"No. It must be soon. Not the way we imagined it, Thacia. I used to think he would come with a great host of angels. Now I know it must be men, real men, trained and armed and ready—" He checked himself.
"There are such men," said Daniel, keeping his eyes on the distant hills. Without looking, he felt the other boy's muscles tighten.
"I know," Joel answered. Excitement leaped from one boy to the other. The question had been answered.
Malthace looked at her brother, puzzled by something she could not understand. "We should start back now," she said. "We must be home for supper."
"I'll walk a way with you," Daniel offered. He was thinking that he would like to see them safely onto the main road.
They started down the steep slope of the mountain. Once they left the summit behind, the breeze died down, the golden sun hung close above them, and not a leaf moved beside the path. They did not talk now. Daniel could see that Joel was still seething with hidden thoughts. He suspected that for the girl this holiday had not turned out as she had hoped. As for himself, he was already beginning to wish that they had never come. He had been satisfied up here, not thinking too much, shutting out the things he didn't want to remember—working for Rosh, and waiting, nursing his hatred, for the hour that would come. He had never had a friend of his own, and he had never thought about wanting one. Why hadn't he let well enough alone?
Malthace was impatient now. Probably her conscience was beginning to trouble her. But Joel lingered, trying deliberately to fall behind. When his sister was distracted by a clump of myrrh blossoms just ahead, he spoke half under his breath.
"There was something else I hoped for when I came up here," he said. "I've heard that Rosh the outlaw lives on the mountain. I hoped I might be lucky enough to see him."
"Why?"
"He's a hero to every boy at school. But no one has ever seen him. Have you?"
Daniel hesitated. "Yes," he said.
Joel stopped in the pathway, forgetting his caution. "What I'd give—! Are the things they say about him true?"
"What do they say?"
"That he fought beside the great leader Judas when they rebelled against the Romans at Sepphoris, and that when the others were crucified, he escaped and hid in the hills. Some men say he's nothing but a bandit who robs even his fellow Jews. But others say he takes the money from the rich and gives it to the poor. Do you know him? What is he really like?"
No caution in the world could hide the fierce pride that rushed over Daniel. "He's the bravest man in the world! Let them say what they like. Some day every man in Israel will know his name!"
"Then it's true!" cried Joel. "He's raising an army to fight against Rome! That's what you meant up there, isn't it? And you—you are one of them. I knew it!"
"Rosh is the man I told you about, the one who found me. I've been with him ever since."
"I envy you! I've dreamed of joining Rosh."
"Then come. No one could find you up here."
Malthace had stopped and turned back, waiting. Joel looked down at her and made a small helpless gesture. "It's not so simple as all that," he said. "My father—"
"Oh Joel, why are you so slow? What are you talking about?" The girl stood in the pathway, her arms full of crimson blossoms, her dark hair, still uncovered, falling about her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with the sun.
If he were Joel would he run away? Daniel wondered suddenly. Suppose his father and mother waited, with the lamps lighted and a good supper laid out? Suppose he had a sister who could run to the top of the mountain with him and be scarcely winded?
Then abruptly he stopped wondering. Just below Malthace he caught sight of another figure. In the middle of the trail, blocking their way, stood one of Rosh's sentries, Ebol, waiting for them to come down.
2
WAIT HERE," Daniel said to Joel. He strode down the path past Malthace. "Go up and wait with your brother," he ordered, scarcely giving her a glance.
"Where have you been all day?" Ebol greeted him. "Rosh needs you."
"Rosh? Where?"
The man jerked his head toward the rocky hillside. "Seven of us. There's a job to do."
Even to Daniel's practiced eye there was not a sign of life on the barren slope. "Right now?"
"Now. There's a pack train coming from Damascus with a string of slaves. They've almost reached the pass. Easy. No guard to speak of. All we're to take is one slave."
"No money?"
"Not a thing but the slave. A black fellow, big as an ox. Rosh spotted him yesterday when they stopped at Merom. Too good to waste on the galleys, Rosh says. Who are those two up there?"
"A boy I used to know in the village and his sister."
"What are they doing on the mountain?"
"They climbed up here—for a holiday."
The man snorted. "Get rid of them. There's no time to waste."
