Matter of
Faith
Billowing clouds of dust rose from the column as
it marched across the arid landscape. Tullius Cordus, one of the ten thousand
legionaries, put his hand up to his brow and squinted. Through the dust he
could see the walls of Jerusalem. A few centuries ago it had been merely the
capital of a troublesome tribe on the fringes of the Empire. Now a significant
proportion of the Empire’s inhabitants saw it as a holy city. And plenty of
people outside the Empire did as well, which was why Cordus’ legion had been
ordered to leave Asia Minor and come to its defence.
“Khalid ibn al-Walid,” said Naevius Bibulus, who
was marching alongside Cordus, “they call him ‘The Drawn Sword of God’”
“You and I both know that’s bollocks”, said
Cordus, sensing the slightest hint of fear in his companion’s voice
“What if he is? Bosra, Petra, Gaza, he barely
lifted a finger to capture them”
“Those were surprise attacks. We know he wants
Jerusalem, and the Emperor is not going to let it fall out of our hands. He
knows how vital it is for keeping the Christians happy”
If I could go back in time, thought Cordus, and could
tell Augustus Caesar that religion, of all things, would bring the Empire to
its knees, he wouldn’t believe me. In 1077 AUC, after years of turmoil in the
Eastern Empire, Emperor Licinius was assassinated in Byzantium by a Christian
and half of the Empire was on the brink of revolution. The Eastern court begged
Emperor Constantine to send help from Rome. He brought his armies from the West
and oversaw a brutal crackdown on Christianity which saw hundreds of thousands
of men and women executed.
But afterwards Constantine showed his generous
side by legalising Christianity and even allowing the Bishop of Rome to become
a part of his court. There were even rumours that he was thinking
of converting to the bizarre Eastern cult, but of course he remained true to
the Roman gods. Three centuries later, another religion had sprung from the
sands of Asia and was intent on destroying the Eternal City. But following the
Christian crisis Constantine exerted his control over the East and declared
himself the sole Caesar. Ever since there has only been one Caesar, and this,
Cordus told himself, ensured the strength of the empire and their victory over
the Arabs.
***
Cordus and Bibulus slept in courtyard of the
Prefect’s palace, along with hundreds of other legionaries. Despite having no
room and no mat, they quickly drifted into the realm of Morpheus thanks to the
day’s exertions.
The next morning they were told that practice
would start at the third hour. Bibulus was keen to see the city’s sights, and
he dragged Cordus along with him. The first stop was the temple of Jesus Filius Iuppitus, which was on what
the Jews called the Temple Mount, at the peak of the city. Bibulus was a Jovian
Christian, that is, like an increasing number of Romans he believed that Jesus
of Nazareth was a son of Jupiter. In their version of events, his mother was no
virgin.
The temple was certainly impressive: similar to
the Parthenon in Athens in both structure and scale, except there was a
prominent chi-rho in gold leaf in the triangular pediment. But Cordus couldn’t
bring himself to go inside. To him it was just perverse that Romans were
worshipping a man who preached a way of thinking completely antithetical to the
Roman spirit, and that we should feel guilty for executing him. He left Bibulus
to gleefully enter the grand temple, and went to look around the other temples
which had been built around the edge of the Mount. Although none of them were
as striking the temple of Jesus, they were all imposing in their own right.
After all, this was a city whose economy relied on its reputation as a Holy
City.
There were temples to Apollo-Michael and
Mercury-Gabriel – obvious attempts to incorporate Judean religion into Roman religion,
not that Cordus had heard of those Jewish gods. More familiar was a temple to
Isis and even a richly decorated entrance to a basement which no doubt housed a
Mithraeum. After Constantine legalised Christianity, he also ensured that the
state financed a number of exotic cults that focused on the spiritual needs of
the rabble. Christianity could not be allowed to have a monopoly on the hearts
of the lower classes.
