Satrapy of Judea
Jerusalem
Early spring
167 B.C.

General Apollonius dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and cantered down the line of Syrian soldiers who were drawn up into vast square formations. Many called out to him with greetings as they raised their sarissa pikes and beat their bronze shields. They were the veteran soldiers of the Egyptian campaign and had proven themselves tenfold. Each man had been bloodied, yet had risen above their enemies, crushing them under their heels in widespread devastation. The gods had blessed them. Each evening the men poured libations upon the ground in reverence, as their minds recalled the Ptolemaic armies sent their way, only to be skewered by the points of their spears. Apollonius was honoured to be in their company. They were his men. They were the noble veterans of the Chalkaspides or Brazenshields, the Chrysaspides or Goldenshields and the distinguished, feared Argyraspides known as the Silvershields.

The middle aged General glanced to his right at the southern end of the sprawling city of Jerusalem settled high upon the ridge, atop the Hinnom Valley. Apollonius took a moment to scan the city walls and then gazed at the spirals of grey smoke which drifted upward from the ramparts. He stared long and hard at the distant mountain which the Jewish Temple stood upon, nestled safely behind its high walls. Sections of the Temple Mount remained in disrepair, and Apollonius shrugged away a tinge of anxiety that fluttered within his mind. To take the city would not be an impossible obstacle, even if it had been overrun by swarms of armed peasants. His force of professionally trained soldiers, schooled in the art of Macedonian phalanges warfare, would swallow them alive like a great beast. The ranks of his phalangite foot troops would breach the walls and capture the Temple Mount, then punish the city for its betrayal.

Apollonius leaned forward in his saddle and felt the chill in the air bite his thighs as his mount thundered down the endless line of soldiers. When he finally found the king, he drew back upon the reins, stiffened his body, and clenched his teeth as the heavy war horse jolted to a halt while tossing its head.

Antiochus, seated upon the floor of his chariot with his legs dangling over the side, looked up and raised a goblet of wine to acknowledge his experienced general. All that was needed was a glance over his left shoulder and a slave standing nearby poured a second cup of wine, walked over to the general, and waited for him to dismount.

"My King, good day," Apollonius called out cheerfully as he dismounted and bowed his head. He noticed Viceroy Lysias and the commander of the cruel Phrygian mercenaries, Philip, standing rigidly behind the king. Both men glowered with cold, harsh stares at the arrival of the competitive and well-known general. "The men are ready, sire!" Apollonius said as Philip's face suddenly twitched with irritation. Then turning his scarred cheek away, Apollonius shook his head at the Jewish rebels gathered upon Jerusalem's walls.

"That can wait, Apollonius, the city is going nowhere. Come and drink." Antiochus lifted his gold cup to his lips and drank long and deep before sighing as he nodded, acknowledging the rich, dark taste of the wine.

Apollonius accepted the cup from the slave and strolled over to the king's chariot. He noticed Lysias and Philip held cups of their own. Apollonius grinned at their aggravation, then toasted the king and swallowed the dark liquid. For Apollonius, the wine was savoury with a spike of honey as it whet his appetite and soothed his tongue. He grunted in favour and took another long drink.

"Does your palette tell you where the grapes hail from?" Antiochus paused as he watched the general focus again on the strong aftertaste and then he finally surrendered with a shake of his head. Antiochus glanced down into the cup, gently swishing around what remained. "The grapes are picked from the vineyards which cover the slopes above Laodiceia. There is a winemaker there who dwells in the valley beyond, near the River Orontes. He is skilled with the touch of Dionysus' nectar. I do swear the man has entreated the Twelfth Olympian to dare acquire such a skill in making such deliciously fermented wine. He possesses a complex mastery which is impossible to find throughout the realm of my kingdom. Hmm ... wine fit for a king no doubt!"

Apollonius bowed again in a humble manner. "Your tongue knows both the luxury of wine and the lordship of men sire. You are blessed by the gods."

Antiochus chuckled lightly and raising his cup he proclaimed, "God-manifest I am." He sighed considering the divine notion and then laughed again with a rumble. "You do flatter me with your wit, Apollonius." The king drank some more. "You could take lessons from his mood, Philip. Your face of stone lacks all but cold, flat emotion; you need to bed a whore to see the colour return to your cheeks." The King laughed again, thumping his knee with an open palm and then grunted as he regained his composure. Philip shot Apollonius an awkward glance, and then humbly bowed with a smile to appease his ruler.

Antiochus toasted Philip with pleasure and shook his head with gaiety as if he were floating down the Orontes on his luxury barge enjoying the company of naked women. Yet, his mood quickly changed with an expression of discomfort that flickered with fear and trepidation. Then his face suddenly became flushed with heat, before cooling into an icy, thin glare. Antiochus hissed something under his breath as he continued to stare out at the exposed city while a thick darkness settled about him.

