Necessary Heartbreak (11 page)

The dice game had broken up a while ago and Michael was alone again in his cell. He dozed briefly but the noise nearby kept him from any extended rest. He could hear Barabbas sleeping in the adjacent cell, his snores echoing through the corridor.
How can he sleep in such a place?
Michael thought, shaking his head.

An eerie quiet filled the prison. Occasionally someone would cry out for water, only to be met with more silence. Michael wondered if all the soldiers had left.

Chains clinked back and forth, reminding Michael of beads falling off a strand. He couldn't tell what time it was as the last few flickers of candlelight cast their snakelike shadows on the concrete walls.

He agonized over a plan to return to Northport, mapping out the details in his mind: first, find the woman who took Elizabeth. Second, take Elizabeth back to the tunnel. Then find Father Dennis and have him call the police. Finally, call his brother-in-law Brian at the FBI.

He mulled over that last point and then thought better of it. He had had enough problems there. It was probably best not to get him involved.

Michael tried to settle his nerves by closing his eyes. But sleep was impossible. He continued to mentally go over his escape plans. How could he find that woman? he wondered. Perhaps she was looking for him. If all else failed, he knew that Elizabeth would try to find him. Then again, perhaps Marcus could help.

His body straightened and he could feel his blood rushing to his head. Yes, he felt sure that Marcus could help.

Footsteps echoing in the distance woke him just as he was starting to doze. He stood up. “Marcus? Is that you?”

A Roman soldier, helmet on and spear in hand, appeared and pulled open the door. Michael looked at him in confusion. “Where's Marcus?”

The soldier gazed at him for a few seconds. “He went home. He wishes you the best on your journey. He said to make sure you take
the same path home that you came from. It's the safest way back. Do you understand?”

Michael nodded. He wondered if this soldier was trustworthy. Perhaps he would be able to help him find Elizabeth.

The opening of the cell door awoke Barabbas. “Where are you going, my friend?” he slurred, still heavy with sleep.

“I'm going home.”

“What? Be care—”

“Shut up,” shouted the soldier as he whipped his spear against the rods of Barabbas' cell. “Move,” he demanded, pushing Michael from behind.

“Be cautious, my friend,” said Barabbas, his voice growing faint in the distance. “Watch your back. They just don't let anyone . . .” Barabbas' words were no longer audible.

The remaining inches of wick were still burning in the dark hallway, and Michael peered into the cells they passed. He could only see shadows huddled against the walls, some sleeping, a few weeping softly. They turned the corner and approached a long stairway. Brightly lit torches were strategically placed along the route, giving them plenty of light. The soldier nestled his arm under Michael's, making sure he wouldn't fall.
Surprisingly nice of him
, he thought.

Five soldiers lounged near the entrance, drinking heavily. The air was thick with the scent of wine. “What are you doing, Titus?” one soldier asked as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

“Sending our friend here back home,” Titus replied.

“Is he a friend of the governor?”

“No. A friend of Marcus.”

The soldiers laughed. “I didn't know Marcus had any.”

“Shut up,” said Titus, slamming the cup out of a soldier's hand with his spear.

Titus pushed Michael through the entrance. Night had fallen but he could still see the city in the distance.

“Remember to go back the same way you came.”

“I will, but I have to find my daughter first.”

“Do so. But do it quickly. When you do find your daughter, take the same path home.”

“Can you help me find her?”

Titus turned his back and went inside the prison. The other soldiers glared at him.

“Tell Marcus thank you!” Michael yelled.

He turned and made a run straight to the wall opening.

Leah and Elizabeth finished their prayers and began to walk silently back to the city. Each was lost in her own thoughts as Elizabeth wrestled with guilt and remorse. Leah would occasionally whisper, “Oh, Yochanan, what would you do?”

With the city wall nearby now, Elizabeth felt this was the proper time to speak. “Leah, I can't go any further. If I have to wait until morning, I will. But I have to take my chances soon at that place and ask if they can free my father. Are you sure there isn't anyone who can help us?”

Leah and Elizabeth walked a few more yards until they were inside the city. Leah looked around and saw that a couple of marketplaces were open. But the crowd that filled the streets only a couple of hours ago had dispersed. Only a few groups of people were chatting, laughing, and sharing stories of the day.

“I don't see anybody I know,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Then I'll have to go back.”

“You mustn't.”

“I don't have a choice.”

“Then wait until morning,” said Leah, gently rubbing Elizabeth's arm.

“Why morning?”

“The soldiers drink a lot after sundown. They can be even more vicious. It's not a safe place for women, but especially now.”

“Then I'm going back to the tunnel and wait there. If he does get out, he'll surely go there first,” reasoned Elizabeth.

