6/14/2011

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Akeldama  

by Carrie Keuthan

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Chapter 1

“Come near,” said Efram, “and I will tell you a story.” With a wrinkled and frail

hand, the old man stood in the back door of his home and motioned for his grandson

who was playing in the snow, to come in. The boy brushed the cold outdoors off his

clothes, and ran inside to eagerly hug his awaiting grandfather. “Follow me”. The two

walked to the far side of the house and entered Efram’s most treasured sanctuary, his

personal study. Floor to ceiling were rows of old books passed down from generations,

which he kept perfectly aligned and meticulously categorized. In front of an arched

window stood a dark mahogany writing desk with an imposing brass lock on the center

drawer. Across the room, chairs upholstered in deep, rich colors of tapestry stood on

each side of a brick hearth, where a warm and inviting fire melted the cold night away.

This room was always bigger than life to his grandson, who used to sneak in when no

one was looking and read about travels to far away lands, farther than he should have

gone at times, perhaps. The day was coming to a close, and the setting sun draped the

room. Slowing shutting the wooden door to the study, Efram smiled at his grandson and

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said “Have a seat, we will be here awhile.” The boy eased on to a chair by the hearth,

and eagerly awaited the story his grandfather would unfold.

“When I was a boy, just about your age, my grandfather told me a tale so

fantastic that I could not speak for three days.” He raised his thunderous voice and

shouted, “Three days!” Efram grinned from corner of his mouth. “My mother, may her

soul rest in peace, said the cat had my tongue, but she assured me he would bring it

back,” he said with a wink in his eye, “But I digress.”

Looking around the room, Efram motioned with his hand, “There are stories in

these books waiting to be discovered, and perhaps we shall, but there are stories that

cannot be contained by the hand of the Bookmaker. This is such a story.” Leaning

towards his grandson he whispered in the boy’s ear. “Listen.”

His grandson closed his eyes for a moment, but all he could hear was the ticking

of the clock on the fireplace mantle.

Efram leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the ottoman and asked, “Do

you know what the Roman name Ursus means? Hum?”

“No sir.”

“It means bear. During the Roman Empire, there was a great blacksmith with

such a name. You see, this man was not afraid of anything, or so he thought. Day after

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day, year after year, Ursus clasped his hammer with blackened hands, and forged the

metals that built empires for those who believed they were invincible.”

“Late one night, he was awakened with a loud knock at his door. A messenger.

But not any ordinary messenger, for this one was sent by a man named Zedekiah, who

wielded much power and demanded Ursus cast coins that night for him. No delay. The

messenger handed Ursus a bag of raw silver and the coin molds, then went outside to

wait. Placing the silver down, Ursus looked carefully at the markings on the molds. He

had not seen such markings before.”

Efram pulled a few coins out of his woolen trouser pocket and placed them in his

grandson’s hand. “The coins cast by Ursus that night were not like the ones you hold in

your hand. For the etchings on those coins were to be different than any other and the

likeness never to be used again.” He leaned forward and said, “Never again.”

His grandson looked intently at Efram, for he loved his grandfather deeply and

was hanging on every word he spoke.

“Those coins had one purpose, to purchase a secret. This man Zedekiah was

ordered to track down the whereabouts of a man. But not just any man. A heretic,

whom the leaders believed if not stopped, could destroy the very existence of their

power, their traditions, their standing among the people. Zedekiah knew a follower of

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this heretic. Perhaps this follower might lead them to where the heretic slept. After all,

everyone has a price, everyone.”

“With his powerful arms, Ursus stoked the furnace and filled the night air with

hot, crackling embers. The once formless clump of silver yielded to the heat and melted

in the bottom of the smith’s bucket. For a moment, Ursus stared at his reflection in the

liquid of kings and thieves, as he carefully poured the boiling hot silver into the molds.

Not one drop was to be lost. And so he waited. At last, when the coins were set, Ursus

broke the molds and closely examined each coin in the flickering candlelight on his

humble wooden table. But then, the blacksmith saw something troubling on the back of

the last coin. Holding the silver coin closer to the candle, he could see an image of

what looked like a god, and under it were markings. Now, this Ursus was a simple man,

he could not decipher the language of the coin, but he believed the hand of evil held

that coin, for those markings were not on the mold! Sweat poured down the smith’s

face and he paced around the room.” Efram made a fist and said, “The mighty bear

trembled.”

Moving his chair closer to his grandfather, the boy could feel his youthful

heart begin to pound as he listened to this beloved teller of tales.

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“The blacksmith grabbed the coin off of the table and threw it back into the

bucket to melt it down . . .but the flames could not overcome the will of the coin for you

see, it would not melt! Ursus took the coin out of the bucket and tossed it into the

leather bag along with the other money cast that night, and gave it to the awaiting

messenger outside. Looking at the messenger, Ursus screamed with anger and fear

‘Let the rulers take this evil upon their own soul!”.

“No!” shouted his grandson as he jumped out of his chair.

“The messenger secured the leather moneybag inside his tattered cloak and ran

into the dark, thunderous night to deliver the coins to Zedekiah. When the messenger

arrived, Zedekiah poured the bag of coins on a scale to ensure all the silver was used.

Motioning the messenger to leave, Zedekiah began to return the coins to the leather

bag, when one coin fell from the scale and on to the stone floor. It rolled a few

moments before coming to rest at his feet. Bending over to pick up the coin, he noticed

the etching and knew the meaning. Belesteri, the Scribe of Babylon”.

“’What is this?’ said Zedekiah as he held the coin up to the light. Suddenly, a

violent wind blew through the room knocking over the scales and slamming the door

shut. Zedekiah grabbed the handle of the door trying to open it, but it was locked. He

leaned his back against the wall and shouted ‘Who are you!” But only silence. Babylon

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is not so obliging to answer mortals. Just then, an unseen hand picked him up by the

throat and threw him across the room, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke, he

looked around for a few moments in disbelief. The door was open. The scales were

perfectly in place. Did this happen? But, there by his side, lay the coin of Belesteri.

Wiping the blood off from the fall, he pulled himself up and sat on a wooden chair

holding his head in his hands. He had to leave for the informant was waiting for him.

Grabbing the bag of coins, he left the cursed coin behind and staggered out on to the

street. For a moment he stared at his trembling hands. ‘What evil has called my

name?’ he thought.”

Efram got up from his chair, and stood close to the fireplace to warm his hands.

His grandson didn’t move. He knew how the boy felt, the fear, the questions. This story

had been passed down for centuries, but why? Even the old gentleman didn’t know, but

only that it must be told. Efram put his hand on the boys shoulder to give him

assurance. “So, who was this one willing to sell the soul of another for such bag of

silver? His name was Yehudah. A common name among the people, but when

Zedekiah saw him, and looked into this man’s dark, black eyes, he knew he wanted this

night to be over. And so they met. And so they exchanged: The perishable for the

eternal. Now, the story does not end here, for you see, Yehudah agreed to take

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Zedekiah’s men to where this man they sought was staying that night. But, when they

arrived, Zedekiah had the heretic arrested, and this man was sentenced to die a slow

and painful death. Death? Arrest? This is not what Yehudah planned. What had he

done to lead Zedekiah’s men to this place? He said to himself ‘I must return the coins,

perhaps they will release him’. In haste, Yehudah made his way back to Zedekiah and

threw the silver at his feet. But this man Zedekiah only laughed as he looked into the

empty eyes of Yehudah and said, “You fool! You cannot undo the fate of your wretched

soul. Be gone!”

