The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [66]
Daniel scowled down at the road. "The very sight of them makes me lose my head. Filthy foreigners! If you hadn't been with me—"
"You'd have lost your silly head for good. How would that serve your country?"
"All right!" he burst out. "I made a fool of myself! Do you want to go back now?"
"Certainly not!" She sprang to her feet. "I want to see Leah."
They went on, Daniel keeping his eyes on the road ahead. But presently, stealing a furtive look at the girl beside him, Daniel discovered that she was looking directly at him.
"I might as well be honest, Daniel," she said unexpectedly. "Back there—I was proud of you. Scared to death, but proud too. If I were a boy, I hope I'd have the courage."
The frank words took Daniel by surprise. He could feel the pleasure of them spreading, warm as wine, along his veins. He had never had much praise in his life. He didn't know what to make of it.
As they climbed the first rise from the plain, a breeze stirred their hot faces. On every side the land stretched, brown and parched under the summer sun. Here and there a solitary thresher still moved in a field, tossing the grain in great forkfuls into the air, letting the breeze catch the chaff while the heavy grain fell back to the ground.
Presently they reached the village. Outside his own door Daniel knocked and called out, and presently the bolt inside was quietly drawn back. As Daniel pushed open the door, Thacia stood back.
"I have brought a friend of yours with me," Darnel announced.
Leah, from the corner where she had retreated at the first glimpse of an unfamiliar figure, stared out into the road. Then her face lighted. "Thacia!" she cried. "Why are you dressed in Joel's clothes?"
Thacia came into the room laughing and pushing back the hot turban with relief. "It's lucky everyone doesn't have your sharp eyes," she said. "You won't give me away, will you? It's a—a sort of game we're playing."
Leah came forward slowly. "Daniel never plays games," she said soberly.
"What a pity," said Thacia lightly. "Joel and I pretend all sorts of things. But I'll tell you a secret. Your brother does know how to smile. Quite nicely, actually. He doesn't always hide behind that fearful scowl."
Unexpectedly, Leah giggled, and then both girls were laughing. Scowling more fiercely than ever, Daniel stamped into his shop. But he left the door open behind him.
In Thacia's lighthearted presence, Leah was a different girl altogether. As he worked, Daniel caught, between the hissing of the forge and the blows of his hammer, the sound of their voices, and over and over again Leah's soft laughter. When he crossed the room for a tool he could see them, the two heads, dark and fair, bent over a bit of sewing. He found a good many excuses for walking across the shop that morning.
At noon they ate their meal together. Leah spread out with pride the hard bread and the olives and the inferior dates, not knowing how meager the fare really was. With every bite Daniel remembered the fine white cloth, the damask couches, the wine in alabaster cups. But Thacia seemed to have forgotten. What was there about her? he wondered. A sort of naturalness that made her seem without the slightest effort to belong, no matter where she happened to be—on the mountain, in the luxury of her own home, among the fishing boats? Her gaiety touched with a special grace everything around her.
Leah had begun to clear the dishes when some sound distracted her. Daniel, leaning back on his elbows, only half awake in the heavy heat, caught first the look on his sister's face. She was staring through the open door of the shop, and a deep flush was rising slowly from her throat to her pale temples. Daniel sat up. Then he caught the flash of sunlight on a helmet. The pleasure of the moment exploded like a bubble. In an instant he was on his feet, had flung himself into the shop, and slammed the door shut behind him.
He had thought he had seen the last of the blond Roman. What had brought the man back? Curse him too, for choosing to bring his work in