The Bronze Bow

by Elizabeth George Speare

  "I never thought of it that way," said Thacia, her eyes clouding. "Is that why, do you think, that so many of them aren't cured?"

  The thought was troubling to them both. They walked on in uncertain silence. Then Thacia's naturally happy spirits reasserted themselves.

  "Have you thought, Daniel, of taking Leah to Jesus?"

  "Yes, I've thought of it. But I don't see how I could get her to Capernaum without frightening her to death. She asked once if Jesus would ever come to our village. But I don't suppose she would really have the courage."

  "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."

  "Do you really think that would make the slightest difference to Jesus?"

  "No. No, I guess it wouldn't. But somehow I wonder. It's the same as the lame man. It's not much of a world, is it? Is it worth trying to bring Leah back into it?"

  Thacia stood still in the road. "Yes!" she cried, and Daniel was astounded to see that tears had sprung into her eyes. "Oh Daniel—yes! If only I could make you see, somehow, that it is!"

  "All this—" she exclaimed, the sweep of her arm including the deepening blue of the sky, the shining lake in the distance, the snow-covered mountain far to the north. "So much! You must look at it all, Daniel, not just at the unhappy things." Suddenly she reached out and touched his hand. "Look!" she whispered.

  He lifted his head and followed her gaze. 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. They wheeled and caught the sun, flashing light from banks of white feathers, with 3 shimmering like the snow on the mountain. Motionless, the two watched till the line slowly melted into the distant air.

  Thacia let out her breath. "How beautiful!" She sighed. "It is beautiful just to be alive in Galilee!"

  Daniel looked down at her. Her head was still thrown back, her lips parted. He could see the pulse beating under the smooth ivory skin, and somehow the line of her throat was one with the long slow arc of the birds in flight.

  She was aware all at once of his look, and then that then hands were joined. Red surged up into the smooth cheeks, and she drew her hand away. For a moment neither of them moved, and then they both began to hurry, almost to run.

  At the junction of the road they passed two more Roman sentries, but this time the men did not speak or even take notice of two dusty boys. For once Daniel felt almost grateful to a Roman. Tonight he could not have borne to watch Thacia shoulder a pack.

  17

  THIS TIME," the villagers said, as Daniel halted the blows of his hammer, "Rosh has gone too far."

  "How do you know it was Rosh?" Daniel inquired, keeping his eyes on the ax he was mending.

  "Is there any other man in Galilee who would dare such a thing? Five of the wealthiest houses in the city robbed last night! But how would he find out? That's what I can't see. How would he know, off there on the mountain, that Mattathias was giving a banquet? Or which men would have taken half their slaves to make a showing? None of the rest of us even knew the tetrarch was coming."

  "Then how can you think it was Rosh?"

  "I don't have to think. The legionaries found out. Rosh might have got away with it, if he'd been satisfied with the loot from the houses. But no, he had to make a night of it."

  Daniel started. Was there more to the story that had not yet reached him? Hand on the bellows, he waited.

  "They tried the house of the centurion himself. He might have known the centurion wouldn't leave his house unguarded. Most likely the cutthroats got careless when they found the other houses such easy picking. Two of them were captured—both escaped convicts anyway, they say. One died as soon as they started to question him, but the other told, before they finally made an end of him."

  Which? Daniel wondered sickly. Which of the men he had lived with side by side in the cave?

  "I say they deserved what they got. Nothing but a pack of thieves up there, for all the fine talk we used to hear."

  Not for a moment could Daniel let such a statement pass in his shop. "Rosh is no bandit," he said. "When he robs it is for a good purpose."

  "So I've heard. Rob the rich to feed the poor. I'll be glad to see the poor that gets one penny of what he took last night."

  "There may be more important needs," said Daniel.

  "Like filling his own stomach? We'll see if he's satisfied now. We'll see if he lets our crops alone. I'll believe you when we can trust our sheep on the mountain."

