“What else is there?”
Elizabeth hurriedly poured some water on her hands, hoping that it would wash away the dusty grime. Even though it was warm, she was overcome with thirst. Oh, well, she thought. She gathered the water in a tight clench and downed it in three quick gulps.
Leah grinned. “My, you were thirsty. Do you want something to eat?”
Elizabeth scanned the many marketplace storefronts. She spotted a stand selling what looked like miniature watermelons. “That looks interesting,” she said halfheartedly.
Leah smiled. “Let’s go.”
It was only a few yards across the street. A woman had just bought a piece for a little girl, who giggled while taking her first bite. Elizabeth was ecstatic to see that it was indeed her favorite summertime fruit. Leah handed the vendor a couple of coins and bowed. Elizabeth bowed, too. She munched heartily and quickly finished off the large piece as Leah watched in delight. “You were hungry, too,” she said with a faint smile. “Would you like another piece?”
Elizabeth shook her head and wiped her mouth. “No, I’m fine now, thank you.”
Leah adjusted her veil slightly, covering more of her face. Elizabeth did the same.
“Our path to the prison is not a safe one. You must stay close to me and keep your head down. Do you understand me?”
Elizabeth nodded as Leah began to lead the way again through the labyrinthine streets. The older woman seemed anxious. When she next spoke, it was with urgency. “Remember, when we get there, don’t look up until I tell you.”
“Do you have a plan?” Elizabeth whispered from beneath her veil. She noticed the slight variations in color of the stones in the road; from this angle, she could see little else.
“I think so.”
Elizabeth shrugged. The evening’s remaining light started to slip away beneath the horizon and the shadows on the ground lengthened and blurred into each other. She looked up briefly and saw a majestic mountain ahead, into which miles of buildings were carved. It looked like the mountains she saw in Colorado on television. She looked at it in wonder and thought for one brief moment that the peak must surely reach to heaven. Then she looked down again at her dirty feet trudging through the dust and felt nothing but despair.
How will this woman in this barbaric town ever be able to help us?
4
UNDERSTANDING THE LANGUAGE
Elizabeth could see the outline of the Antonia Fortress against the skyline. It was magnificent, looking so much like a storybook castle that she momentarily forgot about the evils and horrors that Leah had described.
“I will do the talking,” said Leah in a low voice. “Keep your veil high on your face. We don’t want anyone to recognize you. If a Roman soldier addresses you, look down, like a hyena would do when faced with a lion.”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to free my father.”
Leah gently rubbed her back. “Whatever you do, don’t get angry or raise your voice to the guards there. They’re going to be curious who we are. Just treat them with respect.”
Near the front gate, they could see another woman talking to a Roman guard, who was listening intently. Leah and Elizabeth slowed their pace, waiting for the outcome. The woman, clothed in a beautiful blue garment, gestured forcefully. The soldier, who had now taken his helmet off and was holding it in his right hand, nodded several times. Then the woman with long black hair and a white veil handed him something. The soldier laughed, then suddenly knocked the woman down, startling her. He then reached down and pulled her up by the arm. “Come with me!” he yelled as the woman’s feet slid along the ground. “I know someone who will be happy to see you.”
Leah and Elizabeth both gasped in unison. Leah grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and pulled her back in the direction of the city. “Come with me!”
They could hear the woman’s muffled screams behind them as they fled.
“We’re not going to help her?” Elizabeth asked, swinging her head around to get another glance at the commotion.
Leah dragged her forward. “How do you expect me to help her?”
Elizabeth stumbled and again felt tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t know. What about my father?”
“We’ll go back to my home. Maybe I can find someone to help me.”
Elizabeth stopped suddenly. “I’m not going to your home. Didn’t you see what just happened? What kind of a place is my father in? This place is sick. Don’t you have any friends here that can help us? Where’s your husband?”
Leah looked away. By now they were back within the city walls. She watched the crowds milling around the many marketplaces. “I don’t have a husband,” she said softly, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going home.”
Elizabeth yanked her arm away. “I am not!”
They stood in the street about fifty yards from the grate. “This is too dangerous a place for you to be here alone.” Leah looked around helplessly. “I’m not sure we can save your father. Didn’t he know the soldiers would be looking for him?”
Elizabeth shrugged in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Leah shook her head in disbelief. “He had to know. I don’t understand why he came back.” She turned away from Elizabeth, deep in thought as she remembered that tragic day.
Leah climbed to the second floor and looked out the window with concern. On her left she could see a few neighbors retrieving some fruit that had fallen from the fig trees. Over to the right, several Roman soldiers milled around in the distance, not too far from the aqueduct.
She went back downstairs to the kitchen, picked up some grains from a bucket, and tossed a pile on the ground for the sheep that was nursing her lamb. Everywhere she moved in her now silent home seemed to have tragic reminders of a terrible time.
Leah had taken up weaving over the past few weeks in an effort to escape the horrific memories. It was a way to stop reality and briefly regain the happiness she had felt only a short time ago. She fingered a pretty white robe, hoping she would be able to sell it in the marketplace.
Leah started to stitch the bottom of the garment, then dropped it. Restlessly she walked back to the window again, looking left and then right. She repeated this several times, never adding more than a stitch or two at a time.
On the seventh try at working on the robe, she tossed it in a basket and retreated to an empty adjoining room. There, lying on a small mat, was a tiny blanket. Leah picked it up and held it to her face. She breathed deeply several times, allowing the scent to engulf her body as if the aroma would strengthen her soul.
It felt like another sunset had passed when she removed it, her tears soaking a section. Leah fell to the floor, clenching the garment. She stared at the room, absorbing all the details—a wooden cradle, a small robe she had recently made, and a plate and cup.
“Why? Why? Oh, why?” she moaned in a broken voice. “My Sarah. Oh, my Sarah. Oh, my Sarah. I miss you.”
Leah tightened her grip on the blanket, rubbing it softly against her eyes. She touched the cradle, placing her hand inside it. Her body heaved back and forth. “Why? Why? I need to know why!” she cried with more anger. “Tell me, why?”