The Bronze Bow (7 page)

"Hungry, boy?"

Daniel started, abashed to be caught staring. A smiling young woman in a bright red and blue headdress was holding out a small fish on a palm leaf. He backed away. "I have no money," he muttered.

"Who said anything about money? You can see there's plenty. Take it."

The fish was delicious, the skin smoky and crisp.

The woman eyed him admiringly. "Where would a handsome stranger like you have come from?" she demanded.

Embarrassed, he stammered the name of Ketzah.

"Are you waiting for the teacher?" she inquired.

"No."

"You should then. It's worth being late for work."

"What teacher?" he asked.

"The carpenter. Ah, there he is now." She called over her shoulder to another woman. "Come! He's about to begin."

Daniel turned curiously. A short way from them on the shore a cluster of fishermen had gathered, and from all sides others were leaving their nets. A few workers broke from the lines that labored on the barges. Through the shifting bodies Daniel caught a glimpse of the man in their midst. It was the man who had spoken in the synagogue. He stood on the beach among the fishing boats, in his plain white robe, smiling and greeting the men by name. Out here in the sun he did not look solemn as in the synagogue. He looked vigorous and confident and happy. Something he was saying drew a burst of laughter from the men. Daniel pushed his way nearer till he could get a good look.

How strong he is, he thought. Yet bodily the man was no match for the sturdy fishermen who surrounded him. The impression of strength came from an extraordinary vitality that seemed to pulse in the very air around him. Once more, as on that day in the synagogue, Daniel felt a spark leap up in his own body. Looking about him he could see the same spark reflected in the eyes of the men and women who jostled him.

Someone shouted a question that Daniel could not catch, and Jesus held up a hand to ask their silence.

"What is the kingdom of heaven?" he answered. "It is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. Or the kingdom of heaven is like a net which was thrown into the sea and gathered fish of every kind—"

A clink of metal distracted Daniel. Turning, he saw that two soldiers had joined the crowd. They sauntered close, and stood looking with curiosity at the speaker and his audience. Automatically, Daniel spat. Two fishermen glared at him. Plainly they resented his disturbance more than they did the presence of the soldiers. One of the Romans shot him a quick contemptuous glance. Jesus took no notice whatsoever. He could not have missed their tall helmets, yet his calm voice did not falter. Anger spiraled up in Daniel. He didn't want to hear any more. The nearness, the arrogance of those two choked him. He turned his back on them and walked away.

Yet he could not escape the sight of Roman soldiers. They stood on the docks, counting off bales of wheat and vegetables. They strolled through the marketplace. Everywhere, the Jews went about their business, paying no attention. The boy who had lived for five years in the solitude of the mountain, nursing his hatred and keeping it ever fresh, could not credit his own eyes. How could these city people endure to be reminded on every hand of their own helplessness? More shameful still, he saw merchants joking with the soldiers. He could not understand. Where was their pride? Had they forgotten altogether? If Rosh were here he would open their eyes. Why did that Jesus do nothing?

At the thought of Rosh he was reminded of the reason he had come to the city. It took him some time to find the house of Rabbi Hezron. Finally someone directed him up the steep hill that rose above the harbor. As he climbed the cobbled street his stomach began to clamor. He had counted on Joel to observe the unwritten law that provided that any stranger who came to one's door must receive food and shelter. But as the crowded stone dwellings gave way to the long forbidding walls of large estates, and he caught glimpses of gardens and terraces rising, one upon another, green and golden, he felt his first doubt. Rosh had warned him that Hezron had inherited great wealth. But Daniel had no acquaintance with wealth. He had not been prepared for the hugeness of it. Would such houses as these remember the law of hospitality? Or would they turn him away like a beggar?

He came to the heavy door in the wall to which he had been directed, and rang the bell that hung there. After some time the wooden door creaked open and a wizened man peered out at him. Hezron? In the nick of time he noticed that the man's ears had been pierced. He had almost made a fool of himself and bowed to a slave!

"I have come to speak with Joel bar Hezron," he announced much too loudly.

With reluctance the servant allowed him to step into a narrow tiled corridor. "You will wait here," he said. "What name shall I give to the young master?"