  Daniel started up the bellows and cut off the rest of the man's complaint. This was the third man since morning who had brought the news that had slithered out from the city like a swarm of snakes to every village round about. Some men praised Rosh's daring, elated to see the rich men defrauded. But more, like this man, were indignant.

  At the first news, Daniel's spirits had soared. Then on the heels of rejoicing had come doubt. Now, at the end of the day, he felt dull and let down. This, then had been the reason for Joel's enterprise? A wholesale looting of rich men's houses. Somehow both boys had expected something more noble, more worthy of the cause. What did Joel think of it? Was it worth the hours lost from his study, the danger?

  No question what Joel thought. That night the meeting in the watchtower was jubilant. Bit by bit the boys from the city had garnered every crumb of news to relate to the village boys. Joel was a hero twice over. Not only had he furnished all the information that had made the raid possible; he had even returned this morning to the very doors of the robbed houses, to listen to the full story from the unsuspecting kitchen slaves.

  "I'm going to keep at it," he boasted. "It would be a shame to give up such an opening. I've got a special order from the centurion's head steward—two-dozen fish every second and fourth day of the week. There's no telling what I may chance on!" He was far too elated to notice Daniel's silence.

  "Is Rosh in danger?" one of the boys asked. "The yellow rat who was caught—"

  "Yellow?" another boy objected. "Do you know what the Romans do to a man? How long do you think you could keep quiet?"

  There was an uncomfortable pause. This was a doubt they all faced in the night, in their own secret thoughts; they did not often speak of it.

  "Don't worry about Rosh," Daniel assured them. "The Romans have had a price on Rosh's head for years. It's another matter to lay a finger on him."

  Questions broke out again. What would Rosh do with the money? Would he buy arms with it? Would he divide it among the farms, maybe pay back for some of the sheep he had killed? There were so many needs for money. Daniel sat silent while they debated passionately the greatest needs for the stolen goods.

  "Leave that to Rosh," he broke in finally. "It is for the cause."

  The argument ended. They were perfectly satisfied. Looking at the circle of intense swarthy faces, at the flashing eyes, feeling the unquestioning loyalty that bound them all to Rosh, Daniel cursed his own heavy misgivings. Why could he not be satisfied with his own answer?

  Nor were the villagers satisfied. Every day in the shop, in the marketplace, at the door of the synagogue, one heard the name of Rosh, sometimes bitterly condemned, sometimes as hotly defended. At last Rosh's name was on every lip, as he had once predicted. Some swore he was the defender of the Jews. But others pointed out that he had turned against Jews. But though they muttered, most men clung with blind faith to Rosh. They still looked to the mountain as the stronghold of freedom and hope.

  The relay of messages which had succeeded so well, was now intensified. Joel threw himself into the role of fish peddler, and with experience he grew more shrewd in interpreting the bits of gossip, the signs of activity that he picked up in the doorways and kitchens of the city. Because he could not often leave home in the evening, other members of the band brought the messages to Daniel's shop. At night Joktan crept down the slopes l
ike a jackal, across the cucumber field to the watchtower, and back to Rosh with the day's report. A mounting excitement filled the watchtower, where boys met nearly every night in the week. Here at last was something to do. Now they could see the results of their work.

  For the results were never far behind. Rosh had acquired at last the link with the city for which he had waited. The boys had given him a weapon he needed, and he struck far and wide, with suddenness and cunning. Joel learned of a Galilean merchant who was expected to deliver seven cruses of oil to the centurion's household on the morrow. Though the merchant set out from his vineyard before dawn, neither he nor his oil was ever seen again. A bridegroom, son of the wealthiest elder in the synagogue, left the city with a gala party of his friends, laden with gifts, to claim his bride in Sepphoris. The bride waited in vain. Next day the whole party returned to their homes, clad only in their tunics, bereft of their handsome cloaks, their gifts, almost of their senses. A holiday party, returning late by torchlight from the games in the theater at Tiberias, was routed, stripped, and badly beaten.

