The Last Temple (21 page)

Faintly gleaming as the last of the day’s sun fell across the city, the stone of the wall was white marble, cut with such precision that the wall looked like one piece—sheer luminous limestone, reaching to the crowning glory of glistening gold that fashioned the Temple roof.

Every monstrous stone block was ten paces long, five paces wide, and five paces high, and the wall was four blocks high. It would take twelve men, each standing on the shoulders of the man below him, just for the man at the top to be able to put his hands on the upper edge of the wall.

But for added defense, Jerusalem was built on a high hill, and the valley was at its steepest below the wall. Thus, the geography made it impossible to stand level at the base of the wall; an arrow shot from the bottom of the valley could barely reach the wall itself.

To add to the impossibility of conquering this city, huge towers dominated the wall, where defenders could wait and pour forth at any attack.

This was the immovable object.

But the irresistible force was the Roman army. Tens of thousands of the most highly trained and disciplined soldiers had gathered in camps to surround the city.

Despite being under constant attack from spears and arrows, over the previous months they had moved thousands and thousands of tons of dirt to build the bottom of the valley upward toward the walls.

And once they had sufficiently elevated the ground, they had begun to build ramparts of wooden beams, again under hostile attack, losing hundreds of soldiers each day to the defenders, who had the tremendous advantage of height.

Slowly and inexorably, the ramparts had been completed. And this was where the genius of Roman engineering became so fearful. The great battering rams were finally in place, day after day pounding against the walls. The men who moved the rams were covered in leather shields against the boiling oil flung down upon them and given the protection of soldiers who were finally close enough to the top of the walls to fire arrows back with a degree of effectiveness.

“I would not have believed this unless I had seen it for myself,” Ben-Aryeh said, breaking the silence between them. “Indeed, that’s the reason I’m here. Because I had to see it for myself.”

Vitas had not yet spoken the obvious. Ben-Aryeh’s wife was still in Jerusalem. If she was still alive. But he believed now was the time to broach the subject. “I will do everything in my power to help you find her,” Vitas said. “And Titus himself will give us both assistance.”

“I pray daily that she will be spared,” Ben-Aryeh said. “As you know, I was not able to reach her by letter.”

Ben-Aryeh had been unable to look for her himself. Not with three factions inside the city engaged in civil war behind the walls for the previous eighteen months.

“Soon enough,” Vitas said, “the city will be in Roman hands. You will have every escort needed to search.”

“That is not the primary reason I am here. I had to see for myself that Rome is on the verge of taking the city that all the world had once believed was impossible to conquer. And now that I have no doubt of its fate, I have no choice but to do what is necessary for my people.”

Ben-Aryeh reached into his tunic and pulled out a small object. He handed it to Vitas, who stared at it in disbelief, recalling the words he’d heard just after being taken down from a cross in Caesarea.

“Wear this around your neck, and keep it safe. If someone comes to you with its twin, you will know that I have sent him. And when that person sees you with the same token, he will know you are the one to trust with the obligations put upon you. Until then, keep this portion of our conversation secret. From everyone. Not even Bernice or Titus or Ruso should know of it.”

“I trust,” Ben-Aryeh said, taking back the token, “that you have its twin?”

After slowly picking their way down the Mount of Olives in the deepening purple that settled on the valley, Vitas and Ben-Aryeh reached the outer wall of the Tenth Legion in near dark. Beyond the sentries, the lights of fires were plainly visible.

Vitas gave the day’s password to the sentries, and Ben-Aryeh followed Vitas through the camp to a tent pitched at the center, near the general’s tent that belonged to Titus.

A lone man—Joseph Ben-Matthias—sat near a small fire, gazing at the flames. He stood as soon as he recognized Vitas and Ben-Aryeh in the flickering light.

“Welcome back from exile,” Ben-Matthias said, holding his arms out to embrace Ben-Aryeh. “I wish circumstances were different.”

Vitas had had the half-hour journey down the mountain to absorb the knowledge that Ben-Aryeh held the other token, but that was all he knew about the situation. After showing the token to Vitas, Ben-Aryeh had refused to answer any other questions, stating the next discussions would take place only when they’d met with Ben-Matthias.

Jerusalem, Vitas had pondered in the silence of their trek, was not much different from Rome. At the top, those in power formed a small circle. He should not have been surprised that Ben-Aryeh, formerly among the high priests and a confidant of Bernice, had been the one chosen by Ben-Matthias, also among the high priests and also a confidant of Bernice.

