Necessary Heartbreak

by Michael J. Sullivan

  Leah took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the room. “You are a kind man,” she murmured finally. She leaned over, stood slightly on her toes, and gently touched his right cheek with her lips.

  Michael was mystified but decided not to pursue the subject further. He resumed his climb and called back over his shoulder, “What town are we in?”

  Over the rooftop he could see the outline of the city, the flowing water moving through the aqueduct, the stars twinkling in the clear, dark sky, and hundreds of rooftops in front of him. Unlike in Northport, he could not find the bay or its boats, and from this high vantage point, nothing looked familiar.

  Leah hesitated, looking up at him oddly from the bottom of the ladder. “Jerusalem, of course.”

  6

  IN DEFENSE

  The wooden ladder shook slightly in the morning light as Michael hit the last rung without a squeak. Growing up in the Richmond Hill house, he had become a master at moving quietly to avoid drawing attention to himself.

  He made his way over to Elizabeth and noticed that the top half of her bedroll was pushed up so it would serve as a pillow, and that she was sound asleep.

  Not surprising; she could sleep through a hurricane. He smiled and caressed her head.

  Down to the first floor he went, making only a slight creaking sound on one of the middle rungs. In the kitchen, Michael grabbed a cup hanging on the wall and tried to pour some water into it from a large jug. The water splashed out, spilling all over him and the floor.

  “Shoot,” he muttered, wondering if he had been too loud.

  His sleeve was soaking wet and water was pooling on the stone floor. He was afraid someone would slip in it, so he tried to push the puddle around with his foot, hoping that it would evaporate faster that way. It was futile, for now the entire floor was slippery. He bent over closer to examine it.

  “This will help,” Leah said, placing a piece of cloth before him.

  He sheepishly straightened up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? It’s just water.”

  Michael nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Can I make you some porridge?”

  If we are in Jerusalem, how do I even understand what she’s saying? Michael hesitated. “Ah, no, thank you, it’s not necessary. I just need some water. I want to get to town and try to see if it’s safe to get to the tunnel.”

  “The soldiers may notice you, dressed as you are. You’ll be in danger. Please let me get you some clothing.”

  Before he could reply, Leah went upstairs, returning with a long, off-white linen robe. Michael put the garment over his sweatpants and T-shirt. The bottom of the robe touched the top of his feet.

  “Better?”

  “Not yet.” Leah brought him a simple, woven belt and wrapped it around his waist. “Now you are done.”

  Michael watched Leah pour him a cup of water. “Thank you,” he said, accepting it. “Can you please tell Elizabeth that I’m going back to the tunnel to see if there are any soldiers still there?”

  Leah paused uncomfortably. “Would it not be better if you told her yourself what you are doing?”

  “No. She’ll want to come. I can’t take her because of that soldier.”

  Leah pointed to his empty cup. “She isn’t a little girl.”

  “No, thank you, that was enough. I know she isn’t. But please, will you take care of her for me today? She’s all I’ve got.”

  “I will.”

  Michael smiled. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. Please tell Elizabeth I love her.”

  With that, he went out into the courtyard and through the gate.

  The pain in Elizabeth’s hip woke her. She had rolled off the bedroll and the hard, cold floor had taken its toll. She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, finding it difficult at first to comprehend the room around her. In the morning sun, the yellow stone walls were reflecting golden rays of light.

  “Dad?” she called, standing. She could see the dining mat that they had sat around last night was just beyond the alcove where she had slept.

  “Daddy!” Elizabeth yelled with urgency, walking out into the main room. The silence left a pit inside her stomach. She leaned over the ladder to see if anyone was visible.

  “Dad? Are you down there?”

  Hearing no response, Elizabeth climbed the ladder to the roof and poked her head out. She saw the empty bedroll.

  “Dad?”

  Elizabeth started back down the ladder, jumping off before the bottom rung to the second floor and quickly descended to the first.

  Leah had left the porridge to cook over the fire and was in the courtyard praying when she heard Elizabeth on the ladder.

  “Dad!”

  “I am here,” Leah said.

  Elizabeth leaped to the floor from the middle of the ladder and turned to see Leah kneeling by the fig tree in the courtyard. “Do you know where my . . .”

