The City of Delight

They who stood on the wall by the Tower of Psephinos in Coenopolis of

Jerusalem on a day in March, 70 A.D., saw prophecy fulfilled.

Since the hour in which the Roman eagles had appeared above the

horizon to the west in their circling over the rebellious province of

Judea there had not been one day of peace. Then their coming had meant

the approach of an enemy. But in a short time such implacable and

fierce oppressors, with such genius for ferocity and bloodshed, had

developed among the Jews' own factions that the miserable citizens had

turned to the tyrant Rome for rescue. They who had risen against

Florus and had driven him out would have willingly accepted him again

in place of Simon bar Gioras and John of Gischala, before two years

had elapsed. Now, their plight was so desperate that they clambered

daily upon the walls of their unhappy city to look for the first

glimpse of the approaching enemy, Titus, whom they had learned to call

the Deliverer.

Near noon of this day in March certain citizens on the wall beside

Hippicus saw a flash down the road to the west beyond the Serpent's

Pool near Herod's monuments. Again they saw it and again, until they

observed that its appearance was rhythmic, striking through a soft

colored cloud of Judean dust.

Out of that yellow haze, rolling nearer, they saw now the glittering

Roman standards emerge, one by one; saw the spiky level of shouldered

spears; saw the shapes of horses, saw the shapes of men; heard the

soft thunder of six hundred horse on the packed earth, heard the music

of six hundred whetting harnesses; heard like a tender, far-off song

the winding of a Roman bugle and heard then in their own hearts, the

shout: "He has come! The Deliverer!"

It was the hour of the City's last hope.

On the near side of the Pool of the Serpent, they saw the body of

horse break into a light trot and, wheeling in that fine concord in

which even the dumb beasts were perfect, turn the broadside of the

splendid column to Jerusalem as it swept up Hill Gareb to the north.

The citizens clambered down from the wall by Hippicus and, speeding

silently but with moving lips and shining eyes through alleys and

byways, came finally to an angle in Agrippa's wall that stood out

toward Gareb. Here was built the Tower of Psephinos. Dumb and callous

as beasts to the blows and commands of the sentries there mounted, the

citizens clambered up on the fortifications and, with their chins on

the battlements that stood shoulder-high, gazed avidly at the sight

they saw.

Scattered confidently over the uneven country the six hundred had

broken file and were in easy disarray all over Gareb. Spears were at

rest, standards grounded, many were dismounted, whole companies

slouched in their saddles. The Jews, long used to rigid military

discipline among the Romans, looked in amazement. Then a light click

of a hoof attracted their attention to the bridle-path immediately

under the overhanging battlements.