Читать книгу Temple Boys - Jamie Buxton - Страница 18

There was nothing he could do. Flea’s hand was round the purse; Jude’s hand was round his. He was stuck.

Caught.

Doomed.

‘Not 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.

‘And 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 ground and –’

‘All right, all right!’ Flea said between gritted teeth.

‘Good. Now, we’re going to talk.’

‘Why? What do you want from me?’

A hard squeeze made him squeal.

‘Not your place to ask,’ Jude said, and Flea allowed himself to be dragged across to the low railing that separated the outer court from the inner. Only when they were there did Jude loosen his grip a little.

‘I’m curious,’ he said. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing?’

‘What do you care?’ Flea said.

He looked at the man with rust-coloured hair properly. He had a thin, horsey face with long teeth. There was a star-shaped scar in the middle of one cheek and he appeared to have lost most of his teeth on that side of his face.

‘About you? Nothing. But to be honest, I’d stick my head in boiling oil before I handed anyone over to the Temple Police, even my worst enemy.’

‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll be your worst enemy!’ Flea tried to kick him, but could not reach.

The grip tightened again.

‘All right, all right. I’m one of the Temple Boys,’ Flea said. ‘We’re a gang. The boys on the bridge you helped – they were Big and Snot. The one who’s all hunched over, that’s Crouch. The pretty one is Halo. I’m –’

‘You’re Flea.’

‘How did you know my name?’

‘Magic – what else? Actually, on the way here your friend Big was telling me about his gang: all your names and where you live. Apparently, all he has to do is snap his fingers and you’ll do anything he asks.’ Long-toothed smile. ‘Now, can I let you go so we can talk? All right? Good.’

Flea flexed his hand while Jude put the money bag safely inside his satchel.

Jude rubbed his face and it sounded like a rock scraping on gravel. ‘Bottom of the heap, are you?’

‘Yes,’ Flea said reluctantly.

‘Finding it hard?’

‘Suppose.’

‘I know all about that,’ Jude said. ‘Although my case is slightly different.’

Flea looked at him with interest.

‘You see, even though I’m the dogsbody, I’m actually the original member of Yesh’s gang,’ Jude continued. ‘Except because we’re grown-ups we don’t call it a gang, we call it a movement . And I’m not the fixer, I’m a facilitator . And we don’t go around doing tricks and talking to people, either. We’re reaching out, we’re engaging, we’re communicating . And worst of all, we have a plan to follow and a mission to fulfil. We’re showing people the way.’

‘So leave,’ Flea said.

‘Quit? That would be like giving up. Anyway, who’d look after Yesh?’

‘You don’t trust the others?’

‘I don’t trust him,’ Jude said.

‘So why should I care?’ Flea tried to growl. ‘Anyway, what do you want?’

Jude blinked, then laughed. ‘You’re a horrid little so-and-so. I was going to hire you for a day’s work – good wages too – but if you’re –’

‘How much?’ Flea said quickly. The thought of money snapped him out of his bad mood.

‘That got you interested. How much do you make in a typical day?’

‘A shekel,’ Flea lied.

‘Nice try. I know how these things work. I bet you have to pool it anyway, or pay off Big.’

‘Half a shekel.’

‘I’ll pay you half that,’ Jude said. ‘And feed you. And I promise not to tell anyone that I caught you red-handed trying to rob me –’

Jude broke off and looked over Flea’s head to the far distant southern end of the Temple. It was where the money changers took the visitors’ coins and exchanged them for Temple gold. You often got arguments there – the exchange rate was crippling and the actual cost of buying a dove or a lamb for sacrifice was high – but this was different.

‘Sounds like trouble,’ Flea said.

‘That’s what I’m worried about. They said they were planning something.’

‘Who? What?’

‘Yeshua. The others. I said it would make enough trouble just coming to the City, but no, he said he had to make a big statement and really show people what he was about.’

‘And what is he about? At first I thought he was a magician, but then . . .’ Flea protested.

‘That’s just what people call him when they want to put him down. Don’t you understand? He hasn’t come here to turn water into wine or pull eggs out of children’s ears, he’s come to . . . What’s going on now?’

Because the sound was growing even louder. Howls. Screams. And now fighting.

The magician’s words had obviously hit home with the crowd. The money changers and traders had never been popular. Now the crowd was taking out years of frustration on them. As Flea watched, a man clutching a moneybag broke free from the crush, but he was chased down and disappeared under a billowing sea of robes. Flea saw a trader trying to sneak towards the western gate with a wicker basket of white doves. He was spotted and started to sprint, holding his tunic up with one hand and the basket with the other. A small mob gave chase and surrounded him. A dove fluttered upwards, bloodstained and panicked, and just as it looked as if it might fly free a hand reached out and dragged it back.

The trumpet blast was harsh and shocking. Jude grabbed Flea. ‘The Temple Police! Will your gang have the sense to get out?’

‘The ones that can run will. But the others will be in big trouble – Clump and Crutches especially. They’re breaking the Laws of Perfection.’

‘And things will be even worse if the Imps wade in,’ Jude said. ‘He’s gone and done it this time. Look, get out now! I’ll find your friends and if I don’t see you later, see you tomorrow. Outside your shelter!’

And he was gone.