the sea. The prayerful groaned and cried out, and as a single horseman drove his way towards us, the bodies fell back to either side.
Down I went with a hand on the back of my head and another on my back. I could hear the snorting of the horse and the clatter of his hooves.
My head was pressed right to the stones.
Yet out of the corner of my eye I saw the legs of the horse right beside us, and as the horse shied backwards, I saw a man rise from the mounds of huddled figures. He drew a stone from under his robe and thew it at the soldier.
He cried out in Greek:
"There is no one but the Lord Himself who has a right to rule over us! Take those words to Herod. Take them to Caesar!"
Then came another stone from under his mantle and another.
The soldier's spear came down right into the man's chest. It went deep into him and through him.
The man dropped the stone he held, and fell back with his eyes wide.
My mother sobbed. Little Salome screamed, "Don't look, don't look."
But was I to look away from this man in his last moments? Was I to turn away from his very death?
The soldier pulled up his spear and the man rose with it. Blood poured out of the man's mouth.
The body was cast this way and that, and then the spear pulled free and let the body drop.
The man rolled onto his left side, and he stared right at us, right at me.
I couldn't see the horse anymore. I could only hear it, and the terrible noise of its running wild. I saw the soldier in the grip of men all around him, those who had pulled him from the horse which was now gone.
His body was lost in the crowd that covered him, as elbows rose and fell over him.
Our men bowed and prayed.
The dying man if he heard it, if he knew it, didn't care.
He didn't see us. He didn't know about the soldier. Blood came out of his mouth onto the stones.
Terrible cries came out of my mother.
The people who'd taken hold of the soldier got up and were running away. More people got up and ran. Beyond them more stayed on their knees and prayed.
The body of the soldier was covered with blood.
The man who stared at us reached out his hand, but his arm flopped down, and he died.
People ran between us and the man. I heard the sheep again.
I felt my mother slip over on her side on the ground, and I tried to catch her, but she sank down on the ground with her eyes closed.
Again the stones flew from everywhere over our heads.
Who had come into this Temple that did not carry stones for this war?
The stones rained down on us, and hit us on our heads and shoulders.
When Joseph raised his arms in the chanting, I managed to get out from under him, and I got up on my knees.
The crowd was loose and broken. Bodies lay everywhere like heaps of bloody wool for the wash.
Everywhere I looked men fought and men died.
On top of the beautiful porches, men who looked tiny and black against the sky were fighting, soldiers with their swords drawn stabbing those who tried to beat them with clubs.
I saw way out on the stones where there was no crowd anymore another man attack a soldier, rushing right against the spear that went through him. Women ran right to the dead to cry over them. They did not care where they were, these women. They cried and screamed. They howled like dogs. The soldiers didn't hurt them.
But no one came to our dead man, the man who lay on his side with the blood all over his mouth, staring and not seeing. He lay alone.
At last the soldiers were everywhere, so many soldiers I could never count them. They came on foot into the crowd.
They moved through the families of those kneeling and came closer and closer on the left and on the right.
All the fighters were gone.
"Pray!" said Joseph to me, breaking his chant for only a moment.
I obeyed him. I raised my arms and prayed.
"But the souls of the righteous are in the hands of the Lord, and no torment can harm them."
New soldiers came riding out. They raised their voices, and they spoke in Greek. At first I couldn't hear
Down I went with a hand on the back of my head and another on my back. I could hear the snorting of the horse and the clatter of his hooves.
My head was pressed right to the stones.
Yet out of the corner of my eye I saw the legs of the horse right beside us, and as the horse shied backwards, I saw a man rise from the mounds of huddled figures. He drew a stone from under his robe and thew it at the soldier.
He cried out in Greek:
"There is no one but the Lord Himself who has a right to rule over us! Take those words to Herod. Take them to Caesar!"
Then came another stone from under his mantle and another.
The soldier's spear came down right into the man's chest. It went deep into him and through him.
The man dropped the stone he held, and fell back with his eyes wide.
My mother sobbed. Little Salome screamed, "Don't look, don't look."
But was I to look away from this man in his last moments? Was I to turn away from his very death?
The soldier pulled up his spear and the man rose with it. Blood poured out of the man's mouth.
The body was cast this way and that, and then the spear pulled free and let the body drop.
The man rolled onto his left side, and he stared right at us, right at me.
I couldn't see the horse anymore. I could only hear it, and the terrible noise of its running wild. I saw the soldier in the grip of men all around him, those who had pulled him from the horse which was now gone.
His body was lost in the crowd that covered him, as elbows rose and fell over him.
Our men bowed and prayed.
The dying man if he heard it, if he knew it, didn't care.
He didn't see us. He didn't know about the soldier. Blood came out of his mouth onto the stones.
Terrible cries came out of my mother.
The people who'd taken hold of the soldier got up and were running away. More people got up and ran. Beyond them more stayed on their knees and prayed.
The body of the soldier was covered with blood.
The man who stared at us reached out his hand, but his arm flopped down, and he died.
People ran between us and the man. I heard the sheep again.
I felt my mother slip over on her side on the ground, and I tried to catch her, but she sank down on the ground with her eyes closed.
Again the stones flew from everywhere over our heads.
Who had come into this Temple that did not carry stones for this war?
The stones rained down on us, and hit us on our heads and shoulders.
When Joseph raised his arms in the chanting, I managed to get out from under him, and I got up on my knees.
The crowd was loose and broken. Bodies lay everywhere like heaps of bloody wool for the wash.
Everywhere I looked men fought and men died.
On top of the beautiful porches, men who looked tiny and black against the sky were fighting, soldiers with their swords drawn stabbing those who tried to beat them with clubs.
I saw way out on the stones where there was no crowd anymore another man attack a soldier, rushing right against the spear that went through him. Women ran right to the dead to cry over them. They did not care where they were, these women. They cried and screamed. They howled like dogs. The soldiers didn't hurt them.
But no one came to our dead man, the man who lay on his side with the blood all over his mouth, staring and not seeing. He lay alone.
At last the soldiers were everywhere, so many soldiers I could never count them. They came on foot into the crowd.
They moved through the families of those kneeling and came closer and closer on the left and on the right.
All the fighters were gone.
"Pray!" said Joseph to me, breaking his chant for only a moment.
I obeyed him. I raised my arms and prayed.
"But the souls of the righteous are in the hands of the Lord, and no torment can harm them."
New soldiers came riding out. They raised their voices, and they spoke in Greek. At first I couldn't hear
Similar Books
