The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [44]
It was like Simon to make it sound like a favor! Daniel stared down at the road and kicked up a spurt of dust with his bare foot. He was almost at the point of tears. Yet in the same instant such a fierce resentment sprang up in him that he dared not look his friend in the face. They had it all worked out for him. Everyone—the doctor, Leah, the neighbors, and now Simon, took it for granted that he had come home to stay. Did he have nothing to say about it? What about his life on the mountain? What about Rosh and Samson, and the work that must be done in the cave? Wasn't that more important than a few farmers who wanted their wheels mended? Everything he loved the wind on the mountain top the irresponsible life the excitement of the raids rose up and fought off the shackles that Simon held out to him in kindness.
The battle did not last long. He was trapped. Simon knew he was trapped. Though he longed to defy them all and fight for his freedom like a mountain wolf, the weakest one of them had defeated him. He could not leave Leah to sit alone in a house with the door barred. Simon, who had waited without speaking a word, was carefully looking off down the narrow street when Daniel finally raised his eyes.
"Will they bring their business to me?" the boy asked miserably.
"That will depend on you," Simon smiled.
"If I can find someone to care for Leah while I work—"
"I had thought of that too," Simon said. "My house is connected with the shop. No use having it empty. Why don't you both move in there and use my things? Better to have her where you could keep an eye on her yourself."
Not a word about the crumbling mud or the sagging roof or the gaping door which Simon could see plainly from where he stood. Daniel's throat suddenly ached.
"Thank you," he managed. "It is good—"
"It's just good business," Simon said crisply. "I'm sure of your work. I know my reputation is in good hands."
He went on, in a practical tone, explaining some of the problems of the trade, the work that this or that man was likely to demand.
"One more thing," he added. "From time to time—not often—one of the legionaries comes into the shop for something, a broken harness or clasp. They have their own forge at the garrison, of course, but sometimes a man needs a repair done quickly."
Daniel bristled. "I will never serve a pig of a Roman!"
"Yes," said Simon levelly. "You will serve him, and civilly too. There is something you will have to learn, my friend. An outlaw may think he is accountable to no one. But in a village every man holds his neighbor's safety in his hands. If a legionary is in a mood for trouble, any excuse will do. A single insult could cost half the fives in the town in the end. This is one thing I must ask of you."
To Daniel it seemed the final blow that struck his shackles into place.
Simon laughed. "It's not so bad as all that. After all, a horse deserves a comfortable bridle whether he belongs to a Roman or no. Besides, a good Zealot does not bring down suspicion on his roof."
Daniel looked at his friend sharply. Did Simon mean—?
"Did you think you had to give up serving your country? All the patriots don't live in the mountain. There are Zealots in blacksmith shops too. Do what you will—the place is yours now. So long as no harm comes to my neighbors. Can I count on you for that?"
"You can count on that," the boy said, feeling a measure of hope and a great gratitude toward his friend.
"I'm going back to Capernaum tonight," Simon said. "Perhaps you can find a neighbor to help you move your things."
Before dark Daniel climbed the mountain and explained to Rosh that he must stay in the village. Rosh heard him out in silence. Then he spoke.
"This witless sister is more important than your country's freedom?"
Daniel flushed. "No. But I cannot leave her alone."
"They boast of charity in the synagogue, don't they? Let them care for her."
Daniel remembered the untouched loaves of bread tossed through the window. "She would starve," he said.
"I have said it before," Rosh said with scorn.