"You are out of spirits, John, and take a gloomy view of things; but I know that Simon, too, thinks that everything will end badly, and I have heard him say that he, too, is glad that his farm lies on this side of the lake; and that he wishes Gamala had not thrown off the authority of the king, so that there might be naught to bring the Romans across Jordan.

"Our mother is more hopeful. She trusts in God for, as she says, though the wealthy and powerful may have forsaken Him, the people still cling to Him; and He will not let us fall into the hands of our enemies."

"I hope it will be so, Mary; and I own I am out of spirits, and look at matters in the worst light. However, I will have a talk with father, tonight."

That evening, John had a long conversation with Simon, and repeated the forebodings he had expressed to Mary.

"At any rate, father, I hope that when the Romans approach you will at least send away my mother, Mary, and the women to a place of safety. We are but a few miles from Gamala and, if the Romans come there and besiege it, they will spread through the country; and will pillage, even if they do not slay, in all the villages. If, as we trust, God will give victory to our arms, they can return in peace; if not, let them at least be free from the dangers which are threatening us."

"I have been thinking of it, John. A fortnight since, I sent old Isaac to your mother's brother--whose farm, as you know, lies upon the slopes of Mount Hermon, a few miles from Neve, and very near the boundary of Manasseh--to ask him if he will receive Martha, and Mary, and the women, until the troubles are over. He will gladly do so; and I purpose sending them away, as soon as I hear that the Romans have crossed the frontier."

"I am, indeed, rejoiced to hear it, father; but do not let them tarry for that, let them go as soon as the snows have melted on Mount Hermon, for the Roman cavalry will spread quickly over the land. Let them go as soon as the roads are fit for travel. I shall feel a weight off my mind, when I know that they are safe.

"And does my mother know what you have decided?"

"She knows, John, but in truth she is reluctant to go. She says, at present, that if I stay she also will stay."

"I trust, father, that you will overrule my mother; and that you will either go with her or, if you stay, you will insist upon her going. Should you not overcome her opposition, and finally suffer her, with Miriam and the older women, to remain with you, I hope that you will send Mary and the young ones to my uncle. The danger, with them, is vastly greater. The Romans, unless their blood is heated by opposition, may not interfere with the old people--who are valueless as slaves--but the young ones--" and he stopped.

"I have thought it over, my son, and even if your mother remains here with me, I will assuredly send off Mary, and the young maidens, to the mountain. Make your mind easy, on that score. We old people have taken root on the land which was our fathers'. I shall not leave, whatever may befall--and it may be that your mother will tarry here, with me--but the young women shall assuredly be sent away, until the danger is over.

"Not that I think the peril is as great as it seems, to you. Our people have ever shown themselves courageous, in great danger. They know the fate that awaits them, after provoking the anger of Rome. They know they are fighting for faith, for country, and their families, and will fight desperately. They greatly outnumber the Romans--at least, the army by which we shall first be attacked--and maybe, if we can resist that, we may make terms with Rome for, assuredly, in the long run she must overpower us."

"I should think with you, father," John said, shaking his head, "if I saw anything like union among the people; but I lose all heart, when I see how divided they are, how blind to the storm that is coming against us, how careless as to anything but the trouble of the day, how intent upon the work of their farms and businesses, how disinclined to submit to discipline, and to prepare themselves for the day of battle."

"You are young, my son, and full of enthusiasm; but it is hard to stir men, whose lives have traveled in one groove, from their ordinary course. In all our history, although we have been ready to assemble and meet the foe, we have ever been ready to lay by the sword, when the danger is past, and to return to our homes and families. We have been a nation of fighting men, but never a nation with an army."

"Yes, father, because we trusted in God to give us victory, on the day of battle. He was our army. When He fought with us, we conquered; when He abstained, we were beaten. He suffered us to fall into the hands of the Romans and, instead of repenting of our sins, we have sinned more and more.

"The news from Jerusalem is worse and worse. There is civil war in its streets. Robbers are its masters. The worst of the people sit in high places."

"That is so, my son. God's anger still burns fiercely, and the people perish; yet it may be that He will be merciful, in the end."

"I hope so, father, for assuredly our hope is only in Him."

Early in the spring, Vespasian was joined by King Agrippa, with all his forces; and they advanced to Ptolemais and, here, Titus joined his father, having brought his troops from Alexandria by sea. The force of Vespasian now consisted of the Fifth, Tenth, and Fifteenth Legions. Besides these he had twenty-three cohorts; ten of which numbered a thousand footmen, the rest, each, six hundred footmen and a hundred and fifty horse. The allied force, contributed by Agrippa and others, consisted of two thousand archers, and a thousand horse; while Malchus, King of Arabia, sent a thousand horse, and five thousand archers. The total force amounted to sixty thousand regular troops, besides great numbers of camp followers--who were all trained to military service, and could fight, in case of need.

Vespasian had encountered no resistance, on his march down to Ptolemais. The inhabitants of the country through which he passed forsook the villages and farms; and retired, according to the orders they had received, to the fortified towns. There was no army to meet the Romans in the field. The efforts at organization which Josephus had made bore no fruit, whatever. No sooner had the invader entered the country, than it lay at his mercy; save only the walled cities into which the people had crowded.

In the range of mountains stretching across Upper Galilee were three places of great strength: Gabara, Gischala, and Jotapata. The last named had been very strongly fortified, by Josephus himself; and here he intended to take up his own position.

