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.