The Thief (29 page)

Cedron jerked back. “I’ll let you know when and how. Just wait for word from me.”

Longinus watched him hobble into the marketplace. Something smelled rotten. Still, he’d be ready when Cedron sent word . . . and hope the Jew brought him the right man.

NISSA FINISHED WRAPPING
the linen band around her chest, slipped the tunic over her head, and tied the rope belt around her waist. Her face was covered in dirt and ash, and the men’s head covering hid her hair.

Her heart pounded and her palms were wet, but not with the excitement of stealing. Not this time. No, fear chilled her to her bones. She looked at the sun as she ducked out of the house and into the courtyard. Not much time.

Cedron stared at her like he didn’t know her. “I still don’t like it.”

“We’ve been over this. I have to be there.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Nissa huffed out a sharp breath. Cedron didn’t know Gestas. “He won’t go alone. He’ll suspect a trap unless I’m with him.”

Cedron frowned into the fire, but he didn’t order her back into the house.

Nissa poked at the smoldering embers with a stick. Dismas
had been imprisoned four days. She hadn’t eaten and couldn’t sleep without seeing his face, wondering if he was alive. This morning she had made the mark on the wall. Would Gestas take the bait, or was it still too soon?

Gestas might smell a trap, or he might think a foray into the upper market too dangerous with so many Roman troops in the city. Nissa was counting on Gestas’s greed to push him to go with her today.

Cedron walked to the gate and turned back to her. “I’ll make sure Longinus is waiting. Just get him to the silver merchant, like we planned. Then get out of there before they see you.” Cedron’s eyes were worried. They’d been over this a dozen times.

She wrapped her arms around her chest. “I know what to do.”

“Then you’ll go to Bethany.”

She chewed on her lip, her choices gnawing in her belly.
Cedron says this is the only way. Start over in Bethany.
She owed it to him, after all the lies, the disgrace. But she owed Dismas, too. Who should she choose, her brother or the man who had saved her life?

GESTAS SIDLED UP
to Nissa at the meeting place. “I thought you would be cowering in a corner at home after Dismas got grabbed.”

Nissa’s legs shook like a tree in a thunderstorm, but she answered him with a scowl. “I need the money. And the crowds won’t be here forever.”

“Ah . . .” His eyes gleamed in the dim light of the alley. “And what makes you think I’ll help you?”

“We’re safer together. And we can get more. Even you know that.”

His mouth twisted. “Safer? You managed to get a centurion and three armed men to chase you. I was lucky to get away. Our friend Dismas wasn’t so smart; he went back for you.”

Nissa’s chest tightened.
I brought the soldiers straight to him.

Gestas poked a finger into her chest. The emerald signet ring gleamed dully. “I get to split it up.”

She didn’t care about the money, not this time. But he couldn’t know that. She balled her hands into fists and glared at him. “I need enough for rent.”

“Don’t worry, little Nissa. I’ll be fair.”

“Fine. You split it. But let’s make it worth our while.”

Gestas smirked. “You’re tougher than I thought, little girl. We’ll do well together.”

We won’t do anything together after this.
She fell behind him as they darted through the shadowy streets.

Gestas blended into the throng around him. Nissa had described him to Cedron, who’d passed it along to Longinus. All she had to do was get him to the silver merchant’s booth in the upper market.

Tomorrow was the preparation day, but the market already rumbled like the clamor of an approaching storm. Lambs bleated, and donkeys brayed. Women argued with merchants; slaves labored under bundles of wine and wheat. Hot bodies reeked with the odors of sweat and sweet perfume.

Gestas’s sharp eyes shifted to her.

“Follow me,” she mouthed and headed toward the south end of the square where merchants sold silver, onyx, and ivory. Not far from the silver booth, a grizzled dealer sold pigeons for sacrifice. She eased behind a stack of willow cages, the birds cooing and shifting beside her, and scanned the crowd.