Daniel climbed back to where the two stood waiting. "I can't go on with you," he said, ignoring the curiosity in both their faces. "You'll be safe from here on—if you hurry."
Joel didn't move. "Is that one of Rosh's men?" he demanded.
Daniel did not answer.
"I know it is," said Joel. "And there's something going on." His eager look scanned the hillside. "Rosh is somewhere near here. I'm sure of it, and I want to see him. Please, Daniel. I may never have another chance."
With the certainty that Rosh's eyes were on them even at this moment, Daniel dared not delay. "No!" he almost shouted. "Forget Rosh and get down the road as fast as you can."
He was astonished at the anger that flashed in Joel's eyes. "Who are you to order me around?"
"Do what I tell you!" Daniel insisted. "There's going to be trouble. Any minute now!"
Excitement flared into Joel's face. "Romans?"
"No, you fool. Not Romans."
The boy's jaw had a stubborn set. "You don't own this mountain. And neither does Rosh. I'll go where I please!"
Two pairs of eyes stared hotly at each other.
"What about your sister?" Daniel asked, and watched the defiance blank out of the boy's face. Too bad, he thought briefly. He's the kind we need.
There was a sound of running feet. A boy about twelve, thin as a scarecrow, came racing up the road, face crimson, eyes bugging. "C-coming!" he stammered. "They've passed the dead oak tree." He scrambled up the steep bank of rock and vanished like a lizard into one of the jagged crevices.
Distinctly now Daniel heard the first sounds of an approaching caravan, the groaning protest of the camels, the bump of heavy loads against the rocky sides of the pass, an occasional muttered order. "Too late!" he warned. "Get up that bank, both of you, and out of sight."
Joel whirled on his sister in sudden fear. "Thace—you heard him! Get up there—quick—as far as you can!"
The girl lingered maddeningly. "Joel—what—?"
"Hurry, Thace! I'll explain later!" Then, with a snort of despair, Joel grasped her hand, jerked her toward the bank and gave her a push. "Up there!" he repeated. "Lie flat and keep your head down. And don't make a sound, no matter what happens."
Daniel watched with approval. Once he had caught on, the boy had acted fast. The girl too. She had gone up those rocks like a mountain goat. Then he saw that Joel had turned and was coming back.
"I'm staying with you," the boy said.
There was no time to argue. Daniel grasped him by the arm and dragged him up the opposite bank. As they crouched behind a boulder Ebol loomed beside them.
"He's all right," Daniel spoke quickly. "I vouch for him."
"One sound from him—" The man made one swift gesture.
"He won't," said Daniel.
"See to it, then. Now mark this. Wait for the signal. The one in the yellow and purple is yours. No sport about it, Rosh says. No killing." He was gone, as though he had melted into the rocky bank.
In the still air Joel's breathing was loud. The boy's eyes, fixed on Daniel's face, were feverish. Daniel felt his own heart begi
n to pound. This was Rosh for you, he wanted to say. You could never be sure what would happen next. Days on end with no excitement, and then, all of a sudden, Rosh would see something he needed or wanted, and like a hawk he would pounce. Daniel began to feel the crawling in his stomach, half fear and half pleasure. Only recently had he been allowed a part. He wasn't used to it yet, especially the waiting.
Joel nudged him. "What do we do?" he whispered.
"I do it," Daniel answered. "You stay here."
Joel's eyes sparkled. His young face was taut, his hands clenched so that the knuckles knobbed out. Daniel saw that he had no intention of staying there, and an elation he had never felt before leaped up in him. Suddenly he grinned back at Joel, and in that instant they heard a sound just below them. Close together they edged their foreheads around the rock.
The first of the train came in view, a burly guard armed with a heavy staff, and behind that a second guard with a sword at his side, both walking silently, glancing uneasily at the rocky banks. They knew they were approaching a bad spot on the trade route, lonely, narrow, and treacherous. Above them the boys waited, holding their breaths, as the rest of the caravan wound slowly into sight. It was not much to brag about. Four mangy camels, lurching grudgingly up the steep path, their burdens swaying. A string of underfed mules. One litter with dingy curtains. Four ordinary tradesmen. With disgust Daniel marked the one in the purple and yellow headdress. The man was fat and out of breath, and looked scared to death already. How long would it be before Rosh would give him a full-sized job to do?
