Oh, and do not return to Rome! The following day the Princeps was questioning your loyalty, and wondering whether the removal of his statue from the Jerusalem Temple was part of the plot. I immediately suggested to Caesar that if you were plotting, a riot in the east would distract Caesar, and make it easier to carry out the plot. Caesar responded with the comment that a war there would make it impossible for a soldier to leave the area. So I have assured Caesar of your loyalty. Caesar muttered something about, "We shall see." So whatever happens, whatever you do, do not try to come back to Rome. The more you look as if you have no interest in Rome, the better.
I am sorry, but I did what I thought best.
Your stuttering Claudius.
Gaius stared sourly at this piece of news. His father was dead. Murdered! For no better reason that that he was acting furtively, according to a spy. By the Gods, he would so like to get his hands on that spy. He became more and more angry, as he pictured his mother lying against a wall, a sword being thrust into her by some arsehole of a self-styled soldier, someone too scared to join a legion, but really brave against unarmed women. Well, he would return to Rome and he would enjoy the surprise on that arsehole's face when confronted by someone who knew how to use a gladius! That piece of excreta would very quickly learn. .
It was then that Gaius almost felt his mother imploring him. No! Please, do not do that! He took two deep breaths, and stared at the entrance to his tent. He could easily find a boat to Rome, but that would be a boat to his death. If he returned, he would achieve precisely nothing, because Gaius Caesar would be one of the first to know, and he would not wish to have his murderers brought to the public gaze. For there was no doubt on one point: his father had been murdered on Caesar's orders. There was little doubt on another point: if he really wanted revenge, it had to be on Little Boots, and there was no practical way to achieve that, at least not right now.
He reached his decision. He would weep for his family, but he could do nothing more, at least not yet. He must write back and inform Claudius that he would remain in the east, and he must thank Claudius for his efforts.
A few days later, Gaius received fresh orders from Caesar. Gaius opened them with trepidation, but this quickly turned to puzzlement as he read, "I have removed the Legatus of the Fulminata for incompetence, sloth and dereliction of duty. The temporary Legatus, Lucius Vibius, has done a good job for some time and accordingly I have made his position permanent. Since you were his senior, and have also been successful, I shall not insult you by asking you to serve under a previous junior. Accordingly, you are to order the Cyrenaica to march back to Egypt. For the time being, you are relieved of command. Remain in Judea and await further orders."
On a separate piece of parchment was a further message. "Gaius Caesar is still sour about his statue, and I think he is acutely interested in what you will do next. I suggest you keep a low profile, and this will blow over. Whatever else you do, do not even think of returning to Rome, and do not petition Caesar. Claudius."
At first Gaius felt furious. Now he was removed from command! He stormed from his tent and ordered the Tribune of the fourth cohort, who had the misfortune to be accidentally passing by, to get the remaining Tribunes and form a plan for a prompt march to Egypt. The Tribunes would report with the details at the evening meal. Before this unfortunate Tribune could respond, he jumped on his horse and rode.
He had done his level best, he had avoided bloodshed, he might even have saved a colony because, what with religious fanatics as opposition, the Parthians, and the Roman treasury empty, immediate victory was not a foregone conclusion, particularly if Little Boots commanded with the authority he showed for the invasion of Britain.
But those problems were averted because he, Gaius Claudius, had found a peaceful solution to a problem that should never have occurred, a problem solely of Gaius Caesar's making, and a problem made solely through an over-inflated ego. For which he, Gaius Claudius now had to pay with is career!
After a few minutes, he finally noticed where he was. Nowhere! At least, nowhere in particular. He was riding along a stony gully, the sides of which offered little cover. He reined in his horse. He was being stupid. He turned the horse around and began to canter slowly back, this time keeping a clear watch on the hilltops.
There was absolutely no point in being angry, or at least in being seen to be being angry. . That, suddenly, gave him an idea. He had charged off in a hurry, away from the direction of Jerusalem. He should go somewhere. Then, return to camp and send the legion to Egypt with whatever good grace he could muster.
But back to the present. Go where? Then he remembered. A few miles to his right was a small village. He would go and deal with the situation there. So there was nothing to deal with there? Nobody else would know that!
As he rode into the village a strange feeling came over him, for there was something to deal with. The problem was, he did not have the force to deal with it.
A caravan was surrounded, and a small number of Roman auxiliaries, none of whom would be truly Roman, were laying into the local Jews.
"Stop!" Gaius roared.
Strangely, everybody did. Both sides recognized him as the Legate who liked to ride into squabbles alone, but with part of a legion outside town. They would have to think very long and hard before disobeying the most powerful man in the local forces of the Roman Army.
A few quick questions established that the caravan was supposedly going to Egypt, the Jews were demanding payment for services, which seemed to entail saving them from being robbed.
"In short, extortion!" Gaius nodded, then before anybody could reply, he scowled and added, "Extortion requires power, so let me show you who has power around here. The Princeps is in a foul mood over Judea, and, as it happens, I am also in a really vile mood. If you don't believe me, try me out.
"Suppose I report to the Princeps that a band of Jews was fighting Roman soldiers, he will probably order the demolition of the temple and the enslavement of all the Jews, a plight which seems to occur periodically throughout your history. By all means seek your God's help, but it might also occur to you that your God might be a little irritated at always having to rescue you from these disasters of your own making, and he might leave you to stew for a while.
"So, how do you avoid my getting your whole nation enslaved and your temple destroyed? You pay penance, that's how! You pay cash and you learn a little humility. Nearby, there is a man called James, the brother of the Cristus that your leaders had crucified. Find him, give him plenty of money, and tell him that it is ordered that that money must be used to feed the poor. I will check, and if I think the gift is adequate, this incident is forgotten. If it isn't, at the very least I'll come back and crucify the lot of you.
"Now, you!" Gaius turned to the auxiliaries. "Fighting without authority! You will empty your pockets of all the money you have just been given. Do it now, and if I find anyone hiding any, I will hand them to my Centurions to be thoroughly chastised. Good, I see you have seen my point," he added as the money poured onto a heap. "You!" he indicated the senior auxiliary, "check your men for compliance. Don't even dream of trying to cheat on me.
"Finally, you," Gaius turned to the caravaneers. "One of you will pick up that money and take it to James, with the same instructions. Keep any for yourself, and I will have you crucified. If you want protection, add some more, then turn up in a couple of days time and accompany my legion on the march to Alexandria."