Another moment and a second soldier was struggling in the impediment of his armor in the dust and the old mute was again hobbling straight away toward the walls of Jerusalem.
He was now a fair mark for the first sentry, but that Roman's rancor died after he had seen his own disgrace covered by the overthrow of his fellow.

Two of Titus' scouts next stood in the path of the running old man.

One went to the ground so suddenly and so violently that the watchers, now breaking into howls of delight, knew that he had been tripped.

The other stood but a moment longer, than he, too, rolled into the dust.
The old man might have gone no farther at this juncture, for at every latest triumph he left a crimson soldier murderous with shame.

But before the arrow next strung to overtake him could fly, Titus, Carus and Nicanor, accompanied by their escort, rode between the fugitive and the men he had defeated.
"There goes our minotaur," Carus said quietly.