On the Destruction of Jerusalem 1.40–1.41

Most went away glad, pleased by the concord of the brothers; but among the brothers dissension returned, and the more serious because their rank was higher, so that it was envied more and they had greater power to harm. Mariamne's sons resented being made equal to the son of a private woman who knew nothing of royal descent. Antipater, on the other hand, scorned having the hope of the kingdom shared with his brothers, and envied them, for whom, he thought, a place after him was hardly to be reserved, let alone the first. But he covered and veiled himself, putting forward favor as a screen for hatred, while they in every conversation offered their opinions openly, even unasked. Their tongues were readier and lavish with secrets; whatever was said in Alexander's company was at once with Antipater, and many things they had not said were invented. The go-between added most things with interest. The architect of all the attacks on the brothers was Antipater, whose life was nothing but a council chamber of tricks, a stage of wickedness, a plot of crimes, a service of outrages. He put up judges, suborned witnesses, feigned a defense, carrying his brother's part about as if in a theater, so as to shake off the lighter charges and give way on the heavier, the better to deceive his father and stir him more violently against his brothers. Above all he skillfully sharpened the odium of a murder prepared against the father in order to seize the kingdom, because to kings the fear of danger is more suspect. But so that the charges should not seem less likely to the king without anyone to rebut them, he first tried to refute them himself, then wished to seem bound by the plain evidence of the facts, so that, the case having been argued on both sides as if nothing further were lacking to the judgment, the father would be roused against his sons as if they were convicted. For nothing gave greater credence to the charges than that Antipater was thought to be his brothers' defender. By this fraud he won the favor of many and bent his father's mind toward himself. Whatever was taken away daily from the brothers was poured from the father's affection into him. He drew away the king's friends and relatives, and especially the king's brother Pheroras and his sister Salome he had estranged from their nephews, so that they not only did not defend them but even attacked and hated them. A further material of hatred was Alexander's wife Glaphyra, who, insolent enough as women are in present good fortune, had begun to exalt herself with haughty disdain, because she surpassed all in the brilliance of her descent. So she set herself above all who were in the royal palace as if their mistress, used to boasting of her father and grandfather, kings, and especially of Darius son of Hystaspes as the summit of her mother's line, and to insult with lowness of birth Salome, the king's sister, or Doris, his wife—which was a grief to them and brought hatred on her. She likewise provoked the other women, who had been joined to the king for their beauty rather than for nobility of birth. For Herod took pleasure in very many women beyond royal custom, by the usage of the Jews too, as by a kind of license of error—men who take the figures of their forefathers as a cover for their own vices. So Alexander was burdened by his wife's insolence; and Aristobulus too attacked his own wife with the same speeches as Glaphyra: she was of low rank, not to be compared with royal offspring, unequal to Glaphyra, and a disgrace to him, because his brother enjoyed a marriage of royal birth while he had degenerated by living with a wife of private rank—madman, troubling his own kin with reproach. Stung by these insults, Aristobulus's wife carried everything to her mother with tears; and Salome, having learned it through her daughter, reported it to King Herod. He, thinking it more expedient to warn his sons than to destroy them, summoned them and partly terrified them with a commander's sternness, partly urged them with a father's affection to love their brother and not to quarrel like enemies, granting pardon for the past and warning of correction in the future. But they lamented that they were being attacked by many fabricated accusations, and at once begged and promised to give proof of their own defense in deeds for the future; only let their father wait for the facts and not believe what he heard rashly; for wicked informers would not be lacking as long as a credulous listener was available. With these and similar words they softened their father; but although at that time they drove off the threatening fear, they heaped up sorrow, because they saw themselves pressed by Pheroras and Salome: one their uncle, the other their father's sister, who ought to have been their defense, were plotting against them. And grave fear was added, because these two had very great influence with their father. For on receiving the diadem Herod had shared almost all the power of the kingdom with his brother and had conferred no small wealth on both, and especially on Pheroras. Indeed he received an annual revenue of a hundred talents twice over, besides the region situated beyond the Euphrates, which multiplied his income. He had also been made tetrarch by Caesar at Herod's request, and had been given the bond of kinship with the royal wife, since he had taken as his wife the sister of the queen. After her death the king's elder daughter had been betrothed to him, and he would have succeeded to the favor of a son-in-law had he not, captivated