"It is a pitiful sight, truly," Joab remarked to John, as they saw the long line of fugitives--men, women, and children--with such belongings as they could carry on their own backs, and those of their beasts of burden. "It is a pitiful sight, is it not?"

"It is a pitiful sight, Joab, and one that fills me with foreboding, as well as with pity. What agonies may not these poor people be doomed to suffer, when the Romans lay siege to Jotapata?"

"They can never take it," Joab said, scornfully.

"I wish I could think so, Joab. When did the Romans ever lay siege to a place, and fail to capture it? Once, twice, three times they may fail but, in the end, they assuredly will take it."

"Look at its position. See how wild is the country through which they will have to march."

"They have made roads over all the world, Joab. They will make very short work of the difficulties here. It may take the Romans weeks, or months, to besiege each of these strong places; but they will assuredly carry them, in the end--and then, better a thousand times that the men had, in the first place, slain the women, and rushed to die on the Roman swords."

"It seems to me, John," Joab said stiffly, "that you are over bold, in thus criticising the plans of our general."

"It may be so," John said, recklessly, "but methinks, when we are all risking our lives, each man may have a right to his opinions. I am ready, like the rest, to die when the time comes; but that does not prevent me having my opinions. Besides, it seems to me that there is no heresy in questioning the plans of our general. I love Josephus, and would willingly give my life for him. He has shown himself a wise ruler, firm to carry out what is right, and to suppress all evildoers but, after all, he has not served in war. He is full of resources, and will, I doubt not, devise every means to check the Romans but, even so, he may not be able to cope, in war, with such generals as theirs, who have won their experience all over the world. Nor may the general's plan of defense, which he has adopted, be the best suited for the occasion.

"Would you have us fight the Romans in the open?" Joab said, scornfully. "What has been done in the south? See how our people marched out from Jerusalem--under John the Essene, Niger of Peraea, and Silas the Babylonian--to attack Ascalon, held by but one cohort of Roman foot, and one troop of horse. What happened? Antoninus, the Roman commander, charged the army without fear, rode through and through them, broke them up into fragments, and slew till night time--when ten thousand men, with John and Silas, lay dead.

"Not satisfied with this defeat, in a short time Niger advanced again against Ascalon; when Antoninus sallied out again, and slew eight thousand of them. Thus, eighteen thousand men were killed, by one weak cohort of foot and a troop of horse; and yet you say we ought not to hide behind our walls, but to meet them in the open!"

"I would not meet them in the open, where the Roman cavalry could charge--at any rate, not until our people have learned discipline. I would harass them, and attack them in defiles, as Cestius was attacked; harassing them night and day, giving them no peace or rest, never allowing them to meet us in the plains, but moving rapidly hither and thither among the mountains--leaving the women in the cities, which should offer no resistance, so that the Romans would have no point to strike at--until at length, when we have gained confidence and discipline and order, we should be able to take bolder measures, gradually, and fight them hand to hand."

"Maybe you are right, lad," Joab said, thoughtfully. "I like not being cooped up in a stronghold, myself; and methinks that a mountain warfare, such as you speak of, would suit the genius of the people. We are light limbed and active--inured to fatigue, for we are a nation of cultivators--brave, assuredly, and ready to give our lives.

"They say that, in the fight near Ascalon, not a Jew fled. Fight they could not, they were powerless against the rush of the heavy Roman horse; but they died as they stood, destroyed but not defeated. Gabara and Gischala and Jotapata may fall but, lad, it will be only after a defense so desperate that the haughty Romans may well hesitate; for if such be the resistance of these little mountain towns, what will not be the task of conquering Jerusalem, garrisoned by the whole nation?"

"That is true," John said, "and if our deaths here be for the safety of Jerusalem, we shall not have died in vain. But I doubt whether such men as those who have power in Jerusalem will agree to any terms, however favorable, that may be offered.

"It may be that it is God's will that it should be so. Two days ago, as I journeyed hither, after going down to Sepphoris with a message from the general to some of the principal inhabitants there, I met an old man, traveling with his wife and family. I asked him whether he was on his way hither, but he said 'No,' he was going across Jordan, and through Manasseh, and over Mount Hermon into Trachonitis. He said that he was a follower of that Christ who was put to death, in Jerusalem, some thirty-five years since, and whom many people still believe was the Messiah. He says that he foretold the destruction of Jerusalem, by the Romans; and warned his followers not to stay in the walled cities, but to fly to the deserts when the time came."

"The Messiah was to save Israel," Joab said, scornfully. "Christ could not save even himself."

"I know not," John said, simply. "I have heard of him from others; and my father heard him preach, several times, near the lake. He says that he was a man of wondrous power, and that he preached a new doctrine. He says that he did not talk about himself, or claim to be the Messiah; but that he simply told the people to be kind and good to each other, and to love God and do his will. My father said that he thought he was a good and holy man, and full of the Spirit of God. He did works of great power, too; but bore himself meekly, like any other man. My father always regards him as a prophet; and said that he grieved, when he heard that he had been put to death at Jerusalem. If he were a prophet, what he said about the destruction of Jerusalem should have weight with us."

"All who heard him agreed that he was a good man," Joab assented. "I have never known one of those who heard him say otherwise, and maybe he was a prophet. Certainly, he called upon the people to repent and turn from their sins and, had they done as he taught them, these evils might not have fallen upon us, and God would doubtless have been ready to aid his people, as of old.

"However, it is too late to think about it, now. We want all our thoughts for the matter we have in hand. We have done all that we can to put this town into a state of defense and, methinks, if the Romans ever penetrate through these mountains and forests, they will see that they have a task which will tax all their powers, before they take Jotapata."