"Tell him it is Daniel bar Jamin, a friend from Ketzah."

The hallway where he waited was cool and dim, the oaken doors that led from it all closed. Through the open archway opposite him, Daniel stared with astonishment into a sunlit courtyard, at flowering trees and green borders and white marble. His ears caught the gentle splash of water and the trilling of birds. He had not dreamed that even Herod's palace could boast such wonders. What a fool he had been to think that Joel would even remember him!

There was a soft footstep, a rustle of silk, and a shadow fell between him and the sunlit opening. It was not Joel who stood there, but his sister Malthace. A robe of thin soft material fell in exquisite folds to delicate embroidered sandals. Her dark hair was bound back from her face with a thin fillet of gold. She started at sight of a stranger, and there leaped into her eyes recognition, and then something else, an unmistakable shrinking. His careful greeting fell back at his own feet. She made no greeting at all, only stared at him with dismay.

Then there was a thumping of feet. The boy who came charging across the courtyard had not changed at all. He was the same country boy who had jumped into the fight on the mountain road. He grasped Daniel by the elbows, his dark eyes glowing.

"Daniel! Welcome! I've been wishing—" He broke off with a quick glance over his shoulder. "You'll stay to eat with us? Of course you will!"

Pride battled with Daniel's clamoring stomach. "No," he said. "I came only to speak with you."

"You're certainly not going right away, after all this time."

"My clothes are dusty from the road."

"Oh—that! Just leave your cloak here in the hallway. For Father's sake, you know."

Daniel flushed, remembering that a common man who visited a Pharisee must leave his cloak at the door lest he make the household unclean. Slowly he undid Simon's coat, allowing Joel a glimpse of the torn and scanty garment underneath.

"Never mind," Joel said hastily. "Better wear it after all. It doesn't matter really."

Propelling his guest along the corridor, Joel was all at once aware of his sister, who still stood just inside the archway. "Thacia," he said, an uncertain note in his voice. "Do you remember Daniel—the one who—" He floundered to a stop.

Her fine dark eyebrows lifted. "I remember," she said, in a cool light voice. Then she turned on her embroidered sandal and walked away from them.

Joel looked after her with annoyance, then he shrugged. "Don't mind Thacia," he said. "She's putting on city airs lately. Come, we'll go up to my room where we can talk. If you knew what it's like to see someone from home!"

Daniel had to follow so rapidly through the courtyard that he had only a blurred impression of green beauty. They passed beneath a row of slender columns into another corridor, up a flight of shallow steps and into a small square room. Apparently Joel slept in this room, and did not even have to share it with anyone. There was a single low couch, with a striped linen covering, two carved wooden benches, a painted chest, and a desk with quills and an inkpot and a scroll propped open as though Joel had just been working on it.

Joel poured water from a fine pottery jar and laid out a smooth linen towel. Self-consciously Daniel washed his hands and feet and retied his turban. It was plain that Joel did not care whether he was respectable or not, that the boy was overjoyed to see him. Daniel's wiry self-confidence reasserted itself. He would not let himself be shaken again by a silly girl.

"Did Rosh send you?" Joel demanded. "Have you held up any more caravans? How about the slave, the big black one? I didn't envy you when you led him off that day."

"I should have kept my mouth shut," Daniel answered.

"What happened?"

"The minute I took his chains off he took charge of me instead. He's made me the laughingstock of the camp. He works like a mule to keep my fire going. But he won't let me out of his sight."

Joel was amused at the picture. "Can he talk? Does he understand what you say?"

"The others don't think so. I'm not sure. Sometimes it seems as though he's trying to tell me something."

"You're not afraid of him?"

"Not for myself. But I have to watch him all the time. That strength of his—it's like a rock on the edge of the cliff. A feather could start it down. One night I got into an argument with Joktan, and Jok started at me with his fists. I looked up just in time. There was Samson reaching for Jok with those great arms of his. It was all I could do to stop him."

Joel whistled. "I should think—" he began, when a chiming gong interrupted him, and he rose to his feet. "Father insists that we're on time for meals," he said. "We'd better talk later."