by love of a slave girl, declined union with the royal maiden. Provoked by this insult, Herod gave the girl to his brother's son, who later died in the Parthian war. Yet Pheroras was accused before him of having sought his brother's life by poison. Not even while his wife was alive had he been free of this suspicion. After examining many, first, and at last his friends, he found him innocent of the crime he was charged with and willingly acquitted him; he even pardoned his plan of flight, since the confessions of his servants revealed the way in which, if the slave girl he loved were taken from him, he had arranged to flee to the Parthians. Alexander had breathed a little while Pheroras was being accused and attacked; and Pheroras himself attacked Salome for having promised marriage to Syllaeus, procurator of Obodas, king of Arabia, and Herod's bitterest enemy. But when the charge was dropped on both sides, the storm of the house fell on Alexander and involved him in grave danger. For Antipater, a savage plague and the tempest of the whole palace, was raging, and in every way, even in meetings of relatives, he so weighed down his brother that, the sober state of his mind disturbed, the father protested in loud cries that Alexander was standing over him with a sword. A drama of this kind had come into the open: Alexander had enticed with rich gifts to his favor and to partnership in a base outrage three eunuchs, one of whom used to serve the king's cups, another to bring in the dishes of his dinner, the third to watch the king's bed and never leave it when Herod had laid himself on his couch. When this was betrayed, the eunuchs, driven by tortures, disclosed the indecent sports of lust, unable to hide even the amorous promises, and revealed by what words they had been solicited and at what price of debauchery—so that a parricide wrapped in disgrace was believed: that he had the charm of youth, the beauty of form, the strength of age, against Herod, feeble and already weighed down by old age, who dyed his hair so as not to betray his years; that when he wished, he would transfer the right of ruling to himself; and he promised huge rewards; and therefore they ought to place their hope in the young man, not in a decrepit old man whose end nature itself was hastening. These things moved Herod heavily, but above all the fact that he had learned from the eunuchs' information that a body of soldiers, the commanders of the army, and centurions were conspiring with Alexander. In the end he was so harried that he thought no kind of cruelty should be omitted; he trusted no one and held everyone suspect. Punishments came faster than interrogations about the crimes, and the end of the accused forestalled the trial. Those whom any suspicion touched were dragged everywhere to execution. Slanders seethed: many, wishing to please the king, informed against the accused; but at once those who had informed against others were themselves informed against and were led to the place of punishment with the accused. So savage had Herod become toward all that whoever of them survived was suspect. The king did not think himself secure unless the human race failed—implacable toward the accused, distrustful of his friends, haughty toward his intimates, merciless to the defendants, fearful of everything, so that he often changed his residence and passed nights without sleep. Exasperated by everything, he suddenly had Alexander bound in chains and surrounded by guards, and called his friends to examinations. Those who denied died under torture; again, those who were silent, because they confessed nothing that agreed with his suspicions, were tortured to the point of death. Yet some, overcome by the force of the torments and the bitterness of the punishments, asserted that the young men had planned to kill their father while he was intent on hunting and to make for the city of Rome without delay, so as to escape punishment by flight. Although this was supported by no proof, the father drew it into a comfort for his fierce zeal, wishing to have just grounds for his son's chains. Alexander, considering his father's ears closed to every defense of himself, and that there was no way the matter could be brought to a point where he could rely on his innocence, attacked as he was by such great masses of slander, thought he should meet the most wicked informers by a like art, so as to trap the frauds and contrivers of slander by tricks and call to account for slander those by whose slanders he believed himself pressed. So he wrote four books in which he confessed a scheme of crime by which he had sought his father's life, and named as accomplices in such plots many of those by whom he himself was being attacked; and in the same books he inscribed especially Pheroras and Salome: that she too, in the dead of night, having broken into the young man's bedroom where he lived, had enticed him against his will and forced him, though he resisted, to commit incest. He sent the books to the king as if they were evidence of his own crimes, in which he had involved all the most powerful of the king's companions and friends. At that time Archelaus came hastily into Judea, to bring what help and aid he could to his son-in-law and daughter. But foreseeing that access was blocked to him with a most hostile father, he checked Herod's agitation by an art of legitimate defense. For as soon as he entered the royal palace, when he could already be heard and seen by Herod, he began to shout in a loud voice as if raging in mind: “Is that poisoner, my son-in-law, still alive