Terrified residents appeared from the broken gates, with men, women, children, exhausted and dirty, with difficulty moving their legs. They were led by guards, separated by each cohort. Soon the Jews would be turned into slaves, into a living commodity. Rich prey!
It had been hard lately. The state needed almost five hundred thousand slaves annually, but the conquests ended, and the pirates captured at sea could not cover all the needs. The last emperor to satisfy the needs of the state was Trajan, who captured a large extraction in Dacia. And now, he, Hadrian, would help Rome.
Among other things, he would also teach the Jews a lesson, an order had already been given to wipe out almost a thousand settlements in Judea, about fifty fortresses. Many would be executed and crucified. He would pour blood on this scorched, stingy earth, paint its sky in red in accordance with his preferences, as an artist who creates an epic canvas. Blood and earth, what could be more epic? His work would be no worse than The AeneidVirgil—just as majestic and memorable.
Meanwhile, the crowd of captive Jews was approaching. They were being pushed viciously, driven by guards, which was causing screams and noise. Jews were being taken to the markets of Terebinth, in Gaza City, some of them would be sent to Egypt. There were so many of them, captured today and captured earlier, that the prices of slaves had already fallen and equaled the cost of horses.
“Where is the new Jewish ruler, this despicable dog?” Hadrian asked his confidants. “I want to see him.”
“Caesar, my men are looking for Varcoheba!” the viceroy, Tineius Rufus, sitting on a horse just behind the emperor, cast his voice. He was in gilded lats, which gleamed in the sun, discharged like a peacock. The conversation allowed him to move forward a little bit, so as not to force Caesar to turn around.
“I wish this robber to be punished!” Hadrian said firmly, turning his eyes to Rufus. “You've served me well, Quint! It remains for you to be commended for your devotion.”
A benevolent smile touched his lips; however, it quickly melted in the graying beard and Tineius Rufus was lost in guesses how he would be thanked by the emperor. Would he give new lands? Money? Or would he let him go next to him during a triumph in the capital??