The Thief (12 page)

N
ISSA TUCKED HER
thin cloak around Cedron. The cramped pigeon coop, smelling of bird droppings and stale straw, offered meager protection from the bite of the morning breeze. Her back ached from sleeping propped against the damp wall, and her empty belly and dry throat begged for food and water.

She’d waited until the last sound of the centurion’s horse had faded before she half carried, half hopped Cedron to the door of the little shed where she’d changed so often from Nissa to Mouse. It was the only place she could think of. They were on their own. She stayed there through the long, cold night, hoping the temple guards didn’t come looking for them.

Now, as the morning light seeped through the cracks in the walls and the holes in the reed roof, she knelt beside Cedron and examined his injuries. His wrenched knee was swollen to twice its normal size, turning an ugly purple. She probed his other injuries—a knot on his head, bruises and scrapes. He groaned and pulled away. He needed a place to heal, and they both needed food and water.

Yesterday, her brother had been given his sight; the promise of a new life had been in their grasp. Now . . . now they were worse off than ever.

She’d hoped, for an absurd moment, that she could give up her life as Mouse.
Go and sin no more,
Jesus had said to the
woman who was guilty of adultery. And Nissa had wanted to say good-bye to Mouse forever.

You don’t have a choice,
the voice thrummed, stronger than ever.

The silver horns rang out across the city, announcing the call to morning prayer. Nissa wrapped her arms around her cold body. How she had loved the call to prayer when she was a child. The chanting of the Shema had soothed her. She would sit for hours, listening to Cedron recite the songs of the Tehillim, and feel the arms of the Lord embrace her.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords, for he is good. His mercy endures forever.

Nissa lurched to her feet. That was before she’d found out the truth. She had called on the Lord to protect her, but he had forsaken her. Perhaps a plain, sharp-tongued girl wasn’t worthy of his mercy. Even what looked like a blessing had turned into a curse.

Yes, only Mouse could take care of them now. The Almighty—and his priests—had left her with no other option.

She bent almost double to go through the tiny opening and out into the alleyway. She’d find a better place, and soon. But first, food. She put her hand over the warm coins in her belt. There was plenty for today and more where that came from.

NISSA SLIPPED INTO
the tiny alley, balancing food and a basket of other treasures in her arms. Cedron would be awake by now and hungry. Voices drifting from the opening of the pigeon roost jerked her to a stop. She leaned down to catch the low murmurs.

“. . . believe in the Son of Man?” The voice was familiar. Who had found them in the little hole in the lower city?

“Who is he, that I may believe?” Cedron answered.

“You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.”

Nissa caught her breath and staggered back against the wall. He was here. Dismas had been right; the man could read souls.
He knew everything, even where they were hiding. Why was he here? Hadn’t he caused enough trouble for them? She stepped farther away from the opening. She couldn’t go in there. He would know about her—about everything.

There was a shuffle, like Cedron had moved, and a low, pained grunt. “I do believe, Lord.” Silence stretched for a long moment.

Nissa’s heart thrashed in her chest like a caged bird. What would Jesus do now?

“I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.”

Jesus made Cedron see, but who would he make blind? Sinners like her? Thieves? She clutched her purchases close to her chest and scooted out of the alley. She couldn’t let him see her. She waited, her breath heaving in her chest. Moments later, he appeared, striding toward the lower market. He passed within arm’s reach but took no notice of her, as though she were nothing more than a worthless sparrow. She waited until her heart had slowed and her breathing leveled before ducking into the roost.

Cedron hunched on the damp floor, his mouth moving in prayer. “He was here, Nissa. The one who cured me.” He pushed himself up with a grimace. “He is the Messiah!”

Nissa nodded as she spread out a feast of fresh figs, honey cakes, and dried locusts. He might be the Messiah, or he might be trouble. Either way, she didn’t want to see him again. She helped Cedron to sit, moving his damaged knee carefully. “You need food and water.”

“He cured me for a reason, Nissa. He has a plan for me.” Cedron’s face glowed like the moon on a clear night.

“Did he tell you that? What is it?” She pulled a new cloak from her basket and wrapped it around Cedron’s shoulders.
So far Jesus’ plans have caused us nothing but trouble.

“I don’t know.” He reached for the water jar. “But I will pray that the Lord reveals it to me.” He drank deeply, then looked at
the jar in his hands, the basket of food, his new cloak. “Where did you . . . How did you buy these things?”

She knew she’d need an explanation, and she had one ready. At least he’d stopped talking about Jesus. She put a fig in her mouth, hoping to disguise the tremor in her voice. “I didn’t get to tell you yesterday. I found work in the upper city.”

Cedron turned toward her and winced. “Doing what?”

“At the laundry, near the barracks. The owner is a Roman who travels with the legion. He’ll give me as much work as I want.” She struggled to swallow the fig in her dry mouth. Would he believe her?

“Washing soldiers’ linens?” He scowled.

Of course he would disapprove of her working for Romans, but that’s what would keep her secret. Cedron would never visit the pagan baths and laundries that surrounded the barracks.

“It’s better than starving.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

Cedron sank down onto the dirty straw. “Just until I get work. Then you can stop. We will put our trust in the Lord.”

