The Bronze Bow: Chapters 12–16

Murderous hate boiled up in him. How dare the man look at his sister? The very touch of his eyes had defiled her, as surely as though he had touched her with his hand.

Daniel set to work, blowing the waning fire with the bellows, heating and pounding straight the blade, then applying the sandstone to the nicks that the pebbly land had left.

He did the work they required of him and took their money, not caring that he had a reputation for being surly.

The boy was plainly wealthy, and used to having his own way. There was an edge of disdain in his voice, and in his proud, handsome face.

He led Daniel to an abandoned watchtower in his father’s cucumber field, a small round stone house in which the whole family had once lived during the time of harvest to watch lest thieves despoil the ripening crop.

He realized that she had never before known any recompense for her hours at the loom.

He showed her how to sew the coin into her head scarf, where every village girl, even the poorest, boasted the jingling coins that would be her dowry.

It took a considerably longer time than Daniel had reckoned, because Joel and the young weaver lost themselves in the intricacy of a theological debate.

A girl with gold earrings studied him shrewdly.

He knew it was too much. He had no way of knowing how much too much, and he had no knack for bargaining anyway.

“Oh,” she said, “a present, is it? Wait a minute.” She delved beneath a pile of odd articles. “Here. Take one of mine. I won’t charge you for it.”

For a moment he was disconcerted. Then he remembered that Thacia was the only girl she knew.

He was completely taken aback. “That’s a silly question,” he snapped. “I’m not going to marry.”

Rosh had gorged himself on the forbidden mutton, but he hadn’t forgiven the one man in the camp who had dared to flout his orders.

It puzzled him that this timid creature who had never dared to venture beyond their tiny garden patch should now be so curious about the busy life of the city.

At night people came flocking to the home of Simon the fisherman, where Jesus lived in a booth on the rooftop. There the workers would gather, weary from a day of hard labor at the forge or the wharves or the vineyards.

Each time she brought some small gift, a lily bulb to plant in the garden, a tiny alabaster jar of perfume, a skein of scarlet thread.

There had been something in her face, a searching and a wistfulness that still haunted him.

He rolled out and sharpened a slender bronze pin which could pass down like an arrow between the bow and the fine wire of its string, so that the bow became a brooch such as he had seen the city folk wear to fasten their cloaks.

“Herod is entertaining a special legation from Rome. While they’re at Tiberias they plan to come up to Capernaum for a day or so to inspect the garrison here. For some people, the rich ones who toady to Rome, that will be a great occasion. Mattathias, the banker, is giving a banquet for the whole legation, and some of the richest men in Capernaum will be there.”

Joel’s eyes began to sparkle at the thought of intrigue.

“Good idea!” Joel flashed. “I’ll get a basketful of extra fine ones, and peddle them for a good price. I can say I’ll take orders for any special occasion. You know how the kitchen slaves talk about a party. I’m sure it would work!”

Then, watching Joel’s rapt flushed face, Daniel felt not envy, but unexpected misgiving.

Then, watching Joel’s rapt flushed face, Daniel felt not envy, but unexpected misgiving.

“We’ll go to visit Leah. I’ve been wanting to for days.” In the face of their enthusiasm, Daniel’s scruples melted.

Thacia tipped back her head for Daniel’s scrutiny in a gesture that reminded him of Leah.

Both brother and sister were relishing their conspiracy.

Joel had already arranged for a consignment of fish and had them hidden under a half-upturned boat, packed under fresh green leaves in a woven basket.

The soldiers waited. Daniel stood in helpless fury. Then, for the first time in his life, he bent his neck to the Roman yoke and picked up the second pack.

The two soldiers ambled behind them, chatting good-naturedly to each other, as though the two packbearers were mules.

Here and there a solitary thresher still moved in a field, tossing the grain in great forkfuls into the air, letting the breeze catch the chaff while the heavy grain fell back to the ground.

Her gaiety touched with a special grace everything around her.

“When he comes, if she will not go to him, then you must ask him to come to your house with you. He often goes with people, you know.”
“To the centurion’s house, or to some rich man’s.”

Overhead, barely discernible against the blue of the sky, a long gray shadow hung suspended. Cranes, hundreds of them, were passing in a great phalanx.

Overhead, barely discernible against the blue of the sky, a long gray shadow hung suspended. Cranes, hundreds of them, were passing in a great phalanx.