He crouched down low to avoid being spotted. Another group of soldiers was behind the initial cavalry. The crowd pushed farther back near the buildings and away from the street. He looked across the road to see if he could find the bank of sewer grates, but instead only saw another group of soldiers gathered near the stand.
He was frustrated and worried, but anxious to get back home. Michael jumped out of the crowd and ran between several men and women who were in the street. He was about twenty yards from the fruit stand now. Along the side of the wall stood about ten soldiers with long, shimmering spears, much like the weapons he and Elizabeth had seen the day before.
The sound of the soldiers’ laughter made Michael nervous. He eyed each one, searching to see if Marcus or Titus was there. He moved closer to the group.
A sharp object scraped his back.
“Get away from here,” a voice bellowed at him.
Michael pushed the spear away. He glared at the soldier without even thinking; he knew immediately that this was the wrong thing to do.
“We have trouble here!”
Several soldiers ran over and circled Michael.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to back up.
“Let him go,” announced another soldier as he rode across the street toward them. “He and I have a history. I’ll take care of him.”
While the group of soldiers retreated, Michael turned to face the man who had just spoken. He caught a glimpse of his white horse, but with the morning sunlight’s glare so strong off his helmet, it was impossible to make out the soldier’s face. Michael noticed, however, what he thought was a ponytail hanging out of the back of his helmet.
“Come across the street,” the soldier said, motioning away from the tunnel’s entrance.
Michael knew this was no time to be a hero, so he followed him blindly, squinting from the sun.
The soldier dismounted and led him through the crowd. “I helped you last night so it’s time you helped me,” he said over his shoulder.
“Marcus? Is that you?” Michael asked, watching the ground closely to avoid such things as squashed pomegranates in the street.
“It is me. I can get your ring back. Just tell me where the woman is and I will let you go, too.”
They walked into the shadow of a building, and Michael could finally see Marcus more clearly. He noticed another scar, this one circular and ingrained on the back of his left leg where the skin was bubbled up as if it had been burned. Looking upward, Michael’s eyes became glued to the back of the soldier’s helmet. It wasn’t a ponytail hanging there but a piece of cloth.
Michael’s body froze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied.
“That is unfortunate.” Marcus turned to face him, taking off his helmet. The cloth that hung from it fell to the ground.
Michael picked it up, realizing that it was, indeed, a piece of his old Springsteen T-shirt, and gasped.
The soldier snatched it away. “Tell me where that woman is or I will kill you!”
“I don’t know.” Out of instinct, Michael reached for the cloth in Marcus’ hand, ripping a piece off. He fled back around the building and out onto the street.
“Stop!”
Michael sprinted ahead, trying desperately to disappear into the crowd. He heard the sounds of horses and quickly dropped to his knees, hiding himself. He felt a burst of wind as a horse sprinted past him and then, relief.
A low rumbling could be heard over the city wall as Elizabeth and Leah approached. “What is that?” Elizabeth asked. People were milling near the entranceway as if they were waiting in line to purchase tickets to a big concert.
“It’s the Romans, they’re coming in more numbers now that the holiday is coming soon,” Leah replied.
The crowd was eight to nine people deep on both sides. Leah squeezed past Elizabeth to guide the way through the big crowd, which was now spilling onto the streets, too. Many women and men were in the mob, some holding their children’s hands. But while it looked like a modern celebration, the atmosphere was tense.
Leah and Elizabeth finally found a spot on the other side of the street and stood for a few moments. Leah rose up on the tips of her toes to look farther down the road. A massive pile of humanity was in front of her. “Let’s stay here until the Romans pass,” she suggested, holding Elizabeth’s hand more tightly.
The staccato sound of hooves clapping the ground and whips hitting horseflesh filled the air. Elizabeth turned to her left to see the parade of soldiers crashing through the city gate. “Oh, no, they’re going to get crushed!” she gasped, watching the procession of shining, armored men walking in front of a big chariot. Many people, unable to get across in time, were bowled over like pins. A woman and man fell on top of their little girl, their screams piercing the air.
“Let me help,” Elizabeth cried, putting her hand out. Suddenly, she felt her body jerked back.
“Watch out!” Leah screamed as several soldiers, spears turned sideways, smashed a group of villagers into them. They both stumbled to the ground, momentarily dazed. Leah lifted Elizabeth up. Then another wave of soldiers entered through the gate. The crowd hissed and shouted angry words while Elizabeth searched the maze of people for the little girl. “Is she hurt?” asked Elizabeth, craning her neck to get a better look. But she couldn’t hear Leah’s answer as the procession intensified.
Elizabeth grimaced and placed her free hand over her eyes as another set of soldiers, this time armed with spiked metal balls on chains, swung their weapons toward the crowd as they passed.
Slowly Elizabeth and Leah inched their way through the crowd as several onlookers were shoved by soldiers into the throngs lining the side of the street. A loud trumpet blared up ahead, and the sound made Elizabeth cover her ears.
“Hold on,” said Leah, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand again and pulling her farther away from the road. A high-arching chariot, with a group of about ten Roman soldiers on either side, hurtled past, kicking up dirt that pelted people’s faces. A beautiful woman sat beside a well-dressed man who looked important.
“Who is that?” Elizabeth yelled to Leah, who leaned down slightly to hear the question.
“Pontius Pilate.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what Leah said since the noise in the crowd had reached its peak level. “We have to get to the tunnel, my dad might be there,” she urged Leah.
The Romans continued their march through the city gate. Elizabeth saw a man, screaming in pain and trying to stanch the flow of blood from a wound in his side, fall to the ground. Elizabeth moved forward to help him but Leah pulled her back.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” said Leah. “It’s too dangerous to try and get to where you need to go.”
“But my dad!”
“We’re not safe here! Let’s go back home and we’ll try later. He won’t leave without you.”
Leah expertly slipped through the crowd, making sure they were out of the parade’s path. She found a slight opening near the wall, just as another group of soldiers was ready to rumble through. She and Elizabeth knifed through the small breach and moved immediately to the far left, out of harm’s way as the remaining soldiers staged their grand entrance.
Michael made certain that he kept traveling in a crowd. He was unsure exactly where he was in town, but he knew if he took the right turn, he might find himself near the tunnel. But the number of people on the streets was growing.
This crowd is going to attract more soldiers, Michael thought. I’d better get out of here.
A beautiful woman with black curls surrounding her face stared at Michael as he searched in desperation for a safe place to go. She approached him with a quizzical look on her face. “Are you awaiting the Messiah’s arrival?” she asked.
“What Messiah?” Michael countered impatiently, avoiding her stare.
“The preacher. The Messiah.”
“There is no Messiah.” He looked around anxiously for soldiers. “Why are there so many people here?”
“The Messiah is coming.”