"Do you recall when we arrived here a year ago? The people rejoiced. I was their victor over the Egyptian," the King muttered, as if lost in thought. "Now, they have revolted thinking I was dead, Apollonius. They believed I, Antiochus Epiphanes, had died!" A twisted and mocking gaze filled his face. "They dared to rise up against their king! Their protector! Scouts reported that first they joined the tyrant Jason the Oniad, that returned exile pig from Ammon! Then they defied me further by imprisoning Menelaus the Tobiad, chosen by me as High Priest.

"Once Jason purported himself as High Priest, the people drove him away, locked the city gates, and continue to hold Menelaus hostage. The people are incited against me! Against me! A king and the conqueror of Egypt! I have lain to waste the cities and armies of my enemies only to arrive at the gates of my city to find the doors barred." Antiochus tossed the priceless golden cup upon the ground. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the chariot with his elbows planted upon his knees, his hands clenched into tight fists supporting his chin.

"Those were the days, weren't they, Apollonius?" Antiochus shook his head in recollection of some distant thought. "We shall return to them what they have desired to give to us." Antiochus stood and a gust of wind rippled the hem of the heavy tiger fur which he wore as a cloak. His full stature was taller then Apollonius and the warrior king crossed his broad arms as his wintered gaze fell to the damp earth beneath his feet.

"We will cut out their tongues and feed them to our dogs." Antiochus scratched his hooked nose and grimaced in a seething anger that heated his bones. "Their ears shall become feed for my swine and their heads shall be left to rot on the ends of our pikes. I want the streets running with the blood of thousands. Thousands more shall be taken to serve me in Antioch. Their men shall be destined to live out their miserable, hopeless lives as slaves, shoveling the shit of my pigs. And what of their women? They will become my whores while their girls and boys are turned over as playthings for the troops.

"I shall delight from the sound of their screams as my soldier's rape their filthy bodies! Castrate the boys and feed their balls to the crows. I will make an example of their children and their moans of agony shall be music such as the lyre and tambourine."

The king slowly turned, vexed in anger. "Apollonius, their treasuries lay in my fortress holds and their Temple furnishings have been melted down into bricks for coinage and wine goblets, like this one." Antiochus stepped forward and kicked the cup sending it flying through the air as if it meant nothing. He smirked as one of his slaves went running to collect it. Antiochus shrugged. "One of their precious seven-branched lamp-stands remains today in a temple to Zeus in Antioch, the other pieces I have sent throughout the kingdom. The Syrians burn them with oil to the Queen of Heaven and Baal Shamin. The Jews will never see them again. They have all been dedicated to gods of blood, wine, power and erotic pleasure."

"My King, is it true you entered the sacred chamber of the Jews? Their Holy of Holies?" Apollonius asked.

Antiochus nodded. "It is a dreary and empty place. No icon, image, nothing! I sometimes wonder who the Jews even pray to at all! It is preposterous and stunts the growth of my empire." The king glanced at Lysias and Philip, and then took a step closer to Apollonius. "If this kingdom is to be great and strong again, the Jews must bend their knee to my will. Others have, why not them? Today we will show them the edge of our swords and they will know who rules this land. There is nothing left for them to do. The whims of the past are but the echoes of ghosts, Apollonius. The Jews must obey me!"

"Many Jews have sworn allegiance to you and your edicts, your Majesty. Remember Menelaus and the others. Many encourage the people to be your faithful servants. They are the elite, the nobles and aristocracy of the city. Those worth saving should be spared, sire." Apollonius gave a wide gesture to the city. "Those who stand before you in defiance are but a rabble of Hasidim and peasants. They are farmers, merchants, peddlers, butchers, carpenters and craftsmen. I see no soldiers before you, sire. We are the heirs of Titans."

"That is not enough, Apollonius. Today, they must be reminded of this treachery. They shall feel the full weight of my wrath. I will not tolerate this." Antiochus studied the walls of Jerusalem and then cleared his throat. "Take four thousand men, smash through their gates and seize the Temple Mount. Kill anyone found in the streets. Restore order! Purge the city of these Hasidim and settle the retired veterans. Populate it as you will."

"I will take four thousand of my Brazenshields to attack the city, my King," Apollonius proclaimed.

"That should please me."

The general gave a sweeping bow. "Jerusalem shall be returned to you within the hour."

Antiochus responded with a trusting nod to his infantry commander. "My power of office and royal seal is upon you once I leave these lands. As soon as calm is brought to this city, you shall return to your governorship of Samaria and defend your district. It is left to you. I shall leave Philip in Jerusalem and station General Seron in the far north with a sizeable force. As for Lysias, he will return to Antioch with me as my viceroy. War is certainly looming on the horizon with Parthia, and I have decided that it shall be I who will lead the expedition. I shall entrust the campaign to no other. Our empire needs to be strengthened, and I will be ruthless. Lysias, on the other hand, shall oversee all my territories west of the Euphrates and southern borders with Egypt. But you, Apollonius, shall be the power in this land."

