The Gates of Zion by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Read Free Book Online Page B

old man answered. “But tonight they will celebrate because they do not understand.”
    The old man turned away and lit the oil lamp on the table. “So get your trousers on,” he instructed. “This is a night for every Jew to have his trousers on.”
    Yacov barely noticed the cold fabric of his trousers as he pulled them on. Grandfather sat down and scrawled a short note. He folded the paper and sealed it with the wax drippings of a candle.
    “You think you can deliver this to Rebbe Akiva tonight without getting yourself into trouble, eh?”
    Yacov looked at the note in Grandfather’s hand and nodded slowly.
    Never before had Grandfather sent him out after dark. Surely this night is as important as the first Passover, thought Yacov.
    “For the mayor of the Old City’s hand alone.” The old man gazed wearily into Yacov’s eyes before handing him the note.
    Yacov looked down, trying to conceal his happiness at being part of some unfathomable adventure. He felt ashamed of the excitement that surely shone through his eyes since there was no joy in Grandfather’s ancient, lined face.
    Grandfather took the boy’s face in his hands knowingly. “So you think this old man is blind? Hmm? Maybe soon, but not yet can you hide feelings from me. It is the stirring of battle you feel now, boy.
    But you must think what that will mean.”
    Yacov met his gaze and tried to understand the old man’s words.
    “We here in the Old City try to live in peace with our neighbors, Christian or Muslim Arab, eh?” said Grandfather solemnly. “We try to live in the ways of peace. We wait for Messiah, Yacov. Until He establishes Israel, we cannot be a nation. There can be only more killing. This Partition is a nasty business for everyone. Christians will die, Muslims and Jews as well. It is a nasty business, Yacov.
    Those who celebrate tonight do not know they dance on the edge of their own graves. Remember that, will you?”
    Yacov swallowed hard. “Yes, Grandfather.”
    Grandfather mussed his hair and half smiled through his thick gray beard. “So go. What are you waiting for? The Messiah?” He stood and walked Yacov to the heavy wooden door. Then he doubled over with coughing. Yacov wondered if he should really leave Grandfather alone, even to deliver such an important message.
    Yacov put his hand on the old man’s back and patted him gently between his bony shoulder blades. “So go already,” Grandfather wheezed.
    Yacov put on his coat and Shaul sprang to his feet, expectantly wagging his entire hind end.
    Grandfather glared at the dog disapprovingly. “Jackal!” he exclaimed. Shaul cowered and lay back down. “So you’re going to lie here? Go with the boy.” He shook his fist and kicked at the dog.
    Shaul scrambled clear. “And see that he gets home, or tomorrow it’s an Arab stewpot for you!”
    Yacov unbolted the heavy wooden door, and Shaul gratefully followed onto the steps that led up to the street. Always Grandfather threatens . Always he kicks and misses and growls about Arab stew, and always he sends Shaul out on my heels. Briefly Yacov wondered if it was all some sort of game the old man played. One thing was certain: Grandfather knew that as long as the big dog was able, Shaul would protect Yacov.
    In the dark streets of the Old City, Shaul’s shaggy presence was a comfort to the young messenger. From what Grandfather had said, soon it would not be safe for a Jew in the Old City streets at any time of the day or night.
    Yacov bounded up the steps two at a time. He paused for one incredulous moment as lights began to wink on throughout the Old City. An eerie glow seeped through the shuttered windows and fell in uneven puddles on the cobblestones.
    He stood and listened. In the distance, in the direction of the New City, came another sound. Like waves against a seawall, the blaring of automobile horns crashed against the hand-hewn stones of the Old City Wall.
    “They are celebrating,” Yacov said to Shaul as they