  Leah put two fingers over her mouth before quickly finishing her prayers. Standing, she said, “Your father is not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went to town to look for the place you came from,” said Leah as she walked to the smoldering fire.

  “Why didn’t he wake me? Why didn’t you?”

  “Your father asked me not to.”

  “What?”

  “I made you something to eat.”

  “I don’t want to eat. I want my father!”

  Leah stirred the porridge calmly. “He said he would be back soon.”

  “When is soon ?”

  “I don’t know.”

  You don’t know much. Elizabeth was so angry at her father, wondering how he could leave her here with this strange woman.

  “Leah, we have to look for him.”

  “That was not what he wanted.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Not safe ? We have to go look for him if it’s not safe.”

  “No, it’s not safe for you.”

  “Why?”

  Leah looked at her, bewildered. “Elizabeth, you are a woman. Surely you know that there are men who would think nothing of having their way with you.” Leah’s gaze softened. She whispered, “They will hurt you, damage you. They would ruin you and you would never be the same.”

  Elizabeth scowled at Leah, her hands flailing in the air. “What are you talking about? I would never let that happen.” She huffed. “My dad would never let that happen.”

  Leah carefully moved past her, retreating to the kitchen. “Your dad cannot stop them. You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth. Perhaps you would be safe with a good man and a home.”

  Elizabeth reeled around and squared her shoulders. “Are you crazy? I’m just fourteen. I’m not even allowed to date.” She laughed mockingly. “My father won’t even allow me to kiss a guy.”

  “I know your father would not be happy that I spoke this way, but you must understand this is the way of our town.”

  “Not our town,” Elizabeth shot back.

  Leah remained silent.

  “We still need to find my father. I can’t stay here.”

  Leah placed her hand on Elizabeth’s arm, gently stopping her from leaving through the courtyard. “If you were to go to town for your father, the soldier might remember you.”

  “What soldier?”

  “The soldier who took the piece of your garment.”

  Elizabeth looked at her oversize T-shirt. She now wished she hadn’t invaded her father’s closet. I wonder if this is punishment for not asking, she thought ironically.

  Leah could see the determination on Elizabeth’s face. “I’ll go with you.”

  Elizabeth’s face lit up.

  “But you should never wear that shirt again,” Leah said, handing Elizabeth one of her own robes.

  Elizabeth’s smile turned to a frown. At first she just stared at it, but then put it on over her shirt.

  “I’m keeping the T-shirt,” she said with a bit of an edge just before headin
g out the door.

  Out on the street, Michael looked around and didn’t see any soldiers. He started moving at a brisk pace, joining the many people already at marketplaces and in the streets as they carried out their morning tasks. He passed near the courtyard area where he and Elizabeth had met Leah. It was empty.

  Michael remembered that the opening of the tunnel was on the west side of the street, near a fruit and vegetable stand. He noticed a crowd of people huddled in an area about fifty yards away and wondered if that was the spot.

  He could see several men and women gathered around a food cart inspecting the merchandise. His heart started to race and excitement filled his body.

  It’s got to be there, that’s the stand.

  Then, as if a wave had hit the crowd, the people dispersed as several soldiers on horses raced from the opposite direction. Their shiny golden helmets glistened in the sun, and their bright red capes flapped up and down with the speed of the horses.

  Michael’s stomach turned and his heart pounded. He darted out into the middle of a crowd that was moving to the other side of the street, allowing the parade of proud soldiers to whip past.

  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.”

  He stood there, stunned, but before he could say anything more, she had disappeared into the crowd. He scanned the sea of faces quickly for any sign of the strange woman but could find none.

  He was jarred by the blare of a trumpet in the distance. He knew instantly that something was about to happen as the many men, women, and children stirred.

  The sound of pounding hooves from an oncoming cavalry echoed from the west, prompting several in the crowd to hiss and recoil. Michael panicked and moved with them in the opposite direction, to the east, darting in and out of the crowd.

  Suddenly, the buildings began to look familiar and Michael realized that he was close to where he believed the tunnel to be.

  There it is!

  As he hurried across the street, he wondered if he should go back and get Elizabeth or find help in Northport. But as he neared the sewer grate, people in the street surged forward against him.