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.