The Horse Changer (20 page)

Before I committed myself to their proposal, I returned to my camp. I called together those officers who had participated in the murder of Trebonius and explained the situation. There was considerable consternation, and I let them talk through it. Eventually, they came to my conclusion. We ought to turn around and attack Egypt but only with the support of Antipater. With reinforcements, even a few mercenaries recruited from the Greek cities in Judaea, I thought we could sack Alexandria; even the possibility of it would inspire Cleopatra to hand over enough gold to buy the favour of Cassius. I gave any officer who wanted it the chance to escape by sea, but no one doubted Cleopatra’s determination to capture and punish us.

Once they had finally embraced the idea, I proposed that every officer guilty of breaking his oath at Smyrna ride with me to Jerusalem. There we would swear our allegiance to the Roman procurator of Judaea and by doing so enjoy protection from Cassius. When all had finally approved the plan, I sent word to Phasael and Herod that we would be ready to ride to Jerusalem at dawn.

I left Allienus in command of the camp, taking with me only a squad of mounted legionaries under the centurion Scaeva’s command. Herod and Phasael rode with a large escort of Celtic mercenaries from the region of the Black Sea. We made our way east forty miles, coming to the city of Hebron in late afternoon. At that point we were still some twenty miles from Jerusalem, but the horses were tired. We settled for the evening at Antipater’s palace; he of course had a fine house in every major city in Judaea. To our delight, Phasael offered us the use of a Roman bath. This was followed by an evening feast that would have satified even the discerning tastes of poor Dolabella.

Only a few of us rose early next morning; most of the men were slow to leave their beds and the comfort of the slaves who slept with them. All the same, we were on the road to Jerusalem by midday. That put us inside the gates of Jerusalem before darkness fell. We entered the city from the south, well below the two mountains that form that ancient city, Zion to the west and Moriah to the north. At the Pool of Siloam, inside the City of David, we turned into the citadel of King David; this was the Jewish monarch who had captured the city a thousand years ago.

We were treated to yet another Roman bath and, with the assistance of Antipater’s palace slaves, dressed ourselves in togas for a feast that commenced an hour before sunset. Our bodyguard of legionaries, also given residence inside the citadel, enjoyed their own banquet in the company of certain of Antipater’s Guard. Scaeva, as an eques entitled to wear the purple, joined Antipater’s feast.

Before we lay down to our supper, Herod introduced me to Hyrcanus, Ethnarch and High Priest of the Jews. Hyrcanus was a greybeard of indeterminate antiquity, though not nearly as old as I guessed him to be. He played on his dignities and would not shake my hand, though he welcomed me with a courteous bow. When I met Antipater I discovered he was much more like Herod than Phasael. He gave me a cheerful salutation in Latin and shook my hand gamely. After this, Antipater took me around the room and introduced me to his civil magistrates and various generals, all of them old and dear friends, or so he declared.

At this stage of the proceedings I met Malichus, Governor of Peraea and the only man to refuse to offer tribute to Cassius Longinus. As with many of the others that evening, Malichus did not offer his hand to me; instead, there was a quiet nod of his grey head and a murmured greeting spoken in Greek. I looked in vain for a light of recognition in his eyes as Antipater introduced us. Had he received my message? Given his cool manner I could not know. Perhaps, I thought, he was only a very good actor.

As it happened, Phasael had intercepted my letter. But of course I only discovered this after it was too late.

When it came time to dine, most of Antipater’s Jewish friends departed for business in the city. Hyrcanus and Malichus remained, as did Phasael and Herod. I joined Phasael and his father at the table of honour. I believe Herod insisted that Scaeva dine with him, for he was anxious to hear the untold stories of Caesar’s most famous battles. Those of Antipater’s party who remained for dinner were the senior officers in his army, all of them non-Jewish mercenaries of longstanding.

I was curious that no other Jews had remained for the meal. I knew from interviewing my own Jewish auxiliaries that many of the more zealous Jews prefer a certain distance from those who do not share their faith, but as neither Phasael nor Herod had acted uneasily on this count I assumed the prejudice against foreigners was only practiced among the lower classes. Eventually, I learned that Antipater and his sons had long ago set aside the custom of avoiding foreigners. This made them politically potent outside Judaea. Within Judaea a great many of the Judaean Jews despised them for it.

Antipater was a man of Julius Caesar’s generation. Unlike Caesar, who had still been vigorous in his final years, Antipater suffered a great many maladies, tender and swollen joints mostly, but weak eyes as well. In fact he was nearly blind. Nevertheless, he appeared indifferent to his failings – at least on the night I met him. ‘The process of getting old can be cruel,’ he remarked casually. ‘Even so there are also a great many delights to console a man.’