“I will stay with you.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly. “Let's go then.”

They walked slowly. Elizabeth glanced up at the clear sky.
No pollution here
, she thought, admiring the clarity of the stars. The moon's light bathed the landscape in a soft glow.
So pretty
.

Suddenly they heard footsteps. Leah pulled Elizabeth around one of the market stalls and whispered, “Quiet.”

The slapping of sandals and heavy gasping grew louder. A man, clearly out of breath, hurtled past them. “Dad!” Elizabeth yelled.

Michael stopped and bent over, trying to catch his breath. “Elizabeth. My God. You're okay. Oh, thank you, God.”

They hugged as Leah looked on in confusion. “How did you escape?”

Michael could barely get the words out. “I didn't. One soldier helped me get my release. He was very kind to me. He told me to just go back the way we came. So, we can go home, Elizabeth!”

Leah stared at Michael, then suddenly hugged him, making him uncomfortable. “I'm so happy.” But she then released her grasp. “There's something wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“They just don't let people leave there. What else did the soldier say?”

“He only said to go back the same way as I came. Why?”

Leah shook her head. “This is strange. Very strange. We should stop and talk about what happened to you,” she insisted.

“I'm not stopping!” Michael said forcefully.

“Do you want to suffer the same way as Yochanan?”

“Who's Yochanan?”

Leah looked upset. “You are confusing me.”

“We have to get home,” Michael said impatiently. He grabbed Elizabeth's hand and began to jog. “Let's run, Elizabeth.”

Leah caught up to them. “You're going to get caught,” she warned.

Michael didn't pay attention. Suddenly an old man appeared in front of them. He stumbled and fell to the ground.
No time for this
,
Michael thought, sidestepping him and sprinting to the other side of the street. He could see the grates now. All six looked identical. “Which one is it?” he said frantically, kicking at each one. “Open!”

Suddenly Leah grabbed his arm and pointed down the street. “Look over there. Soldiers!” she said with distress.

Up ahead a group of soldiers had gathered. Michael glared; his body froze and his mind went blank.
What do I do now? Oh, God, my daughter
.

“Come with me,” Leah urged, tugging on his shirt, as one of the soldiers gestured toward them.

But Michael still couldn't move.

“What's wrong, Dad?”

Waving his hands frantically, Michael said, “The cloth . . . the cloth . . . your shirt . . . it was him . . . it's Marcus!” Michael recognized his deep, booming voice and the piece of Elizabeth's white shirt dangling from the back of his helmet.

“What soldier? What cloth? What are you talking about? Tell me, Dad. Tell me!”

“He took a piece of your shirt.”

Elizabeth looked at her long shirt. “So?”

Michael grabbed Elizabeth's hand with force and pulled her back toward Leah. “We need your help.”

“I know,” she said impatiently. “Come quickly.”

Michael looked over at Elizabeth, who gave him an icy stare.

“Tell me!”

“Not now. We'll talk later.”

Leah led the way purposefully through the maze of streets. “Stay close. We have to keep out of sight. The soldiers are everywhere.”

As if on cue, two Roman soldiers strolled off a side street and headed in their direction. Leah pulled Michael and Elizabeth into a deserted, covered doorway. They pressed against the concrete wall as the soldiers strolled past. “I wonder if Marcus will get his prize soon,” snickered one soldier.

“He thinks he'll get his prize tonight,” said the other.

When the street was quiet again, Leah turned toward Michael.

“Why did you return to this town again? What is it that you want?”

Michael looked at her, confused. “I don't understand. I told you we just want to get home. Believe me, I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to.”

Leah stared at him for a moment. “Do you want to be killed? These soldiers would love to kill you. You have to listen to me if you want to stay alive.”

Michael glared at her in disbelief. “Why are there so many of them here?”

“Passover is coming, and with everyone in town for the festivities, they have come in force. But don't think that they will forget you were imprisoned with Barabbas. Now do you understand? If you love your daughter, you will listen to me.”

Michael nodded. “Marcus was so nice to me. I thought I could trust him.”

“You can't trust any Roman soldier. What did he say to you on the street?”

“He made some reference that he wanted to make my daughter his. I think I know what he means. But she's only fourteen. I didn't want to believe it. Tell me I'm wrong.”

Leah slowly turned toward him. “Is that what he said?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes.”

“We need to move quickly and get back to my home.”

“But we have to get back to the tunnel,” Michael said. “It's where we came from.”

“You need to come back to my house. I can give you some of the robes I wove to sell at market. In them you won't draw so much attention to yourself. Then maybe you will be able to get home safely. But right now, it is too dangerous.”