  For none of these victims did the boys feel the slightest pity. Any traitor who sold his goods to the Romans did so at his own risk. Those who flaunted their wealth or patronized a Roman theater were fair prey. And every cruse of oil, every silver talent swelled the fund that would soon maintain the army of Israel.

  As Rosh grew bolder, caravans and travelers increased their protection. The mountain outlaws also suffered losses. Two more men fell into Roman hands, three were secretly buried after night attacks, and four more nursed wounds in the cave. Rosh needed more recruits. Thus it came about that the boys were admitted at last into Rosh's active service, and came to see the action they had craved. Not the trained army that Daniel had dreamed of marching to confront Rosh. Only a guerrilla force of nineteen eager boys. They met at the watchtower, coming one by one, crawling on hands and knees through the tangled vines, to wait, on fire with impatience, for a summons from Rosh. Throughout the village there was a sudden rash of bandages. Boys limped with a swagger, leered smugly through purpled eyelids and grinned through swollen lips.

  To harrass the Romans was their real delight. A pilfered bit of Roman equipment, a spur, a leather gauntlet, was a prize worth risking one's neck for. One city boy, who had made off with a helmet even while a legionary who had laid it aside stooped to take a drink at the well, was almost as great a hero as Joel himself.

  Much of all this Daniel watched with dismay. It was not for this sort of skirmishing that he had dreamed of raising a band. To him many of the exploits they boasted seemed childish. It had been his plan to wait, to train, to grow strong, and then to strike. This activity was like a fire lighted too soon. Would it burn itself out before the day had come?

  But even he was proud of the catapult. Two boys brought word of it one evening, rushing into the shop out of breath.

  "Right on the road they've left it!" one of them panted. "Only two guards. It's one of the big engines they used in the siege of Sepphoris. A wheel crumpled and they've had to leave it there till morning."

  "I'll tell Rosh," said Daniel, laying down his hammer.

  "Wait! Let's take care of this one ourselves," the other boy suggested. "What could Rosh do with a catapult? Come on, Daniel. We discovered this. Why can't we have some of the fun for ourselves?"

  "We can stuff it with oiled rags and set fire to it! What a bonfire that would make!"

  "Enough to be seen for miles," Daniel reminded him. "No use to burn good wood. We're in need of supplies, not bonfires."

  "We'll take it apart, then," they decided. Before he could make up his mind, they had taken the lead out of his hands. The word went out. Hurriedly they scrambled together weapons, files from the shop, chisels, and mallets. One at a time, by various routes, they made their way to a point overlooking the Via Maris and looked down at the monster that crouched there like an unearthly beast in the darkness.

  "What do you suppose they're moving that thing for?" someone whispered.

  "I've a good idea," Daniel answered. "It's the kind of thing Herod used against the caves at Arbela."

  "You think they'd dare to attack Rosh?"

  "If he makes enough trouble for them."

  "All the more reason," said the boy. "We'll do away with it."

  "Wait," cautioned Daniel. "The guards are not to be killed. It would mean death in the village. I'll take one of them, Nathan takes the other, the way I've taught him."

  Before the guard knew that anyone was near, Daniel had one arm about his throat. When the man lay, stunned and gagged, Daniel relieved him of spear and dagger. A moment later a sharp whistle announced that the second guard also was overcome. One by one, shadowy figures crept from the rocks and surrounded the monster. They worked silently, muffling under their cloaks the rasp of the file and the chipping of the chisel. Bit by bit, plank by plank, the monster shrank and crumpled. Over and over, during the long night, the boys retraced the devious path to the watchtower, staggering under heavy planks and crossbeams. When the sun rose next morning the catapult had disappeared without a trace. Nor did Roman offers of reward or threats of reprisal produce a single hint of its whereabouts.

  The boys were wild with success. They swaggered through the village, taking little pains to hide their barked shins and blistered palms. Daniel tried to warn them.

  "You will ruin everything," he urged. "This is only the beginning."