There he was. Even without his red plume and breastplate, she recognized Longinus. Perhaps it was the lock of hair that strayed from his head cover, or the freckled feet under the long tunic. More likely, it was the way he stood, alert and still, like a soldier awaiting battle.

When Gestas appeared beside her, the pigeons fluttered and squawked. His eyes went to the silver jewelry laid out like gifts on the table. He didn’t seem to notice the men milling next to the booth weren’t looking at the wares in front of them.

The sounds of trumpets echoed from the temple across the city. Her heart thrashed like the captured birds. It was time. But her quaking limbs didn’t still, and her mind didn’t focus, like when she was ready to steal. A cold chill swept over her, and her pulse pounded in her temples like hammers.

As if from far away, she heard Gestas’s voice. “Let’s go, Mouse.” He moved toward the silver booth.

Cedron’s orders were to run, to betray Gestas and abandon Dismas. Dismas’s words echoed in her mind—
No one is worth dying for.
Nissa froze like a Greek statue in the middle of the marketplace.

Chapter 26

L
ONGINUS STOOD STILL
and attentive, searching every face and form in the teeming marketplace. The fourth trumpet had blown, and he didn’t see what he was looking for.

The rough wool tunic was hot and scratchy, and the cloth tied over his head flapped in the late-afternoon breeze. His sword, hidden under his cloak, was a welcome weight against his side. Dressing like a Jew had been Marcellus’s idea and a good one. No one looked twice at them in the crowded marketplace.

He stood motionless, his eyes scanning the faces around him. Cedron said the thief would be here when the horn blew. If this worked—and Cedron had promised it would—he’d win that cursed bet.

Close to the pigeon seller’s stall, he saw Marcellus jerk to attention. Longinus followed the legionary’s gaze. At the silver table, a man in a brown cloak and black head covering. Short, just as Cedron had described, but thick and powerful. He moved closer. He’d been right to be suspicious of Cedron. This wasn’t the Mouse he’d caught in the marketplace and glimpsed at the Sheep’s Gate. But there—the glint of emerald—the signet ring stolen off the dead priest.
Imbecile.
This man wasn’t the Mouse, but he could be the killer.

Longinus signaled to his men. They closed around the man. Too late, the thief saw them. He tried to run, but Marcellus blocked him. The thief pulled a dagger from his belt. The blade
flashed as Marcellus knocked it from his hand with one blow. The men had him surrounded before he could finish a curse.

They had him. Longinus pushed closer to the struggling man. He was old, but still strong enough to fight the three men that held him. Had this cretin killed the priest with the help of the Greek, or was the Mouse somehow involved? Frustration rose in Longinus’s chest. He didn’t have time to untangle this knot of questions.

A familiar tattered head covering caught the corner of Longinus’s eye. He pivoted and scanned the marketplace. There, next to the cages of squawking pigeons, stood the Mouse. The boy he’d caught so long ago. Which one was the true murderer? The man with the emerald ring or the boy he remembered?

No time to decide—he’d take them both and ask questions later. The boy was fast, he knew. Longinus pulled his sword and charged ahead.
This time the little rodent won’t get away.
But the runt of a thief didn’t run. He didn’t even move. Longinus swept his armored forearm across the boy’s face, knocking him to his knees. The boy cowered on the ground. Blood smeared his dirt-covered face. The fire in Longinus’s blood cooled as he stood over the prone figure. This worthless wretch was the Mouse?

Longinus yanked him up by one arm, shouting orders at his men. “We’ll take them both to the carcer.” While his legionaries subdued the heavier man, Longinus barked at the crowd pressing in from all sides. “Clear out. Go about your business.”

He’d make sure they were punished, placate the Sanhedrin, and appease Pilate. Perhaps there would be four crosses on Golgotha tomorrow.

Longinus gripped the Mouse’s arm and dragged him behind the men marching toward the carcer. The runt didn’t look like much, but he’d escaped twice. He wouldn’t get a third chance. But the boy didn’t struggle or even make a sound. He’d spent months searching for this sorry excuse of a thief?
What a waste of my time.
Longinus’s grip on the boy’s shoulder tightened as his anger rose.