The position of the town was, indeed, immensely strong. It stood on the summit of a lofty mass of rock which, on three sides, fell abruptly down into the deep and almost impassable ravines which surrounded it. On the north side, alone, where the ridge sloped more gradually down, it could be approached. The town extended part of the way down this declivity and, at its foot, Josephus had built a strong wall. On all sides were lofty mountains, covered with thick forests; and the town could not be seen by an enemy, until they were close at hand.

As soon as Vespasian had arrived at Ptolemais (on the site of which city stands the modern Acre) he was met by a deputation from Sepphoris. That city had only been prevented from declaring for the Romans by the exertions of Josephus, and the knowledge that all Galilee would follow him to attack it, should it revolt. But as soon as Vespasian arrived at Ptolemais, which was scarce twenty miles away, they sent deputies with their submission to him; begging that a force might be sent, to defend them against any attack by the Jews.

Vespasian received them with courtesy; and sent Placidus, with a thousand horse and six thousand foot, to the city. The infantry took up their quarters in the town; but the horsemen made raids over the plains, burning the villages, slaying all the men capable of bearing arms, and carrying off the rest of the population as slaves.

The day after the conversation between Joab and John, a man brought the news to Jotapata that Placidus was marching against it. Josephus at once ordered the fighting men to assemble and, marching out, placed them in ambuscade, in the mountains, on the road by which the Romans would approach.

As soon as the latter had fairly entered the pass, the Jews sprang to their feet, and hurled their javelins and shot their arrows among them. The Romans, in vain, endeavored to reach their assailants; and numbers were wounded, as they tried to climb the heights, but few were killed--for they were so completely covered, by their armor and shields, that the Jewish missiles, thrown from a distance, seldom inflicted mortal wounds. They were, however, unable to make their way further; and Placidus was obliged to retire to Sepphoris, having failed, signally, in gaining the credit he had hoped for, from the capture of the strongest of the Jewish strongholds in Upper Galilee.

The Jews, on their part, were greatly inspirited by the success of their first encounter with the Romans; and returned, rejoicing, to their stronghold.

All being ready at Jotapata, Josephus--with a considerable number of the fighting men--proceeded to Garis, not far from Sepphoris, where the army had assembled. But no sooner had the news arrived, that the great army of Vespasian was in movement, than they dispersed in all directions; and Josephus was left with a mere handful of followers, with whom he fled to Tiberias. Thence he wrote earnest letters to Jerusalem; saying that, unless a strong army was fitted out and put in the field, it was useless to attempt to fight the Romans; and that it would be wiser to come to terms with them, than to maintain a useless resistance, which would bring destruction upon the nation. He remained a short time, only, at Tiberias; and thence hurried up with his followers to Jotapata, which he reached on the 14th of May.

Vespasian marched first to Gadara--which was undefended, the fighting men having all gone to Jotapata--but, although no resistance was offered, Vespasian put all the males to the sword; and burned the town and all the villages in the neighborhood, and then advanced against Jotapata. For four days, the pioneers of the Roman army had labored incessantly--cutting a road through the forests, filling up ravines, and clearing away obstacles--and, on the fifth day, the road was constructed close up to Jotapata.

On the 14th of May, Placidus and Ebutius were sent forward by Vespasian, with a thousand horse, to surround the town and cut off all possibility of escape. On the following day Vespasian himself, with his whole army, arrived there. The defenders of Jotapata could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw the long, heavy column--with all its baggage, and siege engines--marching along a straight and level road, where they had believed that it would be next to impossible for even the infantry of the enemy to make their way. If this marvel had been accomplished in five days, what hope was there that the city would be able to withstand this force, which had so readily triumphed over the defenses of nature?

Chapter 5: The Siege Of Jotapata.

"Well, Joab, what do you think, now?" John said, as he stood on the wall with his older companion, watching the seemingly endless column of the enemy. "It seems to me that we are caught here, like rats in a trap, and that we should have done better, a thousand times, in maintaining our freedom of movement among the mountains. It is one thing to cut a road; it would be another to clear off all the forests from the Anti-Libanus and, so long as there was a forest to shelter us, the Romans could never have overtaken us. Here, there is nothing to do but to die."

"That is so, John. I own that the counsel you urged would have been wiser than this. Here are all the best fighting men in Galilee, shut up without hope of succor, or of mercy. Well, lad, we can at least teach the Romans the lesson that the Jews know how to die; and the capture of this mountain town will cost them as much as they reckoned would suffice for the conquest of the whole country. Jotapata may save Jerusalem, yet."

John was no coward, and was prepared to fight to the last; but he was young, and the love of life was strong within. He thought of his old father and mother, who had no children but him; of his pretty Mary--far away now, he hoped, on the slopes of Mount Hermon--and of the grief that his death would cause to them; and he resolved that, although he would do his duty, he would strain every nerve to preserve the life so dear to them.

He had no longer any duties to perform, other than those common to all able to bear arms. When the Romans attacked, his place would be near Josephus or, were a sally ordered, he would issue out with the general; but until then, his time was his own. There was no mission to be performed, now, no fear of plots against the life of the general; therefore, he was free to wander where he liked. Save the newly erected wall, across the neck of rock below the town, there were no defenses; for it was deemed impossible for man to climb the cliffs that fell, sheer down, at every other point.

John strolled quietly round the town; stopping, now and then, to look over the low wall that bordered the precipice--erected solely to prevent children from falling over. The depth was very great; and it seemed to him that there could be no escape, anywhere, save on that side which was now blocked by the wall--and which would, ere long, be trebly blocked by the Romans.

