The Gates of Zion (48 page)

“The gates are locked. No one enters and no one leaves unless they desire to evacuate. So how have you come to be here? You have transgressed our bargain.” He saw Ellie and Rachel as they lumbered up the steps. “And who are these strangers? They are not dressed in the modest fashion of the Hasidic women. Have you led them here, Yacov? And for what purpose have you done so?” He turned his head and suspiciously appraised them.

“This is my sister, Rachel,” Yacov answered. “We have come to find my grandfather. Have you seen him about?”

“You have no sister!” Akiva snapped. “Your sister died these many years ago. Who is this woman?”

Ellie interrupted his growing indignation. “I am Ellie Warne. I am a magazine photographer.” She extended her hand. “I have received permission to photograph the situation in the Old City.”

“Situation?” the rabbi said coldly. “There is no situation, save the peril these Haganah intruders put us in.” He fixed his angry eyes on Rachel, who studied the cobblestones at her feet. “If they would leave the business to those of us who know how to get along …” He spurned Ellie’s hand, then with his lip curled in bitter fury, pushed past them.

Yacov stood dumbfounded for a moment, watching the large, swaying back of Akiva as he stomped down the steps and turned a corner. “Come,” he said softly. “We must hurry.”

“But who is he?” Ellie asked.

“He is … maybe was … mayor of the Old City. He does not believe in Zionism. I do not know what Grandfather shall say when I tell him how angry Rebbe Akiva is that we have come past the blockade.” He turned and hurried up the steps and into the shadow of the Warsaw Compound.

High atop its pinnacle, Ellie saw another small group of men staring intently to the north, where Arab muezzin stood in minarets and called the faithful to prayer. The songs they sang drifted over the Jewish Quarter and mingled as a backdrop to conversations of the Orthodox who talked in hushed tones as they stood around the compound. Eyes wandered curiously to Ellie and Rachel as they lugged their burdens across the courtyard and down a narrow flight of stairs to a basement classroom.

Yacov pushed the door open. “It is here that I study the―” His happy words were interrupted by his astonished gasp as he saw the tables covered with sacks of beans. Young and old women sat in long rows, busily sorting bullets from the beans. They looked up at Yacov, several smiling and calling out in recognition.

An old woman―ancient, Ellie thought―slid off her stool and shuffled over toward where they stood. Rachel closed the door behind them and smiled as she watched the assembly line munitions factory. “
Shalom
, Yacov!” the old woman said in a cracked voice.

“We have missed you at the kitchens.”

“
Shalom
, Mrs. Cohen. Shaul and I have been gone. But we are back,” he said proudly. “And we have brought gifts for Hanukkah!”

He pointed happily at Rachel and Ellie, who both felt somewhat self-conscious beneath their bulky, ammunition-laden clothing.

“You’re a good boy, Yacov.” Mrs. Cohen patted his cheek with approval. Then she fixed her kindly gaze on Rachel and Ellie. “You must be Judith, eh? You have brought us maybe another Sten gun?”

30

Reunion

The bright blue of the afternoon sky had begun to soften with muted pastels as the sun dipped lower. Ellie looked anxiously past the domed rooftops as darkness threatened the little band. Relieved of their burden, Rachel and Ellie now kept pace with Yacov’s rapid footsteps as he hurried toward No. 8 Chaim Street.

Rachel’s face was tight with emotion. After so many years and so many dreams, she was finally in the streets where her dear mother had grown to womanhood and married. Her heart absorbed every silhouette; her feet memorized the cobblestones, and every footfall seemed to echo,
You are not alone. You are not alone.

Here―ironically, once again in the midst of siege and war―she finally felt safe. She reached out her fingertips and brushed the rough stone of the buildings. Had her father not always ended Passover with the words,
Next year in Jerusalem
? And had they not prayed each night for the peace of the beloved city and proudly remembered that their grandfather lived out his life among these sacred sites?

I am here, Papa,
her heart whispered as she remembered the passion with which Aaron Lubetkin had spoken of the Holy City.
I am here.

Yacov rounded a corner to the narrow alleyway of Chaim Street.

