For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem

by G. A. Henty

John made his way along, until he came to the end of the next street, and then paused. Already, three or four active figures had run past him at the top of their speed, and he wished to be the last to retreat. He stayed till he heard the tramp of troops coming down--driven out by the spreading flames--and then sprang across the end of the road and dashed along at full speed, still keeping close to the line of tents.

A shout, which rose from the leading files of the Roman column, showed that he was seen. As he neared the end of the next opening, the Roman soldiers were pouring out; and he turned in among the tents again. Through these he made his way; dashing across the open spaces and, once, rushing through the midst of a Roman column--through which he passed before the troops had time to strike at, or seize him.

At last, he reached the extremity of the camp. The slope down to the river was but fifty yards away and, once over the brow, he would be in darkness and safe from pursuit. But already the Romans had drawn up a column of men along the edge of the plateau, to cut off any who might try to pass. John paused among the last row of the tents, hesitating what course to adopt. He could not make directly up the mountain, for the space between it and the camp was now covered by the Roman cavalry--the greater portion of their infantry being still engaged in trying to save at least some portion of the camp.

Suddenly he heard a footstep among the tents, close behind him. He drew back into the tent by which he was standing, and peered cautiously out. A Roman soldier came hastily along, and entered the next tent--doubtless to fetch some article of value, which he had left behind him as he rushed out, on the first alarm.

A sudden idea flashed across John's brain. He waited till the soldier came out, followed him with silent steps; and then sprang upon him at a bound, hurling him to the ground, and burying his knife again and again in his body.

Not a cry had escaped the Roman. The instant he was sure he was dead, John rose to his feet, placed the helmet of the fallen man on his head, secured the breastplate by a single buckle round his neck, took up his buckler and sword; and then, emerging from one of the tents, ran towards the Roman line, making for one of the narrow openings between the different companies. Several other soldiers--who had, like the man whom John had killed, gone back to their tents to fetch armor, or arms, left there--were also hurrying to take their places in the ranks. Therefore, no special attention was paid to John until he was within a few yards of the opening.

Then a centurion at the end of the line said sternly:

"You will be punished, tomorrow, for not being in your place. What is your name?" for, as John was between him and the sheet of flame rising from the camp, the Roman was unable to see his face.