Vitas, accordingly, had expected a cordial meeting between Ben-Aryeh and Ben-Matthias and had been looking forward to satisfying his curiosity about the strange tokens.

Instead, Ben-Aryeh’s actions and answer to Ben-Matthias startled Vitas.

“I am only here because of these circumstances,” Ben-Aryeh snapped with vehemence, refusing to step forward to accept Ben-Matthias’s embrace. “The impossible is now possible. The Temple is in danger of falling to the Romans. Vitas is one of the few Romans I trust, and he has confirmed for me that the military situation demands final and desperate measures.”

Ben-Aryeh gave a bitter laugh as he continued addressing Ben-Matthias. “You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have any problems trusting the heathens. From prison to the emperor’s most valued Jew. Life is more precious to you than honor?”

And Ben-Matthias’s answer was equally startling to Vitas. “You self-righteous old Jew. I’m not the one who fled Jerusalem.”

“Fled? You well know I’d been accused, falsely, of rape. Should a man accept that punishment?”

“If honor was so important, why not stay to protect it? Instead, all of Jerusalem now remembers you only for the crime you committed.”

“The crime I was accused of committing,” Ben-Aryeh said. “You know as well as I do that Annas needed me gone to grasp at the power he wanted.”

“Does it matter to those still in the city whether you committed the crime? Perception is their reality. You fled. They assume you are guilty. And a coward.”

“And they shout your name with adulation from the city walls as you parade back and forth with the Romans?” Ben-Aryeh sneered at Ben-Matthias. “Do you sleep well in camp, fed by the Romans like a lapdog?”

“And did you sleep well in the household of your Roman benefactor in Alexandria?”

Vitas finally stepped between them. “Let me tell you something about Vespasian.”

They gave him silence to continue.

“Just before the revolt against Nero,” Vitas said, “Vespasian had the city surrounded. He was urged to attack Jerusalem. His reply was that it was easier to let the Jews fight among themselves inside the city and do his work for him. Even after he withdrew because of the events in Rome, the Jews continued to fight. Watching just two of you together, I can now guess what it’s like when there are thousands of you.”

“How dare you—” Ben-Matthias began.

“You cannot speak to us like that,” Ben-Aryeh said, interrupting. “Ben-Matthias comes from a distinguished family, and—”

“And Ben-Aryeh is known far and wide for his devotion to God,” Ben-Matthias said.

Vitas held his ground. “There. You prove another point. Vespasian said that if he attacked Jerusalem, it would only serve to unite them against him. Like you two turning your anger upon me.”

Silence. Some of the embers in the brazier crackled. Like the tension among all three men. Then Ben-Aryeh began to laugh. Ben-Matthias joined in, and the tension was broken.

When the laughter subsided, Ben-Matthias apologized to Ben-Aryeh. “My anger was misplaced. Yes, abuse is shouted at me from the walls of the city. A few weeks ago, a spear hit me in the shoulder. Too many believe I am a traitor, and you were the one I could lash out against. Let me tell you, at least, why I walk around the city every day with Titus.”

“My own anger is not against you, either,” Ben-Aryeh said. “Seeing the city and the earthworks and ramparts fills me with rage and frustration. You are an easier target than the soldiers.”

Ben-Aryeh held out his arms, and they embraced for long moments.

“Perhaps a kiss or two while you are so close?” Vitas asked.

Ben-Aryeh pushed away and growled at Vitas. “Don’t push it.” He turned to Ben-Matthias. “I had heard that after you were captured at Jotapata, Vespasian brought you forward, and you told him of a prophecy—that he would be emperor.”

“A cynic would think I was currying favor,” Ben-Matthias said. “But I did have the vision. He believed me because he learned that well before Jotapata fell, I had predicted the siege would last forty-seven days. And it had been correct.”

“Still, he put you in chains.”

“Two years,” Ben-Matthias said.

Two years. After conquering Jotapata, Vespasian had easily taken city after city, moving unobstructed to put his legions in place around Jerusalem. He’d retreated with those legions when the first news of impending civil war reached him.

With Nero’s death, the head had been cut off the empire that the Jews called the great beast. Galba had become emperor, marching into Rome and parading Helius in chains before having him thrown into the Tiber. But Galba’s arrogance and refusal to pay his soldiers resulted in rebellion again, and Galba’s reign was short. He’d proven that emperors could be declared outside of Rome, and the sword he’d used to take the throne was the same sword that destroyed him. German legions proclaimed Vitellius emperor. In Rome, Otho bribed the Praetorian Guard to murder Galba, and the Senate proclaimed Otho emperor, commissioning him to defeat the German legions and end the civil war.

