Authors: Robert Fabbri
It was through gritted teeth, therefore, that Herod had delivered his speech at the opening of the ceremony earlier that morning; firstly reading out Caligula’s mandate confirming
Flaccus’ position and then following that with fulsome praise for the sagacity of the Emperor in making that decision. His tribute to Flaccus had not been as effusive as the delegations that
followed him, but it was nevertheless adequate, in Vespasian’s opinion, for him to keep one half of his grain. The part where he had expressed his sorrow at having to leave for his kingdom
after such a short stay with his good friend Flaccus had forced Vespasian to suppress a violent giggling fit.
Eventually the delegations from the surrounding cities and towns had all finished extolling the virtues of the man who had the power of life and death over them and it was the turn of the
representatives of the turbulent city of Alexandria to speak. It fell to the Jews to speak first, leaving to the more numerous Greeks the honour of speaking just before the prefect gave his
reply.
Alexander the Alabarch stood up from the midst of a group of old men who were sweating profusely in the ever strengthening sun, dressed in their mantles and long robes.
‘We the Jews of Alexandria,’ he declaimed in Greek, ‘also applaud our beloved Emperor for his wisdom in confirming our noble prefect in his position. We count ourselves
fortunate that the Emperor Gaius has set such a man as Aulus Avilius Flaccus to rule over us as we know that we can count on his evenhandedness in dealing with the great injustices that are at the
moment being dealt to our people by the non-Jewish part of the population of this city.’
Flaccus’ composure stiffened and there was a general stirring among the city delegations and the Alexandrian Greek mob in the audience behind them; this was not the sort of thing that
custom and good manners decreed should form a part of a congratulatory speech.
‘Although the ravages against Jewish property still continue and the murder and rapine of our people escalate daily, we have no doubt that the prefect will bring to justice those
responsible and order compensation to the victims. We are also confident that he will give his word on this to King Herod Agrippa, the personal friend of the Emperor and the most exalted of Jews in
the Empire.’
Indignant mutterings from the Greek mob began to escalate; Herod shifted uncomfortably in his chair, evidently unwilling to become involved in his co-religionists’ struggle in this
province.
‘We must also thank Prefect Flaccus for his endeavour to track down and arrest the blasphemous preacher, Gaius Julius Paulus, in order to put an end to his disgusting heresy. Although he
has so far been unsuccessful in finding Paulus, we feel sure that the prefect will redouble his efforts and very soon apprehend this divisive and dangerous man.’
This brought incensed cries of outrage from the audience; it was unthinkable that anyone should mention publicly that the prefect was unsuccessful in anything. Flaccus, however, remained seated
with a faint smile on his face, looking outwardly relaxed, swathed in his toga, leaning with his right elbow on the arm of the chair and resting the other hand on the knee of his left leg extended
before him; it would be beneath his dignitas to shout down the Alabarch.
There was a stirring at the entrance to the arena closest to Vespasian as Alexander continued. ‘We would therefore promise to pledge our allegiance to him and will undertake to make
sacrifices on his behalf to God once he has done these things.’
This was the final insult for the Greeks; Alexander had refused to recognise Flaccus’ authority until he had met their demands, which would entail, among other things, that the Greeks
would be liable to pay for the damage that they had caused.
Alexander’s next words were drowned out by howls of protest that gradually turned into raucous laughter as the mob became aware of a strange procession making its way into the arena from
the entrance nearest to Vespasian close to where Flavia and the other Roman women were seated. A filthy, toothless beggar was being carried, shoulder high, through the crowd wearing a purple cloak.
On his head he wore a parody of a crown made of iron scraps attached to a leather headband and in his hand, in mimicry of a sceptre, he held a sponge fastened to the end of a stick, as used for
personal hygiene in public latrines. The beggar cackled as his bodyguard of equally insalubrious vagrants pushed a path through the crowd crying, ‘Make way for the King, so recently a
beggar!’
‘Hail the King!’ the crowd roared repeatedly through their mirth.