“That night, Yehudah roamed the streets like a wild animal, for something far

more wicked, more powerful than he now filled his soul. Finding no place of rest, no

place to hide from the Voice within, Yehudah stole a rope from a stable and made his

way outside the city walls to where an ancient, gnarled tree stood on a cliff above the

burning potter’s field. As he climbed the tree, the grey ashes from the burning field fell

around him and covered the ground below. Even the earth was preparing for death. He

placed the rope around his neck and secured it to a branch, then plunged headlong to

his death. The snap of his neck brought a swift death. As Yehudah’s corpse swung

back and forth suspended in the air like a pendulum, the sky lit with lightening as rain

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began to pour over the now lifeless body. Evil won. But evil was not satisfied, it never

is.”

“When news that Yehudah hung himself reached Zedekiah, he dispatched men

to quickly bury the body for no one should know of his fate. And do you know what?

That man Zedekiah was clever, you see, he paid for Yehudah’s body to be buried with

the cursed coin . . . the coin of Belesteri. Unaware of what the coin meant, the grave

diggers took the coin and ran to the potter’s field where they bore a shallow grave for

Yehudah. Pulling out their knife, they cut the rope from around his neck, but when the

corpse hit the ground, the eyes of Yehudah opened up! The men screamed with terror

and began to run! Just then, the earth shook and the shallow grave they bore split open

as a mighty pit. Smells of rotting flesh and screams of despair and torment could be

heard coming out of the grave. Then, silence. Complete silence. The two men looked

at each other with disbelief wondering if the nightmare was over, when suddenly out of

the pit flew creatures of another time. Beasts with long, bloody claws, and tails of

vipers, screeched into the night with a deafening sound. The men covered their ears,

but what mortal can drown out the fury of hell? The creatures fought over the body of

Yehudah as the corpse, now alive, screamed and cursed. A prize even among the

damned. As the beast grabbed the body of Yehudah with its claws and flew into the pit,

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the grave started to close. The other creature turned its fury towards the gravediggers.

The two men ran towards the trees, but the creature grabbed them, and drug the men

over razor sharp rocks towards the closing pit tearing their flesh as they went. One of

the men struggled to pull his dagger and stab the creature, but the beast swung his

grizzly head around consumed him. Out of desperation to survive, the other man cut

his own hand off and freed himself from the creature just before it returned to the

opening in the grave, and the pit closed. Barely alive, the grave digger screamed in

agony and wrapped his cloak around the remains of his arm to try and stop the

bleeding, when he heard the sound, yes, the sound of a rusty gate behind him.

Trembling, he turned around and saw a mighty black gate standing over the grave. He

fell to his knees as he watched the gate slowly close and then, you know what, the gate

disappeared. There on the ground next to him, he saw it, the coin of Belesteri, but he

did not know that the coin brought this evil to the earth, and so he held it tightly and ran

into the night.”

Taking a deep breath, Efram’s grandson held himself closely to his grandfather

and closed his eyes.

Holding the boy close he said, “It is told that each male descendent of the

surviving grave digger, that is born with a scar on his hand, the hand that was severed

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with the beast, is cursed to guard the coin and pass it to the next generation. Then, on

the eve of Yehudah’s death every year, the gate appears and Yehudah screams for the

coin of Belesteri! If he can capture this coin, the black gate will open and he can

escape the torment of hell.”

“Grandpa, where is this place of the dark gate?” said the boy holding tightly to

Efram.

Looking into the eyes of the one to now hold this story, Efram said to his

grandson. “This place of death, this cursed ground is called Akeldama, the field of

blood.”

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Chapter 2

1959, NEW YORK CITY.

The man at the counter of Mitzi’s Diner took out his white starched handkerchief

from his left trouser pocket, carefully wiped down the green spackled, plastic-covered

swivel seat twice before sitting down at the counter, and motioned a waitress to attend

to him immediately.

“You there,” he said to a waitress named Maureen who was pouring coffee for

another customer, “Can you wipe down the counter, here, look, it isn’t clean.”

Maureen returned the coffee pot to the warming burner and grabbed a cloth to

clean the counter. “How’s that? All nice and shiny.” she said with a feigned smile as

she handed him the breakfast menu.

“You can keep your menu. I’ll have a cup of freshly brewed coffee. One lump of

sugar. Creamer on the side. Two pieces of toast, lightly brown, but not too brown, with

the crust carefully cut off evenly. One pat of softened sweet butter placed exactly in the

middle of the toast. Two eggs over easy. Make sure no shells get into the eggs. And if

you have any orange marmalade, please bring it also.”

Maureen took a pencil out of her hairline and wrote down his order on her tablet.

She paused for a moment and said, “Got it.” Then with an air of sarcasm she leaned

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slightly on the counter and said “Did you want the crust cut at an even 90 degree angle

or 45 degree angle, it does make a difference.”

Ignoring her comment he said “Oh, and make sure the coffee doesn’t get spilled

on to the saucer. Untidy and all.”

Maureen slid the pencil back in her hairline, tore off the order from her green pad

and gave the order to the cook.

Opening the newspaper he brought in with him, the man at the counter poked his

head around the pages and said “And be quick about it, will you?”

Maureen opened the kitchen door and leaned against the back of the wall and

said to the other waitress “Did you hear that guy? Why me? Why do I always get the

odd ones?” Looking up at the clock she gasped “Oh, great, the time!” She quickly tried

to untie her apron but she couldn’t get the knot to come loose. “I’ll just keep the stupid

thing on.” Shouting to the other waitress she said, “Listen, I’ve got to go. Class starts in

thirty minutes. Can you take care of the counter?” The other waitress said she would,

but Maureen owed her.

Maureen grabbed her sweater off of the rack and picked up her stack of

textbooks to catch the No. 9 train. When she got to the subway station, she ran down

the stairs only to find that the train was taking off. “Stop!” she shouted. “No!” but her

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voice was drowned out by the parting train. Maureen sighed as she sat down on a

concrete bench and tried to catch her breath. “I’m going to be late to class because of

that stupid man at the counter!”

When the next train arrived, Maureen sat close to the front hoping to buy a few

minutes on the other end. Feeling the motion of the rails under her feet she closed her

eyes and envisioned the man at the counter gauging on the orange marmalade. After

awhile, the speaker announced her stop. When the grey metal subway doors opened,

she scurried past the other commuters and ran up the stairs of the rail station. Lecture

room 201 suddenly felt far away. Arriving at the University she tried to gain her

composure as she hurried through the wooden corridor floors to the classroom. She

slowly opened the back door of the lecture hall hoping to not be noticed.

“So, I see you have decided to join us this fine day Maureen. Please don’t let me

stop you from interrupting my lecture.” said Professor Rosenberg as he looked over the

top of his glasses. Embarrassed, Maureen sat down as she felt the blood rushing to her

face.

Rosenberg picked up a piece of paper from his desk, and after a few moments of

glancing over it he said to the class, “For the past two years, I have been working with

the Department of Antiquities and the Government of Israel, to take a group of students

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to log and restore the tombstones outside the walls of Jerusalem to their rightful resting

place. During the Crusaders siege of Jerusalem in the 11th and 12th century, many

tombstones were stolen and used to build structures.”

He walked to the chalkboard and began to draw a map. “We will excavate in the

area south of the Mount of Olivet.” He held up the piece of paper and said “I will be

taking three students whom I have chosen for various reasons.”

The students shifted in their seats and began to look at each other.

“Ah, I see you are wondering why I have not given an explanation of my

decisions. Like my dear mother used to say, ‘To every answer you can find a new

question.’”

Maureen thought “What?”

“The three will receive a letter in the mail. Class dismissed.” said Rosenberg.

Some of the students skipped their next class and ran home to see if a letter was

awaiting them in their mailboxes. Maureen wasn’t so anxious to get home. In the

hallway she was stopped by John Myers, a tall and lanky student, who Maureen has

always thought a little odd.

