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.The catapults hurled rocks at the battlements.When Titus’s forces entered they found a wailing population white with dust, arms raised to heaven, women howling over the dead children they still carried tightly in their arms, Jew fighting with Jew.Odd troops of Zealots armed with the slingshot David had found efficacious against Goliath, sworded and daggered too, opened fierce mouths at the invading Romans and rushed on them to no great effect.Those who were caught were nailed in cruciform postures to the city walls.The weak and old had already found refuge in the Temple, which had its protective garrison of young warriors.The Tower of Antonia was in Jewish hands.Arrows and stones rained on the vanguard that Titus himself led to the Temple gates.Titus, marching through the inner courts, saw with interest a notice in the three languages of the province, promising death to the Gentile intruder.That in itself was a challenge.He ordered the rams to be dragged to the massy doors, marvelling at their gold and ivory, fighting a sickness that was a mere transitory disease of his impressionable youth.‘Steady, there.Watch that offside wheel.Come on, move.’Wails came through the clouds of white dust.The Romans completed their forcing of the doors, finding it no easy task.Within the Temple they found howling women raising babies like weapons or shields.The old were on their knees, though not to the Romans.A noisy lot, the centurion Liberalis thought.There was now battle in the Temple.Young men with beards fought for the Holy of Holies.Priests cried prayers to their all highest.Sweating Roman troops, awed distractedly at the magnificence of gold and onyx and carbuncle and amethyst, stuck their spears in and seemed to hear the blood gush in cries about the horror of the ultimate desecration.In the morning glory of birdsong, Titus surveyed the multiple crucified bodies that were crammed on the skyline.There were no trees left in the environs for further crucifixions.He walked with Josephus through smoke, dust and broken stone, stumbling over corpses.One corpse came alive and spoke:‘Yusef ben Mattias.Traitor.’‘Josephus Flavius.Roman citizen.’The corpse, briskly speared, rejoined its fellows.‘One thing I would not wish to be recorded in my history,’ Josephus said calmly.‘The desecration of the Temple through pillage and demolition.Posterity will never forget that.’‘Even though it’s been used as a military fort?’‘Necessity, necessity.The citadel of the faith and the faith means the city.I will tell you the true reason why I accept the Roman mastership of the lands of the Mediterranean.The future can never lie with theocracy.’‘Explain that big word to a simple soldier.’‘The Christians are right when they render unto Caesar and unto God but keep the two tributes apart.All rule must be secular.When God enters politics he turns into his opposite.Always has.Always will.’ Titus did not well understand.The troops stumbled over the bodies of men, women and children in the forecourts.‘Heathen muck,’ Liberalis said, as the pillaging began.The veil of the Temple was rent.The great menorah was taken away.One young soldier shook his head sadly.‘A bit doubtful, are you, lad? No direct orders, is that what you’re thinking? Haven’t you ever heard the word discretion? No general officer likes to order this kind of thing.But he knows it has to be done.’The destruction of the ransacked Temple called for all the engineering skill the invading legions possessed.Huge metal balls swung from chains on derricks: the outer walls were stubborn, but they yielded at last in torments of dust and smoke.The pillars cracked, there was a scramble for safety as the great ornate ceilings began to bow.There were few Jews left to wail.After two or three weeks of steady destructive energy there was only a great heap of rubble, sending up dust to an invisible sun.When Caleb landed at Caesarea he looked like a Roman growing old in the service of ships’ cooking galleys.To any who asked he gave his pseudonym Metellus.He felt a stranger in this port where there was hardly a Jew to be seen or heard.Roman patrols clanked through the streets; a homegoing legion paraded on the dockside.Caleb saw an old blind man sitting on a bollard, clanking a cup, crying for alms.He put a coin in the cup.‘Todah, ach, achot.’‘What news from Jerusalem, av?’‘You don’t want to know the news from Jerusalem, ben.Jerusalem is no more, ben.Get you to Masada.’‘Why Masada?’‘All that will be left of Israel will be the young men of Masada.Until the Romans get there.They will come and starve you out.But the faith will prevail, ben.’‘But tell me of Jerusalem, av.’‘Thank the great Lord of Creation I never saw Jerusalem.And even had I the sight I would not see it.For Jerusalem will be no more.The trees cut for crucifying by the forestload.And the grass of the pasture outside the city burnt and the soil of the richness of the land sown with salt that no more life shall henceforth spring.Get you to Masada, tsair.’Caleb trembled and sought the road.He met with a ragged column of Zealots who were seeking to join up with the forces of Eleazar.Vitellius felt great fear when he heard the news, and the fear promoted massive appetite.He gnawed meat, trembling.He stuffed pie into his mouth, trembling, with two hands.Fight.Start recruiting campaign immediate discharge bounty regular pension after victory.Troops assembled in Palatine [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]