The town was crowded. At ordinary times, it might contain near three or four thousand inhabitants; now, over twenty-five thousand had gathered there. Of these, more than half were men; but many had brought their wives and children with them. Every vacant foot of ground was taken up. The inhabitants shared their homes with the strangers, but the accommodation was altogether insufficient; and the greater part of the newcomers had erected little tents, and shelters, of cloths or blankets.

In the upper part of the town there were, at present, comparatively few people about; for the greater part had gone to the slope, whence they watched, with terror and dismay, the great Roman column as it poured down, in an unbroken line, hour after hour. The news of the destruction which had fallen on Gadara had been brought in, by fugitives; and all knew that, although no resistance had been offered there, every male had been put to death, and the women taken captives.

There was naught, then, to be gained by surrender; even had anyone dared to propose it. As for victory, over such a host as that which was marching to the assault, none could hope for it. For, hold out as they might, and repel every assault on the wall, there was an enemy within which would conquer them.

For Jotapata possessed no wells. The water had, daily, to be fetched by the women from the stream in the ravine and, although stores of grain had been collected, sufficient to last for many months, the supply of water stored up in cisterns would scarce suffice to supply the multitudes gathered on the rock for a fortnight.

Death, then, certain and inevitable, awaited them; and yet, an occasional wail from some woman, as she pressed her children to her breast, alone told of the despair which reigned in every heart. The greater portion looked out, silent, and as if stupefied. They had relied, absolutely, on the mountains and forests to block the progress of the invader. They had thought that, at the worst, they would have had to deal with a few companies of infantry, only. Thus, the sight of the sixty thousand Roman troops--swelled to nigh a hundred thousand, by the camp followers and artificers--with its cavalry and machines of war, seemed like some terrible nightmare.

After making the circuit of the rock, and wandering for some time among the impromptu camps in the streets, John returned to a group of boys whom he had noticed, leaning against the low wall with a carelessness, as to the danger of a fall over the precipice, which proved that they must be natives of the place.

"If there be any possible way of descending these precipices," he said to himself, "it will be the boys who will know of it. Where a goat could climb, these boys, born among the mountains, would try to follow; if only to excel each other in daring, and to risk breaking their necks."

Thus thinking, he walked up to the group, who were from twelve to fifteen years old.

"I suppose you belong to the town?" he began.

There was a general assent from the five boys, who looked with considerable respect at John--who, although but two years the senior of the eldest among them, wore a man's garb, and carried sword and buckler.

"I am one of the bodyguard of the governor," John went on, "and I dare say you can tell me all sorts of things, about this country, that may be useful for him to know. Is it quite certain that no one could climb up these rocks from below; and that there is no fear of the Romans making a surprise, in that way?"

The boys looked at each other, but no one volunteered to give information.

"Come!" John went on, "I have only just left off being a boy, myself, and I was always climbing into all sorts of places, when I got a chance; and I have no doubt it's the same, with you. When you have been down below, there, you have tried how far you can get up.

"Did you ever get up far, or did you ever hear of anyone getting up far?"

"I expect I have been up as far as anyone," the eldest of the boys said. "I went up after a young kid that had strayed away from its mother. I got up a long way--half way up, I should say--but I couldn't get any further. I was barefooted, too.

"I am sure no one with armor on could have got up anything like so far. I don't believe he could get up fifty feet."

"And have any of you ever tried to get down from above?"

They shook their heads.

"Jonas the son of James did, once," one of the smaller boys said. "He had a pet hawk he had tamed, and it flew away and perched, a good way down; and he clambered down to fetch it. He had a rope tied round him, and some of the others held it, in case he should slip. I know he went down a good way, and he got the hawk; and his father beat him for doing it, I know."

"Is he here, now?" John asked.

"Yes, he is here," the boy said. "That's his father's house, the one close to the edge of the rock. I don't know whether you will find him there, now. He ain't indoors more than he can help. His own mother's dead, and his father's got another wife, and they don't get on well together."

"Well, I will have a chat with him, one of these days. And you are all quite sure that there is no possible path up, from below?"

"I won't say there isn't any possible path," the eldest boy said; "but I feel quite sure there is not. I have looked, hundreds of times, when I have been down below; and I feel pretty sure that, if there had been any place where a goat could have got up, I should have noticed it. But you see, the rock goes down almost straight, in most places. Anyhow, I have never heard of anyone who ever got up and, if anyone had done it, it would have been talked about, for years and years."

"No doubt it would," John agreed. "So I shall tell the governor that he need not be in the least uneasy about an attack, except in front."

So saying, he nodded to the boys, and walked away again.

In the evening, the whole of the Roman army had arrived; and Vespasian drew up his troops on a hill, less than a mile to the north of the city, and there encamped them. The next morning, a triple line of embankments was thrown up, by the Romans, around the foot of the hill where, alone, escape or issue was possible; and this entirely cut off those within the town from any possibility of flight.

The Jews looked on at these preparations as wild animals might regard a line of hunters surrounding them. But the dull despair of the previous day had now been succeeded by a fierce rage. Hope there was none. They must die, doubtless; but they would die fighting fiercely, till the last. Disdaining to be pent up within the walls, many of the fighting men encamped outside, and boldly went forward to meet the enemy.

