Yonder were squalid streets, older than any others. But the
Kings had walked them; the Prophets had helped wear trenches in their
stones; the heroes and the strong-hearted women of the ancient days
had gone that way. No house but was holy with tradition; no street but
was sanctified by event. Small wonder, then, that these who came to
this Passover, the most momentous one since that calamity which had
occurred forty years ago on Golgotha, wept, cried aloud to Heaven;
became beatified and made prophecies; railed; anathematized
Jerusalem's enemies; assumed vows and were threatening. Julian of
Ephesus was shaken. He looked about him on the tempestuous host, then
touched his horse and rode down to the city.
On the Hill Scopus over which he approached an inferior number of
Romans were camped, and these had maintained a semblance of siege only
sufficiently effective to close all the gates on three sides. The Sun
Gate to the south of the city was therefore the most accessible point
of entry for the pilgrims. Following the people who had preceded him,
Julian approached this portal, left his horse with the stable-keeper
without and prepared to enter Jerusalem.
Collecting at the causeway of the Sun Gate the pilgrims came with such
impetus that the foremost were rushed struggling and protesting
through the tunnel under the wall and forced well into Jerusalem
before they could control their own motion.
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