Terentius Rufus was left behind with the Legio Fretensis--bricks stamped with the name of this legion are still found in the sub-soil of Zion--and he proceeded to execute the work of demolition with a thoroughness that has made his memory forever hated by the Jews. The Talmud has no more fearful curses than those laid upon the head of him whom, with the Oriental peculiarity for disfiguring Western names, it miscalls _Turnus_ Rufus. Over the site of what had once been a splendid and populous city he drew a plow in accordance with the oath which he had sworn to the Jews. “Where is now their God?” he laughed, in scornful ignorance that his own action was a striking confirmation to the truth of the Hebrew religion, for had not the prophet written, “_Zion shall be plowed as a field_”? For the accommodation of the garrison, however, a few houses were left standing upon the western side of the city, and among them the celebrated _Cænaculum_,[36] or House of the Last Supper, destined in the age of Constantine to be transformed into a Christian church. For more than a month that fugitive of the catacombs, Simon, continued to evade arrest. Attended by a small but faithful band of miners and hewers of stone, well provided with cutting tools, he had been essaying the gigantic feat of boring his way through the solid rock to a point that should be beyond the ken of the Roman garrison, but the difficulty of the work and the failure of provisions compelled him to relinquish the enterprise. He then took a singular step. Assuming a white robe and a mantle of purple he emerged unexpectedly from the ground in the very place where the temple had stood, thinking perhaps by this act to impress the Romans with the belief that he was a new Messiah resuscitated from the dead.[37] As a matter of fact, the soldiers in the vicinity were not a little awe-struck at sight of this strange apparition rising from the ground. Their first amazement over, they drew near, formed a circle round him, and demanded who he was. But Simon declared that his name was not for vulgar ears. “Call your commandant,” said he with a mysterious air. But when that commandant proved to be one well acquainted with the features and figure of Simon, the Zealot chief saw that deception was at an end. Rufus received him with a pitying smile. “Simon, if thou art attempting to imitate the God of my friend Crispus, thou art playing the part to no purpose. I know thee to be mortal man. Thou art my prisoner. This is a sorry ending for thee. Why didst not thou, Roman fashion, fall on thy blade, and so round off thy wild life?” “’Tis forbidden by our law to slay one’s self,” returned Simon. “Now tell me what will be my doom?”