Vespasian glanced over at Herod whose eyes bulged in outrage as his jaw locked solid in recognition that this farce was directed at him, the king who until only recently had been as penniless as
a beggar as he languished in gaol. The destitute wretch being paraded around for Herod’s humiliation had been plucked from the street and given royal attire and honours much as Caligula had
plucked Herod from his confinement and made him a king almost overnight.
Herod got to his feet and, with as much dignity as he could summon, swept from the arena followed by the Alabarch and the Jewish elders to the mocking jeers of the Greek mob.
‘I see what you mean, Vespasian,’ Flaccus observed with a faint smile, indicating with his head to the entrance through which the travesty had come, ‘he does sow discord very
well.’
Vespasian looked round and saw, in the shadows of the archway, a short figure with half an ear missing, smiling maliciously; for a moment they locked gazes before Paulus turned and walked away
on his bow legs.
‘I
DON
’
T UNDERSTAND
why Flaccus ain’t doing a fucking thing about it,’
Magnus announced, looking with disgust at the bodies of two Jewish women who had evidently been savagely raped before having their throats slit. A dead infant had been placed under the head of one
corpse in mocking imitation of a pillow.
‘Because at the moment the Greeks are doing his work for him by keeping the Jews confined to their quarter,’ Vespasian replied, studiously ignoring the bodies and giving Flavia,
travelling in another chair next to him, a concerned look; she had gone very pale despite Ziri’s efforts with a large fan to keep her cool. She should not have too much trouble fainting in
Alexander’s temple, he reflected with morbid irony, especially if they should come across more corpses on the way there.
News of Herod’s humiliation at the ceremony and his swift departure from Alexandria the previous day – forfeiting the other half of his grain – had spread through the city, and
the Jews, taking this insult to be against everyone of their race, had rioted en masse and invaded the Greek Quarter. The Greeks had responded by driving their hated and outnumbered co-inhabitants
back into their quarter and blockading it, thus confining the violence. They had, however, not been content with just bottling up the Jews and had pressed on into the quarter, pushing the Jews
further and further back until almost their entire population was cramped into just a few streets along the coastal area to the east of the Royal Palace. And they were the lucky ones; those who had
had the misfortune to be captured had been flayed, crucified and then burned alive on their crosses.
From the palace windows that morning, Vespasian had seen tens of thousands of women and children huddled on the beach, taking refuge, while their menfolk fought with whatever improvised weapons
they had to hand to keep control of the areas that they still possessed; the rest of the quarter burned with such intensity that the fumes were strong even two miles away as he approached the
Temple of Alexander. Although the violence was confined to the Jewish Quarter, Hortensius had requested, and been given, another sixteen men for his guard after Vespasian – having heard from
Felix that the replica breastplate was ready – had disregarded all advice and insisted on venturing out on the pretext of showing Flavia Alexander’s body.
‘I still don’t understand it,’ Magnus said as a group of Greeks ran past them in the direction of the riot, yelling excitedly and taking a wide berth around Hortensius and his
legionaries marching ahead of the chairs. ‘If the riot’s been confined, why allow the killing to go on?’
‘Because the worse it gets the more grateful the Jews will be to Flaccus when he eventually stops it and they’ll have to acquiesce to all his terms,’ Flavia said weakly.
‘Surely they’ll just be very pissed off that he didn’t act sooner?’
‘They may well be,’ Vespasian agreed, ‘but Flaccus will just tell them that next time he might not act at all so they should shut up, stop making demands, be thankful that most
of them are still alive and go back to how things were before. It’s almost as if he engineered it.’
‘Oh, but he did, I’m sure of it,’ Flavia informed them.
‘You mean he didn’t prevent it rather than engineer it?’
‘No, he caused it, I’m certain.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘I saw who organised the charade in the arena and I recognised him from the riots in Cyrenaica, he’s a trouble-maker.’
‘Paulus? I know, but that doesn’t mean that Flaccus was using him; in fact, I had his word that he would try and arrest him.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘Why not? It was in return for some useful information about Herod and it was also in his interest to do so.’
‘Then ask yourself this: if he had meant to arrest Paulus, then why didn’t he do it yesterday in the Gymnasium? You saw him, I saw him, Flaccus saw him and yet he sent no one after
him; Paulus didn’t even run away, he walked.’