“This is my home!” he shouted joyfully. Shaul spun in a delighted circle, then ran to the steps that led down to their little basement apartment. He paused, looked at Yacov with solemn eyes, as if to make sure he was really coming, skipped down the steps, and barked twice to be let in. Yacov ran faster, leaving Ellie and Rachel jogging behind. “Come on!” he cried. “Hurry up!” Impatiently waiting as they caught him at the top of the stairs, he took Rachel’s hand. “This is
your
home, Sister,” he said, gently leading her down to the door.

Ellie remained at the stair railing while Yacov knocked softly before turning the door handle.

“Grandfather?” he called, pushing the door open.

There was no answer.

Please, God,
Rachel prayed.
Let us find him.

Yacov and Rachel entered the apartment, then emerged a moment later. “He is not home,” said Rachel, her voice thick with the pain of disappointment. Her head was bowed as they climbed the steps to where Ellie waited, silhouetted by the setting sun.

“I’m so sorry,” Ellie said sadly. “Maybe if we wait a few minutes, he’ll come back. We can wait another minute.”

“He is gone.” Yacov’s voice was puzzled. His eyes scanned the street. “Gone.”

Ellie rubbed her hand over her face in frustration. “Where, Yacov?

Where is he?”

“Perhaps at Nissan Bek Synagogue. At afternoon Hanukkah service.

Although always before we have gone in the evening.”

“Where is it?”

“Back by the Warsaw buildings.”

“That far? Why didn’t we check there before we came here?” Ellie sounded a little exasperated, Rachel thought.

“Can we make it?” Rachel asked.

“I think not.” Yacov sighed.

“But can we
maybe
?” Ellie asked.

“Perhaps,” Yacov answered. “But we must hurry. I know a shortcut.

I know how good Ellie climbs on rooftops.” He winked. “But can you do the same, my sister?”

Ellie grabbed him by the arm. “So go. Hurry up. I’m a fool, but I love happy endings. Hurry, will you?”

Yacov bent down and spoke the words
“Nissan Bek”
to Shaul, who tucked his hind end beneath him and ran back the way they had come.

Yacov took Rachel by the hand and pulled her to a ladder nearly hidden between two buildings. He climbed up and motioned for the two girls to follow. Ellie tucked her skirt up and climbed quickly up to the flat roof. Rachel followed more hesitantly. Once there, Rachel wondered if they had made a mistake. The large orange sun was flattening against the horizon, and soon it would be too late.
But we
may as well try,
she thought, following Yacov from rooftop to rooftop toward the massive dome of Nissan Bek.

As they neared the great synagogue, though, Rachel no longer thought of the setting sun. Her heart raced with hope.

Yacov climbed deftly down a ladder a block away from the entrance to the synagogue. The sound of Jewish hymns filled the air with a haunting dissonance as the Muslim muezzin called an end to the day and the setting of the sun. Ellie helped Rachel down, then followed her to the street. Shadows were collecting now as they ran up the worn stone steps of the ancient temple.

“You must go to the women’s gallery. I will go among the men and search for him,” Yacov instructed after they entered the outer court, frescoed with paintings of Moses standing on the Mount with the tablets of God’s law held high in his arms.

The voice of the cantor echoed from the vaulted ceilings as Ellie and Rachel covered their heads with their scarves and climbed the stairs to the women’s gallery.

Women, young girls, and small children stood against the latticework that separated them from their husbands and fathers worshipping below them. Rachel inched forward to the lattice panels with Ellie at her side and peered down at the men, who were reading as they swayed in their prayer shawls.

“There’s Yacov,” Ellie whispered, pointing to the little boy weaving through the large crowd of men, peering into every face.

“
I love Him, for the Eternal hearkeneth unto my voice in
supplication.”
Voices were raised as one as the men read Psalm 116 in the hymn of the Hallel.
“For He hath inclined His ear unto
me; therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live… .”

Rachel leaned against the screen, her hands clutching the lattice like bars. Her eyes followed Yacov as he anxiously searched the faces raised in song beneath the blue-and-white talliths.

When Ellie put her hand on Rachel’s shoulder, Rachel glanced at her friend for a minute. She saw that Ellie’s lips were moving and knew she was praying for them to find Rabbi Lebowitz. Then she turned back to eagerly scan the crowd.

“
O Eternal,”
rose the cry,
“deliver my soul! Gracious is the
Eternal, and just, and our God is compassionate.”

