The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [28]
The passage was scarcely two cubits wide. Joel, stooping over and tugging, with Thacia steadying behind, made slow progress, bumping along the rough earth floor for some distance before Joel was satisfied. Then he smoothed the mat carefully while Thacia went back to get grain sacks for a pillow and covering.
"I hate to leave you in this place," Joel said, shining the candle beam along the boxlike walls. "It's not too airy, but you won't suffocate, and I'm sure no one will find you."
Daniel tried to stammer his thanks.
"I wish I could do more," Joel answered. "I'm sorry things went wrong at dinner today. Father isn't like that, really. It's just that—he's suspected for a long time how I feel, and he's afraid I'll join the Zealots."
"I talked like a fool," Daniel said.
"Well—yes, you did." Joel smiled for the first time. "But I wish I had the courage to stand up to him like that."
"If he finds out—?"
"He'd never give you away. I'm sure of that. But he would start asking questions. About Amalek and—the mountain and all. No knowing where it would end. Just stay here and don't worry about it. Thace and I will come whenever we can."
Thacia murmured something to her brother.
"Yes, we have to go," Joel answered. "Will you be all right alone here, Daniel?"
"Yes," said Daniel. "I—"
"Sleep all you can. I'll be back."
He lay still while the candlelight and the footsteps receded. Just before the blackness closed down he thought he heard a whispered voice, "Goodnight, Daniel." He was not sure, and as the fever began to rise in him he imagined that it had been his mother's voice, speaking the words he had not heard for years.
7
"And the Kings and the mighty and exalted and those
who rule the earth
Shall fall before Him on their faces..."
JOEL'S VOICE, hardly more than a whisper, trembled with earnestness as he read. He sat on the dirt floor of the passage, stooping to hold the scroll so that it caught the light from the one sputtering wick they dared to burn. His two listeners sat motionless against the wall, scarcely breathing, held by the music of the words and the spell of the ancient prophecy.
"And their faces shall be filled with shame,
And the darkness shall grow deeper on their faces,
And He will deliver them to the angels for punishment,
To execute vengeance on them because they have
oppressed His children and His elect;
The elect shall rejoice over them,
Because the wrath of the Lord of Spirits resteth
upon them,
And His sword is drunk with their blood."
Daniel leaned back, his face hidden in the shadows. The words were like the wine that Thacia brought to him every evening. He could feel them like fire in his veins. And tonight for the first time he was conscious of his own strength stirring within him. Five days and nights he had spent in this narrow passage, while the fever burned itself out and the pain in his side gradually eased. Soon now he must leave this place, and he must store up these words to take back with him to the cave.
Joel came to the end of the scroll. For a moment there was not a sound. Then Joel began to roll the papyrus carefully, and the girl beside him let out her breath in a long sigh.
"Joel," she said thoughtfully, "has Father read the Book of Enoch?"
"Of course he has."
"Then why does he say that the Jews must not fight for their freedom?"
"Father believes we must leave the future to God. That when God is ready He will establish His kingdom on earth."
"Don't you believe that too, Joel?"
Joel's eyebrows drew together. "In a way I do," he said. "But the men of old didn't wait for God to win their battles for them. They rose up and fought, and God strengthened them. Maybe God is waiting for us now. It seems to me we've tried Father's way long enough. What do you say, Daniel?"
Daniel had been content just to listen. He envied Joel the ability to find so readily the right words. He scowled now with the effort to make them understand his thoughts.
"We've waited too long," he said. "This Phinehas—the one you read about last night—he pulled out his sword