The realisation hit Vespasian like a sling-shot: she was right. ‘Flaccus sat through Alexander’s speech with a smile on his face because he knew what was coming next; he’d set
it up. He knew what the result would be: the Jews would be provoked into a full-scale riot. So he’s not going to stop the violence until the Jews almost beg him to, and then he can get them
to agree to anything; just as he’d planned. And I gave him the means by telling him just how divisive Paulus was.’
Flavia raised her eyebrows. ‘I wouldn’t blame yourself, my dear, Flaccus already knew. You see, that wasn’t the first time I’d seen Paulus in Alexandria. He was at the
palace the evening I met you again; I saw him leave as I arrived.’
Recollecting that Flaccus had hurried off to a meeting after his first interview with him, Vespasian groaned. ‘He’s been using Paulus all along as another way to stir up discontent
among the Jews; he never had any intention of arresting him. He’s managed to get himself everything he wanted: an official ceremony where the people of the province witness the
Emperor’s emissary, Herod, hand over his mandate, at which he’s so completely humiliated that he leaves without his grain – which Flaccus will now, no doubt, claim as his own
– and leaving the Jews so incensed by the insult that they riot, stupidly putting themselves in a position that only Flaccus can rescue them from on condition that they agree to his
terms.’
‘He is a clever man,’ Magnus commented appreciatively as they arrived at the Soma, ‘but I reckon that you shouldn’t dwell on it, sir; let’s just do what we came
here to do and get the fuck out of it and leave this shithole to rot.’
Vespasian sighed as Hortensius brought their bodyguard to a halt at the Soma’s gates, resigning himself to the fact that any attempt at redressing the humiliation that he felt at being so
played by Flaccus would have to wait for another time, and besides, he had the consolation of taking Flavia from him. He took her hand to help her down from her chair. ‘Are you happy about
the timing, my dear?’
‘Perfectly, Vespasian.’
‘Good. Hortensius, wait for us here, we won’t be long; the lady wishes to see the great Alexander.’
The sun had now almost reached the horizon and Alexander’s Temple was filled with a rich amber light giving it a feeling of restful peace, a far cry from the violence
being meted out just a couple of miles away. Vespasian and Magnus watched from beneath the great equestrian statue as the priest led Flavia past the guard and down the steps to the burial chamber;
Ziri waited close to its entrance as was expected of a slave attending his mistress. Vespasian had declined the priest’s offer of a second visit to the chamber on the plausible grounds that
Augustus had only visited it once, but in reality because it was vital that Flavia should appear at the top of the steps alone for the few moments that it took the priest to complete his cleansing
ritual.
As Flavia’s head disappeared below the floor level Vespasian turned to Magnus. ‘You go and stand directly opposite the top of the steps. When Flavia comes back up she’ll turn
and walk towards me; as soon as you see the priest coming up, rub your nose and I’ll give her the signal to faint.’
‘Right you are, sir; let’s hope that Ziri doesn’t eat all the bread meant for the geese while he’s waiting down there,’ Magnus said with a wry smile and then walked
around the temple to take up his position.
Vespasian glanced over at Ziri who nodded back and tapped the satchel slung over his shoulder. Satisfied that the little Marmarides was ready, Vespasian studied the full-bearded guard. He was
dressed in the uniform of an
argyraspides
, the elite, veteran phalangites who had formed the backbone of Alexander’s infantry: a crested, bronze Thracian-style helmet, a brown,
hardened-leather cuirass over a plain white chiton, bronze greaves and a small, round, silver-plated shield – from which the unit took its name – emblazoned with the sixteen-pointed
star of Macedon inlaid in bronze. He was armed with a short stabbing sword slung on a baldric over his right shoulder to hang on his left and, held upright, the fearsome sixteen-foot pike that,
wielded two-handed, had swept away all armies before it, until it had come up against the Roman pilum. He and his four colleagues, two guarding the temple door and two at the Soma gate, were the
only soldiers still allowed by Rome to wear the uniform in deference to Alexander. Vespasian prayed to Mars Victorious that this ceremonial guard would not show the same rigid discipline that had
enabled his forebears to conquer the largest Empire ever seen and would leave his post to help a stricken lady.