and enjoying this light? Where is he, I ask? Where shall I find that parricidal head, to tear it out with my own hands? He ought to perish by parricide who wished to commit parricide. What will he do to his father-in-law who did not spare his father? Who will point him out? I shall first disembowel the criminal, then add my daughter to her good husband: even if she was not privy to the crime, she is not free from contagion, who enjoyed marriage to a parricide. I do not acknowledge my daughter, who did not detect her husband's arts and did not show herself such a daughter-in-law to her father-in-law as to return a submissive son to his father. I joined her not to a service of crime but to the partnership of marriage, to provide a co-heir of grace, not a helper of crime. I am astonished at you, Herod, if that Alexander, plotter against his father, is still alive. I thought he had already paid the just penalty, a man who should not even have been brought to trial. For why should such a self-confessed criminal or such a parricide be kept any longer? But perhaps this too was of divine providence, that he should be condemned by the judgment of both his parents, he who in harming you injured the devotion of both. I shall not deny that I am the avenger, I who was preparing to be the herald of a vengeance already exacted; but neither do I except my daughter, whom I myself betrothed in an ill-omened marriage, following you as guarantor: for I gave her not to the husband's character but to your good faith. Let her give account for having concealed what she pledged and having loved her husband. Now judgment on both lies with us: if you are a firm executor of so great a grief, gird yourself, father, set aside devotion—not a duty to be wished on fathers, but not one to be shirked. If devotion softens you and nature bends you, let us exchange roles, so that I in your son and you in my child may be the executors of each other's service.” Roaring out a speech of this kind, he won Herod over, and little by little softened his purpose from his fury of mind, so that Herod believed him a fellow sufferer of one mind with him, and gave him to read the books Alexander had composed. Archelaus, noting each point, when he understood that they had been heaped up from grief rather than supported by truth, began with deep design to lessen little by little the odium of the attempted parricide and to transfer the causes of the charges to those who had been named, and especially to Pheroras. So when he saw that the king was not averse to his view, he said: “We must consider whether perhaps the young man has been attacked by the plots of so many wicked men in your house, rather than you by the young man. For what reason had he to seek your life, to whom you had granted the honor of kingship and were reserving the right to reign and the hope of succession? Why would he seek what he had? Or how would he be ungrateful for such great gifts? And what else would he achieve by your death but to court his own danger? What he could not fear while you lived he would fear when you were dead—from those very men, at least, at whose hands, even under his father's protection, he dreaded the destruction of his own safety. That age lies open to deceit, is easily deceived, and is caught by the plots of frauds; even old age hardly resists tricks, and often even the prudence of old men is entangled in the crafty snares of deceivers. So if riper experience has often been overthrown, what wonder if a less mature age could not help itself when pressed by crowds of plotters? It is they, then, who are the disturbers of the royal house, the inciters of the young men, the sowers of discord, who have brought the young man to despair of his safety, so that he has indulged his anger and aimed at revenge rather than acquittal, and has also given something to his agitation.” By these words Herod began to be bent little by little and to soften his indignation toward Alexander, but to be moved more violently against Pheroras, because in those four books he himself was set out as the agent of all the crimes and the architect of the whole drama. Pheroras, seeing that the king had inclined his mind to Archelaus and that the favor of intimate friendship weighed with him more than with the others, betook himself to him, begging him to make the king's mind well disposed to him again. But Archelaus said that, entangled as he was in the many bonds of crimes by which he was clearly convicted of having prepared plots against the king and of having attacked the young man, he had no hope of pardon, unless, laying aside the craft of denial, he confessed the charges made against him to his brother, who loved him, and did not hesitate to ask indulgence of him; he himself would not fail such an action with whatever efforts he could. So, changing his clothes, in tears and with a pitiable appearance, Pheroras clung to his brother's feet, begged pardon, confessed his wickedness, did not deny any of the charges, but acknowledged that madness had been the cause of so great a fall, because an excessive frenzy had boiled up in him from love of the woman he loved. So, with Pheroras set up as accuser and witness of his own crimes—as though bought for this, because the argument fell to his own use—Archelaus entreated Herod to soften his anger in consideration of nature and to pardon his brother, setting the right of nature above vengeance. It was no wonder, he said, if in the greatest kingdoms, as in great bodies, some limbs are often inflamed which are not to be cut off but treated with gentler