Marcellus pounded up the stairs.
Longinus braced himself against the cold, damp wall outside the cell. His chest rose and fell like he’d been sprinting in full armor. If he crucified this man, he’d lose Cedron as his spy—his only spy. He might as well hand his father’s sword to Silvanus and forget about the quiet forests of Gaul. But if he didn’t crucify the Samaritan, he’d be a traitor to Rome and his dead friend. And if Silvanus found out, he’d be a dead man, or at least wish he were.
Heavy footfalls pounded down the stairs. Longinus straightened his back and crossed his arms. Marcellus ducked into the cell with a round of bread and a gourd of watered wine. After a few moments of muffled talk, he reappeared and took up his post outside the door.
Longinus breathed deeply. He’d send a message to Pilate today, and Marcellus would carry out the order by the end of the week. Longinus wouldn’t even have to watch.
Marcellus eyed him, his face wary. “Any luck finding the thieves, centurion?”
“The thieves?” Longinus turned on him. “What do you know about that?”
Marcellus’s brows went up. “Everyone knows about the wager, even Pilate.”
Longinus ground his teeth together. Of course everyone knew. Legionaries gossiped more than old women.
Marcellus looked at the ground. “The men are taking bets. It’s two to one you’ll lose your sword.”
Longinus rubbed his temple where a pain had started behind his eye. Two to one? His chances wouldn’t even be that good after he crucified Stephen. “Who are you betting on?”
Marcellus looked up like he was surprised by the question. “On you, of course.”
Longinus’s gaze dropped to the scars on Marcellus’s arms and neck. So Marcellus put his faith in him—not to mention his silver—even after he’d given him those scars? “You might want to change your bet. My only spy won’t point me in the direction of the nearest latrine after I crucify this man.”
Marcellus’s brow furrowed in thought. “You’ll lose your father’s sword.”
Longinus grunted.
“And Silvanus will win.”
Longinus started for the steps, but Marcellus’s next words stopped him.
“No one knows the Samaritan is here.”
Longinus froze. What did Marcellus mean by that?
Marcellus lowered his voice. “I could keep it quiet. Keep him here. His friend would have a good reason to find the thieves for you. The Samaritan for the thieves. A good exchange.”
“Set him free? After he killed Scipio?” Longinus shook his head. He couldn’t. But Marcellus had a point. Cedron would have to help him, or Stephen’s blood would be on his hands. And he might still have a chance to question Jesus, find out if he really was a threat to Rome. And perhaps solve the riddle of Stephen’s unflinching peace.
The weight on his chest eased. It could work. He clapped Marcellus on the shoulder. “Keep it quiet. Don’t let anyone see him.” He hurried up the stairs and out into the bright sun. He’d talk to Cedron, give him another chance to find the thieves and save Stephen. And if Nissa’s brother really was spying for the Zealots, it wouldn’t hurt to keep a close eye on him.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it would work for now.
Chapter 14
ARE YOU WORKING today, Nissa?” Cedron hobbled across the courtyard to the fire, where Nissa ate her breakfast of charred bread drizzled with honey.
Nissa shook her head and swallowed. “They don’t need me today.” The laundry didn’t need her today or any day, but she had much to do. Another cleansing bath at Siloam, and later, Gilad would come for the rent. Her stomach did a little flip. This time she was going to look her best.
“Are you going to the city gate?” More than two months had passed since Cedron had been cured. Two months, and she was still stealing. But if Cedron could get work today, just enough to buy food, she could wait another week before making the mark for Dismas. Now that Longinus was looking for her, she’d need to be more careful.
Cedron pulled his cloak around his shoulders. “Later. This morning, I need to go to the synagogue.”
Nissa snorted. “To meet with the Zealots, you mean.” Since the Roman had made Cedron his dangerous offer two weeks ago, her brother had spent less time looking for work and more time lingering at the synagogue where the Zealots called for war against Rome. She ripped another bite from her bread, talking around it as she chewed. “Besides, I thought they didn’t speak to am-ha-arez?”
“We believe in the same end.”
