The Thief (27 page)

Longinus turned to Marcellus. “We’ll go to the Sheep’s Gate.”

“What about the thieves?”

Longinus turned Ferox and signaled to his men to follow. Pilate and his six thousand men would appear on the western horizon at any moment, and Jesus would arrive from the east with his
crowd of believers. Longinus was caught in the middle with twenty men. “We’ll get them, but right now, we need to stop a revolution.”

NISSA FOLLOWED DISMAS
and Gestas around the temple and skirted the high, cold walls of the Antonia Fortress. Anxiety spiraled through her. One look at Gestas when they met in the upper city had been enough to harden her resolve. She must find a way to get rid of him for good.

She’d hardly seen Cedron for days. When she did, he muttered about revolution. After she made sure Gestas was no longer a threat to him, she’d confess about Mouse. Better he find out the truth from her than a lie from Gilad. Yes, with Gestas gone, she’d be free.

Dismas waited for her to catch up to him. “I have a bad feeling about this, Mouse,” he whispered. “We should all go home.”

“Shut up,” Gestas hissed, coming between them. He grabbed Nissa by the arm. “Tell him, Mouse.” He glared down at her.

Nissa swallowed, her throat dry. “Don’t worry,” she squeaked.

Dismas turned on Gestas. “I don’t like this. Something will go wrong today. I can feel it.”

“Don’t be such a woman! Look at these crowds.” He gestured to the men, women, and children packing the streets. Pilgrims coming in for the feast like herds of sheep. “And we aren’t even close to the Sheep’s Gate yet. I heard thousands follow this man. They won’t even notice we’re here. We’ll steal a few purses and get out.”

“But the temple guards and the Romans—”

“Didn’t I just explain all that to you, you dense Greek?” Gestas said. “Pilate is returning today. And he’s coming in the Jaffa Gate, on the other side of the city. The Romans will be there, every one of them. This will be like stealing from the blind.”

Dismas planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I still think
Mouse shouldn’t be here. I told you before. They’re looking for him.”

Nissa’s hopes sunk like a stone. No Romans patrolling the streets? How could she hope to get rid of Gestas? And why was Dismas suddenly so worried about her? Did he know something she didn’t?

Gestas squared his shoulders and glared up at Dismas. “Mouse is the best we’ve got.” He narrowed his eyes at Nissa, and his hand dropped to his belt where the hilt of the dagger glinted. “You aren’t turning into a girl on us, are you,
Mouse
?”

Turning into a girl.
As if she needed reminding of his threat.

She’d find some way to get him caught. If not by a Roman, then by a strong pilgrim or a temple guard. With that dagger he carried, he wouldn’t go without a fight. She’d just have to hope it was a fight he wouldn’t win. She shook her head and looked up at Dismas. “It will work, Dismas. It’s a perfect plan.” She tried to make her voice easy. “Think of the wine and women you’ll have tonight.” She felt sick at the words. Dismas didn’t deserve her lies.

Dismas’s shoulders relaxed, but his voice was unsure. “You really think it’s a good plan? Even with the Romans after us?”

No, but she didn’t have a choice. “Yes. Gestas is right. They’re all on the other side of the city. It’s our best chance until after Passover.”

Dismas’s brow was still folded, but he moved closer to the street. “All right, Mouse. But stay close to me.” He bent his head toward her ear and whispered, too low for Gestas to hear, “And after, meet me at our old spot, near the tower.”

She dipped her chin in a quick nod. He looked so serious. What did he want to talk to her about? If she had any luck at all, when this day was over, Gestas would be gone, and she’d tell Dismas good-bye. A pang of remorse stung her. She’d miss him. But she was so weary of secrets, and if he knew who she really was, he would reject her anyway.

Gestas’s smile glinted at her. “Good work,” he mouthed.

Nissa dropped behind Dismas, watching his faded blue tunic weave ahead of her toward the Sheep’s Pools, two immense, shallow pools on the east side of the city—both bigger than Siloam. The marketplace around the pools was deserted except for pens of mournful-sounding lambs. When Passover arrived, they would be washed in the pools and brought to the temple for sacrifice.

