Temple Boys Read Online Free PDF

special that you don’t have to pay Temple tax like all these good people around us?”
    While the priest babbled on, Flea worked his way through the crowd until he was close to the rusty-haired assistant. He watched like a mouse might watch a cat.
    â€œI repeat,” the priest said. “Have you got any money on you?”
    Success! As the priest mentioned money, the assistant’s right hand strayed to his belt and patted the place where he had hidden his money bag.
    Flea smiled. The rest of the gang might have blown their chances of robbing the magician, but he’d show them how it was done.
    And now, better still, the magician reacted. A simple, sweet smile softened his rough features and he turned to the russet-haired man. “Brother Jude, you’re in charge of our savings. Anything left in the purse?”
    With a wry expression, Jude reached into the shoulder bag and pulled out a limp leather pouch fastened with a drawstring. He tossed it to the magician, who caught it, held a hand up for silence, and shook it. Laughter erupted—the crowd all knew about running out of money. When the magician reached in and pulled out a pebble they cheered and stamped their feet.
    â€œBroke again,” the magician said, dropping the pebble at his feet. Then he added, “Unless my young friends can help?”
    He pointed to Crouch and Halo, who had managed to worm their way through to the front of the crowd. The two could not have made a bigger contrast: Crouch bent double like an old crow and Halo with his fair skin, big dark eyes, and curly hair. Crouch frowned, then put a hand on Halo’s shoulder and pushed him gently forward.
    The magician shook the purse upside down, then held it out to Halo. The boy approached it cautiously, snatched it like a starving dog and shook it, then handed it back. While the crowd laughed and pointed good-naturedly, Flea saw the magician slip the purse to Jude, who had moved smoothly up behind him. When he saw the purse again in the magician’s hands, it looked different. The switch had been made.
    â€œGood,” the magician said. “Now then, what do you think is in the purse?”
    â€œNothing,” the crowd shouted.
    â€œNothing? Are you sure?”
    â€œYES!”
    â€œChild, what do you think?”
    Halo looked up at him. “Nothing,” he said in his high voice. “Otherwise I’d have stolen it.”
    More laughter.
    â€œWould you like to look inside?” The magician handed it back.
    Crouch held the purse open while Halo put his small hand inside and his face lit up. To gasps and cheers he pulled out a beautiful, smooth, ivory egg.
    â€œHand it back to me, friend.”
    The magician closed his hands around the egg, blew on them, muttered a few words, and then opened his arms wide. A spotlessly white dove exploded into space and flapped its way into the blue sky. The crowd cheered again, before falling silent as the magician stooped low by Crouch’s side and whispered in his ear.
    Grinning, Crouch reached into the purse that he was still holding. With a great show he pulled out a gold coin and he held it up. More laughter and cheering all around, then the magician raised his hands for silence.
    Flea nodded in appreciation. A decent trick, good enough to con an easygoing crowd in a holiday mood. But not good enough to con him.
    The priest hadn’t finished, though.
    â€œNot so clever,” he sneered. “Not so clever at all. That dove was dedicated to God and you let it free. And as if defiling the Temple with your filth wasn’t enough, that coin tells us all we need to know about people like you. A Roman coin. The currency of our conquerors. You come to the Temple, the beating heart of our religion, and the only coin you can produce has the hated imperial stamp on it! What were people shouting at you? That you were the Master? Well, whose man are you, Yeshua? The people’s or the