The bread stuck in Nissa’s throat. “What? Revolution? Do they think with a few rusty swords they can overthrow the Roman Empire?” Cedron was getting in over his head. The talk in Jerusalem was all about Jesus. The Zealots wanted him to be their messiah; the Pharisees and Sadducees wanted him dead.
Cedron crouched close to her and put his arm around her shoulder. “Jesus gave me my sight so I could get his people ready. That’s what I’m doing.” He pulled her close to his side. “It won’t be long now, and we’ll be free of the Romans. Then I’ll be able to take care of you.”
“And until then?”
“Trust in the Lord. Trust in the Messiah. He called me to this.”
Nissa let out a long breath. Jesus had given Cedron his sight, and for that she was grateful. But it was Jesus’ fault that Cedron was banished from the temple, that he couldn’t find work, that he was called an am-ha-arez. And now, that he’d rather plan revolution than help her with the rent.
Cedron flashed her a smile and a wink. “You better hurry if you’re going to get ready for Gilad.”
She coughed and almost choked. “Gilad?”
Cedron let out a laugh. “Don’t pretend with me, little sister. I can see you blushing. All the women talk about his handsome face.”
She shrugged.
Cedron batted his lashes at her, and a smile tickled the corner of her mouth.
“Just don’t get your hopes set on him. I’m not sure I’d welcome an offer of marriage from that strutting rooster.”
An offer of marriage? Not likely. Nissa turned to her brother and assumed her most innocent expression, looking into his brown eyes. “Cedron. I’m sorry, but I don’t think Gilad thinks of you that way.”
Cedron snorted and pushed her away. “Just be careful, Nissa. I don’t trust him.”
He doesn’t even know I’m alive, other than to pay the rent on time. But, maybe, if Cedron thought it possible . . . “Don’t worry. And you be careful, too.”
Cedron pushed open the gate and looked over his shoulder. “The Lord is my strength and my shield.”
She shoved the last of the bread in her mouth and dismissed the lump of worry in her chest as Cedron pulled the broken gate shut behind him. At least Cedron wasn’t out looking for the thieves. After the centurion’s betrayal yesterday with the Samaritan, Cedron wouldn’t even speak his name. That was a relief.
She licked the last of the honey off her sticky fingers and gave the pot of lentils over the fire a stir before grabbing the water jar. She’d get to Siloam before the drunks woke up and made her journey through the tanneries and brothels a lesson in profanities.
When Nissa arrived at Siloam, women stood in clusters on the broad ledges around the pool, gossiping and smiling. Children splashed on the top steps, the water just covering their ankles, their squeals of laughter echoing off the stone walls and columns.
After Nissa filled her jar, she slipped off her cloak and waded into the cold water. Cedron’s words seemed to echo in the talk and laughter around her. “Wash away all my guilt, from my sin cleanse me . . .” Whatever sin made Cedron blind had been forgiven. But for her, the water would only wash away dirt and dust.
A group of girls, most younger than her, bathed just a few steps away. She’d seen them here before. A few sat on the edge of the pool, braiding one another’s hair. Two more, so alike they must be sisters, splashed nearby.
One smiled at Nissa.
Nissa dunked her head
under the cold water and came up gasping for breath.
The girl moved closer. “Cold today, isn’t it?”
Nissa nodded and climbed the steps quickly, wringing out her sopping hair. She glanced back at the girl, who watched her with a surprised face. Nissa fumbled her cloak and water jar into her arms and hurried to the steps, her tunic dripping. I should have been more polite.
She pounded down the stairs, her sandals echoing on the hard stone. She’s probably a good Jewish girl. She wouldn’t want to be friends with a thief and a liar.
She braved the street of drunkards and brothels and reached her courtyard out of breath and freezing cold. After throwing some wood on the fire, she changed into her new tunic of soft green wool with delicate embroidery on the neckline and hem. It fit better than anything she’d ever owned and made her feel soft and feminine, like the girls Gilad watched in the marketplace.
She wrapped a striped belt of deep blue and white linen around her waist and buckled on her new leather sandals.