Near the fountain in the courtyard Hezron stood waiting, a tall, narrow-faced man with graying hair. He bowed with a cool courtesy at Joel's introduction.

"Peace be with you," he said. "You are welcome." He gazed with distaste at Daniel's unlawful garment.

A camel would be as welcome, Daniel thought. The man will have to purify his whole house when I leave!

Side by side two women moved gracefully across the tile pavement, Malthace and an older woman who must once have looked much like her daughter. A tiny bird of vivid blue darted from a dwarf pear tree and lighted for a breath's space on the girl's shoulder, then flashed away. The corner of Thacia's mouth curled slightly as site looked at Daniel, hinting, "I could tell them much if I cared." The mother smiled warmly and held out her hand to him.

They led Daniel through an archway into a spacious room. His muscles stiffened at the array of couches. Was he expected to eat his meal lying down like a Roman? But after an awkward wait he lowered his body gingerly and, imitating Joel, propped himself up on one elbow, aware of Thacia's amusement. For all her airs, he could wager she had never seen a couch herself up to a month ago. No one in the village boasted such heathen nonsense.

Joel's mother, with a gracious word, led her daughter behind a silken screen, where they would both be hidden from view while the men of the family ate. More nonsense. Daniel was sure that in the village they must have sat on mats and eaten their meal together like any other family.

Through the prolonged hand-washing Daniel fidgeted, affronted by the silver pitchers, the fine tiny napkins, the hovering slaves. Then at the sight of the food a fierceness sprang up in him. He had drained every drop from the cup of date wine before he noticed that the others were holding theirs untouched. Too late he set down what remained of his small loaf of bread. He had torn into it like Samson himself, and he saw Hezron's lips flatten together. Curse their finicky rules. Had they ever felt the gnawing of an empty stomach?

"Your home?" Hezron inquired, after the scant portions of fish and fruit had been consumed in silence. "Is it far from Capernaum?"

Daniel dragged his attention from his empty bowl. "In Ketzah, sir."

"Indeed?" Hezron looked surprised. "Your father too? I do not seem to recall—"

"My father was Jamin, chief overseer of the vineyards."

"So," said Hezron, frowning. "I remember. A very tragic affair. He was a good man, your father, but a rash one."

His cool tone pricked Daniel's thin skin and stirred the anger that always smoldered close under the surface. He glowered at his plate, holding his tongue.

"You are the support of your mother?"

"My mother is not living either."

Hezron hesitated. "You have been doubly unfortunate," he said in a kinder tone, mistaking Daniel's anger for grief. "Do you follow your father's trade?"

"No. I was bound to Amalek, the ironsmith." Sold! he felt like shouting. Sold into slavery for a term of six years, to a man who was not fit to own even a mule. Had the rabbis protested then, or a single soul in the village lifted a finger to help him?

"Well," said Hezron reasonably, "it is necessary for every boy to learn a trade. Joel, as you probably know, was trained as a sandalmaker, as I was myself. Though I must say I applied myself with more diligence. I do not seem to remember seeing you in Amalek's shop."

"I didn't work there long."

"You can tell he's a blacksmith," Joel broke in, in an effort to swerve his father's questions. "With those muscles you'd be a sensation in the gymnasium, Daniel. Have you ever been there?"

"The Roman gymnasium?" Daniel glared at his friend. "I would never set foot in it!"

"I should hope not," said Hezron, with a scowl at his own son. "That was an ill-considered jest."

"Of course it was a jest, Father," Joel amended hastily.

"It is not a matter for jesting," his father said. "It is an outrage that some of our Jewish youths have been tempted to take part in these disgraceful games. And some of their elders even go to watch their shame."

"Well, there are other things in the city worth seeing," Joel persisted cheerfully. "This afternoon I'll take you about, Daniel."

Daniel stared down at his empty cup. The morsels of food had not begun to whet his hunger. The rabbi had deliberately put him at a disadvantage with every question. His resentment turned now even against Joel.

"I have seen enough," he said rudely. "All I can see is the Roman fortress and the eagles in the streets. Everywhere I turn I hear the ring of Roman boots on the pavement."