  "Why?" they demanded. "Why can't we strike now? Look at the people. Would one of them give us away? They are just waiting. One word and they'll be with us. Why doesn't Rosh give the word?"

  Joel sent warnings from the city. The Romans were strengthening their forces. A detachment of footguard had come up from Tiberias to join the garrison. The road patrol had been doubled. Even in the village unfamiliar soldiers strolled, apparently without purpose, their eyes alert under their helmets. Daniel insisted there would be no nightly activity for a time. The boys, chafing under the restraint, went scowling about the village. There was an explosive quality in the air.

  One morning a shepherd hurried into town with word that three of the town flock had been snared and slaughtered. That morning two men visited Daniel's shop.

  "They say you can get a message to Rosh if you choose," one began.

  Daniel did not answer.

  "If you can, tell him this: he is to leave our sheep alone."

  "Do you begrudge a sheep now and then," asked Daniel quietly, "to the man who would give his life for your freedom?"

  "We have had enough of his brand of freedom. He's free up there. Free from the taxes that bleed us dry. Free to play with the Romans while we stand and take the punishment. By the prophets, if you have any fondness for this savior of yours, warn him now. We have had enough."

  Two days later a farmer, about to move with his family to man the watchtower in his field, came upon his nearripened crop and found it plundered, trampled, wantonly ruined.

  Dismayed, Daniel climbed the mountain to take the warning to Rosh, only to have Rosh laugh in his face.

  "They are afraid of their own shadows," Rosh jeered. "What good are they but to raise food for men who will fight?"

  "They are desperate," Daniel urged. "You know they cannot carry arms themselves. They are going to appeal to the centurion for protection. They want him to send legionaries."

  "Let them come!" Rosh boasted. "Let them get a taste of the mountain. They will only break their teeth on it."

  Daniel went back to the village sick at heart.

  We must hurry, he thought with despair. The whole village is turning against him. If the day does not come soon, they will never follow him.

  18

  LATE IN THE AFTERNOON on the last day of the month of Ebul, Daniel, looking up from his work, saw a figure hurrying along the road, an unfamiliar figure, muffled in a heavy turban and moving with a haste that warned him of trouble. He put down his hammer and waited. It was only when the stranger entered the shadow of the doorway a
nd pushed back the turban that he saw it was Thacia. Who could have imagined that Thacia could look like this—stricken, gray-faced, the wet hair clinging to her forehead?

  "Oh Daniel!" she gasped. "They have taken Joel!"

  "The soldiers?"

  "Yes. Oh I knew—I knew from the beginning that this would happen. What can we do?"

  I knew it too, he thought, with a wave of sickness. "Where is he?"

  "In the garrison. He didn't come home all night. This morning I went to the harbor and couldn't find him. I didn't know what to do. So I went to Kemuel and he managed to find out. They have been suspecting the centurion's kitchen slaves. Yesterday five slaves were flogged, and when Joel came to the door they took him."

  "Did Kemuel find out any more?"

  "They're sending some prisoners east in the morning. They've sentenced Joel to go with them. Does that mean the galleys? Daniel—Joel could not live in the galleys—he—"

  Through his own horror Daniel saw that the girl was close to collapse. Numbly he reached out and touched her shoulder.

  "Rosh will have planned for this," he said. "He will know what to do."

  At his touch she began to weep wildly, her hands covering her face. She has borne this all night, he thought, and all day. Has she eaten or rested?

  Through the open door to his house he saw Leah, standing behind her loom, staring. How much had she understood? With one arm across her shoulders he led Thacia to the door.

  "Take care of her," he said to his sister. "I'm going up the mountain."

  Leah came from behind the loom and held out her arms, and Thacia stumbled into them. The golden head bent gently over the dark one.

  In two hours' time Daniel reached the cave. The thorn fire was blazing, and the fragrance of roasted mutton hung in the air. The men who sprawled on the ground barely glanced at him. At the mouth of the cave Rosh sat, rubbing at a fine ivory-handled dagger. He listened, giving more attention to the blade than to Daniel's distraught message.