“Do you think you will get a letter?” said John.

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“There’s no way. Rosenberg doesn’t like me.“ said Maureen as she tried to walk

around John.

“No?” said John turning to follow her.

“No!” said Maureen sternly.

“No as in no way because there’s no way no, or no as in I’m not qualified no, no.”

She rolled her eyes and walked off.

“You never know!” he shouted down the hall.

Maureen went to her next class then grabbed a bite to eat before heading home

to her apartment. She opened the building door and walked to the mailboxes along the

wall. “I know there isn’t a letter.” she said. Taking the key out of her purse, she inserted

it into her mailbox and slowly turned the tumblers. Peering into the metal box she stared

for a moment. No letter. “No as in no John Myers” she thought.

* * * * * * * *

At home that night, Professor Rosenberg lit his favorite pipe and took out a map

of the old City of Jerusalem from his top desk drawer. As the pipe filled the room with a

deep, rich smoke, he placed it on top of his desk and slowly brushed his hands over the

worn edges. “I’ve waited all my life for this moment.”

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On the wall of his study was a portrait of his late wife Sadie Ann. She was

beautifully clothed in a chiffon dress and wore a hat that cast a slight shadow over her

skin. Rosenberg desperately missed his wife. Looking at the portrait he said “So, Sadie

if you have time from your busy schedule for your poor old husband left back here to

fend for himself, of course I’m not one to complain, see if you can drum up some

secrets from the dead for me. Even better, ask my cousin Bernard while you’re up

there, he always knew more than he let on!”

He poured himself a cup of hot tea, sat down in his favorite leather chair and

went over the list of students before retiring for the night.

* * * * * * *

It was now Saturday morning and Maureen slept in. The shift at the diner didn’t

start until 5:00 that evening. Bundled under a pile of blankets, Maureen was awakened

by a loud, impatient knock at her front door. With one eye, she glanced from under the

covers. Again, a knock at the door. Maureen threw her blanket around her shoulders

and stumbled to the door. Looking through the peephole she pulled the blanket over her

head and sighed. It was her next door neighbor Arvelene.

“Mo, are you in there? Open the door!” said Arvelene.

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Maureen opened the door slowly “What, you have no respect for the dead?” she

said while rubbing her eyes.

“A letter from NYU was delivered to my mailbox by mistake yesterday. Thought

you might be interested. Our mailman, you know he just can’t get things right. Can’t be

that hard to deliver the mail. You just match it up. Like playing Bingo. A4. B6. See?“

Maureen interrupted her and said “Arvelene, I’m not interested in hearing about

our mailman! Where’s the letter?”

“Okay, okay.” She took the letter out of the pocket of her skirt and gave it to

Maureen. “I’ve just got to know, what does it say Mo? You know I can’t stand secrets.”

Opening the letter, Maureen said “It says ‘Beware of curious neighbors.”

“Huh? Don’t I get to know . . . ” said Arveleane as Maureen shut the door while

her neighbor continued to talk.

She ripped open the envelope and opened the letter. “You have been selected to

be part of a group of students to go to Israel. . . . . . .We will meet next Monday after

class in the Library, 3rd floor, study room C. “

Maureen sat down on the living room couch. She was shaking, “No as in yes

John Myers.”

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The weekend went by quickly and on Monday, the students gathered to meet

with Professor Rosenberg at the University Library. Maureen was determined not to be

late this time and she was the first to arrive. John Myers arrived shortly after Maureen

did, and she felt she was being punished by some unseen force if he was going on the

trip. Lastly, Sam Quatelbaum, III arrived. Arrogant and short tempered, he was top in

his class and scholarly in ancient middle-east languages.

Rosenberg closed the door and walked in front of each student to look into their

eager faces. The age of time shone on his wrinkled skin, and his once bright eyes were

now subdued behind his wire-brimmed glasses.

“It is good that you are here.” Rosenberg said.

He walked to a map on the wall. “The sacred grounds of the ancient tombs have

fallen into ruins for centuries. Much work is to be done, cataloging, researching,

transcribing that which was carved thousands of years ago. Yes.”

The students were silent.

“We will leave for Jerusalem in thirty days. Once we arrive, we will be taken to

the site to set up camp. There are to be no secrets,” said Rosenberg as he looked into

the faces of each student.

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Professor Rosenberg opened up his briefcase and handed each student a

sizable document detailing the area to be studied.

“Funding for the trip has been underwritten by an alumni who has asked to

remain anonymous. If anyone cannot or does not want to be part of the group, please

let me know now. Otherwise I expect each of you to be fully prepared. Discuss this

document with no one. Do not let it out of your sight.”

He opened the door and headed back to his office. When Rosenberg arrived at

his office, awaiting him was a student by the name of Jeb McKenzie who was hoping to

talk the Rosenberg into allowing him to go. After all Jeb thought, what’s one more

student? But it was not going to happen, professor Rosenberg was adamant that he

had chosen the right students and Jeg could not go.

While in Rosenberg’s office, Jeb noticed a hand-drawn map on the desk, with

directions to the camp, when there was a knock on the office door. Taking opportunity

while Rosenberg was gone, Jeb quickly put the piece of paper in his pocket and left.

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Chapter 3

“Pan Am flight 402 to Tel Aviv will be leaving from Gate 16. All passengers

should be at the gate ready to board the plane in ten minutes” the speaker announced

over the intercom.

John Myers was standing at the counter checking his baggage when Maureen

walked up. “Maureen, you brought three suitcases? Look, I only packed one suitcase.”

“Thanks for the fashion tip John.” said Maureen.

“What seat are you assigned to?” he asked her as he held out his ticket and tried

to look at hers.

“The cockpit. I’m secretly the pilot.” she said sarcastically.

Everyone boarded the plane and left for Tel Aviv.

* * * * * *

“Passport, passport . . .where did I put it.” said Jeb. “Ah, here it is.” He put the

passport in his jacket and latched his suitcase.

“Are you sure you are doing the right thing?” said a friend.

“Of course. I just need for you to drop me off at the airport. I know what I’m

doing.”

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Arriving at the airport later that day, he paid for a ticket to Israel. “Of course I

know what I’m doing” he thought “Right?”

He boarded the last plane leaving that day, and while making his way down the

aisle of the airplane, noticed the man assigned to the seat next to him was taking up

part of Jeb’s seat.

“Um, that’s my seat. Excuse me, can I get thru?” he said to the man in the seat

next to his.

“I’m not moving.” said the man.

Unable to negotiate over him, Jeb crawled over the seat one row up and climbed

over the back of the seat and landed in a rather awkward position. Straightening up he

looked at the man sitting next to him and said “That’s OK, don’t get up.”

The stewardess walked up and said “Sir, is there a problem? We can’t have you

crawling over and under seats.”

“No, I’m fine” said Jeb with a grin.

The plane took off from New York and Jeb carefully unfolded a blanket, tucked it

under his legs so that it wouldn’t touch the guy next to him and fell asleep. He was

awakened later that night from an announcement that they were heading into a storm

and the plane would need to be diverted to Cairo, Egypt.

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Jeb sat up and said “Cairo? No!”

A few hours later, the plane landed in Cairo. Signaling the stewardess he asked

“When is the next flight out of Cairo to Tel Aviv?”

“Not for two more days” she said.

“I’m not waiting two days.” he said to himself. “I’ll rent a car and drive myself.”

Deboarding the plane in Cairo, he picked up his luggage and hailed a taxi to take him to

a car rental.

“Do you take American money?” he said to the cab driver.

“Yes, as long as Andrew Jackson’s face is on the bill. We love Andy!” said the

cab driver.