Behind the tradesmen plodded the slaves, first the men and then a drab cluster of women, herded close together, urged onbythe flicking whips of two more guards in the rear. No question of which one Rosh wanted. Over the whole party towered one murderous-looking slave, with lash-ridged shoulders and an ugly scar. What would Rosh want with such a brute? Daniel wondered. Still, it ought to be easy. Only eight men to account for. He caught Joel's eye and grinned again, and then both of them jumped to the shrill whistle.
Instantly the hillside erupted. Out of the corner of his eye, even as he moved, Daniel saw Rosh, always one jump ahead, hurl himself at the first guard. Accurate as hawks, other figures dropped to their chosen targets.
It was too easy. The man in the striped headdress was fumbling for his dagger when Daniel caught his arm, twisted it back, and, seizing the weapon from the fat unresisting fingers, poked it against the roll of fat that covered the man's ribs. He stared down into the pudgy face, at the moist eyes blinking with terror, the cheeks gray with sweat, the fat lips trembling, and he felt cheated. There was no sport in a match like this. But he had his orders, and he held the knife steady. Around him there was a brief efficient struggle, a few blows, some wailing shouts, the scream of a camel, all muffled in a spurt of choking dust. Then silence, and the familiar hoarse bark of Rosh giving orders. The skirmish was over. He drew back his dagger, let go of the man's arm, and stood back.
Slowly the caravan pulled itself together and moved on. Grateful to escape with the loss of one slave, the tradesmen knew better than to argue. When they had straggled out of sight, Daniel took quick stock. One of Rosh's men lay on the path, his legs thrashing, another mopped blood from his arm. No one else appeared to be even winded. Joel stood rubbing his shoulder.
"Is that all there is to it?" he demanded.
Daniel strode across the path and pulled the cloak down from Joel's shoulder, revealing a bruise already darkening and swelling. "Who gave you that?" he demanded.
Joel reddened. "I meant to get the other arm of your man," he said. "But his plagued mule—"
Daniel choked back a roar of laughter.
"At any rate, we got the slave," Joel added, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.
The cause of the fracas stood motionless in the middle of the path, a giant of a man, naked except for a filthy loincloth, his black skin mottled with purplish bruises and patches of mud. Daniel, with an ironsmith's eye, noted that the bands binding wrists and ankles were of double weight. The slave stood like a beast of stone, unaware that they had gone to this trouble to free him, indifferent that he had exchanged one master for another. Once again Daniel doubted Rosh's choice. There was power there, all right. Those huge arms could crack the ribs of a man as easily as a child could snap a twig. But the broad face with the livid scar showed no sign of intelligence, only an animal wariness that would mark the time to strike.
Then Daniel saw Rosh coming toward them. Rosh had a squat, thick body, with a short muscular neck, and a grizzled head which seemed to thrust forward directly from the powerful shoulders. Now, under the bristling eyebrows, his small black eyes glittered at Joel, not with surprise, because Rosh never allowed himself to be surprised, but with a hostility that made Daniel step forward and speak first.
"We've got a new recruit, Rosh," he said.
Heavy legs braced, Rosh measured the newcomer. "Speak up, boy," he barked. "Who are you?"
Rosh was used to seeing men cringe. Joel did not cringe, and though he was speechless, the pure hero-worship that shone from his eyes must have melted even Rosh's suspicion.
"Joel bar Hezron, sir," he managed finally.
"Your father know you're here?"
"N-no, sir."
"In trouble in the town, are you?"
"Oh, no."
"Then what do you want with me?"
Joel stood his ground. "I wanted to see you," he said, "because they say that someday you will drive the Romans out of Israel. When you do, I want to be with you."
Rosh's teeth flashed from the midst of his matted black beard. As his gnarled hand came down on the injured shoulder Daniel saw the tears start into Joel's eyes, but the boy did not flinch.
"Well said!" Rosh thundered. "Any man who hates the Romans is welcome here."
"I didn't come to stay," Joel explained unhappily. "I'd like to, but I can't, not now. I just came up here for a holiday, and my sister is with me. And in a few days we're moving to Capernaum."
Rosh's approval twisted to anger. "Not after what you've just seen," he said, his voice ugly. "Now you stay here."