A sharp flinch and gasp from the Mouse stopped Longinus just before they reached the carcer. He squeezed the bony shoulder again. Again the boy flinched. His hand went to his shoulder in a familiar gesture that twisted Longinus’s heart.

What in the name of Jupiter?
He pushed the boy up against the wall.

The Mouse ducked his head, cowering in the shadow. The wind teased at the dirty head covering, revealing a curl of brown hair and a bit of smooth skin. Longinus’s gut wrenched.

“What’s your name, boy?”

The Mouse didn’t answer but shrank deeper into his cloak.

Longinus narrowed his eyes at the slim form, the small hand.
This is no boy.
He pushed aside the neck of the too-big tunic to expose a delicate collarbone with a thin line of scar, as though from a sharp blade.

No. It can’t be. I’m going mad.
His mind—his stupid heart—was playing tricks on him. He was seeing Nissa in everyone he passed, even this worthless thief. His fist closed around the tunic and ripped it aside. His breath stuck in his throat. A crescent-shaped scar. He dropped his hands to his sides, and his heart seemed to stop beating.

Nissa.

Nissa whimpered and turned toward the wall, her hands raised over her head as though to ward off a coming blow.

Longinus stared at her. She hadn’t been selling her body in the brothel. She was a thief and a murderer. He towered over her, blood pumping through his veins like fire. His hands clenched, yearning to lash out. The Mouse. All this time, he’d ached for her. And she’d made a fool of him.

He slammed his fist against the wall above her head.

She jumped and covered her mouth with a shaking hand.

“You are the Mouse. A thief . . . a murderer? I helped you. I asked you . . .” His voice broke.

She shook her head, her mouth working like a fish gasping on the beach.

He turned his back to her, his heart pounding like he was riding into battle. It all made sense now. The money, her fear. Of course she wouldn’t marry him; she was too busy making a fool of him. He never thought he’d wish she were a prostitute, but anything would be better than this betrayal.

He rubbed his hand over his face. What could he do now? He had three thieves. Had they all killed the priest? There was only one way to find out. He took a breath. He’d find out the truth and deliver the punishment. She deserved it.

Nissa hadn’t moved.
She’d better not.
She wouldn’t get any mercy from him. Not anymore. He pushed her through the carcer door and down the steps. “Get in there.” He shoved her into the cell where Dismas slumped in the corner, his tunic in shreds and covered in blood. Marcellus and two legionaries stood in the opposite corner, guarding the other thief.

Nissa crawled to Dismas with a choked cry.

Longinus nodded to the other legionaries. “Stand guard upstairs. Marcellus, you stay with me.”

Marcellus retreated a few paces but kept his sword at the ready, his eyes shifting over the three thieves.

The short, thick one started forward. “I’m innocent. Why am I here? I didn’t do—”

“Silence.” Longinus closed his hand over the man’s throat and pushed him against the wall. He yanked the signet ring from the thief’s stubby fingers. “I know where this came from. And the dagger.”

“I bought them from a—” His words ended in a strangled choke.

Longinus signaled to Marcellus.

Marcellus dug his elbow into the man’s thick neck and spoke in Aramaic. “Stay here, and stay quiet.”

Longinus turned to the other two. Nissa cowered in the corner, her hands over her face. Dismas crouched beside her. “Not the boy. Let him go.” He raised pleading eyes to Longinus.

Longinus stepped closer. What was happening here? The
Greek thought Nissa was a boy?
Is this some kind of trick?
He strode to the corner and pulled Nissa to standing. He ripped off her head covering, reached behind her head, and loosed her hair with a jerk. “She’s no boy.”

Dismas let out a breath and leaned toward her. “So it’s true.”

“You knew?” she croaked.

“Suspected.”

“When?” It was a tiny sound.

Dismas shook his head. “After the priest, when I told you to stop. I wasn’t sure, but—”

“Fool!” Gestas spit out.