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  One dignitary stepped forward to the lip of the crowd and put his hand up. “This man should be given the right to speak.”

  The crowd hushed and Paul spoke. “I am a humble man, like all of you,” he said, straining to speak over the buzz of the crowd. “I am only expressing what my heart tells me to say. What I say is, find a place in your heart for our Father’s kingdom.”

  Several men in the audience stepped forward, throwing fruit and rocks. Michael moved in front of Paul again and was struck by pieces of watermelon.

  “Nail him to a cross like his king,” yelled a man, wielding a sword.

  “Where’s your king now?” another man shouted.

  Paul’s words were lost in the chaos and noise. Michael drew his spear as a man took a few steps forward and threw a rock. It struck his chest armor, making him flinch. Now, that hurt.

  The commander gestured to him and the other guard. “Take him back to the cell. This crowd will kill him.”

  Michael took Paul’s arm and followed the guard down the stairs. “I will handle this,” Michael said. “Go find some water. Refresh yourself.”

  “Thank you,” the other guard said.

  Michael lowered Paul down but didn’t clamp the chains around his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I am.”

  He lowered Paul down and watched him sit. My God. I’m here with one of the apostles. He doesn’t look like I thought he would. I wonder how old he is. I wonder if he realizes he’s going to die a violent death. Maybe he doesn’t have to die that way. Maybe this is the reason I’m here. Am I supposed to help him too? To help him live longer? Write more? Preach the word more?

  He shook himself out of his thoughts. No. Keep it simple. Rescue Elizabeth and Leah, find a safe way to travel and get back. “Rest, Paul,” he said. “Watch for my signal. I am here to take you out of this forsaken place.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Well, I am certainly not a Roman soldier, but your rabbi sent me to help you.”

  “My rabbi?”

  “Yes. I saw him by a small cave in a mountain. He gave me instructions to get you out of here safely.”

  Paul got to his feet with some energy and looked to his left. “Can you see over there?”

  “Where?”

  Paul pointed.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael asked, looking with him.

  “The women.” He gestured to the cell.

  Michael froze, dropped his spear and released his grip.

  “My daughter! And Leah.”

  Paul strained to turn his head. “Your daughter? You must go now. I believe the Romans took them to where I was.”

  Michael raced a few steps, stopped and turned around. “Keep your hands behind you. I will tell them I have locked you up.”

  Paul fell down and groaned, holding his head.

  Michael watched for a brief moment. I’m sorry, Lord. I’m doing the best I can. What you ask may not be possible. I want to help. Paul will have to wait.

  Chapter 22

  Many of the dignitaries had left when Michael returned to the top of the Antonia Fortress. The crowd had also thinned as only a few hours of sunlight remained. Some scattered calls for the return of Paul went unanswered. Elizabeth and Leah stood shackled together.

  Michael hoisted his weapon to give the impression he was there to help secure the hearing. He watched Elizabeth pull and tug at her chains and was shocked to see how frail she looked. His mind started to churn, wondering if they had touched her. Michael dismissed the thought immediately, shaking his head and hitting his helmet with the tip of his spear. He had to stop thinking like that – it would drive him mad. He knew he would kill anyone on the spot if he found out they had touched her. Michael couldn’t deal with that and wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his life for his daughter.

  The shouting inside his head drove him crazy. He tried to settle down, taking deep breaths, telling himself to relax. I need to be calm if I am to get them out safely. I have to act like every other soldier here. I don’t want to stand out. He took another deep breath, and his thoughts turned to Elizabeth again. They better not have touched her. Stop. Stop it, Michael. Enough.

  He looked over at Elizabeth. She appeared defiant while Leah kept her head down. Good girl. Stay strong. Don’t take anything from these bastards.

  A man with a fancy robe and a bright red, long ribbon draped over his shoulder paced in front of Elizabeth and Leah. They remained quiet. He was addressing the crowd. “The women held before you are to be judged for the murder of one of our own, a Roman soldier.”

  Michael moved closer and found a big concrete column to shield his location. He edged near the guard behind Elizabeth and tapped his shoulder. “Soldier,” he said, “you look weary. Let me help you. Go and get some rest. I will make sure the prisoners are secure.”

  The soldier pulled off his helmet. He bowed and lowered his weapon to the ground in a gesture of gratitude. He handed Michael the key. “This handles both.”

  Michael nodded. “Rest well.”

  “I shall.” The guard walked back to the stairwell and disappeared.

  Michael stood and held his weapon like the guard did before him. He was listening to the dignitary try to shout over the chatting crowd when a jolt to his back startled him.

  “Where is Flavius?” asked a Roman soldier.

  “Who?”

  “Flavius. He was standing here before.”

  “He needed rest.”

  “Rest? This is not usual protocol. I will inform our commander.”

  When the guard turned to walk away, Michael called out to him. “Come back; I asked him to leave.”

  “Why? A guard never leaves his post during a trial.”

  “I asked him to leave because I want to avenge my friend’s death.”

  “Whose death?” asked the guard as he took off his helmet.

