I met him on the ramparts
On the walls of sacred Salem
And we ate of the flesh of the hollies
Our feet dangling
Between rite and sacrilege.
We were brothers then,
At the time of the Peaceful meal,
And our brotherhood in blood was cemented
When we met atop Beth-Horon’s hill.
And from triumph to defeat,
As from town to town
From wall to wall we had
To retreat
He was my brother, in arms and heart.
In chains the enemy,
The evil king,
Led us side-by-side
The last of my water he drank, thirsting,
And he bound the wounds
On my whipped hide.
Now they gave us each
A blade, and told us: “Kill or be killed”
I took mine, and in the sand
Stabbed it to the hilt.
The altar is broken
And the Temple is burnt
I care not for my life,
But how will my brother
Atone for my death?
And here a great number of captives were destroyed, some being thrown to wild beasts, and others in multitudes were forced to kill each other’ as if they were enemies. And here it was that Titus was informed of the seizure of Simon the son of Gioras…”
(Josephus Flavius, The Jewish War, 7:2)
Comments