It would be nice to have someone braid my hair, like Mama used to do. Before Mama had found more happiness in her wine amphora. The girl at the pool had looked like someone she could talk to, even confide in. Someone who wasn’t her brother or a donkey.
She’d had friends when she was younger, friends in the lower city where her parents lived. But one by one, they’d married. Watching them cuddle their babies while suitors rejected her rent her heart. Her friends’ pity hardened it to stone.
Then Dismas had found her stealing copper coins and figs in the lower city market. He’d taken her on as an apprentice, and her life had changed. He’d taught her how to distract a shopkeeper, how to slip her hand into a purse, how to disappear in a crowd. They worked together, and they were good at what they did. She brought food home to Cedron and kept a roof over their heads.
Dismas admired her. Cedron loved her. They were enough, even if she had to hide her true self from both of them. She didn’t need friends.
She opened the cedar cask in the corner of the house and took out an ivory comb, a tiny amphora of perfumed oil, and an alabaster pot. She combed out her hair, anointed it with the oil that cost more than she should have spent, and twined it into a long braid. Wrapping it in a coil, she pinned it with a shining brass brooch, then dipped beeswax balm from the tiny pot and smoothed it over her lips.
Pretty Nissa, Longinus had called her. She frowned. I couldn’t care less what that centurion thinks. But, maybe today, Gilad would think she was pretty.
Finally, she removed two silver coins from the cask. Only a handful of brass was left, but the thought didn’t make her chest tighten as it had when they lived with Mama and Abba. There was more money where that came from. She and Cedron had a decent house, new clothes, good food.
All thanks to Mouse.
She tucked the coins in her belt. They should keep Gilad happy until the end of Shevat.
The gate creaked open. Gilad was right on time. She smoothed her hands over her hips and hurried out the door, a smile on her lips. But it wasn’t the handsome rent collector stepping into the courtyard. It was the last man Nissa wanted to see.
“What are you doing here?”
The centurion was without his armor and helmet. Just a bright white tunic cinched with a studded leather belt. It was kirtled higher than the Jews wore their tunics, showing freckled knees and a glimpse of muscled thighs. His cloak lay across his shoulders but was thrown back to reveal his sword.
Longinus raised an eyebrow and inspected her from the top of her head to her new leather sandals. “Such a warm welcome, Nissa. Tell, now, did you dress up just for me?”
“For you?” she sputtered. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were waiting for someone, that much is clear. When a girl looks as pretty as you, it’s for a man.”
Her mouth dropped open. Again he called her pretty. Why did he do that? They both knew it was a lie.
He stepped closer. “And your mouth is far prettier when it is closed.”
She snapped it shut and clenched her teeth. Was he mocking her? She stamped to the fire and bent to stir it. “Cedron is not here. And even if he was, he wouldn’t talk to you.”
Longinus ran a hand over his face and frowned. “I’ve got some questions for him.”
“He won’t answer them.”
Longinus turned to her, and his eyes narrowed. “We had a deal, your brother and I.”
“That was before you arrested the Samaritan.” She folded her arms over her chest. He needed to leave now, before Gilad came.
“That man killed my friend. It had nothing to do with Cedron.”
He had friends? Somehow she’d pictured him alone. Like her. Nissa crossed the courtyard and motioned to the gate. “Cedron should have known not to trust a Roman.”
Longinus’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw went tight. He moved toward her, his eyes fixed on her face.
She pressed her shoulders against the wall, the tiny thorns of the climbing rose pricking her back. He was so much bigger than her, even bigger than Abba. She raised her chin. He can’t think I’m afraid.
He stopped, close enough that she could smell the lye that had bleached his tunic white. Nissa’s heart pounded, and her legs trembled.
His voice rose. “Tell him I need to talk to him if he wants Stephen freed.”
Her temper flared, just as it had so many times when Abba had loomed over her like this. “I’m not your messenger; tell him yourself.”
He expelled a breath like a charging bull. She flinched and closed her eyes, but the expected blow didn’t come. She snuck a peek.
