Within the Roman lines was a bent and deformed figure of an old waif
that the soldiers had picked up attempting to run the lines into
Jerusalem the second day after the siege had been laid about the Holy
City.
The old man, though wrinkled and twisted and bowed, had fought with
such terrible savagery and had incontinently laid in the dust in
succession three of the camp's best fighting-men, that the Roman
soldiers, for ever partizan to the strong man, had finally with great
difficulty succeeded in trussing the old belligerent and had brought
him before Titus.
There they laid the twisted old burden before the young general and
shamelessly told how he, thrice the age of the vanquished men, had
finished them with despatch.
It was evident that the old man was a Jew; it became also apparent
that he was dumb and partly deaf, and further to their amazement and
admiration, they discovered that his right leg and arm were too stiff
for ordinary use and that he had done his wonderful execution with
terrific left limbs.
This saved his life and gave him a partial liberty. Titus, however,
admitted to Carus that the old man's distress at being kept out of
Jerusalem was pitiable enough to urge the young general to deport him
and get him out of sight.
For it was manifest that the old minotaur was in deep trouble. But his
paralyzed tongue would not serve him, and his menial ignorance had not
provided him with the means of telling his desire by writing. Titus
was unable to understand from his signs anything further than that he
wished to get into the city. The young general in one of his outbursts
of generosity would have permitted this, but that Nicanor happened in
at an evil moment and drew such pictures of calamitous effect in
passing the old servant into Jerusalem that Titus was forced
reluctantly and irritably to be convinced of the folly of his
kindness. So here, through the terrible days of the siege, old Momus
at times desperate and savage, at others piteously suppliant, wore on
the sentries' peace of mind and stood like a shadow, for ever watching
the white walls of the besieged city.
The Romans were now within the city. Only Zion and the Temple held
against them. A wall built with the thoroughness of David, the
ancient, and solidified by the mortising of Time, ran directly from
Hippicus to the Tyropean Valley, joining the tremendous fortifications
of Moriah and so cut off Zion from the advance of the army. Securely
intrenched within that quarter and the Temple, Simon and John began
the last resistance which should tax Roman endurance and Roman
patience as it had not been taxed before.
Titus no longer lagged. Famine had long since become a powerful ally
and the honor of the Flavian house rested upon his immediate
subjugation of the rebellious city. He no longer expected
capitulation; yet he did not neglect to be prepared for it and to
encourage it. Though the heart of the historian Josephus broke, he did
not fail to serve his patron as mediator, though without hope. Titus
himself, as from time to time the horror of his work impressed itself
upon him, made overtures to the factionists, neglecting no art or
inducement which should convince the seditious that their resistance
was foolhardy, even mad. At such times, Nicanor's face became
contemptuous and Carus himself frowned at the young general's
attitude. But the spirit of a Roman and the traditions of a soldier
even could not prevent the young man from weakening at times before
the charnel pit in Tophet where countless thousands of vultures
fattened with roaring of wings and hissing of combat.