Daniel knew that Rosh was bluffing. Rosh had had a price on his head for too long to care now what news reached the village. But Joel could not know that, and Daniel felt a surge of pride at the steadiness in the boy's eyes.
"I'm taking my sister home," Joel answered. "But if you mean I'd talk, you're wrong. If keeping silent is all I can do for now, then you can count on that."
Rosh studied the boy. "You're certain you want to work for me?"
"I'm certain."
"You think you know how to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut?"
"Yes."
"Then go along to Capernaum. There's time enough. When your turn comes, you'll hear from me."
Rosh turned away, the matter settled. Suddenly, without warning, Daniel was shaken by a flood of jealousy. Not a word, not a look at him. Who had captured the merchant and held him while they took the slave? What had Joel done, besides getting in the way of a mule's hind leg? He wished again that he had never laid eyes on the boy.
"What do you think of him?" Rosh was shouting to his men, waving a hand at the black slave. "Worth a little trouble, eh?"
"By the look of him," one man muttered, "we're all like to wake up dead some morning."
"That's no joke," said another. "He could crack two of our heads together like a pair of walnuts."
Rosh only grinned. He walked up to the slave and clapped a hand on the trunklike forearm. His own powerful body was dwarfed beside that of his prisoner. "Don't look so glum, man," he roared. "Don't you know when you're in luck?"
The slave stared down at him, uncomprehending.
"Do you understand me?" Rosh questioned, impatiently. "Do you have a name?"
Not a flicker livened the stony features. There was some laughter. "Samson," someone suggested. "Goliath."
"Deaf, maybe," one man guessed.
"Dumb too, I wager
. Lots of those black ones are mutes."
Rosh shrugged. "We'll see. We took him for his muscles, not his tongue. He'll prove his worth soon enough."
"If he ever learns which side he's fighting on," someone muttered.
Rosh's good humor vanished. The joke had gone too far. "I'll do the choosing!" he roared. "I don't ask for a vote by a pack of lily-livered jackals. Bring him along."
He stamped scornfully up the trail without a backward look. The men eyed each other, each waiting for someone else to make a move. Then, without knowing what prompted him, Daniel stepped into the path. "I'll take him," he said, reaching for the short length of chain that dangled from the iron wristbands. Five of the men tripped over each other to follow their leader. Even the man who had lain writhing on the trail got hastily to his feet. Two reluctantly stood by, willing to reinforce Daniel from a distance.
Daniel looked back at Joel. With the slave's chain in his hand he felt he had regained his former advantage. There was nothing to say now. The affair was over. Joel's eyes met his in a brief salute, and between the two boys something flashed, a wordless exchange that was both a farewell and a beginning.
Though the slave plodded forward without urging, Daniel was forced to check his own pace when he realized how narrow a stride the iron shackles allowed. At the first turn in the trail he looked back. Joel still stood in the path looking after them. Then he saw Malthace, coming down the rocky bank in one sure fluid course, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. He remembered with sudden clearness what he had not even been aware of seeing up there on the mountain, the way that hair had sprung, clean and alive and shining, like a bird's wing, back from the smooth forehead. He watched till the girl joined her brother, and then he set his face toward the mountain with his prisoner. He left the trail and struck off toward the right to follow a steep-pitched course among the boulders. Once again, prompted by the sure grace of the girl, the thought of his own sister stirred in him like an old wound.
Daniel already regretted the impulse that had prompted him to lead the slave. He knew well enough why he had done it. It had been nothing but a boast, an urge to make up for the fact that Joel had found favor with Rosh. He had plenty of chance now to curse his own childishness as he inched his way up the rocky course beside the chained ox. The two men who had stayed behind chafed at the slow pace, their crude jests about the prisoner soon changing to oaths at his lumbering progress. Once the sun dropped below the horizon, the dark came on swiftly, making their way even more difficult. It was like a release from a nightmare to smell at last the fragrance of roasting meat, to hear the sound of voices, and to emerge at the familiar clearing. A roaring fire near the mouth of the cave lit up the circle of men sprawled on the hard dirt. The meal was almost over, and Daniel's two companions lost no time in flinging themselves down for their share. No one paid the slightest attention to the slave for whom they had a few hours earlier risked their necks. Daniel stood uncertainly, the chain in his hand.
The Bronze Bow Page 2