His brow furrowed, but not in anger. She stood her ground, her heart pounding in her ears, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath.
He stared at her for a moment, then lifted a hand and reached behind her to the vine that climbed the wall. He snapped off a pink rosebud and tucked it behind her ear, his callused fingers brushing like a hummingbird against her cheek. “I might be a Roman, but I don’t hit women.”
She glared up at him, her cheeks burning and her mouth as dry as dust.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find Cedron myself.” His mouth eased into a smile, but his eyes looked sad. He pushed through the gate, pulling the sagging door shut behind him.
Nissa pressed her hands to her cheeks. He is dangerous. That’s why her heart was pounding and her body felt like the burning bush on Mount Horeb. He was looking for the thieves, and he’d never give up.
The gate creaked open. She straightened and caught her breath, her hand going to the rose behind her ear. Was he back?
Gilad sauntered into the courtyard like King David entering his palace.
He wore a royal-blue tunic embroidered with gold and a coat of deep-brown wool. Not a strand of his jet-black hair or perfectly trimmed beard was out of place. His ebony eyes landed on Nissa.
She swallowed and croaked a greeting. “Shalom.”
Gilad’s glance flicked over her smooth hair, the linen tunic, before resting on the rose. “Nissa. I find you well. A flower in your hair, pink in your cheeks. I’ve never seen you looking better.”
He noticed. Isn’t that what she wanted? He stepped closer, close enough to reach out and touch her. Was this the moment she’d been waiting for? Had he finally realized what a good wife she would be? Her pulse fluttered like a tambourine at a wedding feast.
Gilad’s mouth twisted. “And that Roman who just left had a smile on his face.”
Longinus? What did he have to do with anything?
“I’d wager you have Roman coins in your belt.”
Nissa sucked in a breath. Roman coins?
Gilad’s ebony eyes narrowed. “Romans seem not to care if their women are flat-chested and sharp-tongued. At least you’ll be able to pay me the rent.”
“Gilad.” Nissa’s face flamed as his words turned her hopes to ash. “No. I’m not—it’s not—”
Gilad’s smile was more like a sneer. “Don
’t be ashamed, Nissa. Your brother is an am-ha-arez; your parents have thrown you out. What else are you supposed to do? I’m just surprised you are able to make any money at all.” He looked around, assessing the jars of food, the bright linen drying in the sun, the manger full of barley. “Beauty clearly doesn’t matter to a Roman dog.”
How could he think that of her? She’d dreamed of marriage to him since she was a child, and now he thought she was selling her body to a Roman? “Gilad. It’s not like that.”
He held up a hand. “Say what you will, but I’m guessing your brother doesn’t know how you are keeping him in wheat and oil.”
Nissa took a step back, shaking her head. He was wrong, so wrong. But how could she explain the food, the new clothes, the rent money? Gilad knew exactly how much everything cost.
“I didn’t think so.” He advanced on her. “I have nothing against whores, Nissa. But if you’re doing business in my house, your rent just doubled. You aren’t beautiful, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I know centurions pay well.”
Doubled? “Gilad, I—You can’t—”
“Do you want me to tell your brother about your little business?”
She swallowed hard. Cedron wouldn’t believe him. But he would start asking questions. Questions about where she got the money. And once Cedron started asking questions, he wouldn’t rest until he got answers.
Hot tears burned in her eyes. No, I won’t cry. Not because of him. She dug the two silver pieces from her belt and slapped them into Gilad’s open hand, wishing she could slap the smirk off his face.
He looked at the coins. “I’ll be back next month. And I’ll expect six drachmas, two more for this month and four for next.” He looked over her hair and tunic, his gaze lingering on her chest. “You better hope that centurion doesn’t get bored with you.”
Indignation flared in her breast. She stepped up then, her hand flying toward his face, but Gilad was ready. He caught her wrist in an iron grip and stopped her before the palm of her hand met his cheek. He twisted her wrist until she cried out. His fist caught her across her temple, sending her stumbling back against the courtyard wall, blinded by a bolt of pain.
Thief (9781451689112) Page 13
