The City of Delight

There a solitary horseman rode. Not a scale of armor was upon his

horse; not a weapon, not even a shield depended from his harness. His

head was uncovered and a sheeny purple fillet showed in the tumbled,

dusty black hair. There was no guard on the hand that held the bridle;

the cloak that floated from his shoulders was white wool; the tunic

was the simple light garment that soldiers usually wear under armor;

the shoes alone were mailed. It seemed that the young Roman had

stripped off his helmet, breast-plate and greaves to ride less

encumbered or to appear less warlike.

But the Jews who looked at him understood. Here was Titus come in

peace!

The horse went with loosened rein, while the young Roman's eyes raised

to the great wall towering over him had more of admiration and a

generous foe's appreciation of his enemy's strength than of the

note-making search of a spy in them.

"Ha! By Hector, that penurious Herod was a builder!" they seemed to

say. "There is enough stone insolence in these walls to trouble Rome

for a while!"

Rod after rod of the slowly rising ground he traversed; rod after rod

of the tall fortification passed under his inspection, and now the

twin Women's Towers rose upon the ashes and scarped rock to the north.

Titus spoke to his horse and rode faster.

Meanwhile silent dozens climbed panting and dumbly resisting the

sentries up beside the first Jews. They were citizens who dared not

rejoice aloud. They followed the young Roman with brightened eyes,

saying each within his heart: "Thus David came up against Saul, unto Israel!"

But there was an increase of uproar in the city below, as if news of

the coming of Titus had spread abroad.

Titus was now almost a mile from the nearest of his soldiers. He

passed the Gate of the Women's Towers. Hedges, gardens, ditches and

wind-breaks of cedars of Lebanon from time to time obscured him. When

he came in sight again, he had placed obstruction between himself and

retreat.

The next instant the Gate of the Women's Towers swung in. Out of it

rushed a sortie of motley soldiery, brandishing weapons and shouting

the war-cries of Simon and John.

The citizens on the walls pressed their hands to their temples and

watched, transfixed with horror. Jerusalem's defenders had gone out

against the Deliverer!

The attack had been seen by the disorganized troops on Gareb and the

rapid trumpet-calls showed formation. But between the time of their

movement and the moment of their relief a company could have been

unhorsed. Meanwhile Titus, with nothing less than Fate preserving him

for its own work, dodged javelins and, enraging the white stallion

that he rode, kept out of reach of hand-to-hand encounter with his

assailants. Back and forward he rode, his horse carrying him at times

out of range of missiles; again, all but surrounded by the unorganized

enemy. About his head whizzed axes and spears, wild, and frequently

slaying their own. Far up the slope of Gareb the six hundred gathered

itself and swept in mass down upon the conflict.