Eventually he came to a temple to Saturn. He paid
one the attendants and watched a pig with garlands around its neck have its
throat slit in his name on the outside altar, before going inside. It was a
long and narrow corridor, with a beautiful statue of the god, seated and
veiled, at the far end. Along the way, with their backs to the walls, were
statues of various other gods – Saturn’s consorts and offspring. It was only
when Cordus was leaving that he noticed one of the statues was of Jesus – Saturn’s
supposed grandson. He wore a simple tunic, and bore no marks of his
crucifixion. Cordus had heard that the “Church of Peter”, a gang of zealots who
rejected the Romanisation of Christianity, only approved of depictions of Jesus
where he was covered in blood, and liked to wave crosses around as a reminder
of his execution. But the Jesus in front of Cordus had a tranquil expression,
and was offering bread with one hand and a fish with the other.
He had just turned away in disgust when he heard
a commotion outside, so Cordus walked a bit faster. Everyone seemed to be
clinging to the edges of the small square, except for four young men in the
very centre. One had clearly just removed some of the paving stones, and the
others were lifting a short column into the hole. Atop the column was a stone
dove, painted white and with its wings outstretched. Cordus was utterly baffled
until he heard one of the other onlookers mention ‘spiritus sanctus’. This made
sense. The Romans had been at a loss as to how to Romanise this aspect of the
Christian god, and consequently the Church of Peter saw it as the only part of
their religion not to be “polluted”. But why they thought one third of their
god was a bird, Cordus could only guess.
Before they could pour any cement in to secure
it, several soldiers ran into the square. The youths scarpered, but the
soldiers caught up with one and tackled him to the ground.
“You have shat on the one true God! God will
destroy Rome!” he shouted in a thick Judaic accent as he was dragged away,
along with some other harsh-sounding Aramaic words
The most senior of the soldiers looked around
the square for anything else that needed his attention, then pushed the column
over. The dove was separated from its pedestal with a loud crack.
“Carry on!” he barked at the crowd
Cordus started walking back to the Prefect’s
palace, since practice was about to start. He heard a trumpet, but thought
nothing of it. Then he heard several trumpets, from different parts of the
city. When he stopped and listened more carefully, he heard someone from the
walls shouting, “Arabs! Arabs!”
He ran. The Prefect’s palace was positively
boiling with nerves and excitement, as men rushed this way and that, and the
centurions shouted orders as loud as they could in an effort to impose some
order. By the time he had reached his pack, Bibulus had already arrived and put
on his armour.
“Where the fuck did they come from?!” spluttered
Cordus as he threw his own armour on
“They must have caught up with our scouts”
Moments
later they were ready for battle, and lined up with their comrades.
Surprisingly quickly quiet descended upon the palace as the centuries took
shape. The tumultuous sea had been calmed by instinctive Roman discipline,
giving Cordus a fresh wave of confidence. The order to move into position came,
and century by century they left the confines of the palace and marched down
the streets towards the walls. Panicked Jerusalamites were still running to
their homes, but they did it almost silently out of deference to the soldiers.
Cordus and Bibulus’ century stopped not far from the Damascus gate. Tense
silence followed. When the first boulder hit the walls, every single man
jumped. But as more and more came, turning into an almost constant thunder, the
Romans recovered and prepared themselves for battle.
Two enormous cracks were visible just above the
gateway itself, and with each new bombardment they grew upwards and became more
obvious. After perhaps half an hour, the gateway gave way. Gigantic slabs of
rock slid down, then fell away from the city, shaking the roads and buildings
as they hit the ground.
“Forward!” the commander cried
Cordus’ century was only the second one from the
gash in the walls. There were also centuries to their left and right,
perpendicular to the walls. The one in front quickly removed as much of the
rubble as they could, then positioned themselves in the breach. Cordus saw the
archers assemble atop the walls, on either side of the break, and before long
they started firing. He couldn’t see what they were firing at, but apparently
the enemy was advancing. He heard their roar, and moments later their infantry
collided with the first century. The force of their charge wasn’t enough to
break the century’s formation, but it was enough to push them back. Cordus’
century braced themselves. Despite their efforts, the first century slammed
into theirs. One hundred and fifty men pushed forward as one. The Arabs kept
coming, but the Romans were just about holding their ground. Cordus could see a
pile of the dead and dying in the breach which the Arabs had to climb over. The
sound of metal clashing with metal was deafening, and over that Cordus could
hear the anguished, bloodcurdling screams. All of Cordus’ muscles were already
painfully exhausted from the strain of staying in the right stance, as well as
the weight of his armour and shield. And on top of that the heat and the
closeness of the air were overwhelming.
