To the Death (37 page)

He thanked the whole army for their loyalty, not just to Rome, but to him personally. He was, he said, proud to be one of them. Rome knew of their exploits, their bravery, their acts of personal courage and sacrifice, because he had ensured they had been recorded in his despatches to the senate. The citizens of Rome, who slept safe in their beds, did so because of men like them. They knew that their victory had been over a stubborn and brave enemy, who had asked no quarter and given none.

“You have”, he said, “shown the world that no matter who or what Rome's legions face, they will never back down. No matter the wealth and power and the size of their enemy's armies, the strength and daring of their warriors, the legions of Rome will always be victorious. Your campaign in Judaea has been a legendary feat of arms; one that has tested Roman endurance to its limit. It was a campaign fought so brilliantly that the people of Rome turned to its legions in Judaea for a new leader, a proven man to be their Emperor. The victorious army in Judaea sent them their commander, Vespasian, declaring him Imperator on the field of battle”.

As he finished speaking the entire army cheered him to a man, the thunder of their swords beating against their shields reverberating around the parade ground. Titus then ordered his officers to proclaim the name of every man, living or dead, who in the course of the war had performed an outstanding feat of bravery. Then, as those heroes who had survived came forward, he saluted them and awarded them military decorations made from gold and silver.

Men came forward to be promoted to a higher rank. Then every
century
received its share of the spoils of war, a vast treasure of gold and jewels to be divided so that every man received his fair share. With his men rewarded, Titus offered prayers for the whole army and sacrificed a white bull. More bullocks were brought forward and herded around the altars. He ordered that these were to be sacrificed and their meat divided among the troops for a victory feast. As he dismissed the legions to their quarters, it was to the rolling thunder of spears and swords beating on their shields.

Back in his own quarters, Titus had one more task to perform. He visited Josephus who, since his elevation by Vespasian, now had his own tent and a secretary to assist him as he wrote the history of the Jewish war. Titus recognised the strain the Jew was under. It was plain to see in a face grown gaunt and a premature silvering of his hair and beard. When the Temple had fallen, Titus had invited him to take whatever he wished from the Temple treasury, but had been politely refused. He had, however, pleaded for the lives of those members of his own family who had survived – his mother, father, younger brother, plus a dozen cousins and other relatives. He was also able to secure the freedom of five hundred people whom he had known and his family counted as friends. For days Josephus had stayed alone in his tent, refusing to see anybody, banishing his camp servants and his secretary. He was mourning the death of the Holy City. He, more than anybody, knew the extent of that loss, of the terrible price his people would pay for what had happened.

When Titus entered Josephus' tent, he was accompanied by several of his men. He brought with him the only thing that he knew Josephus would accept; the sacred scrolls Titus had rescued from the burning Temple. With trembling hands Josephus took them, tears coursing down his cheeks, prostrating himself at the feet of the man who had conquered his people.

Titus then took three days to celebrate with his officers before reassigning the majority of his army to new postings. The Tenth Legion would remain to garrison Jerusalem. Remembering that the rebuilt Twelfth Legion had been defeated while under the command of Cestius Gallus, he sent it to Melitene on the Euphrates. Two legions, the Fifth and the Fifteenth, he would keep to make the planned journey to Egypt. He then ordered the entire army to march to Caesarea on the coast, where he stored the vast treasure looted from Jerusalem. With the summer over a voyage to Italy was impossible, which meant that he would have to make arrangements for the custody of his prisoners in Judaea. Those that lived would eventually be displayed in Rome.

From Caesarea, Titus travelled to Caesarea Philippi, accompanied by King Agrippa and Berenice. With Titus' obvious interest in his sister, the King, with his eye on further advancement, encouraged this liaison and sought comfort in the arms of Amal, his sister's handmaiden and confidante.

He then diplomatically announced that he needed to visit his northern cities, having been absent too long. This sudden need to travel signalled to Berenice that, as far as he was concerned, she was free to indulge in a liaison with the obviously infatuated Titus. In any event, Agrippa had reasoned he couldn't lose. If the affair fizzled out she would return to his bed. If it was to be more than a brief love affair, his standing with the man who would one day be Emperor could only rise. Perhaps, he mused, like Herod the Great he would be appointed titular King of the Jews. Certainly his blood line was more ‘royal' than the Idumaen could ever have hoped to claim. Meanwhile, he would console himself with the considerable charms of Amal.