Vespasian called up his slingers and archers, and these poured their missiles upon the Jews; while he himself, with his heavy infantry, began to mount the slope towards the part of the wall which appeared the weakest. Josephus at once summoned the fighting men in the town and, sallying at their head through the gate, rushed down and flung himself upon the Romans. Both sides fought bravely; the Romans strong in their discipline, their skill with their weapons, and their defensive armor; the Jews fighting with the valor of despair, heightened by the thought of their wives and children in the town, above.

The Romans were pushed down the hill, and the fight continued at its foot until darkness came on, when both parties drew off. The number of killed on either side was small, for the bucklers and helmets defended the vital points. The Romans had thirteen killed and very many wounded, the Jews seventeen killed and six hundred wounded.

John had fought bravely by the side of Josephus. Joab and two others of the little band were killed. All the others were wounded, more or less severely; for Josephus was always in the front, and his chosen followers kept close to him. In the heat of the fight, John felt his spirits rise higher than they had done since the troubles had begun. He had fought, at first, so recklessly that Josephus had checked him, with the words:

"Steady, my brave lad. He fights best who fights most coolly. The more you guard yourself, the more you will kill."

More than once, when Josephus--whose commanding figure, and evident leadership, attracted the attention of the Roman soldiers--was surrounded and cut off, John, with three or four others, made their way through to him, and brought him off.

When it became dark, both parties drew off; the Romans sullenly, for they felt it a disgrace to have been thus driven back, by foes they despised; the Jews with shouts of triumph, for they had proved themselves a match for the first soldiers in the world, and the dread with which the glittering column had inspired them had passed away.

The following day, the Jews again sallied out and attacked the Romans as they advanced and, for five days in succession, the combat raged--the Jews fighting with desperate valor, the Romans with steady resolution. At the end of that time, the Jews had been forced back behind their wall, and the Romans established themselves in front of it.

Vespasian, seeing that the wall could not be carried by assault, as he had expected, called a council of war; and it was determined to proceed by the regular process of a siege, and to erect a bank against that part of the wall which offered the greatest facility for attack. Accordingly the whole army, with the exception of the troops who guarded the banks of circumvallation, went into the mountains to get materials. Stone and timber, in vast quantities, were brought down and, when these were in readiness, the work commenced.

A sort of penthouse roofing, constructed of wattles covered with earth, was first raised, to protect the workers from the missiles of the enemy upon the wall; and here the working parties labored securely, while the rest of the troops brought up earth, stone, and wood for their use. The Jews did their best to interfere with the work, hurling down huge stones upon the penthouse; sometimes breaking down the supports of the roof and causing gaps, through which they poured a storm of arrows and javelins, until the damage had been repaired.

To protect his workmen, Vespasian brought up his siege engines--of which he had a hundred and sixty--and, from these, vast quantities of missiles were discharged at the Jews upon the walls. The catapults threw javelins, balls of fire, and blazing arrows; while the ballistae hurled huge stones, which swept lanes through the ranks of the defenders. At the same time the light-armed troops, the Arab archers, and those of Agrippa and Antiochus kept up a rain of arrows, so that it became impossible for the Jews to remain on the walls.

But they were not inactive. Sallying out in small parties, they fell with fury upon the working parties who, having stripped off their heavy armor, were unable to resist their sudden onslaughts. Driving out and slaying all before them, the Jews so often applied fire to the wattles and timbers of the bank that Vespasian was obliged to make his work continuous, along the whole extent of the wall, to keep out the assailants.

But, in spite of all the efforts of the Jews, the embankment rose steadily, until it almost equaled the height of the wall; and the struggle now went on between the combatants on even terms, they being separated only by the short interval between the wall and bank. Josephus found that in such a conflict the Romans--with their crowd of archers and slingers, and their formidable machines--had all the advantage; and that it was absolutely necessary to raise the walls still higher.

He called together a number of the principal men, and pointed out the necessity for this. They agreed with him, but urged that it was impossible for men to work, exposed to such a storm of missiles. Josephus replied that he had thought of that. A number of strong posts were prepared and, at night, these were fixed securely, standing on the wall. Along the top of these, a strong rope was stretched; and on this were hung, touching each other, the hides of newly-killed oxen. These formed a complete screen, hiding the workers from the sight of those on the embankment.

Chapter 6: The Fall Of The City.

The Roman soldiers--seeing the wall of Jotapata tremble beneath the blows of the battering ram, whose iron head pounded to powder the stones against which it struck--redoubled their efforts when, suddenly, from three sally ports which they had prepared, the Jews burst out; carrying their weapons in their right hands, and blazing torches in their left. As on previous occasions, their onslaught was irresistible. They swept the Romans before them; and set fire to the engines, the wattles, and the palisades, and even to the woodwork of the embankment. The timber had by this time dried and, as bitumen and pitch had been used as cement in the construction of the works, the flames spread with great rapidity; and the work of many days was destroyed, in an hour. All the engines and breastworks of the Fifth and Tenth Legions were entirely consumed.

Just as the attack began, Eleazar--the son of Sameas, a Galilean--with an immense stone from the wall, struck the iron head of the battering ram, and knocked it off. He then leaped down from the wall, seized the iron head, and carried it back into the city. He was pierced by five arrows. Still, he pressed on and regained the walls; and held up the iron head in the sight of all, and then fell down dead.

Such was the spirit with which the Jews were animated; and the Roman soldiers, trained as they were to conflict among many peoples, were yet astounded by the valor displayed by the race that they had considered as unwarlike peasants. But the Romans were not discouraged. Heavy masses of troops were brought up, the Jews were driven within their walls and, towards evening, the ram was again in position.