medicines. He too had suffered much heavier plots from his brother, but had remitted to kinship what was owed to grief. So, the more he lightened the punishment of the ungrateful man, the more he aggravated the case. When he had woven in these and other things of this kind, he softened Herod so that he pardoned his brother; but Archelaus himself remained as if inexorable toward his son-in-law. In the end he threatened that he would take his daughter away from him, and raged with such movements of indignation that Herod himself thought his son's crime against him sufficiently expiated, and asked the avenger of his own injuries to intercede for his son with his father-in-law, so that he might renew the marriage afresh. Archelaus persisted: Herod might join his daughter-in-law to anyone he wished except Alexander, for whose sake the wife was being disgraced. By this art he urged Herod far more, so that Herod thought another son would be restored to him if his son's marriage were not dissolved: for he loved his wife dearly, by whom he had also had children, sweet to their grandfather, dear to their parents; this would be the gift of a son restored to him, because a good wife in no small degree restrains her husband's errors or makes up by her services for the odium of his faults. If she were torn from him, there would be no remedy for the man to keep him from rushing headlong into every wickedness; for the presumptions of crime usually become milder when they are called back by domestic affections. At last, hardly bent, Archelaus was reconciled to his son-in-law and reconciled the father to him. By this plan he snatched his son-in-law from death, so that he received his acquittal as a reward while pretending to condemn him rather than intercede. Had he thought he should intercede for him, he would undoubtedly have obtained nothing. He added that Alexander ought to go to Rome cleared of what his father had suspected in him, since he himself had written everything to Caesar. This too, I think, was equally contrived, so that in this way Alexander, having cleared himself, would be commended to Caesar, and the plots prepared by Antipater for his brothers would be laid bare.

By this plan the faction was dissolved and the mood turned to gladness; a banquet was held as a sign of the reconciliation achieved, to whose author Archelaus were given seventy talents and a golden chair set with gems; chosen eunuchs too were bestowed with royal magnificence, and a concubine (whose name was Pannychis) was given as a gift and accepted. Likewise the relatives, at the king's prompting, rewarded Archelaus with most splendid gifts, and none of his household was without a present; and Herod bestowed very much on all of them according to each one's merits. He also escorted him with his nobles, as he returned to his kingdom, as far as the most splendid city of Syria, Antioch by name. Alexander would have escaped, had not a man far more practiced than Archelaus's arts plunged into Judea: a Laconian by race, Eurycles by name, exceedingly greedy for wealth, yet a despiser of it for business's sake whenever the hope of gaining more shone out. In the end, not content with Laconian resources, he had set his mind on royal outpourings; and being a craftsman at hunting, he approached Herod with rich gifts of old and prepared the way for the most ample recompense; and having obtained far more than he had offered, he was still not satisfied unless he could buy the king's favor with bloody and impious factions. So by flattering the king in a manner familiar to the Greeks and by praising all his deeds—not only those that did not deserve praise but even those wrapped in vices—he soon reached his intimate friendship, so that he was chosen among the first confidants of his secrets, helped too by the privilege of his country, because the Jews regard the Spartans, joined to them as a kindred race, as brothers. When he learned the faults of the royal house—the father's suspicious mind and the brothers' hatred for one another—by new arts he pretended to be dear to all and was held faithful by each; but he shaped his efforts to the king's character or the worth of the gifts, so as to be more attached to Antipater and to trap Alexander by tricks and plots, provoking both under a show of intimacy: telling the one that by the privilege of age the kingdom was owed to him; the other, that endowed with the nobility of his mother's line he was by right superior, and that there was no equal partnership for him with the pledge of a most vile corruption. Caught by this, Alexander, as being younger, delighting in what was said to him and not weighing what in turn was being composed about him with Antipater, poured himself out to Antipater's hireling and his own betrayer, and opened his mind with a slippery temper and incautious openness, complaining that his father was the author of his evils, who had snatched away his mother and stained the kingdom, which was owed to him from his grandfather and the insignia of an ancient line, and which his father wished to divert; that the legitimate heirs were cheated of the right of succession and a bastard, the price of debauchery, preferred; but the judgments of God would not long be quiet, so that he who had killed an innocent wife would soon be cheated himself of the rule he had gained through his wife. These things the Laconian carried without delay to Antipater—having also trapped Aristobulus so that he was caught in the snares of the same complaint—and, heaped up for a price, he slipped them to the king, saying that he could