The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [24]
"Well," said Hezron reasonably, "it is necessary for every boy to learn a trade. Joel, as you probably know, was trained as a sandalmaker, as I was myself. Though I must say I applied myself with more diligence. I do not seem to remember seeing you in Amalek's shop."
"I didn't work there long."
"You can tell he's a blacksmith," Joel broke in, in an effort to swerve his father's questions. "With those muscles you'd be a sensation in the gymnasium, Daniel. Have you ever been there?"
"The Roman gymnasium?" Daniel glared at his friend. "I would never set foot in it!"
"I should hope not," said Hezron, with a scowl at his own son. "That was an ill-considered jest."
"Of course it was a jest, Father," Joel amended hastily.
"It is not a matter for jesting," his father said. "It is an outrage that some of our Jewish youths have been tempted to take part in these disgraceful games. And some of their elders even go to watch their shame."
"Well, there are other things in the city worth seeing," Joel persisted cheerfully. "This afternoon I'll take you about, Daniel."
Daniel stared down at his empty cup. The morsels of food had not begun to whet his hunger. The rabbi had deliberately put him at a disadvantage with every question. His resentment turned now even against Joel.
"I have seen enough," he said rudely. "All I can see is the Roman fortress and the eagles in the streets. Everywhere I turn I hear the ring of Roman boots on the pavement."
Joel, a worried line puckering his forehead, still attempted to steer his friend to safety. "I felt that way at first," he said. "But you do get used to it. For the most part they mind their own business. Some of them even try to be friendly."
"Friendly!" Daniel reared up on his couch. "This morning on the road I passed an old man mending the axle of his wagon. He was deaf and he couldn't hear the chariot coming. It caught his rear wheel—he said there was room and to spare. He swore the soldier meant to do it. His cabbages were ruined, and the old man was shaking all over. Can you get used to that?" He glared across the table.
Joel looked down, dismayed. Hezron spoke sternly.
"Unfortunate things happen, we know," he said. "But your friend has doubtless found a market for his vegetables. We must remember that here in Capernaum we have reason to be grateful to the Romans for our beautiful synagogue."
But Daniel had gone too far to retreat. The dark tides had swelled to the brink, flooding out politeness, caution, even the memory of the errand that had brought him to this house.
"A Roman synagogue!" he growled. "Raised with Roman taxes. What is it better than the stadium?"
Joel gasped. Hezron, his eyes flashing, rose from his couch. "Watch your words, boy," he warned. "The synagogue is a house of God, no less because Roman funds helped to build it."
The boy also sprang to his feet. His dark eyes blazed back at the man. "I would never set foot in it!" he cried.
"There is blood upon it!"
The passion in his words trembled through the quiet room.
"Young man!" Hezron's voice was like a whip. "You will learn to keep such thoughts to yourself. If you have no concern for your own life, you will respect the safety of those who offer you hospitality."
The stinging reminder restored Daniel to reason. A flush swept up over his face. "Forgive me, sir," he stammered. "I—I was not ungrateful for your kindness. But I can't understand. Have the city people forgotten? They don't seem to care. Everywhere I look I see them—their stupid faces, their armor clanking. How can you feel grateful to them? Grateful that they built us a synagogue to keep us contented—that they let us breathe the air they have polluted? I shouldn't have come here. I don't belong in the city or in a house like this. I can't endure to go on as though nothing were wrong when my people are prisoners on their own land—"
He stammered to a stop, aghast at himself, and saw