The Jewish War, Book 5
The First Wall Falls
On the following night an unexpected disturbance fell on the Romans as well. Titus had ordered three towers built, each seventy-five feet high, so that by setting one on each earthwork he could drive back the men on the wall from them. About midnight one of them fell down of its own accord. It came down with a tremendous crash, and fear swept through the army; thinking the enemy was attacking them, they all ran to their arms. There was confusion and uproar among the legions. Since no one could say what had happened, they rushed this way and that for a long while, lamenting; and as no enemy appeared, they grew afraid of one another. Each man anxiously demanded the watchword from his neighbor, as though the Jews had broken into the camp, and they looked like men in the grip of panic. At last Titus learned what had happened and ordered it announced to everyone, and with difficulty the disturbance came to an end.
The towers, however, did the Jews great harm, though they were holding out stoutly against everything else. From them the Romans shot at them with the lighter engines, and with javelin men, archers and stone throwers. The Jews could not reach these men because of the height, and the towers were impossible to take: they were too heavy to overturn easily, and they could not be set on fire because of the iron that covered them. So the Jews drew back out of range and no longer tried to check the blows of the rams, which kept pounding without a pause and little by little did their work. Already the wall was giving way to Nico, as the Jews themselves called the largest of the Roman siege engines, because it conquered everything. The defenders had long been worn out with fighting and with keeping watch, spending their nights far out from the city. Besides, through slackness and their wretched planning in everything, they judged this wall superfluous, since two more remained behind it, and most of them lost heart and withdrew. When the Romans climbed in where Nico had made a breach, all of them abandoned their posts and fled back to the second wall. Those who had climbed over opened the gates and let in the whole army. So the Romans became masters of the first wall on the fifteenth day of the siege, which was the seventh of the month Artemisius. They demolished a great part of it, together with the northern quarter of the city, which Cestius too had demolished before.
Titus now moved his camp inside, to the place called the Camp of the Assyrians. He occupied all the ground as far as the Kidron, but kept out of range of the second wall, and began his attacks at once. The Jews divided into separate bodies and defended the wall stoutly. John’s men fought from the Antonia, from the northern colonnade of the temple, and in front of the tomb of their king Alexander. Simon’s division took the stretch beside the tomb of John the high priest and fortified it as far as the gate through which water was brought in to the tower Hippicus.
The Jews often dashed out of the gates and fought hand to hand. When they were driven back together to the wall, they were beaten in the close fighting, since they had none of the Romans’ skill; but in the fighting on the walls they had the upper hand. The Romans were buoyed by experience joined to strength; the Jews by a daring that fear fed, and by their natural endurance in disaster. They still had hope of rescue, too, as the Romans had hope of a quick victory. Neither side felt weariness. Assaults, fighting on the wall, and sallies by companies went on without a break all day long, and there was no form of combat that was not used. Night hardly parted them, though they had begun at dawn; and the night was sleepless for both and harder than the day, as one side feared that the wall would be taken at any moment, and the other that the Jews would fall on their camps. Both spent the night under arms and stood ready for battle at first light.
Among the Jews the rivalry was over who should face danger first and so win his commanders’ favor. Simon above all was held in awe and fear; every man under him paid him such heed that he was ready to take his own life at Simon’s command. What spurred the Romans to courage was their habit of winning and their unfamiliarity with defeat, their constant campaigning and unbroken training, and the greatness of their empire; but above all it was Titus, who was always everywhere at everyone’s side. It seemed a terrible thing to show weakness while Caesar was there fighting alongside them, and the man who fought well had as his witness the very one who would reward him. It was already a gain merely to have one’s courage known to Caesar. For this reason many showed an eagerness beyond their strength.
During these days the Jews were drawn up before the wall in a strong body, and both lines were still throwing javelins at a distance, when Longinus, one of the horsemen, sprang out of the Roman ranks and leaped into the middle of the Jewish line. As they scattered before his charge he killed two of their bravest men. One he struck in the face as he came to meet him; the other, as he turned to flee, he ran through the side with the spear he had pulled out of the first. Then he ran back unhurt from the midst of the enemy to his own side. So he became famous for his courage, and many became eager to match it. The Jews, for their part, cared nothing for what they suffered and thought only of what harm they could do, and death seemed the lightest of things to them if it came with the killing of some enemy. Titus, however, cared for his soldiers’ safety no less than for victory. Reckless rushing, he said, was madness; the only true courage was the kind that went with forethought and did its work without suffering harm. So he ordered his men to show their courage without exposing themselves to danger.
Titus himself brought the siege engine up to the middle tower of the north wall. In it a Jewish trickster named Castor lay in wait with ten men like himself, the rest having fled because of the archers. For a while they kept still, cowering behind the parapets; but when the tower began to break up, they stood up. Castor stretched out his hands as if begging for mercy, called on Caesar, and in a pitiful voice implored him to have mercy on them. Titus, in the simplicity of his heart, believed him. Hoping that the Jews were at last changing their minds, he halted the blows of the ram, forbade his men to shoot at the suppliants, and told Castor to say what he wanted. Castor said he wished to come down under a pledge of safety. Titus answered that he was glad of his good sense, and would be glad if all of them now thought the same, and that he was ready to give the city his pledge.
Five of the ten joined Castor in pretending to beg, but the rest kept shouting that they would never be slaves to the Romans while they could die free. They argued for a long time, and the attack was held up. Meanwhile Castor sent word to Simon to take his time deciding what had to be done, since he would make a fool of the Roman command for no short while. At the same time he could be seen urging the holdouts to accept the pledge. They, as if in a rage, brandished their naked swords above the parapets, struck their own breastplates, and fell down as though they had run themselves through. Titus and those around him were struck with amazement at the men’s resolve. Since from below they could not see exactly what had happened, they admired their daring and pitied their fate.
At this point someone shot an arrow that struck Castor beside the nose. At once he pulled out the arrow, showed it to Titus, and complained that this was unfair treatment. Caesar rebuked the man who had shot it and sent Josephus, who was standing beside him, to give Castor his pledge. But Josephus said he would not go, since the suppliants meant no good, and he held back those of his friends who were eager to go. A deserter named Aeneas, however, said that he would go. When Castor called for someone to come and take the money he had with him, Aeneas ran up all the more eagerly, holding open the fold of his garment. Then Castor picked up a large stone and hurled it at him. It missed Aeneas, who was on his guard, but wounded another soldier who had come up. Caesar saw the trick and concluded that mercy in war does harm, since sternness leaves less room for cunning. Angry at being mocked, he made the engine’s blows more violent than before. As the tower began to give way, Castor and his men set it on fire and leaped through the flames into the hidden vault beneath it, and so once more gave the Romans the impression of great courage, as if they had thrown themselves into the fire.