  “The man in the box,” Michael said, pointing to the casket.

  “Marcus?”

  “Yes, Marcus. Marcus was a friend. These women are his murderers.”

  The soldier laughed. “I did not know Marcus had any friends. Or even one friend.”

  “He did.”

  “So be it. Far be it from me to stop a friend of a Roman soldier for avenging his death. I will give you the means to do so later.”

  Michael bowed and lowered his weapon. The Roman did the same.

  He turned back to the proceedings as the dignitary faced Leah. “Were you not married to the Roman soldier?”

  Her voice barely audible, Leah answered, “I was not.”

  “She is lying,” said a soldier, stepping forward from the crowd.

  “Titus, we will hear from you later,” said one of the authorities. “Let the woman speak in her defense.”

  The dignitary turned sideways and spoke to Leah and the crowd. “There is a wound mark on Marcus, near his heart. Did you plunge a weapon into him as witnesses have described?”

  Leah did not answer. Michael could see her hands clench.

  “You will answer the Roman Empire for the crimes you have committed.” The dignitary slapped Leah in the side of the head.

  The crowd, now strengthening in numbers, hissed.

  A man at the front of the crowd shouted at the dignitary. “Why does a weak woman give you fear?”

  “I will ask you once more – did you kill Marcus?” He approached Leah and raised his hand.

  “Leave her be,” said the man, emerging from the crowd.

  “No,” yelled Leah. “Stay back.”

  Elizabeth moved to defend her, but a guard pushed her back.

  Michael took several steps closer and squinted to get a better look at the man. It was Aharon. Michael slipped through the crowd on the side and waved at him. He took his helmet off for a brief moment and signaled
toward him again.

  Aharon’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “What are you doing?” he mouthed.

  Michael gestured to Leah and Elizabeth and raised his spear. Then he nodded toward the sun and pointed down. He held his spear up higher and tipped it in the direction of the front gate. He watched as Aharon disappeared into the crowd.

  Michael returned to his post behind Elizabeth. Another guard approached him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Michael felt his stomach lurch, unsure how to answer at first. “I was not sure whether my cousin was in the crowd. It is hard for me to see that far on this day.”

  The guard laughed. “You have been drinking.”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Only keep your eyes on the prisoners.” The guard walked away.

  The dignitary continued questioning Leah. “How long did the two of you share a home?”

  “I do not remember. Some sunsets he was there. Many sunsets he was not.”

  “He was there enough to be married to you.”

  “I was not married to him.”

  “Did you obey the rules of the Roman Empire in the laws of marriage and act accordingly as his wife?”

  “He was not my husband. He was a pig.”

  The crowd cheered.

  The dignitary frowned. “You have spoken ill of the Roman Empire. It is a crime to do so.”

  “Pigs deserve to be slaughtered,” Leah said.

  Michael watched as the dignitary had a conference with Titus. He came back to the front a few moments later and faced Leah and Elizabeth. “I rule Titus can avenge his brother’s death.”

  “I shall,” shouted Titus, raising his spear.

  “So be it. At sunrise, you shall be turned over in custody to Titus. Your daughter shall receive the same sentence.”

  The dignitary waved his hand to Michael and the guard standing on the side. “Take the murderers back to their cell. May their last sunset be a peaceful one.”

  He grabbed Elizabeth’s arm while the other guard secured Leah. They walked them back downstairs to their cell.

  Michael locked the latch. “I will take the first watch,” he said, disguising his voice.

  “Sir, we are not responsible for this.”

  “For their last sunset, it will be my reward to guard these women who have murdered Romans. I will not be given my right to avenge my friend’s death. Let me have this.”

  The guard bowed and lowered his spear, the bottom of the rod striking the concrete ground. He left and Michael paced back and forth down the hallway several times before stopping in front of Leah and Elizabeth’s cell. He put his hand through the bars. “Take this.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked.

  He pulled off his helmet for a brief moment. “It’s me, your dad. Take this.”

  “Dad? What … ?”

  “Shhh. Take the key.”

  Elizabeth reached and took it from his hand.

  “It will unlock your chains and the latch on this door. Do not unlock it until I give you a signal.”

  “What kind of signal?”

  “I am not sure yet. It will come after the sun has set. Do not fall asleep.”

  He backed away and looked down the hallway.

  “Michael, Michael,” Leah said, moving forward, her chains jingling.

  “Quiet,” he said.

  “My Aharon. I saw him in the crowd and – ”

  Michael nodded. “I will try to contact him.” He reached through the cell door to touch her hand. “When you are free, you and Aharon must leave. Never come back. Seek a place far away from here.”

  Leah put her head on his hand.

  Michael heard another soldier walking down the corridor toward them. “Remember,” he whispered, “do not fall asleep. Wait for a signal. Close your eyes – now!”

  They both nodded and feigned sleep as the guard rattled the cell with his spear. Elizabeth tightened her hold on Leah.

  “Look at this scene,” the guard sneered. “Like mother. Like daughter.”

