The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [84]
Surprised out of his own gloom, he actually smiled at her. "You should have danced with them, Leah. You're as pretty as any of them."
She stopped dancing and stood in front of him, her blue eyes grave. "Am I pretty, Daniel?"
That he, of all people, should have been asked such a question twice in one day! The memory of Thacia's glowing beauty made him answer his sister very gently.
"Indeed you are, Leah."
"Truly, Daniel? As pretty as those girls you saw today?"
"Much prettier than most of them."
He had meant to please her, but he was surprised that his answer should seem so important to her.
"Thacia said so too," she said seriously, thinking this over as though it were something she had never before considered. "Do you think perhaps someone else might think so, not just you and Thacia?"
"Joel said so too."
With a little smile she dismissed Joel. "He is kind, like Thacia, isn't he?" she said, her thoughts elsewhere. Then she made one of her surprising turns to the practical.
"Your supper is ready," she said. "I have a surprise for you."
The mat was already laid out for him, and he saw that he would have to eat, however little he wanted to.
With the garland still in her hair, Leah unwrapped the bread and set out the bowl of boiled carrots and onions. Even in his own preoccupation he noticed the trembling eagerness with which she watched him eat, like a child brimming with a secret that can scarcely be contained.
When the vegetables were finished, she went behind the curtain in the corner. She brought out a woven basket of fruit. He saw at once that it was very fine fruit, sleek scarlet pomegranates, plump juicy figs, the sort of fruit that no Galilean ever kept for his own table, and only once a year dared to reserve for the sacrifice of First Fruits at the Temple in Jerusalem. What neighbor could have brought such a gift?
"Is this payment for your weaving?" he asked her.
"No," she said, breathless with pleasure. "It was a present for me."
He waited, puzzled.
"Marcus brought it today."
His teeth, already sunk into the first luscious bite, stopped as though he had struck a rottenness. "Who is Marcus?"
"You know. The soldier who comes on the horse."
He sent the pomegranate spinning across the room. He heard the sickish splash as it flattened against the wall, and saw the basket rolling from his vicious kick. He was on his feet, half blind and shaking. With a wail, Leah went down on her knees, scrabbling on the floor for an orange, sobbing, trying to wipe it against her dress. He snatched it from her hand.
"How do you know his name?" he shouted. "How dare a Roman dog bring you anything?"
Leah cowered against the wall.
"Answer me! How do you know him?" He reached out, gripped her shoulders, and held her up. Without a sound Leah drooped.
He heard his own voice, shouting words he had never used before, words he had heard in the cave. Then slowly the whirling blackness slowed down, and his sight began to clear. In the center of the blackness he saw his sister, shrinking under his hands, the garland of flowers slipped sideways on the streaming golden hair, her white face averted, waiting for his blow. His hands unclenched and let her fall. Shamed, he stood back.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said more quietly. "Answer me. What has this man done?"
Faintly, her voice came from under the screen of hair. "He has been my friend."
"How long?"
"Since last summer. He has come to see me when you were gone away."
He held himself rigid. "You have let a Roman come into my house?"
"No—no! He has never come into the house."
"What then? Tell me."
"He—he sits on his horse outside the garden wall and talks to me."
"Only that? You give me your word?"
She raised her head and looked at him with such a strange dignity that he backed away.
"What does he talk about?"
"He doesn't know many words. He tells me about