Nissa nodded, but Cedron was wrong. She couldn’t afford to trust in the Lord any more than she could trust in the so-called messiah. Nissa would take care of them from now on. Nissa and Mouse.

BY AFTERNOON, NISSA
had found Gilad in the lower market. He lounged against the sun-dappled wall and fingered the silver drachmas she had pulled from her belt. “Greek silver. Where did you get it?”

Nissa scooped them out of his hand. “If you don’t want them—”

“No, no.” Gilad threw up his hands. “Don’t get so prickly, little Nissa. Like the nettles under my sandal strap.”

She tucked the coins in her belt. Her fingers tingled where they had come into contact with his.
Forget about him.
Gilad would marry one of the pretty girls who stared at him in the
marketplace like he was King David. But that hadn’t stopped her from washing in Siloam before she’d come to find him.

Gilad ran a hand over his bearded chin. “I have just the house for you and your brother. You will thank me a thousand times.”

Nissa followed him through the lower market and past Siloam, then turned west toward the tanners’ district. Vats of urine and dung lined the road, ready to soften leather and whiten the garments of the rich. Her eyes watered, and her throat closed at the stench.

They passed crumbling buildings and alleys full of refuse. Through an open doorway, empty wine jugs and sleeping bodies littered the courtyard of a tavern. Dirty men lounged in the doorway of a building covered with obscene paintings. Cedron would never agree to living near a brothel. She drew closer to Gilad. “We can’t live here.”

Gilad quickened his pace. “Wait. It gets better.”

The houses got smaller and the road narrower. He might make her heart race, but she wasn’t going to let Gilad cheat her into renting in this cesspool. “Where is it? Gilad, if you are leading me on a fool’s chase, I’ll—”

“Just here.” Gilad stopped at a high-walled courtyard. “Smell.”

She took a careful breath. Yes. The wind from the north brought the scent of roses and incense from the perfumers’ district, where costly nards and oils were made for the women of the upper city. It was better than the smell of tanneries, but what was the house like?

Gilad opened a crooked gate hanging on one cracked leather hinge. “You can fix that easily.”

She followed him into a tiny courtyard.

It wasn’t much, just a square of dirt with a cooking fire in the center. On one side of the courtyard sat a squat house with a flat, reed-thatched roof. A rickety ladder leaned against the wall.

She ducked her head through the low doorway. The single room inside smelled musty, but it was dry and reasonably clean. Fresh straw was strewn on the floor. She walked around the house. There were no chinks between the plaster and the rough-hewn stones. No signs of mildew on the walls. A lean-to with a manger was tacked onto the far side. She could see them living here. She and Cedron and Amit, perhaps a few goats. Hope rose in her, but she set her face in a frown.

She returned to Gilad. “There’s no place for a garden.”

“This is the city! If you want a garden, go to Bethany.”

“It’s farther from Siloam.”

“You’re young and strong.”

“But I’ll have to walk through that,” she waved toward the foul neighborhood they’d passed through.

“For five drachmas, I’ll give you one month.”

Nissa bit her lip. That was a ridiculous price, and they both knew it. Not many people were willing to live in this section of the city, even with the sweet air. Despite the walled courtyard, they would hear the debauchery of the taverns and brothels late into the night. “Four months.”

“Robbery!”

She flashed the coins at him. “And I want Amit back. Today.”

“Two months is all I can do. And you can have your scrawny donkey.”

She worried her lip again. “Give us until after the Feast of Lights.” Surely Cedron would be healed and find some sort of work in two and a half months. Mouse would take care of them until then.

Gilad’s handsome brow furrowed.

“This isn’t the only falling-down house in the city.” She brushed by him and strolled toward the broken gate.

Gilad threw up his hands. “Fine. Just until the Feast of Lights. Then two drachmas a month—on time.”

Nissa dropped the coins in his hands.

“You are a thief, little Nissa.” Gilad smiled and pocketed the silver.

Her heart skittered, but not because of Gilad’s handsome face.
I
am
a thief, and a good one.
The drachmas were the last of her silver, and they needed much for their new home: wood and oil, lamps and blankets. But there was more where that came from.

This morning, she’d made the mark on the wall next to Siloam. When the horns blew, Mouse would go to work.

Part Two

The Feast of Lights

Chapter 11

N
ISSA WAITED FOR
Dismas in the usual place, anticipation buzzing through her limbs.

The Feast of Lights was almost over. Any day now, Gilad would be back for more rent, and she would be ready for him. She and Dismas stole just enough to get by—once or twice a week and never in the same place. Most of the Romans had left the city after Tabernacles, more than two months ago. She hadn’t seen the bully of a centurion since he’d left them in the lower city after Cedron’s beating.
Good riddance.

Her hope that Cedron would find work had dwindled as the weeks went by. His wounds had healed, but his knee still pained him. As soon as he’d been able to walk, he’d brought Amit outside the city gates to gather wood. When he hadn’t returned by nightfall, Nissa had gone in search and found him collapsed at the foot of the Mount of Olives, Amit braying sadly beside him.

“I just need a few more weeks,” he’d said as she helped him on Amit and led them back home. But she knew better. With his injured knee, he’d never have the strength to load and carry wood over the rough terrain outside the city walls.