The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [49]
Daniel observed.
"He's worn out trying. Last year it was the locusts, and this year some cockle seed got into the grain and the crop isn't worth harvesting. He could never meet the taxes."
Daniel said nothing.
"He could have sold my sister. There would have been no shame in that. But he's too softhearted."
"That's a hard choice," Daniel agreed.
"They force it on us, the cursed Romans. The land would feed us well enough if we were rid of them."
Daniel leaned closer to the stone and carefully ground out a slight roughness.
"But it's not true what they said," the boy went on. "My father would never put one penny of the taxes in his own pocket."
Daniel did not answer. A tax collector might start out honest enough, he reflected. But a man weak enough to take the job at all would find it hard to resist the easy pickings. He felt embarrassed. It was a bad thing for a boy to have to be ashamed of his own father.
"I guess this will do," he said, rubbing his thumb along the blade. He knew the boy did not want his sympathy. The boy paid him and moved toward the door, hesitating. Daniel guessed the shrinking with which he looked out into the twilight street.
"Any chance they'll be waiting again?" he asked.
The boy shrugged, but his eyes looked sick.
"Hold on a minute," Daniel suggested. "When I close the shop I've got to deliver an axhead. We can go along together."
"I can take care of myself!" the boy flashed.
"I don't doubt that. What's your name, by the way?"
"Nathan."
"Then come along with me, Nathan. There's something I'd like to tell you about."
There was not much use talking, however, to one whose ears were straining for every sound on the dark roadway. Daniel could almost feel the tensed muscles of the boy beside him, but he observed with approval that the nervous stride did not falter. He gave up any attempt to talk, and walked on in silence, savoring with keen pleasure the thought of the coming attack. He had not realized how much he had missed this rising prickle of anticipation.
The rush came quickly out of the darkness. Six or seven, Daniel noted, even while his fist sent the first comer sprawling. With a shout of sheer enjoyment, he caught two others, one with each hand. In the dark there was a shriek. "The blacksmith!" A frantic wrench and the sound of tearing cloth, and one of his captives darted off in his tunic, leaving his cloak in Daniel's hand. The other, teeth rattling from a shake and a kick that would be remembered, stumbled after him. Then Daniel stood watching while his new friend dealt efficiently with two young attackers.
"Not bad," he commented, when the whole pack had slunk into the shadows. "You need to tighten your guard. Now, that's over, and you can pay attention to what I have to say. How would you like to use those fists of yours for a good purpose?"
So Daniel won his first recruit in the village, Nathan, son of the new tax collector.
As though Daniel's very eagerness had somehow acted as a signal between them, a few days later Joel walked into the smithy, bringing with him a recruit of his own.
"How did you know where to find me?" Daniel demanded, eying with curiosity the slender scholarly boy who accompanied his friend.
"I ran into your friend Simon," Joel told him, after just the slightest hesitation. "He told me you were looking out for his shop. He suggested I come to see you."
"A good thing," Daniel said. "I was wondering how I could get to Capernaum. There's business enough for two men here." He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but he could not keep the pride out of his voice.
Joel showed a flattering interest in the shop. He wandered about, picking up the tools, weighing bars of metal from one hand to another. He was impressed with the shining gleam of a newly finished blade.
"I've brought someone who wants to join with us," he said. "Kemuel feels as we do."
Daniel looked uncomfortably at the newcomer. The boy was plainly wealthy, and used to having his own way. There was an edge of disdain in his voice, and in his proud, handsome