While Vespasian was directing the attack, he was struck by a javelin in the heel. The Romans ceased from the attack and crowded round their general but, as soon as they ascertained that his wound was not serious, they returned to the attack with redoubled fury.

All that night, the contest raged unceasingly. The Roman engines swept the walls with missiles. The towers came crashing down, under the blows of the huge stones; while the javelins, arrows, and the stones from the slings created terrible havoc among the defenders of the wall. But, as fast as these fell, fresh combatants took their places; and they continued hurling down stones, and blazing brands, upon the freshly-erected wattles round the battering ram. The Romans had the advantage in this strife for, while the fires on the walls--at which the Jews lighted their brands, and boiled the pitch and sulphur in which these were dipped--enabled them to aim accurately, they themselves worked in deep shadow, at the foot of the wall.

The night was a terrible one. The bolts, stones, and arrows which passed over the wall spread ruin and death over the town. The din was unceasing. The thundering noise of the great stones; the dull, deep sound as the ram struck the wall; the fierce shouts of the combatants, as they fought hand to hand--for the corpses were, in places, piled so thick that the assailants could mount upon them to the top of the walls--the shrieks of the women, and the screams of the children, combined in one terrible and confused noise; which was echoed back, and multiplied, by the surrounding mountains.

Morning was just breaking when the shaken wall gave way, and fell, with a crash. Vespasian called off his weary troops, and allowed them a short time for refreshment; then he prepared to storm the breach. He brought up, first, a number of his bravest horsemen; dismounted, and clad in complete armor. They were provided with long pikes, and were to charge forward, the instant the machines for mounting the breach were fixed. Behind these were the best of his infantry, while in their rear were the archers and slingers. Other parties, with scaling ladders, were to attack the uninjured part of the wall, and to draw off the attention of the besiegers. The rest of the horse extended all over the hills round the town, so that none might make their escape.

Josephus prepared to receive the attack. He placed the old, infirm, and wounded to repel the attack on the uninjured parts of the wall. He then chose the five strongest and bravest men and, with them, took his place to form the front line of the defenders of the breach. He told them to kneel down and cover their heads with their bucklers, until the enemy's archers had emptied their quivers and, when the Romans had fixed the machines for mounting, they were to leap down among the enemy and fight to the last; remembering that there was now no hope of safety, naught but to revenge the fate which was impending over them, their wives and children.

As the Romans mounted to the assault, a terrible cry broke out from the women. They saw the Romans still manning the lines which cut off all escape, and they believed that the end was now at hand. Josephus, fearing that their cries would dispirit the men, ordered them all to be locked up in their houses, and then calmly awaited the assault.

The trumpet of the legion sounded, and the whole Roman host set up a terrible shout while, at the same moment, the air was darkened by the arrows of their bowmen. Kneeling beneath their bucklers, the Jews remained calm and immovable; and then, before the Romans had time to set foot upon the breach, with a yell of fury they rushed upon them, and threw themselves into the midst of their assailants. For a time, the Romans could make no way against the desperate courage of the Jews but, as fast as the leading files fell, fresh troops took their places; while the Jews, who were vastly reduced by their losses, had no fresh men to take the place of those who died.

At last, the solid phalanx of the Romans drove back the defenders, and entered the breach. But as they did so, from the walls above and from the breach in front, vessels filled with boiling oil were hurled down upon them. The Roman ranks were broken; and the men, in agony, rolled on the ground, unable to escape the burning fluid which penetrated through the joints of their armor. Those who turned to fly were pierced by the javelins of the Jews; for the Romans carried no defensive armor on their backs, which were never supposed to be turned towards an enemy.

Fresh troops poured up the breach, to take the place of their agonized comrades; but the Jews threw down, upon the planks, vessels filled with a sort of vegetable slime. Unable to retain their footing upon the slippery surface, the Romans fell upon each other, in heaps. Those rolling down carried others with them, and a terrible confusion ensued, the Jews never ceasing to pour their missiles upon them.

When evening came, Vespasian called off his men. He saw that, to overcome the desperate resistance of the defenders, fresh steps must be taken before the assault was repeated; and he accordingly gave orders that the embankment should be raised, much higher than before; and that upon it three towers, each fifty feet high and strongly girded with iron, should be built.

This great work was carried out, in spite of the efforts of the besieged. In the towers, Vespasian placed his javelin men, archers, and light machines and, as these now looked down upon the wall, they were enabled to keep up such a fire upon it that the Jews could no longer maintain their footing; but contented themselves with lying behind it, and making desperate sallies whenever they saw any parties of Romans approaching the breach.

In the meantime, a terrible calamity had befallen the neighboring town of Japha. Emboldened by the vigorous defense of Jotapata, it had closed its gates to the Romans. Vespasian sent Trajan, with two thousand foot and a thousand horse, against it.

The city was strongly situated, and surrounded by a double wall. Instead of waiting to be attacked, the people sallied out and fell upon the Romans. They were, however, beaten back; and the Romans, pressing on their heels, entered with them through the gates of the outside walls. The defenders of the gates through the inner walls, fearing that these, too, would be carried by the mob, closed them; and all those who had sallied out were butchered by the Romans.

Trajan, seeing that the garrison must now be weak, sent to Vespasian, and asked him to send his son to complete the victory. Titus soon arrived, with a thousand foot and five hundred horse and, at once, assaulted the inner walls. The defense was feeble. The Romans effected their entry but, inside the town, a desperate conflict took place; the inhabitants defending every street, with the energy of despair, while the women aided their efforts by hurling down stones, and missiles, from the roofs. The battle lasted six hours, when all who could bear arms were slain. The rest of the male population were put to death, the women taken as slaves. In all, fifteen thousand were killed, two thousand one hundred and thirty taken prisoners.

