea that the Romans did not control. All three, Tiberius pointed out, had different agendas. John strove for political freedom. Simon on the other hand stood at the head of a Messianic movement. Eleazar was a nationalist who wanted the Romans out of Judaea, with himself in power as ruler of Jerusalem.

19

T
he
six hundred recruits wore cloaks as protection against the elements. Those who had belongings had them strapped in a bundle carried on their shoulders. It was a dark night, with dampness in the air that signalled rain was on the way. The newly arrived trainees, anxious to get into the warmth of the barracks that surrounded the parade ground, envied the legionaries who had been their escorts and who had been dismissed to its warmth and a hot meal.

The ragged lines of volunteers shivered in the icy rain that had started to fall. The vast recruit training camp, located in the country north of Rome, was ideally suited to its purpose. Here the would-be legionaries would eventually take part in field exercises that simulated combat in every kind of terrain and in conditions and circumstances dictated by their tutors.

Gaius Iovis the duty centurion, immaculately turned out, was flanked by a dozen NCOs and the
optio
, the junior officer responsible for the administrative tasks associated with the men under the centurion's command; punishment records, administering the men's pay, savings, equipment, sentry rotas, organising weapons inspections, feed for the section's mules, ration collection and barrack inspections - all of which had to be carried out and recorded accurately, much of it on a daily basis. This required the
optio
to be literate, good with numbers, have organisational skills and a firm grasp of logistics. He performed these duties as an addition to being a soldier, and was not excused any of the day-to-day duties of a legionary. The rank and his performance were pre-requisites to promotion to centurion.

Gaius Iovis was as indifferent to the weather as he was to his new charges' discomfort. “The men who brought you here” he bellowed “are soldiers of Rome; the best in the world. You signed up to join them and my job is to make sure you are fit to do so. Those of you who work hard in the next six months will leave here as legionaries. Those that fail – if they survive - could end up in the Empire's mines or chained to a galley oar.” With that ominous promise the shivering men were finally dismissed to barracks.

The drill instructors arrived before dawn, canes swinging, iron shod sandals booting the startled bleary eyed recruits out of their warm cots. They were herded into the dark street and driven like cattle to the stores, where they were stripped of their civilian identities.

Stark naked, the shivering men lined up at the long counters, where the quarter master's assistants handed out their new clothes and equipment - tunics, jerkins, woollen breeches, heavy cloaks, mess tin and, most importantly, a pair of heavy sandals soled with iron studs. As no attention had been given to sizing, men hurriedly swapped various garments they had been issued with. Eventually standard issue tunics were dragged over standard issue rough wool breeches. Sandals were laced and heavy leather jerkins pulled over heads and buckled fast at the sides.

Centurian Gaius arrived with a blast of cold air from the door he kicked open and a roar that silenced the room. “OUTSIDE - NOW!”

With the drill instructors mercilessly hammering them with their canes, the hapless recruits staggered into the cold dawn, to be driven onto the parade ground where they spent a long and painful day learning the basics - to move and to stop on command, to march in step and to turn left, right and about. They had to stand to attention and to memorise their position in the rank allotted to them. They ended their first day marching to the armourer's stores, to receive a mail shirt, a helmet and a dagger. Barely having time to try out their new possessions, the armourer's assistants issued training javelins, large rectangular shields made of cane and wooden swords weighted with lead. These weapons were greeted with incredulity by the new recruits. They were the object of much ribald comment until Gaius put in an appearance.

The weeks that followed were filled with endless drilling. The dawn trumpet called the recruits to assembly dressed and equipped for inspection, followed by a breakfast of barley porridge and watered wine. Then back to the parade ground to learn the complicated parade drills.

Gaius and his teams of drill instructors stalked their ranks. Every mistake was punished with a savage blow from the thick canes they carried and a volley of curses. Painfully they learned to stop and turn, to wheel and to march in step with perfect precision. Then they learned the battlefield drills, unique to Rome's legions; their complex formation changes, open order to close, line to square and back to line. They learned how to form the tortoise formation and the wedge. Without breaking step they learned the difficult but vital manoeuvre performed within the square, whereby men in the middle and the back move forward and the men at the front move back out of the front line, thus presenting the enemy with a rested adversary. In a battle that could rage all day, this manoeuvre was of incalculable value to the Romans.

During a close engagement, visibility could become a problem as they and the opposing armies stirred up great clouds of dust. Noise was another element which, combined with poor visibility, caused confusion, making communication difficult. Commanders used standards as rallying points, but moving their forces tactically as a battle developed was difficult. Using voice commands was ineffectual. To overcome this, the Romans had designed a trumpet, the
cornicon
, with a particularly penetrating note. They also developed signals to manoeuvre their forces across the battlefield. So important were these trumpeters that they never entered the thick of battle, staying close to the overall commander and protected by his bodyguard, ready to sound out his orders which would ring across the battlefield.

Instantly recognising these signals was so important, that Gaius simulated the noise and dust of battle by turning out the cavalry to mill around his trainees, churning up dust. The noise was supplied by a military band!