not keep silent about so monstrous a crime, and that in return for the gift of hospitality he was presenting him with the favor of life, which his sons were proceeding to snatch away; had he not called them back by pretending more faithful counsel, the father would long ago have been killed by Alexander's sword and the kingdom left empty for unworthy heirs. Nor did Alexander shrink from the atrocity of parricide, he said, for he counted it as the greatest crime that he still held unavenged the death of his grandfather and mother. He was being met and pressed, he said, by the complaints of the slain to avenge so atrocious an outrage; the funeral offerings of the slain were owed to him and must be exacted, and their succession must not be defiled by the kingdom passing to one who had killed their forebears; he would renew the judgment of Caesar, not with the same reverence as before, but so that Caesar himself would learn all the king's secrets, the wealth sought by blood, the province shaken; he would bring back his grandfather from the dead and expose his mother's most bitter death, by which a stranger had been substituted as successor in the royal kingdom. Eurycles had roused the king; yet Antipater, thinking little of one man's suggestion, suborned other accusers against his brothers too, to say that conversation had been entered into with Jucundus and Tyrannus, formerly commanders of the cavalry, and plots prepared against the king out of resentment at their dismissal; danger was at his throat unless he took care in time. Herod did not delay; he at once had them seized and examined severely, but they were found to have confessed none of the things they were charged with. And because such grave things were being invented with impunity before a man who professed himself an avenger of crimes and careless of slanders, there was no lack of men to contrive plots of this kind, which they believed would be more welcome to the father. For a letter was produced, as if given by Alexander and Aristobulus to the commander of a fortress, asking him, once the king was killed, to give them the means of refuge until they could fortify themselves by arms against their pursuers and prepare a defense by other aids. The commander of the fortress was tortured and confessed nothing. Nevertheless, though no evidence of the alleged crime existed, Alexander and Aristobulus were put into custody as guilty. Eurycles, given fifty talents, was regarded as the author of the king's safety and life. It is right not to pass over in silence the man, the most faithful of Alexander's friends, who had come over to Judea at the time of Eurycles, whom the king thought he should question as privy to Alexander's attempts, whether what the Spartan had reported about the young men agreed. But he gave assurance under oath that he had learned nothing of the kind about them; yet it did the young men no good. Herod put off the questioning of him, lest he lessen the odium of the accusation and make void Eurycles's fraud, if under severer questioning the man should deny. So he was shut out by Herod as unworthy of belief. For the good father gladly heard his sons accused and did not allow them to be defended; he was delighted when they were attacked and offended if they were cleared. In the end the Spartan, enriched with royal rewards, paid the price of his slanders when he reached Achaia. Salome, when she could not clear herself of having contracted marriage with Syllaeus the Arab, won pardon for her offense when she betrayed to her son-in-law a secret—he had warned her to look to herself so as to escape her brother's anger, since she was being summoned as suspected of reporting the king's counsels to the Arab in hope of the future union—and she turned the whole storm of royal savagery onto the young men, by which, sunk in a last and inescapable shipwreck, they paid the penalty. So they are bound, and—what was harder for them than chains—the brothers are separated from each other; and Volumnius, the military tribune, and Olympus, one of the king's friends, are sent to accuse them before Caesar. Caesar, though offended that a father should demand the punishment of his sons, still did not think he should deny a father power, and gave him license over his own children, but added advice: saying that he would act better if a council were gathered of the king's relatives and of those who governed the provinces, and the inquiry proceeded by common judgment, whether any plots had been prepared against the father by his sons; if they were convicted of attempted parricide, they should be put to death; but if they were charged with flight or a lighter fault, the punishment should be more moderate. Herod, granted power to commit parricide but warned by the condition of a trial also to be moderate, hurried at once to the city of Berytus, which Caesar had prescribed for holding the trial. The governors of the provinces assembled according to the letters sent them by the Roman emperor Caesar. Saturninus and the legates took their seats, among them the procurator Volumnius; then the king's relatives and friends, Salome too and Pheroras, and the leading men of Syria. Archelaus alone, from Cappadocia, was left out, being suspected of partiality toward his son-in-law, while the accusers of the young men and their plotters attended the trial. But what kind of trial was it where the accused were not allowed to be present and were accused in their absence? For Herod saw that if they were merely seen, they would at once be acquitted, men being by nature inclined to pity—especially