Book VI

Sabina

Troxobores, a brigand chieftain of the mountain people, made the most of the disturbances in Armenia which were occupying the Syrian legions, and sent an experienced expeditionary force into the hinterland of Cilicia and from there swept down to the coast, plundering the ports and dislocating the sea traffic. The old King of Cilicia, Antiochus, was powerless, for his own reinforcements were in Armenia. Finally the Cleitors began to besiege the harbor city of Anemurium itself. On my way from Ephesus to Antioch, I met a division of the Syrian cavalry, commantled by prefect Curtius Severus, hastening to the defense of Anemurium. Under the circumstances, I considered it my duty to join them.

We suffered a severe defeat outside the walls of Anemurium, where the terrain was more suited to Troxobores’ mountain dwellers than to our cavalry. Severus must take his share of the blame, for he thought he could frighten an inexperienced band of bandits into flight just by having the trumpets sounded and attacking at full gallop, without first finding out about the terrain and the strength of Troxobores’ forces.

I was wounded in the side, arm and foot. With a rope around my neck and my hands tied behind my back, I was taken up into the brigands’ inaccessible mountains. For two years I was kept as a hostage by Troxobores. My father’s freedmen in Antioch would have paid the ransom at any time, but Troxobores was a cunning and aggressive man and preferred to keep a few important Romans as hostages rather than hoard money in his hideouts.

The Syrian Proconsul and King Antiochus belittled this rebellion as much as possible, saying they could crush it with their own forces. They were afraid, with some justification, of Claudius’ anger, should he learn the truth.

“No amount of gold will buy my life when my back is against the wall,” said Troxobores. “But you, oh Roman blight, I can always crucify you to acquire a handsome escort to the underworld.”

He treated us hostages capriciously, sometimes well and sometimes not. He might invite us to his crude banquets, give us food and drink and tearfully and drunkenly call us friends. But afterwards he might shut us in a filthy cave, have the entrance walled up and have us fed through a fist-size hole with the minimum of bread to keep us alive in our own excrement. During this imprisonment, two men took their own lives by opening their veins with sharp stones.

209

My wounds became infected and tormented me. Pus oozed from them and I thought I would die. During those two years, I learned to live in utter degradation, constandy prepared to be tortured or to die. My son Julius, my only son, when you read this after my death, remember that certain ineradicable scars which I bear on my face and which when you were small you thought came from my service in Britain, vain as I was, were not the work of Britons. I received them many years before you were born, in a dark Cilician cave, where I learned patience, and shamefully battered my face against the rough stone wall. Think of that when you so eagerly criticize your miserly, old-fashioned and now dead father.

For all the men Troxobores collected around him and trained as warriors during his successful days, he lost just as many after his first defeat. Intoxicated by his success, he made the mistake of becoming involved in field battles and this kind of warfare his ill-disciplined troops could not master.

King Antiochus treated his prisoners kindly, released them and sent them up into the mountains to promise mercy to all those who deserted Troxobores. Most of Troxobores’ men considered that having collected sufficient loot, they had had enough of the game, and fled back to their villages to spend the rest of their lives as wealthy men, by Cilician standards. Troxobores had these deserters followed and killed, thus causing bad blood between his own tribal friends.

Finally, even the men nearest to him tired of his cruelties and whims, and took him prisoner-to gain mercy for themselves. This happened just in time, for King Antiochus’ army was approaching, slaves were tearing down the walls in front of the cave, and the poles for our execution were on the ground outside. My fellow prisoners asked that Troxobores should be crucified instead of us. But King Antiochus swifty had him beheaded, to put an end to a painful episode.

I and my fellow prisoners parted without regrets, for in the darkness, hunger and misery of the cave, we had become bitterly sick of one another’s company. While they returned to Antioch, I went on board a Roman warship in Anemurium which was going to Ephesus. King An-ti-ochus compensated us generously for the sufferings we had had to endure, in order to keep us quiet.

210

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270