“Help him,” he replies.
“How?” he asks. “If we take him with us, he’ll just slow us down and then we’ll all be either dead or on a slave gang.” Going to the window, he glances down to the old man below who’s still sitting on large piece of broken wall close to their building, wiping the sweat off his face with a rag. “Look! He can’t even keep up with clearing away small rocks and wood. There’s no way!”
“I know,” concedes James. “But I have to at least talk to him. I’ve got to know for sure.”
Jiron gives him another long look and then glances back down to the street. The old guy has once more joined his fellow slaves in removing the rubble. “Where he sat is near one of the windows on the bottom floor,” he says. “Maybe he’ll sit there again and you can whisper to him out the window.”
“Good idea!” agrees James excitedly.
“Just be very quiet,” he warns. “You don’t want to attract the notice of the slavers.”
“I know,” James assures him.
Moving back downstairs, they position themselves by the window near where the old man had rested. They occasionally glance outside to see if the old man will sit back down near them. A half hour later, he pulls out his rag and once more goes to sit on the large piece of wall not three feet from the window where James waits.
Once the old man has sat down, James whispers out to him, “Don’t make a sound. I’m in the building behind you.” He sees the old man’s shoulders stiffen a fraction as his words reach him. “Do you understand me?” he asks.
The old man nods his head as he wipes his face.
The slavers who’re overseeing this group are over by the main party of slaves and are pretty much ignoring the old guy. James asks, “Are you from around here?”
He rubs his face with his rag and then turns his head toward the window where James is and replies just loud enough to be heard, “Born here.”
That was definitely not the answer he was expecting. Glancing at Jiron, he sees him shrug. Turning back to the window, he whispers, “I heard you use the word ‘gesundheit’ when that other man sneezed.”
Nodding, the old man asks, “Do you know what it means?” There seemed to be a slight tremor in his voice when he asked the question.
“It means, health, or good health,” he replies, wondering why he would ask such a question.
The old man freezes for a second then again wipes his face with the rag. He sits there quietly for several minutes until James begins to think he might’ve forgotten about him.
“Why did you ask?” questions James.
The old man shakes his head as one of the slavers looks over in their direction. Getting up, the old man returns to help the other slaves in removing the rubble.
“What was that about?” asks Jiron when James moves away from the window.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “But when I told him what it meant, he reacted to it.” Sitting down against the wall under the window, he adds, “Something’s going on here.”
Jiron munches on some of his rations as he watches James mull over what happened. “I have to find out what.”
He waits by the window the rest of the morning and afternoon. Though the old man takes several rest breaks in that time, he doesn’t do it near their window. James catches him casting looks over toward the window from time to time as he works. Finally, when the sun is getting low in the sky, he comes and sits back down by the window and asks, “You here tomorrow?”
James whispers back, “Yes.”
The old man nods as the slavers holler for the slaves to gather together for the return to the slave compound. As the old man gets up off the piece of wall, he points to it and then points to a spot closer to the wall before going to join the others.
James watches as the old man shuffles along with the others back down the street. When they’ve moved out of sight, he turns to Jiron and says, “We need to move that section of wall closer to the window.”
“Why?” he asks.
“The old guy indicated we should,” he replies. “It may enable us to communicate better tomorrow. Less chance of being overheard.”
“No. I mean why bother talking to him?” Jiron corrects.
“When I told him what it meant, he seemed surprised that I knew,” he clarifies. “He also asked if I was to be here tomorrow. Why would he say that?”
“To tell the soldiers and have us arrested,” suggests Jiron.
Shaking his head, James says, “He could’ve done that any time today. No, he wants to tell me something.”
“You may be reading more into this than there is,” Jiron insists. “He could just be a lonely old man who wants to talk with someone who’s either not a slave or a slaver.”
“Maybe,” James skeptically admits. “Only one way to find out though. If he is just a lonely old guy, I’ll say no more about it.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
They wait until it gets dark and then make their way out onto the street to where the section of wall the old man had sat on lies. Struggling with all their strength, they’re able to move it over to where it almost touches the wall beneath the window. “That should be close enough,” Jiron says after the section of wall is in position. They use their feet to eradicate the marks on the ground they made when moving the slab of wall.
Nodding, James adds, “We should be able to hear each other well without having to speak too loudly.”
“Are you planning on searching other buildings tonight?” he asks him.
Shaking his head, he says, “No, I’m too exhausted.”
“Then go ahead and get some sleep while I keep watch,” he volunteers.
“Thanks.” They return into the building where James lies down and falls right to sleep. Jiron doesn’t wake him all night, and even manages to get a few hours of sleep as well. True, he was taking an awful chance having no one on watch, but they’ve been there several days now and no one has yet to come by except for the slave gang.
The next morning, the sound of the slave gang approaching awakens James. He moves to the window where Jiron is already looking out at their approach. “Do you see the old guy?” he asks.
“Yeah,” he replies. “He’s in there with the others.”
They watch as the slaves and slavers approach and then begin working in the same area, clearing the rubble. It’s an hour or so after their arrival when the old guy makes his way over to the now much closer section of fallen wall. Sitting down with his back to the window, he produces the same dirty, stained rag to wipe the sweat off his face and neck.
“You there?” James hears him whisper.
“Yeah,” he whispers back.
“How did you know what that word meant?” he asked.
“It’s used a lot where I come from?” replies James. “Why?”
“You’re the first one ever to know,” he explains. One of the slavers glances over in his direction, but then after a moment resumes the conversation he’s having with another.
“Does that mean something to you?” James asks.
“Yes,” replies the old man. “As far as I know, my family has been the only ones to have used it. Have been for hundreds of years.”
“Oh?” prompts James.
He glances over to the slavers to make sure they’re not watching before continuing. “Seems one of my great-great- I don’t know how many grandfathers had been told that someone would come who would know the meaning of it. That we needed to be aware and ready.”
“Ready for what?” he asks.
Just then a slaver looks in the old guy’s direction and he gets up to join the others in picking up rubble.
James almost screams in impatience. Knowing he’s got a while to wait, he sits anxiously next to Jiron under the window. What the man said keeps running through his mind.
The time seems to pass excruciatingly slow before the slave gang takes their noon meal. When the sound of