Rachel, scarcely breathing, watched Yacov’s face light up with delight. She gasped and pressed forward as Yacov tugged on the fringes of Grandfather’s prayer shawl. The old rabbi’s back was to them, but he knelt and brushed the excited tears from Yacov’s cheek as the boy talked animatedly to Grandfather in the midst of the chanting of the Hallel. The old man embraced the boy, wrapping his prayer shawl around him, enfolding him with his joy.

A minute later Yacov pushed away. From his gestures, Rachel could tell he was explaining about the sister whom they’d thought was lost but was alive.

“
For thou hast liberated my soul from death, mine eye from
weeping… .”

Rachel’s eyes were riveted to the back of Grandfather’s head. “I am here, Grandfather,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Grandfather!” she cried aloud, causing a stir among the men.

The old man turned around then, his eyes searching the lattice that concealed the faces of the women. Yacov pointed as Rachel reached through the gap in the screen. Grandfather’s face was etched with emotion; he raised his gnarled hands toward hers and walked through the swaying crowd of men until he stood beneath her outstretched hand. “Rachel!” he called. “You have come home.” Tears streaked his face and dropped like dew to his beard.

Their hands strained to touch over the gulf, and their eyes, old and young, caressed.

Rachel’s voice was choked by emotion when she cried out, “I am here!”

“
Dear in the sight of the Eternal is the death of His pious ones,”

read the congregation as eyes darted to Grandfather, then back to the prayer book.

“Rachel!” He cried again, reaching out for her as he clutched his chest with pain and dropped to his knees.

A murmur rose from the congregation. Rachel screamed and ran from the gallery and into the main floor below. Yacov sat on the floor, cradling the old rabbi’s head. Rachel ran to his side and knelt beside him, taking his hand and holding it to her cheek. “Grandfather,” she said again and again.

A cluster of men formed a circle around them.

Ellie elbowed her way through, then stopped.

The old rabbi looked into Rachel’s eyes. “Is it really you?” he asked weakly.

“Yes. Yes. It is Rachel.” She wept, kissing his fingers.

“I should have known.” He tried to smile. “You have the eyes of your mother.”

“Shhh. Don’t talk. Not now. We will have time to talk.” Rachel touched his cheek.

“Perhaps not so much time. But you have Yacov now, and he―”

Grandfather’s breath came in gasps.

A large man crowded past Ellie. “Please,” he said, and the crowd parted for him. Silence fell. He knelt beside Grandfather and loosened his collar. Putting his ear to the old man’s chest, he listened to the weak heartbeat. He looked up at the younger faces in the group. “Help me move him,” he ordered.

Rachel and Yacov moved back and embraced one another.

Gently, four men lifted Grandfather from the floor and carried him to the back of the auditorium and into a small anteroom. Then, as Rachel and Yacov followed, they shut the door behind them.

***

The stars shown like diamonds against black velvet over the little town of Bethlehem. Campfires of pilgrims dotted the hillsides around the city.

Nothing much had changed in the two thousand years that had passed since the birth of Jesus in a cave above the little town. As shepherds had first come to find the infant Messiah, King of Israel, Moshe and Howard now came seeking a treasure.

They passed into the narrow, cobbled souks of Bethlehem. Vendors hawked their wares to hungry travelers, offering the warmth of fires to any who would stop to purchase a meal of skewered lamb chunks and onions. The aroma drifted deliciously into every corner and alleyway, tugging at the appetites of Moshe and Howard.

“What is the time?” Moshe asked a grizzled vendor, who held two sticks of roasted meat out to him.

“Listen to the bells,” the man replied. “Soon it will be six. But an hour before the masses begin. Will you buy?”

Moshe flipped him a coin and took the meal from him, handing one of the sticks to Howard, who savored the heavy garlic flavoring.

Moments later the church bells began to chime from every corner of the city.

“We have an hour,” Howard remarked, handing the donkey’s rope to Moshe and purchasing two ears of roasted corn from yet another merchant. He handed an ear to Moshe, then proceeded to clean three rows of kernels in one bite. Despite the sparse crowds on the road this afternoon, the streets now teemed with people crowding to buy food and candles for the evening’s candlelight procession that would begin in an hour. “Now I understand what was meant by ‘no room in the inn,’” Howard said, finishing his corn and handing the still-warm cob to the donkey.