“Do I look rich? That’s twenty dollars! I’ll walk.”

The cab driver drove off and Jeb walked almost an hour carrying his luggage on

his back until he reached the car rental. Tired and sweaty from the walk, he sat down to

rub his feet and said to himself “Andy?” Shaking off the dust from his jacket he said to

the man at the rental, “I need to rent a car to get to the border.”

“This is your day! Here at Nife’ en-Ankh, we will make you a square deal!” the

man said with a laugh.

“Will you take American dollars?” said Jeb still trying to catch his breath.

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“Only geneiah. But no problem. My wife’s cousin works at the bank two blocks

over. He will exchange the currency for you.”

Taking out a piece of paper from the drawer, the man wrote down a name. “This

is her cousin’s name. We will wait.” Jeb took off for the bank and was able to exchange

his currency and return a few minutes later.

“OK, now do you have a car for me?” he said.

The man took out an old box filled with a mishmash of keys. Finding one he said

“I have the perfect car for you. A beauty. It will get you to the border with no problem.

You can drop the car off in the town of Quseim at my brother-in-laws. Nice guy unless

you return the car wrecked. Then he’s not so nice!” he again said with a laugh. “He

lives at this address.”

Jeb looked at the address and took down the directions.

“Say hello to my brother-in-law!” said the man at the counter.

Jeb put the car in gear and took off. He drove for several hours down the dry

highway when he saw steam coming out of the hood. Getting out, he took his fist and

hit the car, then slammed the door.

“Great, just my luck!” shouted Jeb.

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Nighttime fell and he lay down in the back seat of the car, when he was

awakened by the face of a camel looking at him thru the window. “Woa, back off big

guy!” he said.

Getting down from the camel, a Bedouin said “You need a ride?”

“Maybe?” said Jeb cautiously.

“Where are you going?” said the Bedouin.

“I need to get to the border.”

“Oh, yes, we can help. We’ll take you there cheap. Climb up on the camel.” said

the man. Hot and tired, he handed the Bedouin some money and climbed up on the

smelly camel. They traveled all night until they reached the border the next morning.

“This is where we let you off.”

“Thanks” said Jeb.

“Now we want the rest of our payment.” said the man.

“The rest?”

“Yes. First payment got you on the camel. Second payment gets you off the

camel . . . alive!” as they all laughed.

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Jeb reached in his pocket and gave him the rest of his money as the caravan

returned to the desert. Penniless, he thumbed his way on the highway when he was

picked up by a farm truck and dropped off at the border.

“I need to get some cash.” he thought. Pawning his wrist watch, he bought a

cheap train ticket in the cargo cab and headed to Tel Aviv. On the train, he took the

Professor’s map and directions out of his pocket and studied it. When the train pulled

into the station, Jeb made his way through the crowd asking directions until later that

evening, he reached the hill of graves. In the far distance, he could torches and tents.

“Hum?” he thought. “I believe they are just over that ridge. They won’t be mad at

me for showing up, after all, I’m here on my own.”

Jeb pulled out the map and headed over the hill. He had the camp in sight, when

an eerie feeling came over him, as if someone or something was watching his every

move. He kept walking and turning his back around when a gust of wind blew black

dust all around him and the ground began to shake. He shouted “Hey guys, it’s me, Jeb!

I’m over here! Help!” But as the ground moved, he lost his footing and fell headlong into

an opening of an ancient gate. The map he held flew out of his hands as the gate

began shut behind him.

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The students noticed the dust storm, but never felt the shaking of the earth. They

left their tents because Maureen thought she heard a man’s voice in the storm, but as

quickly as the dust storm arose, it became calm.

“You didn’t year anything Maureen, it must have been the wind”, said Sam.

28

Chapter 4

The fall caused Jeb to roll several hundred feet before hitting a large, protruding

stone and going over the top, only to barely hold on as his feet dangled over the

darkness below him. Painfully, he pulled himself up and over the rock to safety right

before it fell into the abyss. His body ached as he looked at the cuts and bruises, but no

bones were broken. The air was hot and it was difficult to breathe. Across from where

he fell was a large the chasm. He noticed the rocks on the other side of the chasm held

a burning glow underneath and around them, but not on top. He lay down on the

ground out of exhaustion. As he looked around, he noticed there were no plants in sight,

no animals, no sky, no water, and seemingly, no other person. Looking up at the climb

to the top of the ridge, he thought he would never be able to make it, but determined

and stubborn, he began to climb inch by inch, cursing the whole way until he reached

the top. Jeb wiped the dust and blood off his eyes and looked at what seemed to be an

endless cave of shadows without lights, and lights without shadows. He walked to the

gate, and on the other side, he could see the camp in the distance and his friends near

a fire warming their hands.

“Hey, I’m in here! Can you hear me? It’s me, Jeb. Help!” he screamed as he

swung his hands in the air. “Dr. Rosenberg, help! I’m over here!”

29

Grabbing the black bars to the gate, he tried to pry it open, but the gate was not

so obliging. Taking a step back, he looked up. “I’ll just climb over this stupid gate, no

problem.” But the farther he climbed, the higher the gate became until, exhausted, he

pulled himself down and left to find another way out.

* * * *

“I know I heard something earlier.” said Maureen to Dr. Rosenberg. “Over there.”

The two walked in the direction of where Jeb disappeared “I’m not crazy, I saw

something or someone right here.”

“Maureen, such misgivings. Look no footprints, just dirt and sky.” said Dr.

Rosenberg as he turned to head back to the camp.

“I’ll go back in a few, let me look around some more.”

“As you wish, but the sun is setting, do not linger.”

“I won’t be long.”

Maureen knelt down and touched the ground feeling for anything. Grabbing a

handful of earth, she let it slowly fall through her fingers when she noticed the dirt was

blowing up, not down. “That’s odd” Maureen thought, but Rosenberg was right, no

footprints, no bent foliage, no turned over rocks, nothing. Just the sound of the night

rapidly approaching.

30

Later that night, Maureen couldn’t sleep. Getting up, she went to John Meyer’s

tent and putting her hand over his mouth, awoke him.

“Shh.” she whispered.

“Maureen, are you crazy, why are you waking me up in the dead of night?” said

John.

“Get up, I want to go back to the spot where I heard something. I need you to

come with me.”

“Now? You can’t wait until the morning?”

”Grab a torch, we’ll need it over the ridge. Oh, and grab some matches.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” said John.

“Of course I do.”

The two quietly left the tent, and headed out. When they got to the area, John lit

the torch as Maureen knelt down and placed her ear to the ground. “Something isn’t

right, but I don’t know what it is John.”

“Maureen, there’s nothing here, let’s get back before someone finds out we’re

gone.”

They looked around the area for almost an hour when Maureen said, “Perhaps

you’re right, let’s go back.”

31

They snuffed the torch out and began to walk back towards the camp, when

Maureen’s boot lodged into a pile of stones and she fell face forward into the ground.

“Ouch!” said Maureen. Pulling herself up she said, “John, bring the torch closer,

there’s something here. Look help me dig.”

As they moved the dirt away, Maureen dusted away the earth from an encrypted

stone tablet, perfectly preserved, and perfectly ancient.

“What is this?” she said as her fingers felt over the ancient writing. “Let’s take it

back and show Rosenberg in the morning.” Said John.

The next morning at breakfast Dr. Rosenberg said to Maureen and John “So,

how was your moonlight stroll? Hum?”

“Dr. Rosenberg, we found something!” Maureen shouted as she ran back to her

tent to get the stone tablet.

“What have we here?” said Rosenberg.

“I stumbled over this, literally. What do you make of it?”