Like any youth, I had trouble imagining what delights these might be. To my thinking, old age meant the loss of strength, a wandering mind, a lack of vitality. For such things there could be no compensation. I know better now. An old man may know serenity, where the young cannot. The old may enjoy the quieter passions; the young must always be about the business of earning. The old may enjoy the children of their children; the young must raise them up. Most prominently the old have earned the right to tell their stories.

Antipater was no different from many others in advanced years; he loved to gab. Very few foreigners could claim the acquaintance of so many Roman commanders, and he was proud of this, especially in the presence of a young Roman legate. The whole evening through Antipater regaled me with recollections of his encounters with Pompey, Caesar, Mark Antony, Sulla, Crassus, and of course Cassius Longinus, to name only the more prominent Romans he had entertained. He spoke frankly of the virtues and moral failings of those men already claimed by history; he was more circumspect in his remarks about the living. He seemed especially fond of Antony, whom he had met in Antony’s youth. Antony had served as a senior tribune during a military campaign in Egypt, in the service of Ptolemy, Cleopatra’s father. Antipater, Phasael, and Herod had joined the legion to which Antony was attached and all three of them had come to appreciate Antony’s magnetism.

From that experience Antipater claimed he could not believe Pansa and Hirtius might outwit Antony with a fatal ambush. ‘I expect it was more likely an accident, one army stumbling into the other.’ Then with a shrug, ‘Of course Antony fights at his best when the odds are against him. Much like Julius Caesar in that respect. Antony’s problem, as it has always seemed to me, is that when things go well he grows lax. After an easy victory against one army, I can imagine him drunk with success.’

Phasael took a delicate sip of wine, interjecting quietly, ‘Or simply drunk.’ Antipater smiled but said nothing more on the subject.

Late in the evening, Antipater suddenly began a story he had already related. As this is a common malady with old men, I thought nothing of it, but then he forgot a famous name. Phasael supplied it for him. Pompey, as it turned out. After that he began slurring his words. I thought this curious; Antipater appeared to be a careful drinker. Then sweat broke across his brow. At that point Phasael called to his father’s secretary, who was close by. Together they lifted the old man to his feet. I stood as well. I recall Antipater resisted being pulled away at once. ‘I am suddenly not feeling well,’ he said to me. ‘I don’t understand it. Tomorrow, Dellius, tomorrow we shall…’

There was no more. Antipater collapsed.

‘We need to get to the legionary barracks, General.’ I looked at Scaeva without comprehending his concern; then he added, ‘Romans are always the first to be slaughtered in a general uprising.’

Taking his point, I gathered my officers with a signal. We made our way from the banquet hall to the outer perimeter of the citadel. Once we had joined the rest of the men, we got about the business of arming ourselves and fortifying a somewhat tenuous position inside the citadel. Then, like everyone that night, we waited. At dawn a servant came to inform us Antipater had died. He offered nothing about the cause of death.

An hour afterwards, I was composing a note of condolence for Phasael when one of his servants came to tell me his master desired to see me. Phasael wasted no time listening to my condolences. He only wanted to know what I had witnessed after his father’s collapse. This meant he thought his father’s death was murder, and I took a moment to recall exactly what I had seen. My only distinct memory was that Hyrcanus and Malichus had been the first to depart the hall. ‘Others followed them, though not at once. Most of the men,’ I said, ‘were anxious to know what had happened to your father.’

‘Malichus did not seem curious?’

I hesitated. ‘I do not mean to accuse anyone.’

‘Of course not. A simple question.’

‘My sense was that Malichus and Hyrcanus were eager to inform others of the event.’

‘Would you say they left together or at the same time?’

‘I am not sure.’ As I said this, it dawned on me that they had left together. This detail I kept to myself.

Phasael now pressed with a series of questions. Had they seemed worried? Was there urgency in their departure? Stealth? Did it seem they were involved in a conspiracy?

‘They spoke to some men,’ I said, but when he pressed for details I shook my head. ‘I heard them without comprehending the language they spoke.’

‘With whom did they speak?’

I could not tell him, which was curious because of all the men I met that evening I recalled only Hyrcanus, the ethnarch of the Jews, and one governor, who happened also to be the very man I had contacted by letter before entering Judaea. The others were a blur, and though I could not be sure, I feared Phasael noticed this detail.