She had to get Gestas alone. Dismas’s weakness was his love of women, but Gestas’s love was for silver. Somehow, she’d find a way to use that against him.

The crowds thickened, and excited voices buzzed as they neared the Sheep’s Gate. Women stood on tiptoe, craning their necks to see over the heads of the crowds. Children were hoisted onto their father’s shoulders. Men tore palm branches from trees and passed them to the onlookers. Nissa surveyed the crowd and, for once, was disappointed to see no red-plumed helmets, no armor-clad soldiers. Gestas was right. This was a perfect place to steal.

“He’s coming!” someone shouted.

As the crowd surged toward the gate, Nissa spotted three guards—hired muscle for a rich man—pushed close around a well-dressed merchant. They weren’t Roman soldiers, but they had weapons and could manage Gestas. All she had to do was get them to chase him . . . without getting caught herself. She sidled close to Gestas, keeping her eye on Dismas, who was still ten paces ahead. “I need money for rent.”

Gestas looked at her sideways. “You’ll get what I give you.”

Anger rose in her chest.
Pigs get fat; hogs get slaughtered.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll find someone, like last time. Someone with a fat purse. It should be easy enough in these crowds. I’ll lead him to you, just like we did before with the priest.”

Gestas stopped and turned to her, his eyes narrowed. “I thought you said no more killing.”

Nissa bit at her lip. There could be no more killing, at least not of the innocent. She’d have to be very careful. “Do what you want. Just give me half.”

Gestas’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt, and he licked his lips. “Where?”

Nissa kept the rich merchant and the guards in sight. How far could she lead them without getting caught? “The wood market by the Sheep’s Pools.” It wasn’t far from where they stood. When she was a child, she’d spent many hours there with her father. She knew the streets around it as well as any in Jerusalem. The east side of the market was surrounded by high walls and dead-end alleys. “Wait for me behind the pillars on the temple side.” If she was fast, she could get out, but Gestas would be trapped.

Gestas looked doubtful and jerked his head toward Dismas. “What about him?”

Nissa shook her head. No. Dismas couldn’t be a part of this. He’d try to stop her. “If you want to split the purse with him . . .” She shrugged.

Gestas grimaced. “I’ll be waiting for you. Alone. Now go do your job, Mouse.”

Chapter 24

L
ONGINUS, ASTRIDE FEROX,
led twenty legionaries at double pace through the city streets toward the Sheep’s Gate. His tunic was damp under his armor, and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck.

Anticipation coursed through his veins despite the weight of his worry. He was going to see Jesus, the man he’d heard so much about. He’d finally get some answers to his questions and see if the rumors were true.

They passed under the shadow of the temple wall, then turned north to follow the road past the Sheep’s Pools. He turned the corner around the deserted wood market and into the street leading east to the Sheep’s Gate.

He yanked Ferox to a halt.
By the gods, where did these people come from?

Thousands of people filled the streets, waving palm branches and shouting. Well-dressed merchants and landowners pressed close to peasants and farmers. Shepherds and laborers rubbed shoulders with pilgrims in traveling cloaks, all of them gazing toward the east.

“You there!” He brought Ferox alongside a group of men stripping branches from a spindly palm. From their clothes, they looked like Greeks. “What’s happening here?”

“It’s the Messiah.” Yes, definitely Greek Jews in town for the Passover.

“Jesus of Nazareth?”

“Yes. He brought a man back to life in Bethany! A man dead for four days!”

The Greeks passed branches into the frenzied crowd. Longinus looked for a pathway through the mob. He needed to see this man they called the Messiah. “Marcellus, Petras. Stay here. Keep an eye on the crowds. Watch for any disturbances. I’ll move up.”

He nudged Ferox toward the gate, pushing through the river of people like a fish swimming upstream. Where was Jesus, and how would he know him when he saw him? His hands were damp on the reins. Would he even get a chance to warn him about the Sanhedrin, to question him and decide if he really was a threat?

