princess did not bring salvation to her people. Arenas in Caesarea Philippi, Ptolemais, Tyre, Sidon, Berytus, and Antioch ran with Jewish blood. Of the thousands to leave Jerusalem, these few gaunt women remained.
Hadassah had suffered as the others. Death traveled with the captives on the road, taking them through heat, dust, meager rations, sickness, and Roman victory celebrations. When Titus’ legions and the captives reached Antioch, less than half of those who had been taken from the Holy City remained alive.
The people of Antioch poured from the city to welcome Titus as a god. Doe-eyed women followed the handsome emperor’s son, their children trailing after them. Recently, the free Jews of Antioch had been fighting amongst themselves, fanning the hatred of the Syrians. Clods had struck Hadassah and the others as they walked, while Syrians shouted insults at the captives and demanded they be destroyed. Roman guards finally drove the attackers back. Word spread that the Syrians wanted Titus to take the free Jews of their city along with him, but Titus refused and grew annoyed at their unceasing demands. After all, what was he to do with more Jews on his hands? Their country was destroyed, their Holy City in ruins, and he had all he needed for the games. Who wanted them?
The Syrians demanded that the brass tables on which were engraved Jewish privileges be removed from Antioch, but again, Titus refused. He went one step further and, for reasons known only to himself, made a proclamation that the free Jews of Antioch were to continue to enjoy all the privileges they had always known. If they didn’t, the Syrians would answer to Rome.
While the lives of the Jews of Antioch were thus secured, the lives of the wretched captives were increasingly precarious. Determined to avoid any future conflicts in the Roman province of Judea, Titus set about scattering the Jewish survivors throughout all the countries of the Roman Empire. Able-bodied slaves were always in demand, and vast numbers were purchased in lots, roped together, and marched to ships bound for every province in the Empire.
Some Jews were sent down into the bellies of a hundred ships, where they would spend the remainder of their lives manning the oars. Others were sent to Gaul to lumber trees and provide timber for expanding Roman cities. Large groups were shipped to Spain to work cattle or toil in the silver mines. Hundreds more were sent to Greece to cut and carry marble in the quarries. The most rebellious and proud were sold to their ancestral enemies, the Egyptians. They’d die shoveling and loading sand onto barges—sand destined for the arenas of the Empire where it would soak up Jewish blood shed as entertainment for the Roman mob.
The best captives had been sold; the weakest and ugliest now remained. Hadassah was among the last few hundred to be dispersed. The dealer who now surveyed them was purchasing weavers, field hands, household servants, and prostitutes. Clenching her hands, she prayed she’d be delivered of the last.
“What about this one?” a Roman soldier said, yanking a woman from the line.
The dark Ephesian looked at her in distaste. “Ugly beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” He moved on, speaking disparagingly of the women who remained. “Remember that I am buying slaves to serve the shrine prostitutes in the temple of Artemis. They must be somewhat attractive.”
Hadassah’s heart pounded sickeningly as he approached her. Lord, let him pass me by. Let me be invisible . Better to clean slops than serve a pagan goddess.
The slaver paused before her. Hadassah stared down at his feet, shod in fine leather sandals that were stitched with bright colors. The rich linen of his robe was blue and clean. She felt cold and sick as he continued to stare at her. She didn’t raise her head. “This one has potential,” the man suddenly said. He took her chin and tilted her face up. She looked into his cold eyes and almost
Hadassah had suffered as the others. Death traveled with the captives on the road, taking them through heat, dust, meager rations, sickness, and Roman victory celebrations. When Titus’ legions and the captives reached Antioch, less than half of those who had been taken from the Holy City remained alive.
The people of Antioch poured from the city to welcome Titus as a god. Doe-eyed women followed the handsome emperor’s son, their children trailing after them. Recently, the free Jews of Antioch had been fighting amongst themselves, fanning the hatred of the Syrians. Clods had struck Hadassah and the others as they walked, while Syrians shouted insults at the captives and demanded they be destroyed. Roman guards finally drove the attackers back. Word spread that the Syrians wanted Titus to take the free Jews of their city along with him, but Titus refused and grew annoyed at their unceasing demands. After all, what was he to do with more Jews on his hands? Their country was destroyed, their Holy City in ruins, and he had all he needed for the games. Who wanted them?
The Syrians demanded that the brass tables on which were engraved Jewish privileges be removed from Antioch, but again, Titus refused. He went one step further and, for reasons known only to himself, made a proclamation that the free Jews of Antioch were to continue to enjoy all the privileges they had always known. If they didn’t, the Syrians would answer to Rome.
While the lives of the Jews of Antioch were thus secured, the lives of the wretched captives were increasingly precarious. Determined to avoid any future conflicts in the Roman province of Judea, Titus set about scattering the Jewish survivors throughout all the countries of the Roman Empire. Able-bodied slaves were always in demand, and vast numbers were purchased in lots, roped together, and marched to ships bound for every province in the Empire.
Some Jews were sent down into the bellies of a hundred ships, where they would spend the remainder of their lives manning the oars. Others were sent to Gaul to lumber trees and provide timber for expanding Roman cities. Large groups were shipped to Spain to work cattle or toil in the silver mines. Hundreds more were sent to Greece to cut and carry marble in the quarries. The most rebellious and proud were sold to their ancestral enemies, the Egyptians. They’d die shoveling and loading sand onto barges—sand destined for the arenas of the Empire where it would soak up Jewish blood shed as entertainment for the Roman mob.
The best captives had been sold; the weakest and ugliest now remained. Hadassah was among the last few hundred to be dispersed. The dealer who now surveyed them was purchasing weavers, field hands, household servants, and prostitutes. Clenching her hands, she prayed she’d be delivered of the last.
“What about this one?” a Roman soldier said, yanking a woman from the line.
The dark Ephesian looked at her in distaste. “Ugly beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” He moved on, speaking disparagingly of the women who remained. “Remember that I am buying slaves to serve the shrine prostitutes in the temple of Artemis. They must be somewhat attractive.”
Hadassah’s heart pounded sickeningly as he approached her. Lord, let him pass me by. Let me be invisible . Better to clean slops than serve a pagan goddess.
The slaver paused before her. Hadassah stared down at his feet, shod in fine leather sandals that were stitched with bright colors. The rich linen of his robe was blue and clean. She felt cold and sick as he continued to stare at her. She didn’t raise her head. “This one has potential,” the man suddenly said. He took her chin and tilted her face up. She looked into his cold eyes and almost
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