“Where did you find such a treasure?”

“Back where I heard the noise under a large stone.”

“Please show me,” said Rosenberg.

32

The team of students and Rosenberg headed over to the area. “Here” said

Maureen pointing to a deep brown stone, that’s the place where I stumbled last night

and we found the tablet.

The good professor carefully pulled his magnifying glass from its canvas pouch,

and slowly examined the ground and the stones. “Maureen, this is not a rock you

tripped over, it is the remains of a petrified tree.” said Dr. Rosenberg with a look of

concern in his eyes. “I will take a look at the writings tonight. Do not disturb anything

else.” Rosenberg motioned to John and Sam to string off the area.

* * * *

“How hard can this be to get out of here?” said Jeb. “I’m losing my bearings. I

can’t think clearly. I’m talking to myself. I’m talking in small sentences. This can’t be

good.”

Jeb looked around to the left and right and sighed a deep sigh. His cuts and

bruises hurt deeply. Sitting down he placed his head on his knees and fell asleep.

“What a fool,” whispered a man standing over Jeb then disappeared into the

shadows.

33

Chapter 5

It was now two in the morning and Rosenberg had been up most of the night

slowly, carefully translating the stone tablet. Lighting his pipe he said to himself “No

secrets. My own words are turning against me. Perhaps, no?” The fragrant smoke

from the pipe circled around him like dancers in the night. “Impossible.” He took a

cloth and wrapped the tablet tightly before placing it in his leather satchel.

The student’s were impatiently waiting outside the tent wondering why

Rosenberg would not let them near the stone tablet. Exiting the tent, he said to the

group “I am meeting with a colleague of mine in Tel Aviv. I will return tomorrow. In the

meantime, do not go anywhere near the roped off area where the tablet was found, or

you might receive the same fate as the man who at one time possessed this stone.

Sam, I want you to go with me.”

Sam and Rosenberg drove the remainder of the night until they reached the

home of Professor Rosenberg’s friend and colleague, Benjamin Tova. Sam knocked

on the door and they were greeted by a man in his early seventies. Tall and thin,

Benjamin wore a plaid flannel shirt with khaki slacks, and a blue button down sweater

that had seen better days.

34

“Efram, come in, come in my friend! It is good that you are here. Take a seat,

here, take my best seat. I will pour you and your scholar some coffee.” said Benjamin.

Rosenberg sat down and opened his satchel to reveal the stone tablet. He

placed it carefully on the kitchen table, and said nothing, but only nodded. Sam stood at

a distance unclear as to his role in this puzzle.

Benjamin took a small handkerchief to wipe his glasses, and picked up the tablet

to examine it. “The etchings are worn with time, but the edges are not. It is weightier

than other tables of this time period, for what purpose? To outlast two millennium? Or,

for some other reason?” Benjamin studied the tablet for hours, before handing his

translation to Rosenberg. Small rings of sweat began to bead down Professor

Rosenberg’s neck, as he pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and placed it next

to his friend’s translation. They were the same. The two men came to the same

conclusion: the message was not ancient, but the stone was authentically several

thousand years old.

“Several weeks ago, I had a hand-written note exactly as you have written. It

was sitting on the edge of my University desk when one of my student’s came by asking

that he be included on the trip. I told him ‘No’, but I was distracted by a knock on my

office door. When I answered the door, there was nobody there. I walked down the

35

hallway to see if whoever knocked on my door was in the hall, but again, no one.

Returning to my office the student was gone, and so was my handwritten note, until now

etched into this stone.”

Benjamin rubbed his hands together and walked to the window. “This cannot be

so. How can your note now be two millennia old?”

“Yes, well. There is a story, from my boyhood that my grandfather told me. But I

thought it foolish at the time. But now, I don’t know? Perhaps not so foolish? Have we

located the gate of Akeldama, the place of Judas damnation? You know, my mother

used to say ‘Son, if you are not a good boy, you will go to the gate of Akeldama!’ Hum.

So do we say that Mr. Jeb was not such a good boy? Our fallen scholar must have

dropped the paper as he fell into the gate before it shut.”

Rosenberg continued. “Judas’ damnation for eternity lies beyond that gate.

Now, there is a twist to the story . . . you see, there were actually thirty-one silver coins

to be given to Judas, not thirty, but the thirty-first coin never reached Judas’ hands.”

For the next hour, Rosenberg continued to tell the story his grandfather told him

long ago.

“We must find the man who now possesses the coin of Balesteri. That will open

the gate and we can free our wayward student.” Said Rosenberg.

36

“What!” said Sam. “The odds of finding the one person who has that coin is . . ..

let me figure this . . hold on . . . .1 in 3,572,612, more or less. And who knows if he is

alive today? Does he actually possesses the coin or has it been lost?”

“So, you’re saying the odds are on our side Sam? Good.” smiled Rosenberg.

“Somewhere in Jerusalem, are the papers of Ciaphus, the high priest during the time of

the Roman rule under Pontius Pilot. We must find those papers. The Sanhedrin were

very particular to document everything . . . . and hiding it cleverly . . . knowing too many

roads keeps your enemy divided and diverted.”

37

Chapter 6

Sam and Rosenberg bid their farewell to Benjamin and drove back to the

campsite arriving close to sundown. When they parked the car, they were met by John

and Maureen anxiously awaiting the inclusion of this mystery about the stone.

As Rosenberg opened the door to the sedan he said to the students “So, what is

for dinner?”

“Dinner? How can you eat at a time like this? Tell us what went on? We are

dying to hear!” said Maureen.

“Yes, well, mysteries always make me hungry. A full mind will not satisfy an

empty stomach.” smiled Rosenberg as he headed toward the meal tent.

Maureen whispered into Sam’s ear “Let’s have it, I want to know everything,” but

Sam just kept walking.

The team ate hastily and afterwards Rosenberg held up a glass of wine to a

candle. “No one can take this glass of wine and piece it back to the willing grapes, for

the individual fruit of the vine are gone as they once were, forever.” He then took the

stone from his satchel and placed it in the center of the table. Pointing his finger at the

stone he said “But we, all of us here, must do just that. We must put the grapes back

together.”

38

Rosenberg spent the next few hours going over their findings with Benjamin, and

the theory that Jeb might have fallen into the gate of Akeldama. That Maureen did hear

something that night. He went further went into detail about the coin of Belesteri and the

Caiaphas papers.

“Let me get this straight, Dr. Rosenberg, if I may,” said Maureen as she paced

back and forth in the tent.

“Yes, please ask, and do not go around any questions to get a straight answer.”

smiled the good professor as he leaned over to dust the dirt off his shoes.

“Jeb is in ‘hell’ with Judas, we have to find an obscure cursed coin passed down

for 2,000 years to get him out, and we must locate the papyrus of the Sanhedrin

documenting the name of the man who buried Judas?”

“Bon.” said Rosenberg. “First, to locate the Caiaphas papers. The museum of

antiquities in Jerusalem has thousands of pages from the Temple and from the

Romans. They were carefully hidden under the great city before the Roman emperor

destroyed the sacred. I have many connections to gain access to the documents, but

we must work in haste, the clock is now our enemy, for Jeb is in danger where the clock

has ceased. Everyone get a good night sleep, it may be your last for awhile.”

39

Chapter 7

The sound of distant footsteps awakened Jeb from his stupor. Slowly rising, he

rubbed the back of his neck only to find a thick black film that reeked of death on his

palms. He tried to rub off the darkness, but it was relentless. A stinging breeze blew

around his legs echoing a sound of laughter, as sweat now poured down over his

forehead.

“Have you any news from afar?” said a man’s voice from the shadows.