Antiochus held a cold gaze upon Apollonius, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt, then faced Philip and grunted. "Give orders to the Syrians that they may build altars to their gods and dedicate them upon the Temple Mount. The Jews need to join us or be destroyed. How else am I to strengthen the southern approach to this kingdom if my own subjects stubbornly reject my mercy and will? Reinstate Menelaus as High Priest and strengthen the garrison. We shall not repeat the days of Sostrates when the Jews attacked my own garrison. This time order will be held, anything short of this will bring death. We must civilize the primitives, my dear generals." A peel of lightening flashed in the distance and the king stared up at the heavens. "It appears as if Zeus says yes."

"The priests saw an omen this morning, your Majesty," Philip spoke up looking from the king to Apollonius. "A falcon screeched overhead, and crossed paths with a raven. The falcon gripped a twig in its talons and the raven swooped low yet did not answer the falcon's call. The sign has been interpreted: the Jews are the crow and we are the falcon, blessed by Zeus to punish men who would seek to discredit him." Philip saw the gratitude upon the king's face. The mercenary commander watched another peel of lightening and nodded. "Zeus will deliver the city back to you."

A bitter rain began to pummel the earth as a thunder clap shook the ground. The elephant ranks fussed with irritation, trumpeting and colliding with each other as their handlers shouted and whipped the beasts until they were calmed down. Meanwhile, the ranks of troops shifted uncomfortably from the chill, yet they refused to budge under the watchful eyes of their king. The storm rumbled as sheets of rain danced upon the ground, drenching the thousands of soldiers and echoing with a noisy patter as the heavy drops struck their shields and helmets. Still, all remained motionless, their formations intact in the dismal, spring downpour as they cursed silently and witnessed the torrential fury.

"It is the racket of Titans and Olympians, your Majesty!" Lysias called out with sarcasm above the rain. Antiochus gave a nod, peppered with humour at the suggestion, as he clearly enjoyed Lysias' comparison. "It is as if Gaia and Uranus have sent their sons Oceanus and Cronus to do battle once more with Twelve. Look, the thunderbolt of Zeus may even strike the city and cause her to burn!"

A great roll of thunder sounded striking each man's chest with wonder as many gaped, staring up at the dark sky, truly believing Zeus was about to blast the city in a wake of fire. A murmur of prayers was uttered and then just as suddenly as the rain had arrived, the clouds broke and a ray of sunlight streamed upon the glistening, soaked ground.

Antiochus scowled slightly, gave Lysias a baffled glance and then rubbed his eyes as he wearily turned to Apollonius. "You may lead forth your phalanxes on the double. Sweep down the valley and storm their gates. Lysias and Philip will follow."

Apollonius reverently bowed, tossed his empty wine cup to one of the slaves and mounted his warhorse which whinnied with excitement. "The city's resistance will be crushed, my King." Apollonius swung his mount around and galloped hard down the line calling out to the troops.

The drone of horns resounded and then a steady beat of drums upon the stretched hides of calfskins rose into a grueling crescendo. The ranks of soldiers called out in unison as they tidied their clusters, hefted their pikes in the air and formed a solid wall of bronze shields. Standard-bearers on the wings raised flags and icons mounted upon poles to signal the advance. In one surge the front line of troops stepped forward chanting aloud the death they intended to bring.

Apollonius drew his sword and followed patiently behind the four thousand troops as they marched into the Hinnom Valley, consuming the ground beneath their feet. The flanks were stretched so far on either side that the troops seemed to bring the rocky valley to life with a crawling effect as the bristling spears resembled the back of a porcupine. The soldiers kept their square phalanx formations with absolute perfectionism. The rumbling of men's voices rose with their deafening war cry and the pounding of drums boomed, pacing the troops' advance with the shrill of trumpets.

"Advance to sixty paces of the wall!" Apollonius shouted cupping his left hand around his mouth. The order was repeated up and down the line by brute sergeants who marched in the forward ranks and Apollonius could not help but grin at his veterans. The General squinted up at the high walls of the city and smiled at the commotion he could see between the parapets as frantic Jewish fighters pointed at the approaching army, readying spears, clubs and knives. Apollonius spotted a few Jewish rebels hefting swords and smiled when he counted six blades. We don't face an army, we face a rabble, the General thought to himself. We shall teach them the cruel lesson of Macedonian warfare. Survivors shall tell of this awful day to their children's children.

Apollonius signaled to his standard-bearer and the man responded immediately, veering his horse over to his commander. "Clitus, have the ram brought down." Apollonius pointed at the large gate the army converged upon. "Its hinges look overcome by rust and its wood devoured by termites. It should be no difficult task to smash through it. That's our way in!"