In another direction, a heavy blow had also been struck by the Romans. The Samaritans had not openly joined the revolt, but had gathered in great force on Mount Gerizim. Cerealis was sent by Vespasian, with three thousand infantry and six hundred horse, against them. He surrounded the foot of the mountain, and abstained from an assault until the Samaritans were weakened by thirst--many dying from want of water. Cerealis then mounted the hill, and sent to them to throw down their arms. On their refusal, he charged them from all sides, and put every soul--in number, eleven thousand six hundred--to the sword.

The situation of the defenders of Jotapata was now pitiable, indeed. Scarce a man but had received wounds, more or less severe, in the desperate combats. All were utterly worn out with fatigue; for they were under arms, day and night, in readiness to repel the expected attack. Numbers of the women and children had died of thirst, and terror. Save the armed men lying in groups near the foot of the wall, in readiness to repel an assault, scarce a soul was to be seen in the lately-crowded streets.

The houses were now ample to contain the vastly diminished number. Here the women and children crouched, in utter prostration. The power of suffering was almost gone. Few cared how soon the end came.

The siege had now continued for forty-seven days; and the Roman army, strong in numbers, in discipline, and in arms, and commanded by one of its best generals, had yet failed to capture the little town--which they had expected to take within a few hours of their appearance before it--and so fierce was the valor of the besieged, that Vespasian did not venture to order his legions forward to renew the assault. But now, a deserter informed him that the garrison was greatly exhausted, that the men on guard could not keep awake; and that the breach could be carried, at night, by a sudden assault.

Vespasian prepared for the assault, which was to take place at daybreak. A thick mist enveloped the town, and the sleeping sentries were not aroused by the silent steps of the approaching Romans. Titus was the first to enter the breach, followed by a small number of troops. These killed the sleeping guards, and the main body of the Romans then poured in. Before the Jews were conscious of their danger, the whole of the Roman army was upon them.

Then the slaughter commenced. Many of the Jews killed each other, rather than fall into the hands of the Romans. Many threw themselves over the precipices, numbers took refuge in the deep caverns under the city. That day, all in the streets or houses were killed; the next, the Romans searched the caverns and underground passages, slaughtering all the men and boys, and sparing none but infants and women. During the siege and capture, forty thousand men fell. Only twelve hundred women and children were spared. So complete was the surprise, and so unresistingly did the Jews submit to slaughter, that only one Roman was killed.

This was Antoninus, a centurion. He came upon a Jew in a deep cavern, and told him he would spare his life, if he would surrender. The Jew asked him to give him his hand, as a pledge of his faith, and to help him out of the cave. Antoninus did so, and the Jew at once ran him through with a spear.

John was asleep when the Romans entered. He was aroused by Jonas rushing into the room. The boy was at all times restless, and suffered less than most of those within the walls; for there was an abundance of grain up to the end of the siege and, until the Romans had discovered the way down to the water, he had not suffered in any way from thirst. He was considered too young to take part in the actual fighting; but had labored with the rest in repairing the defenses, carrying food to men on the walls, and carrying away the dead and wounded.

"Get up, John!" he exclaimed. "In the mist I have just run upon a mass of Roman soldiers, ranged in order. The town is taken. Quick, before they scatter and begin to slay!"

John caught up his sword, and ran out. Just as he did so, a terrible shout was heard, followed by shrieks and cries. The work of butchery had begun.

John's plans had been laid for some time. At night Jonas had frequently descended to the ledge, taking with him food, and jars of the water he brought up from below; and once or twice John had descended, Jonas fastening a rope round his body, and lowering it gradually for, active as he was, John could not get down without such assistance. Indeed, to any one who looked casually over the top, the descent appeared absolutely impossible.

At the top of their speed, the lads ran to the spot at which the descent had to be made. The rope was hidden close at hand. John slipped the noose at the end over his shoulders. Jonas twisted the rope once round a stunted tree, which grew close by, and allowed it to go out gradually. As soon as the strain upon it ceased, and he knew John was upon the ledge, he loosened the rope and dropped the end over; and then began, himself, to descend, his bare feet and hands clinging to every inequality, however slight, in the rock.

He presently stood by the side of John. The latter had coiled up the rope, and laid it by him; and had then thrown himself down, and was sobbing bitterly. Jonas sat down quietly beside him, till he had recovered his composure.

"It is no use fretting," he said, philosophically. "There's no one you care about, particularly, up there; and I am sure there's no one I care about--only I should like to have peeped in, and have seen her face, when the Romans burst open the door. I don't suppose she was very sorry, though, for it will be better to be a Roman slave than to be going through what they have been, for the last month."

"It is horrible!" John said, "Horrible! However, Jonas, let us thank God for having thus preserved our lives, when all besides are in such terrible danger of death."

For a time, the two lads sat silent. John was the first to speak.

"I am thankful," he said, "that, owing to our being down the face of the rock, the sound is carried away above our heads, and we can hear but little of what is going on there. It seems a confusion of sounds, and comes to us rather as an echo from the hills, yonder, than directly from above."

Sometimes, indeed, thrilling screams and shouts were heard but, for the most part, the sounds were so blended together that they could not be distinguished one from another. As soon as the mist cleared off, the lads lay down, as far back from the ledge as they could get.