Jeb turned towards the voice, but could only make out a silhouette. Stepping out

of the shadow stood a tall man with clothes centuries old. His hair was thick with grey

and his beard was knotted and twisted. On his right arm, he had the remains of a piece

of leather tied closely, and a glove threaded from iron ore. Behind his back hung a

quiver of arrows, but no bow was to be found. He limped towards Jeb slowly and

extended his hand to his shoulder.

“Who are you?” said Jeb.

“My name is Sir Robert of Darroby. My army invaded the Holy City and we stood

against many a man, many a foe of the cross that we swore to defend. To die for the

40

church, to seize the city and return her to the faithful was my quest. While fighting for

life and God, I was struck from behind and plummeted into this cavern, and like you, am

lost behind the black gate.” said Sir Robert as he stroked his hand across the tattered

red cross on his breastplate.

“The Holy City? “ said Jeb and he walked around the man of ancient lore. “The

Holy city, hum? Yea, well . . . .do you know what year it is old man?”

“The ninety and ninth year of the one-thousand, of course.” said Sir Robert.

“Sir Robert, is it?” said Jeb cynically. “Yes, you see I actually checked on the way

over here and I don’t believe there is any war going on outside the gate. Look! Just

students warming their hands on a camp fire.” But as Jeb drew closer to examine Sir

Robert’s clothing and amour, he saw splattered blood stains, and deep gashes that

perhaps told a different story.

“We are not alone,” said Sir Robert bending over slightly, “for there is another. I

do not know his name, but there is an evil that does not sleep, there beyond that chasm.

For, I hear him scream the word ‘Innocent! Innocent!’ over and again. He knows I am

here, but he cannot get beyond the great divide.” Said Sir Robert.

41

Chapter 8

The students and Dr. Rosenberg, arrived early at the Museum of Antiquities, and

were escorted down a long staircase to a chamber under the museum, where an

overwhelming myriad of ancient parchments scripted the secrets of the dead, and

perhaps the living. Dust held thick in the air as it swirled unwillingly to the passersby.

The massive stone walls were cold and silent. A lantern illumined a worn mosaic on the

floor depicting a Roman conquest, and above it all, masterfully crafted wooden arches

joined one to the other as if the fingers of God were holding the room together.

“This place gives me the creeps,” said Maureen as she lightly touched the

writings.

“Perhaps the parchments think the same of you,” smirked Sam as he brushed by

Maureen.

Dr. Rosenberg stood on top of the floor mosaic and studied the tiny stones for a

moment, then said, “As Rome brutally destroyed Jerusalem in 70 CE, the scripts of the

great temple were carefully hidden in the grain silos by the Jewish priests, right under

the nose, or stomach as it were, of the Roman army. When Israel was restored in 1948,

42

when the grain was carefully removed from the silos, the parchments were found as if

waking from a long sleep.”

“Our time is short, we have been granted only 48 hours to find the Caiaphas

papers that contain the account of Judas. Any longer in the silo, and our handling of the

writings could compromise the preservation of the frail parchments. No one sleeps over

the next few days until we locate the names of our renegade grave diggers. Sam you

and Maureen begin on the backside of the room. John and I will start right here.”

motioned Rosenberg.

Carefully, the documents were methodically studied throughout the night as they

looked for specific clues the professor laid out. They worked all the next day and back

into the night. But, page after page revealed nothing.

Around four in the morning, Maureen rubbed her bloodshot eyes and said, “Dr.

Rosenberg, we only have a few hours left. How do you know that we will ever find the

Caiaphas papers? Maybe the Romans destroyed them. I don’t think they are here. I

don’t know that I believe this whole story. Ah!”

“Yes, I see.” said Dr. Rosenberg as he cleaned his glasses. “Maureen, it appears

that you have more important pressing matters on the other side of the ocean, other

43

than the most fantastic discovery of our life and the release of a fellow student from

hell? Yes?”

Sam and John didn’t say anything knowing she simply stated what they were

thinking. Maureen looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, sighed deeply, then

turned around and picked up where she left off.

It was now eight o’clock sharp, and their time was up. They could not locate the

papers.

“Oh, my back is killing me!” said John.

“Jeb is probably fine, playing baseball with his friends back home.” Whispered

Maureen to John as she blew her nose.

“Sometimes what we don’t find, is a find in and of itself. Perhaps those papers

were pulled out and hidden out of our reach. After all, the key to hell is no small matter.”

said Rosenberg as he paced back and forth outside the museum. “Let us return to

camp.”

44

Chapter 9

The night was unusually humid and Dr. Rosenberg could not sleep. Tossing and

turning, he finally succumbed to the irritation and got up. When he arose, he discovered

sitting across the room of his tent, was his friend Benjamin Tova.

“Benjamin, what are you doing here?” said Rosenberg rather startled.

“Shh.” motioned Benjamin, “We must talk. I know where the Caiaphas papers are

hidden, and I know who has the coin.” he said in a whisper.

“What! Why did you not stop us from researching in the silo! Is this a joke?” said

Rosenberg as his face became red with anger.

“Wait. Wait, there is more.” said Benjamin as he motioned Rosenberg to have a

seat and remain calm. “The Department of Antiquities have been keeping tabs on what

you all have unearthed, and they asked that I be their eyes and ears.”

“You have been spying on us!” said Rosenberg as he stood back up.

“Shh. No, not spying, helping. You see, what has been discovered must be kept

secret. There are those in the DOA who want to return you to America immediately, but

I asked for a stay. They allowed your group to research in the silo to find out if you my

friend, really believed in the story of Akeldama, or if you would walk away. And you

45

have proven to them that you believe the fantastical. I had no control other over their

decisions. What you have stumbled upon could destroy all of us. You see, when the

silos were emptied in ’48 and the Caiaphas papers discovered, in particular the dealings

with Judas, those documents were removed to a secured location. A group of scholars

spent years researching, and have been able to trace the lineage of the coin to a Bishop

in the Vatican by the name of Bishop Quintas, but that is not his real name. His real

name is Dominique Alozondo. He comes from a long line of thieves and murders, but

he has been able to cover up his past and deceive the church. His every move, where

he goes, who he sees, we have in our files. Quintas is the direct descendent of the

grave digger that survived for he bears the scar, and we believe he has the coin hidden

somewhere in the Vatican. Now that your wayward student, Jeb is it, has fallen into

Akeldama, it has complicated the matter. We can no longer wait for Quintas to lead us

to the coin. No, we must find it ourselves. The government of Israel will take matters in

their hand to free Jeb and to secure the coin within our borders. All of this must be kept

completely confidential. None of the other students must know.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” said Rosenberg as he lit his pipe.

“I must leave now so as to not create any suspicion with the others. I will be in

contact with you by courier until this is over, until then, continue your original research

46

on the tombs and make light of the whole Akeldama matter, Jeb’s life may depend on

it.” said Benjamin.

Rosenberg nodded. “Benjamin, be careful,” as they hugged.

“I will . . . I will,” said Benjamin as he left.

* * * * *

“John, Sam . . wake up . . quietly, no noise.” motioned Maureen.

“Are you sleepwalking Maureen?” said John and he put the pillow back over his

head.

“Get up, I have something to say.”

“Two minutes, that’s all we’ll give you, then it’s back to sleep. Remember, we

didn’t sleep for 48 hours, did you forget that little detail?”

“I know where the coin is.” Said Maureen rather snub with her hands on her hips.

“Right.” said John rolling his eyes.

