At each side of the doorway, awaiting the signal to lower, stood two brawny legionaries, their hands upon the ropes that worked the drawbridge. “All ready, men?” said Crispus, with a glance at the set faces behind him. The question met with an eager response. “Guard your faces well. Now!” Up went the ropes, and as they swirled fast over the creaking pulleys, the upper end of the drawbridge falling away from the tower began a rapid descent upon the city wall. The sight was seen from near and from far, and both armies set up a simultaneous roar, the one in dismay, the other in exultation, a roar so tremendous as to drown even the thunder-boom of the battering-rams. Titus, who knew that Crispus was in charge of this tower, slapped his thigh with a fierce joy. “By the gods, Crispus hath opened a way into the city!” he cried. Thousands on both sides paused in the fray to watch the contest upon the drawbridge. Of what use was it to continue the fight elsewhere, if once this part of the wall should be seized and held by Crispus and his band? The fate of Bezetha at least, if not of all Jerusalem, hung upon the issue of the next few moments. As the drawbridge fell with a mighty thud upon the ramparts, Crispus, sword in hand, and with buckler held before his face, leaped out upon the shivering timbers, followed by a crowd of warriors. The sequel was appalling! They found themselves amid a blinding, whirling hurricane of arrows and darts, javelins and stones, coming from the front, from the left, from the right. Obedient to Simon’s orders every Jewish marksman, far and near, from turret, battlement and loophole, shot thick and fast at the devoted band upon the drawbridge. In such numbers and with such fury did the missiles smite upon helmet and breastplate, shield and greave, that the little band were absolutely unable to advance; they staggered to and fro as though struck by lightning; they fell, dead and dying from the bridge. Crispus, preserved from death by the superior temper of his armor, took several wounds, nevertheless; three arrows were quivering in his sword-arm; two hung from the calf of his leg, though the fierce excitement of the moment prevented him from feeling them. For one bewildering moment he stood irresolute; then, gathering himself up for a mighty effort, he darted forward all alone across the bridge. Twenty missiles striking him at one and the same time, caused him to reel like a drunken man. Then came the end! Simon had not seen the advance of the ambulatory tower without making due preparation for its reception.