emperorâs?â
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 Judeâs waistband. His light fingers began to work at the knot that held it.
The magician answered the priest for the first time. âYou know the answer to that, my friend,â he said in a rich, level voice.
âBut your coinâs got the emperorâs head on it!â The priest sounded triumphant.
The magician took the coin back from Crouch and looked at it closely. âSo it has,â he said. âThereâs the big man himself. Now, what do you think I should do with it?â
âShove it where the sun donât shine!â a heckler called out, and the magician laughed, a proper, warm laugh.
âIâd love to, but letâs see what the priest has to say, because we all know how much the Temple loves its money!â
A huge roar of appreciationâexcellent 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.
âYou asked what had changed about me since I was last here, but I donât think I really have changed that much. I think itâs this place thatâs changed. You think that Iâm 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.â
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.
âEven 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!â
The crowd began to mutter. No one liked to be reminded of the power the Romans held over them.
âAnd you have the nerve to criticize me for using an imperial coin?â he continued. âThe 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. Isnât 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 isnât a temple. This is a market stall! Friends, if you want freedom, free yourselves from the Temple!â
With a practiced countrymanâs 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, Judeâs hand clamped down hard on his.
Â
10
There was nothing he could do. Fleaâs hand was around the purse; Judeâs hand was around his. He was stuck.
Caught.
Doomed.
âNot bad, little thief, not bad. But not good enough,â Jude whispered, looking down.
Flea looked at the crowd and saw how he was being left behind. He struggled, went limp, struggled again.
âAnd stop worming around or Iâll 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 andââ
âAll right, all right!â Flea said between gritted teeth.
âGood. Now, weâre going to talk.â
âWhy? What do you want from me?â A
Tim Lebbon, Christopher Golden