A man’s deep bellow caught his ear. “Stop him! My money!”

People jostled and shouted, one pointing one direction, another pushing through the crowd in the opposite way. But Longinus, seated on Ferox, caught the flash of the familiar dirty tunic on an undersized figure. The Mouse. Of course the thieves would be here, where the people were packed like olives in a jar. He should have known.

A merchant bellowed again and gave chase, along with what looked like three armed guards.

He craned his neck toward the gate. No sign of Jesus yet. From his vantage point, he could see the Mouse pause and glance back, like he was waiting for someone. The guards were close, but Longinus was closer.
Finally, the gods smile upon me.
He could catch the Mouse who had eluded him all winter. He’d win the bet and get back in time to intercept Jesus.

He heeled Ferox’s sides. “Get out of the way!” People shoved and shouted but were packed too tightly to move aside. He signaled to Petras, “Take ten men around to the Sheep’s Pool; then circle back.”

He pulled his sword as he threw a leg over the saddle and jumped off Ferox. “Move!” He charged through the crowd.

“Marcellus!” He pointed toward the gate as he passed his optio. “Watch for him.”

The crowds thinned as he moved into the side street. He stopped, listening for footsteps or shouts. Which way?

A bellow sounded from the direction of the wood market. It had to be the merchant and his guards. But why was the boy leading them away from the crowds? He sprinted toward the market.

A short, thick man careened around the corner toward him. Too old to be the Mouse, too short to be the Greek. Longinus let him pass. This time, he wouldn’t let anything distract him from capturing the thieves. The wood market was just ahead. He crept through the winding side streets. The noise of the crowds dulled, but a muffled thud caught his ear as he passed a courtyard gate. A covey of pigeons fluttered upward from behind the wall. Whatever—or whoever—had disturbed them was in the courtyard. Trapped.

He moved swiftly to the gate and silently pushed it open, scanning the courtyard. The walls were high, the door to the house barred. The courtyard was empty but for a bank of well-tended rosebushes.

He tightened his grip on his sword and advanced on the bushes. A stone pinged off his armor, another off the wall on his left.

He whirled toward the open gate. There, with a flash of blue striped tunic, the tall Greek darted away. Longinus glanced back at the bushes. The boy might be in them, but the tall Greek was only twenty paces away. Longinus put on a burst of speed. He’d catch him before he rounded the corner ahead.

The Greek was five steps from the corner, and Longinus was one step behind, when Petras and five legionaries appeared at the junction. The man was trapped and surrounded in seconds. He struggled, but a quick strike to his head left him dazed and limp.

Longinus pushed him toward his men. “Get him to the carcer. I’m going back for the Mouse.”

He ran back to the courtyard where the gate swung open. Rose petals lay scattered on the dust, a scrap of dirty wool hung from the thorns. The boy had been here, all right, but he was gone. Longinus slammed his palm against the stone wall. The Greek had saved him again. He sheathed his sword and sprinted back toward the gate.

Marcellus held Ferox’s bridle. Where the crowds had been standing, there were now only trampled palm branches and clouds of dust. Ferox sidestepped and snorted as Longinus pulled himself up. He turned toward the city where the last stragglers were heading. “Where is Jesus?”

Marcellus shook his head. “He passed by. I followed him, but he disappeared when they got to the temple.”

Longinus bit back a curse. Not even a glimpse. The pilgrims who had entered the city with Jesus had disappeared like chaff in the wind. When he got his hands on that Greek, he’d make him pay. And the other little thief as well.

Longinus signaled his men to march back to camp. At least he had something to show for today. He had the Greek, and by the gods, he’d talk. By the time Longinus was done with him, he’d know everything he needed to find the Mouse. And when he got the little runt, he’d have some leverage with Pilate and could warn him not to fall for the schemes of the Sanhedrin. Then, he’d get out of Judea.

NISSA WAITED IN
the tiny alcove by the upper market. Her body shook like an earthquake. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. What had happened to Dismas? He’d saved her. Again.