“Listen. I couldn’t sleep and I got up to walk around. I passed by Rosenberg’s

tent and someone was talking to him about the coin. I couldn’t hear everything clearly

because the night guard walked by and I had to hide, but a guy by the name of Bishop

Quintas in the Vatican, he’s our man. Anyways, they are sending us all back to America

tomorrow, and they are not going to do anything to get Jeb out of Akeldama, it’s too

47

dangerous. What if he is really there? We can’t leave him to die! You know, I didn’t

believe any of this, but whoever was talking to Rosenberg was high up in the

government. It’s all true, I know it now. We have to leave. We have to do something. I

say we three ban together and head off to the Vatican and figure a way to get the coin.

What do you think?” said Maureen.

John and Sam looked at each other, even Maureen couldn’t make this up they

thought.

“There isn’t any reason why we should light out of here and head to Rome, but

somehow, I think you are right.” said John.

“Sam, are you going with us?” said Maureen.

“No, I’m not.” Said Sam.

“Good.” said Maureen, “I knew you would come.”

“I said, I’m not going Mo!”

“Shh. You have to. We can’t do this alone. What if you are wrong, Sam?” said

John.

Sam paced back and forth for awhile then succumbed to their wishes, he would

go with them.

48

“Good, let’s grab our gear. It’s still night, we can catch the 5:00 am bus.” said

Maureen.

“Wait . . what about Rosenberg, won’t he wonder where we are? We can’t just

leave him here. He will send the police to find us.” said Sam.

“Let’s leave him a note. ‘Taking the long way home, see you back in New York.’”

said John as he scribbled a note.

“That will secure us a failing grade.” said Sam.

“We have to do this for Jeb, it doesn’t matter what happens to our stupid grade.

Besides, when we get Jeb out of Akeldama, Rosenberg will understand. Right?” said

Maureen.

“Are we all in?”

They all motioned yes and took off into the night.

49

Chapter 10

Sir Robert stood at the Gate and looked upon the battle raging before him on the

other side of the gate. Blood poured from man and beast over the earth as he watched

the mighty slay and be slain . . . .but the Gate had a will of it’s own . . . to trap the prey .

. . for his men could not see or hear him . . . it was a sword to his soul.

“Day after day, the battle never ceases.” said Sir Robert.

“Yea, well, I don’t see any warriors, only the quiet campsite of a few college

students.” said Jeb looking wryly at Sir Robert.

Sir Robert slowly pulled a worn arrow from his quiver and held it up slightly so

that the light illumined the blade.

“When I was a young lad, my father bade his sword and arrows and left our

family to fight an enemy I never saw. There was none a more valiant man. Every morn,

before my mother arose, I would run to the hill by our small village and look for his

return. ‘’Perhaps today he will return’ I would say. ‘Perhaps today.’ In my hand was this

arrow he made me. ‘Keep this with you always my Robert, it will guide you when the

sun cannot find the light, and at night when the darkness has betrayed you.’ My father

was a man of little spoken, but strong in how he lived and how he died.” said Sir Robert

50

as he returned the arrow to the wooden holder. “This arrow has served me well, and in

this quiver, I feel his courage.”

Suddenly, a loud noise was heard across the chasm and a shadow moved

quickly between two openings in the stones. A man’s voice screamed “Innocent!

Innocent!” as if spoken where Sir Robert and Jeb were standing.

“Look over there across the chasm! What do you make of it?” said Jeb pointing

to the darkness.

“Oh yes.” said Sir Robert. “There is another, but he sees a different story at the

Gate. A story of unspeakable betrayal, more than any mortal can phantom . . .for you

see, the man of shadows is the betrayer of God himself.”

Jeb tried not to react, but put his arm around the old warrior. “Sir Robert, this has

been fun, but I need to head back to my friends. Can I take you to the bus station? It’s

not far. I’ll even spring for your ticket and maybe get you some different clothes. OK?”

said Jeb as he tried to pull open the gate. “Just a little rusty I see, but I’m sure I can get

it open.” he said while groaning. “It doesn’t budge. I know you’re 800 years give or take

a few, but could you give me some help here?” he said as his face turned red from

pulling on the gate.

“There’s no use.” said Sir Robert “We are here forever.”

51

“I thought that same thing when I took my mid-term exams.” Smiled Jeb. “So,

where exactly is here old man?”

“We have fallen into his Hell.” said Sir Robert as he took a step back and pointed

across the chasm at the flames around the rocks. “For it is written, ‘Let his habitation be

desolate, and let no man dwell therein. Judas by transgression fell, that he might go to

his own place.’”

52

Chapter 11

“Could it be any hotter on this stupid bus!” said Maureen as she wiped the sweat

and dust off her forehead, and slapped an imposingly large horse-fly on her arm.

“Maureen, you can get off any time, it won’t bother me. Besides, Istanbul is only

a few more hours away. We’ll stay the night there before catching the early train to

Greece, then boating it to the coast of Italy.” said Sam as held up a map to the window

light.

“Has anyone figured out how we are supposed to break into Vatican City?” said

Sam with a smirk on his face.

“I have an idea.” said Maureen as she looked around the bus hoping no one

could hear her.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.” said Sam as he slid down in his seat and put

his hat over his face.

“Poor merchants. Yes, that’s it. We’ll sell produce to the cooks at Vatican City,

then once in, we disappear into the shadows.” said Maureen as she rolled her arms

towards the top of the bus.

“You’ve been reading too many comic books. Bad idea.” said Sam.

53

“I think it’s perfect.” Said Maureen.

“No, I’m perfect. No! We’ll get caught and thrown into a hole in the ground, never

to see civilization again.” said Sam.

“Sam, although I’m sure to regret these words . . .I’m siding with Mo.” said John.

“Look, I grew up in my grandparent’s farm house in Indiana. I know how it’s done,

trust me, I can sell anything.” said Maureen. “How much cash do you guys have on

you?”

“More than I care to detail.” said Sam.

“I have very little left after all the travel cost.” said John.

“Good, that should cover all expenses.” said Maureen holding out her hand like a

beggar to Sam.

“I’m not giving you my money!”

Ignoring Sam’s remarks, Maureen said “Here’s how it will work. You and John

are my deaf-mute helpers, ah, with a limp. And I will be the humble merchant. I know

enough common Italian dialect to get by.” smiled Maureen. “We will need to find a

church that has old clothes and change out. We’ll go from church to church and beg

fruits and vegetables, enough to fill up a cart. So look pathetic guys. Sam, your cache

54

of stash will pay for a beat up cart, and a donkey. Once we get to the city, I will tell the

gatekeeper that we are selling to feed the poor orphans in our humble town.”

Maureen seemed rather proud of herself for coming up with the idea, but John

and Sam stood staring at her in silence.

“Well? What do you think?” said Maureen.

Sam and John both acted as if they couldn’t hear Maureen, and smiled that they

were now speechless and mute to her words.

“Si fueris Romae, Romano vivitomore; si fueris alibi, vivito sicut ibi!" said Mauren

as she stood in the aisle of the bus.

“That’s translated, we are going to get killed” whispered Sam to John. “I just

know it.”

55

Chapter 12

The train ride from Istanbul to the coast of Greece was long and hot. John slept

most of the trip, while Maureen worked on her scheme to beg for rags and goods.

Meanwhile, Sam found a reading room on the train and sequestered himself in reading

“Murder on the Orient Express.”

The train stopped at the beautiful town of Vlore along the Adriatic Sea. The

breeze from the ocean surrounded them as they stepped from the train. As they walked

thru the station, children ran to them wanting candy from the passengers. They made

their way to the dock and bought three one way tickets to the lower coast of Italy on a

rather unseaworthy looking vessel. It seemed that all boats had already sailed for the

coast, except this last one and if they wanted to get across the water to Italy that day, it

was this or nothing. The boat was filled with livestock, but the captain made a small

concession with a big price tag to add the students.