  “Yes,” whispered Leah. “Like mother, like daughter. To the last sunset.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.

  Chapter 23

  Modern-Day Long Island

  Dennis bent over and groaned, holding his side. “Lord, forgive me for my self-pity, but this is quite painful.” He opened the bottom drawer and let his fingers perform a dance inside it.

  “Where is that book?” He pushed the chair away and fell to his knees. “I’m praying, Lord. Help me find my treasure.” He put his face closer to the inside of the drawer. “Where did it go? Where’s my secretary? Katie Adams, where did my book go?”

  “Pastor,” she said as the door closed behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “Praying.”

  “From there?”

  “I’m looking for a book. Small. Black.”

  “The Bible?”

  “No. A small, black book I had scribbled some notes in. I thought I left it in the drawer.”

  “Get up, Pastor, please. I’ll look. You shouldn’t be bending over like that with your pain.”

  “I’ll take you up on your offer, Katie,” he said. He held onto the desk, pulled himself up and plopped into his chair. “Try the middle one,” he said with some encouragement.

  “Sure,” Katie said. She rummaged through it several times. “I don’t see any book in here.”

  Dennis opened the top drawer. He pulled out several small notebooks filled with sermon notes. “Nothing.”

  “Let me check the bookcase,” she suggested.

  “You do that,” he said, shaking his head while rubbing his eyes again. He blinked several times and yawned. He stopped midway to answer the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Pastor, it’s Connie.”

  “I haven’t heard anything today. Sorry. Did I give you the black book?”

  “No. Did you lose it?”

  He groaned. “Nah. Just misplaced it. Call me later. We really should talk. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Pastor, we should talk.”

  Dennis hung up and grabbed his side again. He pulled up his shirt and saw the gash was bleeding. “Why isn’t this healing?”

  “My God, Pastor,” Katie said. “Let me get you some help.”

  “I’ll be fine. Keep looking for that black book. I need it ASAP.”

  He tucked his papers away, slipped on his coat and opened the door.

  Hewitt faced him. “Hello Pastor. Where are we running to now?”

  “The doctor. I’m in a lot of pain.”

  “Not as much pain as I’m in right now trying to solve this case.”

  “Special Agent, I must go. I’m hurting.”

  “The wound?”

  “Yes,” he said, wincing.

  “This won’t take long.”

  “I don’t have the time. We can talk later.”

  Hewitt blocked him. “We can talk now. How bad is the wound?”

  “It’s awful.”

  “Forget the doctor. I’ll drive you to the ER.”

  “That will be better, Hewitt. We can get there quicker on my Harley.”

  “Sorry, Pastor. This is official business. We’ll use my transportation.”

  He helped him through the church and into his car. Hewitt pushed his head down and buckled him up in the front passenger seat. “You okay there?”

  Dennis nodded. He leaned his head against the window, taking slow breaths. The ride was bumpy as Hewitt navigated up and down the hills of Northport. He peppered Dennis with questions every few seconds.

  “Did you know Robert Cantone was driving that car that killed Michael Stewart’s wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it not odd that you’re friends with someone who wrecked a close fri
end’s life?”

  “I’m a pastor. We forgive. We comfort.”

  “Does Michael know this?”

  “He does.”

  “Has he forgiven Robert?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “I can’t find him. Where is he hiding?”

  “We’ve gone through this several times. I told you.”

  “You told me nothing. You made up some wacky story about him traveling to Jerusalem.”

  “Look. Whether you believe it’s wacky or not, I know he’s not here.”

  Hewitt slammed his fist against the dashboard. “Where is he then?” He drove past the emergency entrance to the hospital. “Just a few more minutes.”

  “What are you doing?” asked Dennis.

  “You’re hiding something, and I want to know what it is. When you tell me, I’ll get you the help you need. You help me, I help you. This is how it works.”

  Dennis’ eyes started to blur. “I’m dizzy.”

  “Why are you involved with Robert Cantone?”

  He shook his head. “Help me.”

  “Answer me,” Hewitt shouted.

  “I was the tru … ” Dennis struggled to finish the sentence but couldn’t.

  Hewitt stopped the car and slapped him a couple of times in the face. “Wake up. What did you say?”

  “I was asking for … for … giveness.”

  “Forgiveness for what?” Hewitt asked.

  Dennis looked at him. His arms flailed, and he gripped the passenger side doorknob. He grunted and groaned. “I’m having a hard time breathing,” he said, gasping. “Everything is fuzzy and dark. I can’t see.”

  “What? My God. Wake up.”

  Dennis slumped forward.

  “Wake up!”

  Chapter 24

  First-century Jerusalem

  Michael sat against a wall among several Roman soldiers in an upstairs barracks, pretending to sleep. He opened his right eye every so often to watch five men on their knees in a circle rolling a die. Several pieces of silver were piled in the middle and were removed after a burst of cheering. More Romans, helmets in hand, stood behind the game, sipping liquid from their cups. The smell of heavy wine intoxicated the area. Michael shook his head several times to escape the aroma.