The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [88]
Daniel stood staring at his friend. Simon had lost his senses altogether. "Safe? Jesus has put you all in danger!"
Simon's voice was steady. "Jesus has taught us that we must not be afraid of the things that men can do to us."
"Suppose they put chains on all of you and drag you off to prison?"
"He says that the only chains that matter are fear and hate, because they chain our souls. If we do not hate anyone and do not fear anyone, then we are free."
"Free? In chains? Simon—you know what they could do to you! How could you possibly not be afraid?"
"I don't say I am not afraid," said Simon. "But Jesus is not. And he is the hope of Israel."
"What has he done to prove it? How do you know you're not risking your life for nothing?"
"We can never know," Simon answered slowly. "God hides the future from man's eyes. We are forced to choose, not knowing. I have chosen Jesus."
"This was his chance tonight. Do you think he will ever do anything now?"
"I don't know what he will do. It is enough for me that he has promised."
"It is not enough for me!" Daniel cried. "Promises are easy. They are nothing but words. I want a leader who will make his promises good!"
He flung himself away from Simon and stumbled ahead into the darkness. He could not see his way, but he knew that from now on he was alone. There was no friend to fight beside him. There was no leader to follow. There was nothing left to him but his hatred and his vow.
24
SPRING BURST over Galilee. The curtain of rain drew back from a clear, brilliant blue sky. The rich green slopes dropped down to a gentle sea. Flowers flowed along the roadways, trickling through every crevice in the rocky banks, splashing the gray mud walls, spraying from thatched roofs, washing in a wave of color up to the door of the house.
But the door was shut against them. Inside the shop Daniel worked steadily with a grim averted face. In the gloom of the house Leah sat, her hands idle in her lap. Dust gathered on the threads of the loom. They were both alike, Daniel thought, turning his back on the blossoming roadway. They could not learn to hope again.
Yet he was still stronger than Leah. While she had lost everything, purpose remained to him. His hatred was as strong as ever, so strong that unless he found some outlet for it soon it would destroy him. He was like a man imprisoned in a pit, raging and helpless.
If he were free, he could find a band of Zealots. They existed, everywhere in Galilee. Men spoke of them furtively. In some village, in some cave in the wilderness, men gathered and made ready, and they would welcome him. But he was chained to his forge in an endless round of work to keep alive a girl who was indifferent that she lived. And even if he found a band, how could he recognize a man whom he could trust? How could he be sure that he would not be duped again?
He trains my hands for war,
so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze...
What use were his strong hands? God did not mean the bow of bronze for him.
In the first month of spring, Leah was betrayed by the one remaining thing to which she still reached out. The little goat failed her. The kid which was born in Adar was puny, and brought only the lowest price, and when it was taken from her the goat drooped. The milk she gave scarcely provided Leah with a cupful once a day. There came a morning when the little creature could not stand on its feet. Daniel looked at it with dismay, remembering that goats were subject to a peculiar fever. He brought it into the house and tried to coax it to eat. The little goat huddled beside Leah, as unresponsive as its mistress. Two mornings later it was dead.
He thought at first that Leah refused to eat from grief, but he soon recognized that she too was feverish. She lay on the rush mat, her eyes glazed and unaware, her cheeks flushed, her lips parched. From time to time she cried out in terror. She seemed to be wandering in a distant country, peopled with dreadful shapes he could not