For six days the battering-rams swung, and thundered, and pounded against the walls of the Sanctuary; yet not a stone was pushed from its place, so marvelously compacted was the masonry. “Bring scaling-ladders and storm the walls!” cried Titus on the seventh day. The legionaries, relinquishing the battering-rams, flew to execute this new order. The Jews made no resistance to the Romans while mounting, but as soon as each man had reached the top, they either hurled him down headlong or slew him before he had time to cover himself with his shield. Now here, and now there, a ladder crowded with ascending legionaries, would be toppled backwards and the men dashed to pieces upon the marble pavement. The fierce shouts of the active combatants intermingled with the cries and groans of the wounded and the dying. After two hours of this deadly game there came a lull. Despairing of taking the place by escalade the Romans withdrew to a distance, and stared up in moody silence at the Zealots, who, brandishing their weapons, shouted, “Ye cannot take this place; it is the abode of God.” The superstitious legionaries were beginning to think the same. They no longer laughed at the words, “Let no Gentile enter here on pain of death.” The dead and dying strewn around on the pavement were a significant commentary on that interdict. Vainly did the trumpets peal out a call to renew the charge. Not a man would move. Titus sought to stimulate their courage by a new expedient. Pointing to that part of the wall where stood the Zealot chief, he shouted: “Ten thousand gold pieces to the man who brings me Simon’s head.” No one seemed willing to earn this rich reward. Simon laughed. “Titus knows my value. Now to him who brings me the head of Titus I shall give ten shekels only, it not being worth more.” Suddenly a standard-bearer, darting forward, mounted a ladder, and when three-fourths of the way up, he deliberately flung the eagle into the midst of the foe, crying as he waved his sword, “Romans, will you see your standard taken by the enemy? Follow me.” Lose an eagle? Never! Amid a wild, shrill clangor of trumpets, the legionaries, with the flame of battle in their blood, swept forward, wave upon wave, determined this time to carry the fortress. But, alas! for them, this attack fared no better than the others. The bold standard-bearer was struck down; those following him were either slain or repulsed; and the eagle remained in the hands of the foe. Simon viewed the idolatrous image with loathing. “An abomination brought into the place where it ought not to be,” said he. “Bring ax and hammer.” And with his own strong arm he hewed the golden eagle to pieces, and cast them down at the feet of the Romans contemptuously, crying: “Behold your god!”