In the evening the eagle flew off. The two watched till it became a mere black speck upon the glowing gold of the western sky--watched till it faded from view. “It will return on the morrow,” said Crispus confidently. Sure enough, next morning the eagle came winging its way eastward; and, as before, it alighted upon the parapet above the head of Crispus, as if bent on renewing its watch. Vashti, grown somewhat accustomed to its presence, viewed it now with less apprehension, and made no attempt to repel it. “The money of the new government,” said she, with a sad smile, exhibiting a shekel, one of those pieces known to the Jews of after ages as “The money of danger,” and now, by reason of their rarity, eagerly sought by numismatists. “If their fighting prove no better than their coinage, it will go ill with them,” remarked Crispus, who, on closely inspecting the supposed shekel, saw that it was in reality a Roman coin that had recently received in the Jewish mint a fresh stamp--namely, that of a palm branch encircled with Hebraic characters, whose signification was, “_The first year of the freedom of Zion_.” So imperfectly, however, had the work been executed that the original effigy, the head of Nero, with its Latin inscription, was discernible beneath the Jewish impression. “They try to efface Cæsar, but fail,” said Crispus. “Good! I accept the omen.” At eventide the eagle flew off, returning again next morning. On the fourth day, however, it did not appear, nor on any subsequent day. CHAPTER XIV “THOU WILT NEVER TAKE THE CITY” The moon of a lovely autumnal night silvered the sleeping Roman camp that lay at the entrance of “the going up to Beth-horon.” Not a sound disturbed the silence, save the light tread of the vigilant sentinels pacing their rounds. The array of black tents, glittering arms, and lofty standards, occupied a vast area, square in shape, and defended on all sides by an earthen rampart, and an outer trench filled with water from a neighboring stream--defenses made by a three-hours’ labor with mattock and spade, the whole army having toiled at the task. No matter how short their stay in a place--and the camping on the present occasion was for one night only--the Roman legionaries would never, at least in a hostile country, take their sleep till they had secured themselves from attack in the manner just described. Four gates, facing the four points of the compass, gave entrance to the camp, whose countless lines of tents crossing each other at right angles looked with the intervening spaces like the streets and squares of a well-planned city. This military force was under the command of Cestius Gallus, imperial Legate of Syria, and its object was the restoration to Roman rule of the rebellious city of Jerusalem, sixteen miles distant.