where there was the privilege of natural favor; and then, if any opportunity of defense were allowed Alexander, he would easily refute the charges. So, having had them confined in a village of the Sidonians, the accusation was directed as if against men present. The father charged that plots had been prepared against him; no proof was offered, no evidence of the attempts; the accuser held firm, since no one refuted him. Against men abandoned on every side he heaped up odium—kinds of insults and injuries which those sitting there judged heavier than death. But no one discussed, no one dared to examine what was charged by a father and commanded by a king. The appearance of a father's devotion prejudged the case, the right of power terrified; he asked their opinions secure of victory, not knowing that in such a trial the one who won would be more wretched than those who were so bitterly condemned. Saturninus condemned the young men, because nothing else was allowed; but he moderated his sentence, saying they should beware lest, when two of three brothers were killed, the death of the two be ascribed to the third. He spoke timidly indeed, but he spoke the cause, that the other was the author of his brothers' danger. A few out of many followed him. But Volumnius muttered a deadly verdict, and after him all, as the king wished, weighing the sentence of death on such authority, declared it—with different feelings, indeed, but with equal result—some because flattery had wrung it from them, others because hatred had poured it in, either to court the king's favor, or so that the cruelty of the parricide might be punished with a heavier penalty, he who in his victory would carry off so bitter a triumph over himself. Yet no one shuddered at it as at a deed, nor pronounced it as one moved. For it was the appearance of a stage play, not the discipline of a trial, to condemn the absent, to condemn without witness, without informer, by the sole privilege of nature, which is usually turned to safety rather than to danger. All Syria and all Judea were stunned, and with astonished minds awaited the end of so great a tragedy. Although Herod's cruelty was known, no one could believe that he would persist to the point of parricide. But in him the savage force of his spirit was held back neither by sea nor by land. So, as if in the manner of men celebrating a triumph, dragging his sons from place to place, he went to the famous city of Tyre, from there crossed to Caesarea, carrying about by ship the wretched spectacle of parricide until some color could be found for the most bitter death of his sons. The whole army was moved, but suppressed its indignation from fear. There was in the royal army a veteran soldier named Tiro, who had a son close to Alexander; a most indulgent father, and therefore dear to his child, since there is a popular grace in devotion, especially an allurement of love toward one's own. Toward the young sons of the king too he was more warmly inclined, because his son was loved by them. Conceiving indignation beyond measure and disturbed in mind, he began to cry out that justice was being crushed, truth shut out, religion abolished, the rights of kinship and the grace of nature confounded, iniquities overflowing. At last, going right up to the king's face, he urged that he was a wretched man who thought the most wicked should be believed against his own sons, Pheroras and Salome, the king's counselors. What good faith could be expected from those who knew that they had very often been condemned to death by the king? Or what else were they doing but contriving vengeance, so that, deprived of fit successors, he would be inclined to the one who was weaker than the rest? He would easily be removed, since the royal army itself would pursue with hatred the man to whom the death of two brothers was owing. There was no one who was not touched by pity for their innocent age; and many of the commanders no longer suppressed their indignation but spread it abroad. When he had named them, he finished speaking. They were seized at once along with Tiro; and Trypho, one of the servants of the royal palace, who had the art and practice of shaving, suddenly, by some vanity of mind, informed against himself, asserting that a plot had been laid by Tiro, and that he had been persuaded, when he shaved Herod's beard as usual, to press the razor into his throat and so accomplish his death; and that this would be of the greatest profit to him, because they promised it from Alexander's gifts. Tiro is put on trial with his son; then the examination proceeds for both together. When they denied, and Trypho brought forward nothing more, since there was no clear proof of the facts, no argument, no evidence of documents, Tiro was ordered to be tortured with more violent torments. Then his son, pitying his father's tortures, promised to disclose everything if his father's life were granted him; and when the king had promised pardon, he suggested that his father, urged on by Alexander, had prepared the king's death. Many thought this was made up for the moment, so that Tiro might be spared by such an informing on the part of his child; others said it was declared as true. But Herod judged the doubtful as certain, as if afraid that the opportunity for parricide might slip away. So, summoning the people and gathering the commanders, he brought forth with the gravest emotion his complaint about the plots that had been detected, and roused the people to their deaths; and there Tiro with his son and the barber were killed with stones and clubs.