To the Death (9 page)

In front of the sanctuary stood the altar, cut from a single block of basalt seventy five feet square, twenty-two and a half feet high, its four square corners jutting out and shaped like horns. Samuel also noticed that the altar was positioned on a gentle slope leading up to it from the south. Priests, who had decreed this, had also laid down the rules for its construction and had supervised the work, for it had been fashioned without the use of iron and once in position, no iron was ever allowed to come into contact with it. Round the sanctuary and the altar ran a thirty six inch high parapet of beautiful rose marble that separated the laity from the priests.

Samuel stood outside this barrier, his fingers resting lightly on the sun warmed stone. Before him was the Holiest building on earth. Thoughtfully he studied the one hundred and five feet high walls that protected it. These were pierced by a single arch that opened into a vast roofless chamber, its walls sheathed in gold. From where he stood, Samuel could see the gates set in the opposite wall which led to the second chamber. Above them were grapevines from which, fashioned in gold, hung bunches of grapes as big as a man.

The Sanctuary itself, the Holy Temple, was situated behind these massive gates and walls. Reached by a flight of fifteen steps, each tread was cut from an individual marble block. Seen from the front, the Sanctuary was the same height and width - a hundred and fifty feet each way. Some of the stones used in its construction were sixty eight feet long, nine feet wide, and eight and a half feet deep. The whole building was overlaid with gold.

In the sun's first light, it was like a second sun, its light so bright it was impossible to look at it directly. Samuel knew from his brother-in-law, who was a priest, that a fabulous Babylonian tapestry hung across the doors of the Sanctuary's second chamber. One hundred feet high, fifty feet wide and richly embroidered, this priceless curtain depicted the whole vista of creation.

Through the gates lay the ground floor of the Sanctuary, a windowless chamber ninety feet high made entirely from white marble. Positioned around the walls of the outer chamber were three fabled lamps of solid gold. World famous as works of art, each lamp had seven arms, branching from a twenty foot tall central column. The seven arms with their perpetually burning lamps symbolised the seven planets.

The innermost chamber measured thirty feet square and was separated by a cloth of gold. This inner sanctum was the Holy of Holies. It contained absolutely nothing. It had held the Ark of the Covenant that had disappeared six hundred years ago when Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, destroyed Jerusalem, burnt the Temple and enslaved the surviving Jews. Re-sanctified, the Holy of Holies had been rededicated to God. Inviolable, unapproachable, this is where the God of Israel resided. On the Day of Atonement the High Priest would take off his splendid robes of office and put on a simple shift of coarse linen, to prostrate himself and in an act of atonement for God's chosen people, offer up prayers of repentance for sins committed, and ask for forgiveness.

With its courts of walls and towers, the vast Temple complex was a city within a city defended by three fortress towers. One of these, the massive Antonia, was attached to it by colonnades and staircases. These staircases led to both of the other two fortresses and the Temple itself. Roman soldiers used these staircases to reach the Temple walls where they were always positioned, fully armed, to watch for any sign of public disorder.

Samuel glanced up. As expected they were there, impassive as statues, the sun glinting off their helmets and weapons, living symbols of oppression. Bile rose in his throat. With a tightening of his lips, he turned away and strode back towards the Corinthian gates.

The commanding sound of the
shofar
, announcing the arrival of the High Priest, reminded him why he was there. Resplendent in his robes of office, Ananus had appeared on the dais. The magnificence of his costume gave the High priest tremendous presence.

The High Priest addressed the crowd. “Brethren, daily the people suffer injustices. In their suffering they grow angry and strike out. Jew is killing Jew. The grieving of the widows and orphans grows louder as husbands are killed for no reason.”

The High priest paused, but not a word came from his audience. He continued “The authorities are provoked. Soldiers murdered, bringing the retribution of Rome on our heads. The countryside is ravaged by bandits - anything is permitted to any man, in the name of liberty. Yet every man having lost his liberty lives in perpetual fear”.

This time when the High Priest paused a low murmur of agreement ran through his audience. Encouraged he went on “By the authority of our office and the high regard the people have for our wisdom, we must restore law and order and the nation to tranquillity.”

“Romans go home” an anonymous voice shouted from the centre of the crowd.

The High Priest raised his hands, his face flushed with anger at this provocative remark, only too aware of the Roman soldiers lining the walls of the colonnades who would report it to their superiors. “It is” he replied, “precisely that kind of seditious and provocative nonsense which is stirring the people up and turning the Romans against us.”

“The Procurator is causing most of the trouble”. Again it was the anonymous voice. “He presses us too hard”. This time there was a sullen rumble of agreement from the crowd.

The High Priest called for quiet, but more and more people began to shout. They hurled abuse at the Procurator Gessius Florus and cursed him.

In the end Ananus had to call on his trumpeters to restore silence. “Be warned” the High Priest grated, “Rome will not tolerate disloyalty. The treatment you have received so far is nothing to that which will come down on your heads if civil disorder continues.” Before he could be interrupted he continued hurriedly “We are subjects of Rome not citizens. We are bound by the laws of fealty that that status affords to us.” This last was a reminder - a bitter reminder - that as a subject nation they were required to pay tribute to their masters over and above normal taxation. There was also the unspoken reminder that they did not enjoy the same civil rights and privileges as citizens of Rome.

An elderly Pharisee, who was also a magistrate, respected for his piety and loved for his scrupulous fairness when administering the law, pushed to the front of the crowd. “If we are bound by the laws and rules of the Empire's subject peoples, we are still entitled to Roman justice under Roman law”. Not sure where this was leading, but sensing battle had been joined by old adversaries, the crowd roared its support before falling silent. What reply would the Sadducean High Priest give?

