Chapter 11: Judea
THE change in Gordon’s person was as dramatic as it was rapid. His chin grew longer and his eyes became more hawkish like Mr. Pebblestone’s. His growing hair covered his ears and a helmet seemed to sprout out from his head and cover his hair, a bunch of white feathers pushing up from this helmet to start dancing in the wind. His shoulders broadened as armor plates concealed it and swallowed his back, chest and sides. His blue pants became a red skirt and sandals replaced his shoes. He grew taller and a red robe started blowing around behind him. A short, flat sword and a dagger emerged on his sides and a scabbard’s belt grew around his waist. All this took place as he ran towards the two children, both of whom were now staring at him in astonishment. Even the distance between the two and their aggressor appeared to have increased abnormally.
“Matthew, look,” Stephanie pointed out behind the running man. “It’s a burning castle.”
“Atop a hill,” Matthew whispered. “Cool.”
Their voices sounded different and their spoken words rang almost contrary to whatever they thought before opening their mouths.
“Are you still with the book?” Stephanie asked, rubbing her painful thumb.
“Sure.” Matthew raised it up for his sister to see. It was now a scroll and he was lost for words.
“What happened to us?” Stephanie asked her foster brother, admiring her new attire.
“I think I’m beginning to understand the workings of the book, Steph,” Matthew replied, looking up at the burning castle. “We might as well find Nora here.”
More soldiers were standing with the children on a hill very close to the larger one on which sprawled the burning city. The Africans they’d seen chained together in the hold of a slave ship destined for West Africa from that continent’s southern tip had all become prisoners of war from the city. Even the loincloths these prisoners wore had been replaced by long traditional gowns and dresses, and the men now had beards and moustaches. Only their long, arranged rows remained.
“Gordon has turned away from us,” Matthew said.
“Who’s Gordon?”
“Never mind. That’s not his name now, I guess.”
The man previously known as Gordon stopped before what looked like an officer on horseback and bowed from his waist. His words were clearly carried to the two kids by the wind. What they didn’t know was that it was Latin. “We have entered the temple, my lord,” the man shouted. “Our enemies have refused to lay down their arms.”
“Then burn their temple and plunder it,” the officer ordered. “Spare no one! We must crush this rebellion today.”
Matthew noticed that more soldiers were matching towards the city in formation. Those already inside must be engaged in a fierce battle with the city’s remaining residents still willing to fight, and although the boy and his foster sister could not see this, they could hear the wild shouting and painful cries emanating from within the city walls. Many were being matched out as prisoners and many were being silenced forever within the walls of this once glorious city.
The children didn’t know it, but they were witnessing the fall of Jerusalem to Roman soldiers in 70 A.D.
“Orders from General Titus, himself, my lord,” a grumpy voice boomed behind both children and they turned to face a big bearded fellow with brass bands around his awesome wrists and legs. “The Governor’s son and his childhood wife must return to the protection of his guards.”
“I guess he’s talking to us, Steph,” Matthew said, still staring at the man’s face. He wondered what his name was this time.
“And it seems I’m your wife,” Stephanie said. “That’s so awful.”
The soldier still waited for them as they stood there discussing, but now he stooped before them, grabbed them both in his massive arms, rose and quickly retraced his steps back to a golden horse-drawn carriage behind them.
“Put me down, you,” Stephanie yelled in the Latin both kids had mysteriously come to be very fluent in. “I’m not his wife.”
But the Roman didn’t drop them until he got to the carriage and helped them to settle down, standing by their side afterwards. “My lord should not venture,” he remarked in Latin, looking at Matthew. “The enemy is wild and very dangerous.”
“Where are we?” Stephanie demanded.
“In Iudaea, my lady. Before the city of the rebellious Jews! This is soon to be re-conquered by our glorious emperor, Titus Flavius Sabinus Vespasianus,” was the long reply.
Stephanie could only turn to her adopted brother with a confused stare.
“We’re near Jerusalem, I think,” Matthew told his younger sister after much thought. “We still have the book, though.” And he shook the scroll in her face. “At least, all our names are still on it.”
“That’s not a book,” Stephanie said. “That’s a . . . .”
“Scroll, my lady,” the Roman soldier said. “What is a book, my lord?”
“A kind of scroll,” Matthew declared. “I must speak with my wife now and demand silence from you.”
The soldier bowed and turned away.
“I’m not your wife,” Stephanie corrected her brother.
“That’s not the point,” Matthew said. “Look, I think we should look out for Nora amongst the prisoners. The book has a way of pitching those we’re looking for against us and across a divide of opposing parties. It happened with Anderson and I think it will happen here in Jerusalem.”
“Do you really think we’re actually jumping across continents due to this book?” Stephanie asked him, puzzled.
“Yes,” Matthew answered dejectedly. “We must assume we are if we’re to protect our sanity.” He hoped his sister also realized they were moving across time, itself. First France in World War II and then Africa during the slave trade. Now this. All during bloody clashes and all during very important historical world events. Why this was so he could not tell, but there were other questions he would really like to find answers to. Like whether Anderson really went back to the Sleepy Lake Town of his time and not the Jurassic Era! Whether the book’s fluctuating temperature and fragile, smoldering edges had anything to do with the mystery surrounding it. Why these slow burning processes never actually erupted into consuming flames and char the book, and why on earth someone had to leave the magically crazy hardcover in their attic in the first place!
Matthew knew that the book must have a kind of ancient evil seething through its pages, which its former owners had been ignorant of. Their names on its first page confirmed this notion of his, with both men probably facing the same fate he now faced with Stephanie and the others somewhere else in space and time. More so, he’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t use his right fingers to steer through the ‘historical corridors’ being created by the book, since he had been flipping through its pages with them. He was going to use his left fingers next time opportunity called for it, he’d finally decided. Stephanie was looking out for Nora along the rows of prisoners as he had directed her to and he joined her without a word.
“What if she’s not in this castle, Titus?”
“What did you just call me?”
“Titus. You’re the governor’s son, remember?” Stephanie jolted him with.
“Yeah, I do, but I forgot my name, Zeporah,” Matthew agreed, hoping his sister was still aware of their predicament unlike in Africa.
Then a welcome sight greeted his eyes.
“Nora.”
“Where?”
“There, near the guy with a banner,” Matthew pointed out. “We mustn’t lose her now! Nora.”
“Nora,” Stephanie assisted, bringing their guard’s attention to the coach and Matthew.
“It is forbidden to speak to the prisoners, my lord,” the man told the general’s son, but the boy’s childhood wife ignored this warning.
“Nora,” Stephanie repeated and her senior sister turned towards the coach with the other Jews, failed to recognize her and turned away again.
“Your
actions will be the death of me, my lady,” the soldier guarding the golden coach begged Stephanie, and the little girl realized with a smile that she was above him. She swelled with pride.
“My husband would love to have that Jew as a slave,” she told the man, pointing at Nora. The Jewess was struggling to keep in line with her fellow prisoners while eyeing the Roman soldier with a whip. Stephanie admired her older sister’s dress.
“I will order my men to separate her from her people before the slave auction begins, my lady,” the soldier agreed.
“Men? I thought you were a guard,” Matthew noted, beginning to enjoy himself. There appeared to be no sign of trouble for them in this place.
“No, my lord,” the Roman replied. “I am a centurion directed to guard you by your father, himself. Those you see around you are my men.”
“What is your name?” Stephanie asked.
“Claudius, my lady. Claudius Savinus.”
One of his men struck down a Jewish prisoner cursing them in Greek.
“Can’t believe I’m part of history,” Stephanie giggled.