“Gladius…draw!”
“Rah!”
It had been three years since his men had drawn their blades in anger. The arrogance of these so-called ‘people of God’ enraged them. For a sect that claimed to be one of peace, they were quick to turn to violence.
“Charge!”
The order was followed by a continuous shout as the legionaries stormed down the hill. They smashed into the Samaritan horde, shields bowling those closest to them over. To his right, Artorius could sense the men from Praxus’ Century crashing into their enemy. By this time the Samaritans had recovered from the assault and began to fight back against the hated Romans.
Still up on the hill, Pilate and Abenader watched the battle unfold. Pilate’s head was bowed slightly. He had come to attempt a peaceful resolution and had failed.
“Sir, look!” As Abenader pointed to his right, Pilate saw the auxiliary cavalry riding parallel to the enemy flank.
At first he wasn’t sure if they were simply abandoning the field, but then they immediately conducted a hard left turn and charged into the Samaritan flank. He looked to his left and saw the cavalry on that wing executing a similar maneuver. The infantry had also attacked and were fighting alongside the legionaries. He then breathed a sigh of relief.
“I told you my men would remain loyal,” the centurion asserted.
“You have my gratitude, Abenader,” Pilate replied.
Below, the enemy horde was breaking. In a matter of minutes it was over. The Samaritans broke and ran. The legionary and auxiliary infantry pursued as far as the bottom of the hill. The cavalry continued and slaughtered many as they tried to flee. Abenader’s face twitched. The horsemen were so anxious to prove themselves to the Romans that they needlessly continued the killing long after the issue was decided. It was the one confounding issue Taurus had always said about his men; they would always fight, but often not know when to stop.
“We’ve taken over five hundred prisoners,” Magnus said as he joined the senior leaders at their camp.
Several oxcarts had been brought on the journey and were now laden with arms taken from the Samaritan dead. The wailing of grieving wives and mothers echoed throughout the landscape. The Romans were camped several miles from the battlefield, and yet the cries of the grief-stricken still permeated their senses.
“Well done,” Pilate replied.
A servant handed the centurion a goblet of wine, and the procurator proposed a toast. “Gentlemen, to the suppression of insurrection before it had a chance to begin.”
The men all drank thirstily and Pilate then addressed Centurion Taurus. “Your men proved their loyalty today, and for that I am grateful.”
“Thank you, sir,” Taurus replied.
“They probably killed a couple hundred more than necessary,” Pilate continued, “But I am not going to lose any sleep over the bodies of rebellious scum.”
“Nor should you!” a voice said boisterously.
The assembled officers were surprised to see it was Caiaphas, along with members of the Sanhedrin. He was grinning broadly, which was something Artorius had never recalled seeing.
“Caiaphas,” Pilate grumbled. “What are you doing here?”
“We received word of the troubles,” the high priest explained. “And once I heard that the rebels were routed, I wished to come congratulate you on your great victory.”
“Given how much your people and the Samaritans hate each other,” Artorius observed, “it is hardly surprising that you would celebrate their slaughter.”
“Please,” Caiaphas replied, raising his hands in resignation. “I know we’ve had our differences and doubtless will continue to. However, I am willing to admit that you have kept the peace over the past three years, and with the destruction of this rebellious army, you have maintained that harmony.”
The continuing cries of mourning loved ones of the slain added a macabre accent to the high priest’s words.
“Then perhaps you will join us for a drink,” Pilate said, signaling a servant to offer the priest a cup of wine.
“So what will you have us do with the prisoners?” Magnus asked.
“We’ll execute the leaders and any who cause further trouble,” Pilate said without hesitation.
“Ah, now that I will drink to,” Caiaphas said with a chuckle as he held his wine cup high.
Chapter XXXI I: Bitter Departures
Reports of the Battle of Mount Gerizim would take several weeks at minimum to reach Rome, and as Pilate did not foresee any ill consequences to come of it, he elected to take Claudia on a long awaited holiday. If anything, he felt that a commendation from Vitellius, the senate, or perhaps even the emperor would be waiting for him. It was with great shock that he received different news altogether when he returned to Caesarea more than two months later.
The man’s name was Marcellus, and it was known that he was a close friend of Vitellius. He had not traveled alone, but rather brought an entire entourage of bureaucrats, freedmen, and staff. And as Marcellus had expressly forbidden Artorius or any of Pilate’s friends from breaking the news to him, his words completely took the procurator off guard.
“Pontius Pilate,” the man said. “I am here as your replacement, by order of Lucius Vitellius, on the authority of the Emperor Tiberius Caesar.”
“Replacement?” Pilate said aghast. “What is the meaning of this?”
“A number of issues,” Marcellus explained, with a certain trace of arrogance in his voice.
Claudia clutched her husband’s hand as they listened to their entire world come crashing down. “It culminated with the slaughter of the Samaritan pilgrims…”
“Now see here!” Pilate snapped. “Those ‘pilgrims’ were armed for battle. We acted in self-defense and, by doing so, suppressed a potential revolt!”
“Perhaps,” Marcellus said patronizingly. “However, it was not I who ordered your removal. I am simply your successor. And as I was saying, Legate Vitellius was specifically informed by the emperor a number of months ago that after eleven years you were perhaps wearing out your usefulness in the province. There have been numerous complaints by the Sanhedrin over the years, as well as Herod Antipas. Granted, Vitellius took little heed of our client king’s rebukes, knowing his ulterior motives for trying to make himself legitimate king of all Judea. However, this latest slaughter of the Samaritans proved your undoing. The Council of Samaria petitioned Vitellius personally, and it is by his order that you are hereby relieved.”
“But surely…” Pilate protested. “How could he depose me without allowing me to plead my case?”
“As I said,” Marcellus answered with a bored sigh, “The emperor felt your usefulness was played out in the east anyway. It is likely Vitellius would have relieved you even if he had thought your actions appropriate. And since any appeal of his decision would go through the emperor, his directive is if you take umbrage with his decision, then you need to take it up with Tiberius.”
“I understand,” Pilate said quietly, still in shock, the gravity of what had just transpired beginning to sink in. He guided Claudia by the hand and they started to leave the office.