Concealing his anger Ananus replied, “Roman justice goes hand in hand with loyalty to Caesar. We should all use our powers, our influence, to persuade the people to demonstrate their love for Caesar.” Jeers greeted this smooth response.

But the elderly Pharisee hadn't finished. “It is not the people, but the Procurator Gessius Florus who tramples on Rome's laws as he tramples on the people”. He had to pause as a deafening shout of agreement greeted this bold statement. The Pharisee continued remorselessly “Let us send our case to Caesar. Let the Emperor judge the rightness of this matter”.

Gritting his teeth and inwardly cursing all Pharisees whom he hated from the bottom of his heart, the High priest shrieked “Complaining to Caesar about his Procurator is a dangerous path to take. Does he not have evidence of his troops murdered in cold blood? Are not taxes unpaid? Do not the people of Samaria and Galilee attack each other? We would do well to be careful before we demand of Caesar the removal of his Procurator, whose duty it is to collect those taxes and punish those who take up arms against Rome's authority”.

Much grumbling greeted this speech. Many arguments broke out. Suddenly a loud voice rang out. “The people are oppressed, and cruelly abused by a Procurator who has as much regard for them as a butcher for pigs”. This shocking statement came from a burly blonde haired man with piercing blue eyes, Benjamon Bar Simon, leader of one of the nationalist factions. It almost silenced the crowd but many found the courage to mutter encouragement.

Meanwhile on the walls, an officer who had been carefully observing the meeting, despatched a soldier to report to the
prefectus
commanding the Antonia that things were warming up and words were flying that, in his view, came close to treason.

Ananus was becoming desperate as he cast around in his mind how he might draw this disastrous meeting to a close, bitterly regretting having called it in the first place.

He was saved by the Pharisee. “King Agrippa will soon be with us. Is he not loved and respected, not only by his own subjects, but by the Jews of this city? Let us put our case before him and ask him for counsel, for not only is the King's wisdom a blessing to the Jews, it is valued by Caesar, who trusts him to rule in his name”.

The High Priest, glad to be off the hook, hastily approved this suggestion, adding in a harsh voice “While we wait for the King, do nothing to provoke Roman authority. Use your influence with the people to persuade them to obey Rome's laws”.

As the crowd broke up the High Priest, drenched with sweat and nursing a blinding headache, tottered back into the Temple silently cursing the Romans and the Nationalists in equal measure. He must, he decided, speak with the Procurator and his superior Cestius Gallus, the governor of Syria.

Before he could send a messenger to the Antonia begging for an audience with both, who had not yet left for Syria, a second message arrived. The townspeople who had gone out to meet the arriving Roman
cohorts
had been cut to pieces. Survivors were staggering into the city with tales of wholesale slaughter. Thousands of dead and dying Jews, men woman and children, were scattered for miles across the barren plain surrounding the city. They had met the approaching Romans with songs of praise, garlands of flowers and refreshments of fruit and water. When these and their greetings had been ignored and rejected, they had grown angry at the insult, starting to curse the soldiers. This had been the signal agreed with Florus for them to attack the unarmed civilians without mercy. Slumped in his throne, the High Priest started to think about survival. A hundred and twenty years ago the Romans under Pompey had destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple. History, thought the terrified priest, was about to repeat itself.

Amal had also gone to the Temple dressed in the clothes of a peasant. With her face veiled she mingled with the crowds in the court of the women. Horrified at what she had heard, and fearful of what must surely follow, she was on the point of leaving the court when she spotted Berenice. Pushing her way through the crowd she made her way to the Queen's side. In a low voice she said, “Highness, I must speak with you, but we must be discreet.”

Berenice was startled by this sudden request, but gave no indication that she had been addressed, other than a quick sideways flick of her eyes to pinpoint who had spoken to her. Without turning her head she replied, “Who are you?”

“I am Amal, a slave owned by the priest Eleazar, governor of the Temple”. Berenice noticed that she did not say in Eleazar's household. Without it being said, both women knew that the other was aware of her position as Eleazar's mistress.

“What do you want of me?”

“Nothing, my lady. I am here to warn you of a plot to kill you”.

Berenice walked slowly down the court keeping close to the wall. Amal kept pace with her, but walked slightly behind her. Around them eddied the great mob of people. “Who wishes me harm?”

“Eleazar is the secret leader of the Zealots. He is planning to assassinate his father Ananias, the former High Priest of all Israel, then kill the current High Priest of all Israel Ananus, and assume his office. Importantly, he has been waiting for the Sicarii to attack the Romans. He will now make his own strike, but not against the Romans – he is determined to be master of Jerusalem”.

“How do you know all of this, and why should any of it threaten my life”. Berenice knew the answer to the question, but asked it to test her informant. Inwardly she was in turmoil. This unknown women was claiming that the Jews were about to start a civil war and take on the Romans as well. It was madness.

“Eleazar is no different to any other man in bed. He needs to talk to someone about his hopes, his plans, his ambitions. Mistresses are more discreet than wives; they have to be, they can be removed without any questions being asked”.

“But why am I personally threatened,” asked Berenice.

“Caesar has favoured your brother the King and enlarged his kingdom. He is known as a loyal supporter of Rome. The nationalists want him to come over to them in the hope of getting him to change sides. Your death will be blamed on the Romans. Your murder will be laid at Florus' door”.

Berenice turned to face Amal, “Why do you tell me all of this? If Eleazar even suspects you of betraying him, your death would not be easy”.

“Two reasons. The Romans will win in the end. I want to be on the winning side”. Amal became silent.

“And the second reason?” prompted Berenice.

“My mother”, murmured Amal, “was a slave at Herod's court. The King bedded my mother but never acknowledged me. We are kinsmen, you and I. My second reason for warning you is the tie of blood”.