Temple Boys Read Online Free PDF Page B

emperor’s?”
    Rusty-haired Jude was watching the magician closely. Flea had made his way right next to him. He pressed up close and located exactly where the money bag was tied to Jude’s waistband. His light fingers began to work at the knot that held it.
    The magician answered the priest for the first time. “You know the answer to that, my friend,” he said in a rich, level voice.
    â€œBut your coin’s got the emperor’s head on it!” The priest sounded triumphant.
    The magician took the coin back from Crouch and looked at it closely. “So it has,” he said. “There’s the big man himself. Now, what do you think I should do with it?”
    â€œShove it where the sun don’t shine!” a heckler called out, and the magician laughed, a proper, warm laugh.
    â€œI’d love to, but let’s see what the priest has to say, because we all know how much the Temple loves its money!”
    A huge roar of appreciation—excellent for Flea. The knot was loosening. The money bag was almost free.
    The magician waited for quiet, then took a step toward the priest, and another, until he was right in front of him and had to look up, like a child.
    â€œYou asked what had changed about me since I was last here, but I don’t think I really have changed that much. I think it’s this place that’s changed. You think that I’m somehow a lesser man for carrying an imperial coin, but you deal with it every day. Even worse, you try to make me insult the emperor while you live under his shadow all the time.”
    He pointed to the parapet of the Roman fortress that loomed over the northern walls of the Temple. It was bristling with imperial soldiers. He pointed to the roof of the portico from which more soldiers looked down, as they did every feast day, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble.
    â€œEven the high priest has to beg the Roman commander for his ceremonial robes, and at the end of every festival he has to give them back so the commander can lock them in his storeroom!”
    The crowd began to mutter. No one liked to be reminded of the power the Romans held over them.
    â€œAnd you have the nerve to criticize me for using an imperial coin?” he continued. “The emperor can have his coin back, but what about the people? What about the coins in the Temple treasury? Coins poor farmers have sweated blood to earn and have starved themselves to bring here as taxes. Isn’t it enough that we pay taxes to feed the Imperial army? Do we have to pay for the Temple too? The Temple used to protect the people, but now it only protects itself. The Temple grows richer while the country grows poorer. The Temple clings on to Rome like a weak child hangs around a bully. This isn’t a temple. This is a market stall! Friends, if you want freedom, free yourselves from the Temple!”
    With a practiced countryman’s flick, the magician threw the coin high in the air in the direction of the Fortress and started to walk to the southern colonnade, taking the crowd with him.
    As he did so, Flea gave the string holding the money bag one last tug. But before he could grab it, Jude’s hand clamped down hard on his.

 
    10
    There was nothing he could do. Flea’s hand was around the purse; Jude’s hand was around his. He was stuck.
    Caught.
    Doomed.
    â€œNot bad, little thief, not bad. But not good enough,” Jude whispered, looking down.
    Flea looked at the crowd and saw how he was being left behind. He struggled, went limp, struggled again.
    â€œAnd stop worming around or I’ll turn you in. What do you think the punishment will be? Will they cut off an ear, or will they just stone you? Ever been to a stoning? They bury you up to your neck in the sand and—”
    â€œAll right, all right!” Flea said between gritted teeth.
    â€œGood. Now, we’re going to talk.”
    â€œWhy? What do you want from me?” A