As suddenly as they had attacked, what was left
of the Arab infantry retreated. The first century moved forward to their
original position at the breach. There were only a few dozen of them left. One
of them looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Cavalry!” Every soldier detached
the hasta, a short but sturdy spear, from the inside of his shield and raised
it over the right shoulder of the man in front.
First the thundering of the hooves, and then the
whinnies could be heard. At frightening speed the cavalry burst through the
breach and crashed into the first century. They immediately lost formation, and
despite their efforts to remain solid the first two lines of Cordus’ century
were also broken by the charge. Seconds after they had appeared at the breach,
one of the horses came to a stop next to Cordus. The cavalryman swung his sword
wildly at Cordus, who ducked but not far down enough. The vibration of the
sword hitting his helmet on the crown of his head rippled down his body to his
feet, and he immediately felt dizzy and nauseous. He thrust his spear into the
hind leg of the horse, which bucked and then collapsed. Bibulus, who was behind
Cordus, slit the Arab’s throat and another soldier put the horse out of its
misery.
Another Arab on horseback was trying to break
into the century, but Cordus put his hasta through the horse’s mouth, killing
it. A mix of spit and blood splashed into his eyes, the sting making him yell
out. Soon the unit succeeded in closing ranks.
“Forward!” cried the centurion, “Push them
back!”
The horses were visibly panicked. As the century
advanced, and the two centuries either side remained intact, and more cavalry
was pouring through the breach, the horses and in turn their riders were
becoming wild with fear. The progress of Cordus’ century was slow, and they
kept stumbling over the rubble, but with every step and every kill they were so
much closer to victory. Eventually, once they were half-way down the length of
the side centuries, the Arabs sounded their retreat. They managed to kill a few
more as they ran, but within a minute they had regained the breach. The cheer
raised by the soldiers reverberated around the city. Jerusalem was still Roman,
for today at least.
***
After the sun had set and the moon had risen,
Cordus and Bibulus were back at site of the Damascus gate. All of the corpses
had been removed, and much of the blood had been washed away, although some of
the ground was still stained. Several carts full of the bodies of the Arabs had
been sent towards their encampment. From the number of campfires that they
could see, it looked as though their army was impossibly vast, but Cordus knew
that they were simply spread out. Al-Walid had arrogantly believed he could
take Jerusalem in an hour, but now he was preparing for a long siege.
“Why on earth are we on guard duty?” asked
Bibulus, “There are soldiers drinking and ... fornicating tonight who didn’t
even hear the battle!”
“Orders are orders,” said Cordus, “just don’t
worry about it. Didn’t Christ say ‘Thou shalt not envy’?”
“I’m not envious!”
“Who goes there?!” shouted a soldier atop the
walls
Cordus and Bibulus drew their swords. Out of the
gloom came a man. His clothes were plain and dirty. As soon as he reached the
walls, he sat on the ground and leant against the stone. He was sweaty, and was
too busy catching his breath to say anything. Cordus and Bibulus kept their
swords out.
“Who are you?” Cordus demanded to know
The man reached inside his garments and pulled
out some parchment. Bibulus took it and inspected it.
“He’s a citizen. I’ll get him some water”
Only after a few minutes did he speak: “I need
to see General Cassius”
“And why is that?”
“I bring news from Sidon. The Emperor has landed
with twenty thousand men from Italy. They will be here in two days”
Cordus’ eyes widened. He saw a stretcher left
over from the battle resting against the wall nearby.
“Bibulus, give me a hand”
The pair ran through the city, towards the
Prefect’s palace, with the messenger lain between them. There was no doubt now
that they would break the Arabs’ strength. The Roman Empire would live on.
