Yehoshua ben Matathias froze momentarily. The jostling crowds, the shouting, the blood in the inner sanctum all horrified him beyond imagining. Righteous rebellion or pragmatic submission, it was wrong for the People of God to fight each other this way. It was wrong of Yochanan to break into the Temple, it was wrong of Mattathias to imprison him there, it was wrong, wrong, wrong, and enough to confound a young man's unsubtle mind. But when the zealot leader stepped forward, weapon raised, to strike at the high priest, something gave. Lungin forward, the young Judaean clenched his fingers around the wrist of the attacker, twisted the handle out of his grasp and stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed. Bloodied, sobbing and shaking he was dragged away from the dead body of Yochanan of Gishala. Fighting had now erupted in the courtyard and his comrades were hustling Mattathias ben Theophilus to safety. Blood soiling the holiest shrine. Yehoshuah wept.
"What about the leaders?" asked Joseph. Facing the young renegade priest was a supreme indignity for the delegation of the High Priest, but their situation did not allow for much pride. The ageing Levite bowed his head meekly. "Yochanan of Gishala is dead. He was killed when he sacrilegiously assailed the High Priest. Joseph bar Giora is in our hands, and we will hand him over to the Romans if they so desire. You will understand that we can not allow Mattathias..."
Joseph raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. A smile played around his lips - he had hated Joseph bar Giora for years. Offering him this triumph was a sly move. "The High Priest was compelled - we know this. No blame attaches to him. He may be - asked to resign, perhaps moved to a residence in Italy. That will need to be decided by the Augustus after a thorough review of the case. But Rome is not vengeful."
The women and children of Yotapata could testify to other things. But grant this upstart his own triumph - he had earned it, the clever, slippery bastard. Phinehas of Bethlehem could swallow his pride and bide his time. He was glad enough of what he might bring home - consideriong howe little he had to offer. A city - granted, a great city, but just one among the hundreds in the country his master had nominally ruled. Young Titus attached great importance to it, so now was the time to sell high.
"What of the fortresses?" Titus Caesar asked impatiently. Josephus shrugged- "They have no control over the garrisons. From what they say, Herodion might surrender. Machaerus and Masada will not. But there is nothing they can do, and it would not be wise to belabour the point. It only causes embarrassment."
"Indeed." the young commander nodded agreement. "This must be a glorious victory - these holdouts must not matter. They must not be allowed to matter. You will negotiate." Josephus swallowed hard. Yet another life-and-death mission! Well, hew had cheated death twice and lived to tell the tale yet - and this cursed war had to be over one day.
"Now," Titus grinned boyishly, "on to Jerusalem! I will want a clean cloak and polished breastplate, and three legions should make decent travelling company."
The good citizens would have nothing to fear. Mattathias ben Theophilus would receive proper respect, but he would pay dearly in heavy gold and silver for it. For the legions, the pickings of the countryside - not fair exactly, but necessary. And surely, a good deal of the treasure would find its way into the hands of his troops. And a triumph in Roma - his father needed a victory and money. That mattered more than justice. Scores could be settled later - the pro-Roman faction in the country had suffered terrible things at the hands of the rebels and they remembered faces and names. The Idumaeans, Decapolitans and Samarians would also help. Things could be done.
"What about the leaders?" asked Joseph. Facing the young renegade priest was a supreme indignity for the delegation of the High Priest, but their situation did not allow for much pride. The ageing Levite bowed his head meekly. "Yochanan of Gishala is dead. He was killed when he sacrilegiously assailed the High Priest. Joseph bar Giora is in our hands, and we will hand him over to the Romans if they so desire. You will understand that we can not allow Mattathias..."
Joseph raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. A smile played around his lips - he had hated Joseph bar Giora for years. Offering him this triumph was a sly move. "The High Priest was compelled - we know this. No blame attaches to him. He may be - asked to resign, perhaps moved to a residence in Italy. That will need to be decided by the Augustus after a thorough review of the case. But Rome is not vengeful."
The women and children of Yotapata could testify to other things. But grant this upstart his own triumph - he had earned it, the clever, slippery bastard. Phinehas of Bethlehem could swallow his pride and bide his time. He was glad enough of what he might bring home - consideriong howe little he had to offer. A city - granted, a great city, but just one among the hundreds in the country his master had nominally ruled. Young Titus attached great importance to it, so now was the time to sell high.
"What of the fortresses?" Titus Caesar asked impatiently. Josephus shrugged- "They have no control over the garrisons. From what they say, Herodion might surrender. Machaerus and Masada will not. But there is nothing they can do, and it would not be wise to belabour the point. It only causes embarrassment."
"Indeed." the young commander nodded agreement. "This must be a glorious victory - these holdouts must not matter. They must not be allowed to matter. You will negotiate." Josephus swallowed hard. Yet another life-and-death mission! Well, hew had cheated death twice and lived to tell the tale yet - and this cursed war had to be over one day.
"Now," Titus grinned boyishly, "on to Jerusalem! I will want a clean cloak and polished breastplate, and three legions should make decent travelling company."
The good citizens would have nothing to fear. Mattathias ben Theophilus would receive proper respect, but he would pay dearly in heavy gold and silver for it. For the legions, the pickings of the countryside - not fair exactly, but necessary. And surely, a good deal of the treasure would find its way into the hands of his troops. And a triumph in Roma - his father needed a victory and money. That mattered more than justice. Scores could be settled later - the pro-Roman faction in the country had suffered terrible things at the hands of the rebels and they remembered faces and names. The Idumaeans, Decapolitans and Samarians would also help. Things could be done.