The food Tiberius had given her two weeks before was gone. They were down to two jars of “stinkies”—dried sardines that had already started to decay—and some old vegetables. Matti hunted grasshoppers and picked the wild mallow growing around the city. But it was hardly enough for four people, even though Sarah barely ate. For the previous ten days, she had been delirious and bedridden.
Esther tossed a few weeds and their last dried mushroom into a boiling pot of water.
“We’ll starve if we don’t get more food,” Esther said. “I’ll try to make contact with Tiberius again.”
Miriam shook her head. “The rebels have closed all the gates. No one can get out anymore.”
“I’ll go through the tunnels,” Esther said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She shuddered at the thought of the tunnels, teeming with sewage and rats the size of cats. But the tunnels drained out of the city and were now her only exit.
Esther tied her scarf to the turret, but after two days, there was still no sign from Tiberius. She couldn’t wait any longer. Even if the food he’d hidden for her was gone, she could still scout the fruit of the thistles, the sour berries of the thorn bushes, and the nuts of the tumbleweeds. She’d take the knife Tiberius had given to her father.
The public mikvehs near the Ophel connected to the drainage ditches under the Temple Mount. From the baths, Esther found the steps leading to the lower level. She entered a narrow passage carved in the rock and ran alongside the wet walls, then came out of a small hole that she had to bend down to squeeze through. She blinked as she came out of the tunnel into the sunlight and took a deep breath.
The tightness in her chest faded. The warmth of the sun on her skin reminded her of those long-ago days when she’d scoured the hills for crocuses, following the goats and singing with the wind. Now she reveled in the hushed sounds: the rustling of the leaves and the trill of the birds.
But as she looked around, an uneasy feeling crept through her. The majestic pine trees that used to pierce the clouds were gone. The tamarisks and oaks were gone. The towering sycamore with its twisted trunk and intertwined branches that had spread out like a mythical sea creature—the one she and Matti had loved to climb—was gone. The Romans had stripped the land bare for its timber.
Thankfully, the patch of wild sorghum was still there. She walked toward the bronze spikelets waving in the wind. She had once collected these grains for animal feed. Now they would make a feast for her family. She continued picking until she looked up and spotted two figures approaching. White-hot fear filled her lungs and mouth, leaving her breathless. The sun, so warm and enveloping just minutes before, now blinded her with a menacing glare.
Roman soldiers. What were they doing here in the southwest corner of the city? The Roman camp was far away, and all the Roman attacks were directed against the city’s northern walls. No Roman soldiers had ever been stationed here, or even regularly patrolled this steep and treacherous valley. Perhaps Titus had sent patrols around the entire city to catch any Jews trying to escape. She swallowed and slowly, cautiously, took a step backward, trying to maintain her balance even though she felt light-headed. A prickling sensation in her hands spread to her arms and legs, as if her blood had been replaced by ice.
She dropped her bag, and the grain scattered, and was then blown away by the wind. The soldiers came closer. One was tall, with hair the color of a rusty plow blade, and the other was stocky with dark curls. Each of them had the soldier’s skirt, and a knife strapped to his waist.
She ran. She didn’t feel the ground or the thorns and bristles scraping her legs. When the shorter one lunged at her, she fell to the ground. He pinned her down, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of a hunter who has nabbed his prey.
“What have we here, sweet fruit for the picking?”
The other soldier, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth, sauntered closer. He muttered something she couldn’t understand. They both laughed.
“I have money. I know a Roman trader. He’ll pay you,” Esther said, her voice coming out in a high-pitched, breathless squeak. “His name is Tiberius. He’s in your camp.”
She writhed and tried to push the soldier off her. It was happening so fast, she could only comprehend in glimpses. She saw the blister on the bottom of the soldier’s lip, heard the whoops of the second soldier, and felt the roughness of the ground beneath her. She spit at him, and he looked stunned, momentarily. He covered her mouth; she couldn’t breathe. She bit his hand, and he hit her so hard that her ear rang. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She had never been struck like this before, and the pain brought everything into sharp focus.
Looking up into his leering face, she willed herself to calm down, to think. She scrunched the fabric of her tunic until she could feel the knife tied to her thigh; she wrapped her hand around it. With a snarl like a wild dog, she raised the knife, then shoved it into his back. The soldier screamed and rolled off. The other one stopped laughing and quickly came to see. When he pulled out the knife, Esther sprung up and fled, stumbling over the rocky ground, gulping for air. She looked back. The soldier was coming after her!
Another figure loomed ahead. A man with his feet planted in a wide stance and his hands on his hips.
“Halt!” he thundered at the soldier. “What are you doing here?”
Tiberius!
The soldier slowed. He regarded Tiberius warily, perhaps studying his civilian garb.
“I am on General Titus’s staff,” Tiberius said in an imperious tone. “You’re supposed to be patrolling the walls, not hunting. Now get back to your station, or I’ll have you strung up and flogged!”
The soldier looked unsure. Then he lowered his head and mumbled something that Esther couldn’t hear.
“Now!” thundered Tiberius.
The soldier looked back at his companion bleeding and writhing on the ground.
Tiberius followed the soldier’s eyes, then said, “Go to the camp and call the medics to tend to this man. Hurry!”
The soldier took off.
Tiberius ran to Esther. Sobs tore through her as she clutched his tunic, crushing her face into his chest. He held her tight as she cried until she was limp and exhausted.
“Did they…hurt you?” Tiberius asked as he tilted her face up, rubbing his thumb on her wet cheek.
She shook her head. She wanted to tell him what had happened, but her lips seemed soldered together.
He continued to hold her close. “I was gone for a few days, supervising a delivery. I came as soon as I saw the scarf.”
A shaky smile slid onto her face. “I guess you were busy with General Titus…now that you’re on his staff, that is.”
He managed a weak grin back. “I’m not surprised the soldier believed me. If you speak forcefully enough, people will listen…everyone except you.” He looked into her eyes. “Aster, you must come with me,” he said, his voice laced with urgency.
She put a hand on his chest and took a step back. “I can’t leave my family.”
“The siege wall is going up. Haven’t you seen the carts filled with wood and stones? Once the wall is finished, nothing and no one will go in or go out. The Romans will completely surround the city. The Fifteenth, Twelfth, and Fifth legions are on their way. The Tenth is already east of the city on the Mount of Olives. That’s more than sixty thousand men! In addition to the Roman legions, there are auxiliary forces from Syria and reinforcements from provinces nearby.”
“Our fighters—”
“Your fighters?” Tiberius interrupted. “The only experience you Jews have is fighting each other. Your fighters don’t have any professional training and don’t even have standard weapons, except for the few they captured from the Romans or the ones I sold them.”
“But God is on our side,” she said, hating the doubt in her voice.
Tiberius waved his arms dismissively and leaned in, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Aster, listen to me. No one walks back into a Roman siege.”
“I’d rather die with my family than abandon them.”
He started to say something, then shook his head, defeated. His face was lined with worry, and something else too, something that made her look away. But it couldn’t be anything more than pity.