On the dock, Maureen paced back and forth looking over the boat and said to the

captain, “Really?”

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The captain squinted and leaned toward Maureen and said “She is seaworthy as

the next. Remember, the Greeks tamed the sea long before your country felt the first

anchor scar its virgin shore.”

“Maureen, stop your whining and get on board.” said Sam.

The three boarded the rickety vessel and pushed out to sea along with the

livestock. They had been sailing for about an hour, when Maureen asked the

captain, “Exactly why is your boat called ‘Keto’?”

With a chuckle, he lit a cigar and said “It means the monster of seas. I named it

after my ex-wife!”

Maureen rolled her eyes and walked over to where John and Sam were sitting.

The boat smelled of dirty animals as sick as she felt. It sailed all morning and into the

afternoon under the blazing sun, but they arrived in one piece on the Italian shoreline.

“See? All are safely here as promised.” motioned the captain as he bowed to

Maureen with a sweep of his hand.

The students thanked the captain, then gathered their belongings and walked for

several hours to a little town that had a small church mission. Maureen was directed by

the priest to the poor bin where she found the rattiest clothing she could find, and met

up with Sam and John.

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“Here, try these on. It should make the both of you look pathetic.”

“Oh, they smell horrible!” said Sam.

“Yea, well, maybe the smell will keep folks away from suspecting us?”

As they left the church, John motioned to Sam and Maureen. “Just our luck, look

over there.”

In the middle of the town square, a donkey harnessed to a small cart, was asleep

on the side of the road and an old man trying to get the donkey up.

“Perfect, our donkey and cart.”

Maureen walked over and tapped the old man on the shoulder, and asked in

broken Italian “What will you take for the donkey and the cart?”

The man looked at her rather startled and said that his son hated the donkey,

and never wanted to see it again, but he cared for the creature, even though old and he

was unwilling to sell. “It would be like getting rid of a member of the family.” the man

told Maureen. “I cannot let you have him.”

But, Maureen persisted that they needed the animal and the cart.

“Sam, give him some money.” whispered Maureen in his ear.

When the old man saw the cash, he decided that the donkey and he had been

friends long enough, and handed the pull rope to John.

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“A good price for such a creature. He will serve you well!” said the man as he

kissed the cash and headed home.

“My peasants, let’s get the beast up and head out.” said Maureen.

With a great sigh, Sam and John pulled, pushed and cajoled the donkey, but it

would not budge.

“Great purchase Maureen, get over here and help!” yelled Sam.

“Excuse me, I believe you don’t have the ability to talk?” smiled Maureen.

“Novices. Let me show you how it’s done.”

With that, Maureen whispered in the donkey’s ear, and rubbed her hand under

his chin. Stepping back she gave the rope a slight tug, and the donkey arose and

followed her.

“There.” she said as she handed the pull rope to Sam.

“Look Sam, she finally found a man that would listen to her.” chuckled John.

They traveled some distance to reach the next town and spent the night.

“How far to the Vatican?” said John.

“Another day’s walk.” said Sam. “Oh, my feet are killing me! Maureen, these

shoes you found me in the poor bin are wretched. I really will be limping by time we

reach The City.”

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“Sorry.” said Maureen. “Next on our list? Chickens, yes, we need to find

chickens. Come on, there’s a farm over there.” pointed Maureen to a small farm.

Arriving at the farm, Maureen explained to the farmers that they were poor

merchants who were robbed on the way to sell their goods, and could they spare a few

chickens? The farmer agreed to help out and they could get as many as their small cart

could hold.

“I’ve never picked up a live chicken before.” Sam whispered to Maureen.

“It’s not that hard. Just let them know who is boss, and whatever you do, don’t

chase them.” said Maureen.

Slowly, John and Sam went into the chicken coup and looked around. How hard

could this be they thought. Just grab a few chickens and walk out. But every time they

reached for a bird, it took off. Dodging back and forth trying to corner the chickens in

the small coup, Sam and John ran into each other more than once, while the farmer

stood watching as feathers were flying and chickens were trying to escape for their very

life. But the farmer could not get around Maureen, because she kept talking to him

about his family, his farm, anything to keep him out of the coup. Sam whispered to

John that they should corner the creatures much like a hockey game in the last inning,

sudden death. Jump on them and wrestle them to the ground then worry about the

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penalty later. It worked. They emerged from the coup rather bloodied from pecking and

scratches, and had three chickens in tow to place in the cart’s cage and felt proud to

have conquered the fowl.

Maureen thanked the kind farmer and they were invited to have a meal before

heading on down the dusty road. After the meal, the farmer and his family packed food

for the three and placed it on the cart. The student’s waved goodbye and took off with

their goods, and traveled until nightfall before stopping in an abandoned barn.

“Finally, a place to rest.” said John. “I’m exhausted.”

They fed the donkey straw and fell asleep on the barn floor. The next morning,

the sun shone through the slats in the roof and the warm sun was inviting. They left

before anyone saw them and along the way, the food the farmers gave them for their

journey, never tasted so good.

“According to my calculations, we should be close to The City.” said Sam.

“Good. Now we just need to get some produce for the cart.”

They found a small church willing to fill up their cart with produce and headed

toward the Vatican.

“I don’t know which entry supports the kitchen, let me see if I can find out. You

all wait here.” said Maureen.

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Sam and John gave a feigned smile as Maureen took off.

“This isn’t going to work John.” said Sam.

“Oh come on, we can do this, think of Jeb!” said John.

A few hours later Maureen returned stating that she found the cooks gate.While

they made their way, the cart veered off the road and one of the wheels lodged in a

ditch. Trying to dislodge the wheel, Sam’s foot was cut deeply and he said he couldn’t

go any further. He had to stop the bleeding, and they would have to go without him, but

he would catch up and meet them at the gate.

“Are you going to be alright?” said Maureen.

“Yea, don’t worry about me.” said Sam wrapping his foot.

Maureen, John, the donkey, chickens and all the produce took off together.

“We really do look like poor beggars Maureen!” said John.

“Remember, you are deaf and mute. Put on a good limp.’ Laughed Maureen.

“That won’t be hard. Trust me.” said John.

When they arrived at the cook’s gate, Maureen told them that said she had a

vision, a dream that this food was set aside by St. Peter himself and she was

compelled, although poor and humble, to bring her small offering to such a great City.

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At that Maureen began to cry, John began to cry, and the donkey sat down to take a

nap, unable to go any further.

“See, the beast of burden, much like our Lord rode on when he entered the great

city of David.” sobbed Maureen.

Feeling sorry for the two, they let them in and said they would gladly purchase

their chickens and produce. John motioned with his hands that he was grateful for their

generosity. When they got into the kitchen, the head cook said that they were short one

cook and could they help kill and dress the chickens they brought.

John’s eyes doubled in size as Maureen said “Oh, yes, we would help, of

course!” and she motioned John to kill and de-feather the chickens as she helped

prepare the produce for the evening Bishop’s meal. At that, John really was dumb

struck, for he had never killed a chicken, much less prepared it for cooking. He took the

first chicken out of the cage but it escaped into the courtyard. Chasing it like a wild man,

he finally apprehended the fowl.

John whispered to Maureen, “What do I do, Mo?”

“Ring its neck, and once it is dead, remove the feathers by pulling them against

you, then give it to me.” said Maureen under her breath.

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As John attempted to kill the chickens, the cooks looked on with suspicion at the

novice, but they were too busy getting the meal out to say anything and forgot the whole

matter. The cooks invited John to stay the night in their quarters, while Maureen was

taken to the nun’s convent, but before they departed, Maureen motioned to John to

meet her at midnight at the cook’s gate.

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Chapter 13

In process of being written . . .