Terrified residents appeared from the broken gates, with men, women, children, exhausted and dirty, with difficulty moving their legs. They were led by guards, separated by each cohort. Soon the Jews would be turned into slaves, into a living commodity. Rich prey!
It had been hard lately. The state needed almost five hundred thousand slaves annually, but the conquests ended, and the pirates captured at sea could not cover all the needs. The last emperor to satisfy the needs of the state was Trajan, who captured a large extraction in Dacia. And now, he, Hadrian, would help Rome.
Among other things, he would also teach the Jews a lesson, an order had already been given to wipe out almost a thousand settlements in Judea, about fifty fortresses. Many would be executed and crucified. He would pour blood on this scorched, stingy earth, paint its sky in red in accordance with his preferences, as an artist who creates an epic canvas. Blood and earth, what could be more epic? His work would be no worse than The Aeneid Virgil—just as majestic and memorable.
Meanwhile, the crowd of captive Jews was approaching. They were being pushed viciously, driven by guards, which was causing screams and noise. Jews were being taken to the markets of Terebinth, in Gaza City, some of them would be sent to Egypt. There were so many of them, captured today and captured earlier, that the prices of slaves had already fallen and equaled the cost of horses.
“Where is the new Jewish ruler, this despicable dog?” Hadrian asked his confidants. “I want to see him.”
“Caesar, my men are looking for Varcoheba!” the viceroy, Tineius Rufus, sitting on a horse just behind the emperor, cast his voice. He was in gilded lats, which gleamed in the sun, discharged like a peacock. The conversation allowed him to move forward a little bit, so as not to force Caesar to turn around.
“I wish this robber to be punished!” Hadrian said firmly, turning his eyes to Rufus. “You've served me well, Quint! It remains for you to be commended for your devotion.”
A benevolent smile touched his lips; however, it quickly melted in the graying beard and Tineius Rufus was lost in guesses how he would be thanked by the emperor. Would he give new lands? Money? Or would he let him go next to him during a triumph in the capital??
He felt the excitement, a certain rise, because, after all, they had achieved victory in this grueling and bloody battle, in a long war. He had to retreat a lot and surrender to the Jews one fortress after another, but now in the end, Rome won! Of course, it was not a very good impression that overshadows the upcoming triumph. The Jews accused him, Tineius Rufus, in their troubles, as if he had ploughed their holy Temple Mount in Jerusalem and was going to put there a temple to Jupiter Capitol together with a huge statue of Emperor Hadrian. However, he, Tineius Rufus only followed the instructions of the princeps. Have discipline and diligence ever been blamed?
Still the Jews spoke of his voluptuousness, compared with the lascivious Assyrian Holofernes molested by the beautiful Judith. No, he, Tineius Rufus, was no more lustful than all the other men in power.
But Caesar's smile… Rufus didn't think it was kind.
Two horsemen left the gates of the ruined fortress at that time and rushed to the emperor at full speed. The commander of the legions, Julius Severus, and the legate, Titus Matenianus, who recently received triumphant clothes for the victory.
As the Governor of Rufus seemed to be ineffective in the military field, Hadrian had to bring to the war Julius Severus as the most experienced of the generals. He was summoned from Britain, and thanks to his tactics, first managed to oust the rebels from major cities, and then disperse them through the mountains and caves.
“Great Caesar, we brought the head of Varkoheba,” exclaimed Julius Severus, and raised the blood-stained bag with a theatrical gesture, in getting it from the saddle. Then he uncovered it. On the ground rolled the severed head of a black-haired bearded man, whose eyes were gouged out, his mouth tightly compressed.
Hadrian bent down in the saddle, looking at all that was left of the defeated enemy.
“So you are, prince of Israel,” he said calmly enough, as if he did not want to express much interest. On the other hand, why should he show it? Hadrian saw many defeated enemies, crucified on crosses, with severed heads, with fractured limbs, because under Emperor Trajan had to fight everywhere.
“Where is the body of the rebel himself?” someone asked behind the Princep’s back.
It was relatively not old, he was not yet thirty-five, the Senate envoy Lucius Ceionius Commodus. The Senate reported that it would not mind if Hadrian, in honor of the victory over Judea, declared his triumph and celebrated the event in Rome.
Hadrian was looking at Ceionius.
He had long known his family from Tibur, where villa Ceionius was relatively close to the residence of the princeps. He also knew Commodus's mother Plavtia, who was a hot thing. She had gone through three husbands. The first, the father of Ceionius, Hadrian knew quite well, and he respected him. Thanks to his father a few years ago, his son was given the post of pretor, a post insignificant, but responsible in terms of the beginning of his career. Then, after the death of his father, the young Lucius began to entrust more important affairs.
This had already been facilitated by Plavtia, a seductive woman who tried to charm him, Hadrian. He was then young, strong, charming, entering the court of Trajan and with his mother Ceionius they could have a love affair, all contributed to this. But the Emperor's wife Plotina already picked him as Vibia Sabina's bride, and he could not embark on the waves of love joys with the married matron. Although, evil tongues claimed that Ceionius Commodus was his son.
Hadrian looked again at the young man who, under certain circumstances, could have been his son. Curly hair, high height, amiable smile, pleasant speech of an educated man who knows Hellenic and Roman literature. Everything about him was like Hadrian. This Ceionius was also a connoisseur of cooking, it was he who invented Tetrapharmakon—a dish so loved by the emperor.
But a low forehead, a cheerful emptiness in the eyes and primitive reasoning. No, this Ceionius Commodus was superficial, did not have the depth of reason and the breadth of views inherent in him, Hadrian.
“Yes, where is his body, Severus?” the emperor supported Lucius Ceionius. “Of course, there is enough head, but still, I would like to look at it completely.”
“Great Caesar, we found a body in one of the caves, not far from here. The rebel tried to hide with his companions, but he was discovered by us. Some of them we killed, the rest captured. They say that among the prisoners was a Jewish interpreter of the laws of Judaism, a priest. His name is Akiva. Spies say that he is one of the instigators of the uprising against Rome.”
“Akiva?” Hadrian asked.
“Yes,” the legate Matenianus confirmed. “The spies told us that this Akiva had been proclaimed the messiah king of Varkoheba. He also set out on the road in Judea and preached enmity to Rome, called for rebellion, collected money.”
“The Jews in this war have given us fierce resistance,” Hadrian said wistfully. “Even the divine Titus did not have to face such a pervasive and desperate struggle. Samaria, Galilee, Golan and Ashkelon. Only in Caesarea was the fire of rebellion weak. They say it's thanks to the Christians whom Varkoheba forced to give up his faith and join the rebels. What happened, what happened to these people?”
“I've already reported to the princeps that fanatics like Akiva contributed to the war,” intervened in the conversation of governor Rufus. He was hot, his face glistened with sweat. “Religion is what motivated the Jews to revolt.”
Hadrian this time looked distasteful of his governor and turned to the commander Severus.
“Apparently, the Jews felt insignificant punishment to which they were subjected to the divine Titus and the price must now be much greater. As Virgil wrote, ‘You can't