"We must not lift up a head, today," John said. "The guards below, and on the hills, will have their eyes fixed on the rock, on the lookout for fugitives and, until nighttime, we must not venture to sit up. Fortunately, that outer edge of the shelf is a good deal higher than it is, back here; and I don't think that even those on the mountain, opposite, could see us as we lie."

"I should think a good many may escape, like us," Jonas said, presently. "There are numbers of caverns and passages, from which they have dug the stone for the building of the houses. A lot of the people are sure to hide away, there."

"I daresay they will," John agreed; "but I fear the Romans will hunt them all out."

"How long do you think we shall have to stay here, John?"

"Till the Romans go, whether it is one week or two; but I do not think they will stay here many days. The town is so full of dead that, in this hot weather, it will be unbearable before long. At any rate, we shall be able to pass a good deal of time in sleep. We have not had much of it, lately. Till last night, I have not been in the house, at night, for over a fortnight. But I felt, last night, as if I must have a sleep, whatever came of it. I suppose the guards at the breach must have felt the same, or the Romans could never have got in without the alarm being given."

For a few minutes, John lay thinking of the terrible scenes that must be passing, on the rock above; then his drowsiness overcame him, and he was soon fast asleep.

It was dark when he woke. As he moved, Jonas spoke.

"Are you awake, John? Because if you are, let us have something to eat. I have been awake the last four hours, and I have been wishing you would stir."

"There was no occasion to wait for my waking, Jonas. There are the grain and the water, close at hand; and no cooking is required."

"I wasn't going to eat till you woke, if it had been all night," Jonas said. "Still, I am glad you are awake; they are quiet now, up above, and I have heard the Roman trumpets sounding. I expect that most of them have marched back to their camp."

The next day passed like the first. Occasionally cries of agony were heard. Sometimes bodies were hurled from the top of the rock, but a short distance from where they were lying.

The next two days passed more quietly, but upon that following a murmur, as of a multitude of men working, was heard. From time to time there were heavy crashes, as masses of stones, hurled down the precipice, struck against its face as they fell; and then bounded, far out beyond the stream, at its foot. All these sounds were echoed back by the surrounding hills, until it seemed as if a storm was raging, far away in the heart of the mountains.

"They are destroying the town," John said, in answer to his companion's question as to the cause of the uproar. "That is the best thing possible for us. Had it remained standing, they might have left a garrison here, to prevent our people reoccupying it. If they destroy it, it is a sign that they intend to march away, altogether."

Several times Jonas wished to climb up, at night, to ascertain what was going on; but John would not hear of it.

"There is nothing to find out, Jonas. We know what they did at Gadara, where they slew all the males and carried off all the women, although no resistance was offered. We may be sure that there will be no more mercy shown at Jotapata, which has affronted the Roman power by keeping their great army at bay, for nearly seven weeks, and whose capture has cost them thousands of men. We know what has happened--they have slain every soul, save a few young women, who were worth money as slaves. Now they are leveling the town to its foundations. The place that defied them will cease to exist.

"And yet, they talk of Roman magnanimity! Would we had five thousand fighting men, hidden here with us. We would climb then, Jonas, and fall upon them in the night, and take a mighty vengeance for the woes they have inflicted. But, being alone, we will remain here till we have reason to believe that the last Roman has left. Did one of them catch sight of you, our fate would be sealed. They have no boys among them, and the slightest glimpse of your figure would be enough to tell them that you were a Jew who had been in hiding and, in their fear that one man should escape their vengeance, they would hunt you down, as a pack of wolves might hunt down a solitary lamb."

"They could never get down here, John."

"Not by the way you came; but they would lower a cage full of armed men, from above, and slay us without pity."

"But if I were found out, John, I would not lead them here. I would throw myself over the precipice, rather than that risk should come to you!"

"But I don't want you to throw yourself over the precipice, Jonas. I want to keep you with me: in the first place because we are great friends now; in the second because, if you were killed, I might as well throw myself over, at once--for I do not think I could ever climb up this rock, without your assistance."

"It is much easier going up than coming down, John."

"That may be and, indeed, I have no doubt it is so; but I would rather not put the matter to the test. No; we have provision and water here, enough to last us for ten days and, until they are consumed, it were best not to stir from here."

Four days later, however, they heard the sound of the Roman trumpets and, on raising their heads carefully a few inches, saw that the guards on the opposite hills had all been withdrawn. Having now less fear of being seen, they raised their heads still further, and looked up the valley to the great camp on the hillside where, at night, they had seen the fires of the Romans, blazing high.

"They are going!" Jonas exclaimed, joyously. "Look at the sun sparkling on the long lines of arms and armor. Not a sound is to be heard, above--the work is done. They are about to march away."

"Do not let us expose ourselves further," John said. "It may be that they have left a few watchers, to see if any who have eluded their search may show themselves, believing that they have gone. I have no doubt they are going and, by tomorrow, it will be safe for us to move."

All day they heard the sound of trumpets, for the great host took a long time getting into motion but, gradually, the sound grew fainter and fainter, as the rear guard of the army took the road which they had cut through the mountains, eight weeks before.

That night, when darkness fell, and the two lads sat up on their ledge and looked round, not a light was to be seen; and not a sound broke the silence of the night.

"At daybreak tomorrow, Jonas, as soon as it becomes light enough for you to see your way, you shall go up and look round. They may have left a guard behind, but I should hardly think so. After the wholesale slaughter at Gadara, and here, the hatred of the Romans will be so intense that, confident as they are in their arms and discipline, they would hardly venture to leave a small body of men, in the heart of these mountains."