"Assure Nicanor, for me, that I shall come out of Jerusalem one day.
Dead or alive, I shall do it! You need not add that I did not specify
the date of my exodus. What is the word?"
"Berenice. And Jove help you! Farewell."
Titus rode on.
A little later, after a parley with the Roman sentries and again with
the sentries at the Gate of Hippicus, the Maccabee was admitted to the
Holy City.
About him as he passed through the gates were the soldiers of Simon.
They were not such men as he expected to see defending the City of
David. There was an extravagant, half-pastoral manner about them, a
pose of which they should not have been conscious at this hour of
peril for the nation and the hierarchy. He looked at their incomplete,
meaningless uniform, at their arms, half savage, at their faces, half
mad, and believed that he, with an army rationally organized and
effectually equipped, would have little difficulty in subduing the
unbalanced forces of Simon.
Since siege was laid, he did not expect to be met by Amaryllis'
servant in the purple turban. He approached a citizen.
"I seek Amaryllis, the Seleucid," he said.
The eye of the Jew traveled over him, with some disapproval.
"The mistress of the Gischalan?" was the returned inquiry. The
Maccabee assented calmly. The young man indicated a broad street
moving with people which led with tolerable directness toward the base
of Moriah.
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