A besotted Titus, entirely captivated by the Jewish Queen, was agonising over how he could take advantage of the King's absence without making a fool of himself, when he received an invitation to dinner. After spending an extraordinary amount of time over his toilet he advised his senior officers that he was calling on the Queen at her request, muttering something about official state business which nobody believed for a second, but nodded in grave agreement.

As the sun slipped down the bald slopes of the blue-grey Judaean mountains, Titus made his way somewhat breathlessly to the Royal enclosure. Here he was received by Nathan, captain of Berenice's bodyguard, who led him personally to the Royal Pavilion, the entrance to which was protected by six warriors, magnificent in their dress uniforms. As they saluted, Titus noted with quiet satisfaction that there was nothing ceremonial about the weapons they carried.

Berenice's private quarters consisted of a series of silk lined pavilions. Joined together they became a tented palace whose opulence included a walled garden complete with a pool and several fountains. Shown into the Queen's inner sanctum, Titus was stunned by the magical interior which was decorated with silk carpets whose antiquity and beauty were beyond price. Myrrh and incense in silver braziers scented the air. From outside the sound of a harp drifted through the night. Jewelled lamps hung from the silk lined ceiling, filling the space with a soft warm light. Cushions were mounded invitingly on either side of a table inlaid with precious stones and decorated with mythical beasts.

A black slave, dressed in a white shift, held a silver bowl of water. Her companion proffered a cotton towel. A third came forward, head bowed, to offer wine in the rarest of drinking vessels – a goblet fashioned from flawless rock crystal, something Titus had never seen before.

Along one side of the pavilion, Numidian girls dressed in Egyptian costumes stood like statues ready to serve the waiting banquet; antique pieces of silver engraved with bunches of grapes, the emblem of Israel, decorated the snow white tablecloth. Silver lamps suspended above were wreathed in desert orchids.

The only male slave in the room, a eunuch, was dressed in gold livery that would have been the envy of a nobleman. He was responsible for the amphora of a fifty year old Corcubian wine, swaddled in damp cloths, resting in a hip bath cut from a single block of green veined marble.

Berenice, in an ivory silk robe, her only jewellery a string of black pearls, advanced to meet him with a dazzling smile and the deepest of curtsies which afforded him a glimpse of her magnificent breasts. The perfume she wore was opobalsam, which was procured in miniscule quantities from the Arabian interior. None was ever offered for sale; the entire production – a single casket – was offered every year to Berenice as a gift.

As Titus extended a hand to assist her in rising, words failed him, so he simply offered her the gift he had brought, presenting it with a single word “Majesty”. It was an emerald and diamond tiara, the stones set in a filigree of gold and silver. Reputed to have been owned by Cleopatra, the merchant who had sold him this breathtaking piece swore by the gods that the jewel's provenance was unimpeachable. Titus, uncaring of the fortune in gold it had cost him, without speaking a word placed it gently on the brow of the woman who, from the first moment he had seen her, had captured his heart.

Standing inches apart he was only aware of two things - the wild beating of his heart and the golden eyes gazing into his. As she leaned forward to brush his cheek with her lips she whispered huskily, “My Lord, you honour me beyond measure”.

With his heart singing with joy, Titus embraced her. Hungrily they clung together, indifferent to the slaves who turned their eyes down and with heads bowed drifted away.

Breathing heavily, his head swimming, Titus finally released her saying shakily, “I have waited for you without knowing, all my life”.

Berenice caressed his face and released the clasp holding his cloak. As she regarded him with smoky eyes, she felt her loins melt. Casually she unclipped the brooch holding her dress at the shoulder and kicked it away with an insouciant gesture. She was completely naked.

Without taking his eyes off her, Titus loosened his toga. In the soft glow of the lamps his hard muscled body was like sculpted marble. They stood apart, holding hands like the first man and the first woman, eyes locked, savouring the moment.

From that night Titus was determined that they would never be separated.

To ensure her company, he stayed in Caesarea Philippi for months, during which time she never left his side. Together they dreamed of Empire with her as his Queen.

To celebrate his victory, Titus staged shows of every kind. From their President's box in the arena they dined on delicacies imported from Rome - dishes that were more to Titus' taste than Berenice's. As the prisoners Titus had brought with him died in the arena, he feasted on pork womb and slices of elder, a delicacy made from a cow's udder, and potted dormice served with a prune salad and washed down with a ten year old Falernian wine.

During the triumphant Roman's stay in Philippi, Gioras, led by a ring through his nose, was brought before him. Titus ordered that the greatest of care should be taken of his prisoner. He wanted him in good health for the triumphal procession he was planning for Rome.

35

W
ith
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.