The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [39]
This was Rosh's idea of justice, and the kind of sport that most delighted him. He made it sound like a privilege that Daniel should have the chance. Daniel agreed with him on principle. Why should one greedy old miser live like a king in Antioch while his fellow jews toiled and starved? Moreover, the thing would be done quickly. A lonely stretch of road, a moment's bluffing, and the man would go on his way unharmed—but not until he had made a contribution to his country's freedom. Fair enough, Daniel reasoned. Still, his stomach was uneasy.
After nearly an hour's wait, he spotted the man on a bend of the road just below. He slid behind a rock and waited. The man climbed slowly, with a wheezing sigh at each step. He would have fooled anyone, with his rags and his tottering gait. The deceit of the man made the job he had to do seem easier. When the miser was fairly opposite the rock, Daniel pounced.
The man did not resist him. He cringed and sank to his knees. A poor man, lie moaned, with not a thing that anyone could want. Daniel jerked him back to his feet and reached for the girdle. Then, like a snake, the man struck. Daniel caught the gleam of the knife barely in time to grip the man's wrist. He saw the cold glitter of the man's eyes. For a moment they struggled in deadly silence. Who could have guessed that that bony frame would have so much strength? Then Daniel saw the second dagger, this time in the man's left hand. With one mighty unthinking thrust, his own fist came up, and the man crumpled back across the path. Daniel stood breathing hard. Then he stooped and felt for the man's girdle. The moneybag was there all right, a fat one. He stuffed it into his own girdle and turned away. The thing was done.
At the turn of the road he looked back. The man lay sprawled on the road, and suddenly a long-forgotten memory hit Daniel's stomach with the thud of a blow. For a moment he stood, feeling wretchedly sick, and then he remembered. How many times in his childhood had he waked in the early morning and seen his grandfather lying just like that on the mat beside him, cap slipped sideways off the pinkish scalp, scrawny neck muscles stretched like a half-grown chicken's?
Curse Rosh! Daniel knew what the orders were. He should get away from this place as fast as possible. He looked behind him up the pathway at the rocky hillside. If anyone were watching, he would be laughed out of camp. But he could not leave an old man who looked like his grandfather lying helpless on the road. He went back and knelt down, his throat suddenly like ice, and fumbled in the rags over the man's chest. With relief he recognized an uncertain beat of life under the bony ribs. He picked the man up, carried him to the side of the road and laid him down in the shadow of a rock. Then he sat down and waited.
It was some time before the man regained consciousness. Finally he blinked and turned his head, and Daniel was suddenly angered by the terror that leaped into the old eyes.
"Lie still," he said roughly. "I'm not going to touch you. Wait till you're able to walk."
But the old man would not wait. He jerked to his feet and backed away.
"Wait," said Daniel. "Take this. You may need it." He held out one of the daggers that less than an hour ago had threatened his own life. Then he stood watching till the man, in a tottering course, dragged around the turn of the road by which he had come.
Back in camp he flung the moneybag at Rosh's feet. Rosh snatched it up, weighed it rapidly from one horny palm to the other, jerked open the strings and poured out a glittering heap of coins onto the stone. He slapped them down as they bounced and rolled.