Instead, it had worsened. The great beast went into death throes, as legions once used to defend the empire turned on each other. The army of Vitellius won the battle, leading Otho to suicide. Vitellius now had the power to march on Rome, and the Senate quickly recognized him as the new emperor.

Yet other legions refused to accept the Senate’s decision, meaning the civil war had been on the verge of totally destroying the empire. In Egypt and Syria, the legions favored Vespasian, who had cautiously waited in Alexandria, effectively holding Rome’s grain supply hostage. The legions once loyal to Otho declared for Vespasian, who was reluctant to pit legions against legions.

This wisdom and caution saved the empire from destruction. Troops loyal to Vespasian caught and killed Vitellius, and Vespasian’s popularity, strength, and reputation restored the peace. Vespasian remained in Rome and charged his son Titus to end the revolt in Judea.

“When the legions declared Vespasian emperor, he remembered my prediction,” Ben-Matthias continued. “Titus pleaded my case before his father, and I was given freedom.”

“Titus pleaded your case?” Ben-Aryeh asked. Then chuckled. “Or Queen Bernice?”

War, Vitas thought, was much more than military machines. War was about the generals who controlled the machines. While wars had been declared for practical purposes such as appropriating resources or defending borders, wars had also been declared by these men for other reasons: ego, passion, insults, or perceived insults.

The situation here reflected that reality. While Titus had the massive military power of Rome in his control, he was making some decisions because of the woman he loved. Bernice favored Ben-Matthias, and thus so did Titus.

“Given my freedom,” Ben-Matthias answered, avoiding Ben-Aryeh’s comment, “I returned to giving the same counsel to our people that I had from the beginning. You’ll recall at the beginning of the revolt, I took the stand that it was useless to fight Rome. It’s even more apparent now. Yes, I stand by the side of Titus. But it is simply to plead for our people and Jerusalem. Ask anyone. Titus has repeatedly offered generous terms of surrender. But within the city, there are those who continuously give prophecies that God will save the Jews because he has promised us the Messiah. My own mother is in a prison inside the city; I implore the people to live at peace with Rome.”

“‘People will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory,’” Ben-Aryeh said. He paused, knowing Ben-Matthias understood the significance. “I am coming closer and closer to believing that perhaps the Nazarene was the Messiah. He called down this punishment on Jerusalem the night he was condemned.”

“Some might say,” Ben-Matthias replied, “it was easy to predict that the arrogance and hard-heartedness of the religious leaders would eventually bring down the wrath of Rome.”

“But to see Jerusalem actually fall,” Ben-Aryeh countered. “The walls, the water, the food. Tiny Jotapata withstood three legions for forty-seven days. Jerusalem should have lasted a decade. Could any man have foreseen that civil war inside the city would result in one faction burning the food supply to starve out the other?”

Ben-Matthias spoke quietly. “I will make no judgment on this, but Titus has told me privately that he believes the Romans have had divine help to bring Jerusalem to the edge of destruction.”

“That’s what I fear most,” Ben-Aryeh said. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“I was wondering,” Ben-Matthias said. “I knew you wouldn’t tell me until you were ready.”

Without further words, Ben-Aryeh held out the token for Ben-Matthias. The younger Jew squatted at the fire to examine it.

“You?” Ben-Matthias said to Ben-Aryeh. “You are the one behind the messages?”

And once again, Vitas was surprised, for he assumed Ben-Aryeh had been sent to him by Ben-Matthias.

“I,” Ben-Aryeh said. “And those with me who feared that someday Jerusalem might fall.”

“Finally I can learn what this is all about,” Ben-Matthias said.

Vitas absorbed this and the implications. Ben-Aryeh did not serve Ben-Matthias. Instead, Ben-Matthias served Ben-Aryeh, and Ben-Matthias was as unaware of the reasons as Vitas was.

This was confirmed immediately as the older Jew answered the younger one.

“No,” Ben-Aryeh replied. “Too much is at stake for you to ever know more than you already do. Instead, I expect that you will give me your full loyalty and all the help that I require to get back into the city. Without any questions about my purpose.”

Ben-Aryeh turned to Vitas. “And you, my friend, will have an opportunity to search inside for your brother if you give the same loyalty and help.”