Temple Boys by Jamie Buxton Read Free Book Online Page A

the night he left the glue maker (even though it had been snowing then), worse than the night he escaped from Mosh the Dosh’s house (he had picked a hole in the roof and scraped his back on a nail), worse than the night after the rats in the tomb had bitten his mouth and his lips had swollen up and he’d had feverish nightmares of giant rats wearing grave shrouds and dancing.
    Why was it worse? Because everything was his fault. He had suggested they go and see the magician. He had argued against them taking their chances in Temple Square. And he had refused to join the others when Yeshua had invited him to.
    Twilight turned to night and the dark was cold. He walked up and down the street outside the alleyway, flapping his arms, then headed for the water fountain: sometimes a street seller would set up a charcoal brazier that you could huddle around. But the weather was too foul and no one was out. Once he thought he saw the skinny girl disappear around a corner in front of him and he ran to try to find her, but there was no one there. He was chasing shadows.
    Wherever he went the cold wind found him. He settled down in the street close to the gang’s shelter, his back against the wall, hugging his knees.

 
    13
    It wasn’t the cold that woke Flea but pressure under his ear. In the end, he’d curled up on the woman-across-the-alleyway’s rubbish dump. The faint warmth of decomposition made it less frigid than hard earth and paving stones.
    He opened his eyes. A very black sky, very bright stars, and a man-shape blocking them.
    â€œHere. Too cold to be lying around.”
    Flea recognized Jude’s voice. He started as something warm landed in his lap.
    â€œDon’t unwrap it! It’s a hot stone. You don’t do that in the city?”
    â€œD-do w-what?” Flea had to clamp his teeth to stop them from chattering.
    â€œHeat stones during the day and put them in your bed at night. Maybe it’s a northern thing. You have to be careful, though. Some stones explode when they get too hot. How does that feel?”
    â€œAll r-right.”
    In fact, it felt wonderful. Wrapped in his hands, cradled against his belly, the stone felt like a small, personal sun.
    â€œHow did you find me?” Flea asked.
    â€œMy keen sense of smell. That was a joke. I was going to roust you out of your shelter but Shim, one of Yesh’s followers, said you didn’t join them, so I kept my eyes peeled. Anyway, if you’re warm enough, stand up. We’ve got a busy day.”
    â€œWe?” Flea rubbed his eyes.
    â€œI’m paying you for a day’s work. Part of the deal?”
    â€œThe whole deal, as far as I can remember.” Flea felt both light-headed and sharp. He saw a flash of teeth in the starlight.
    â€œWell, that’s good.” Jude sounded amused. “I don’t imagine you have a better offer.”
    Flea bridled. “If you think I’m desperate…”
    â€œYou? Desperate? Never. It’s me that needs the help.”
    â€œSay something that surprises me,” Flea replied. But when he looked up, the moonlight had caught Jude’s face and he was not smiling.
    Quite the opposite. His face was twisted into an odd shape, almost as if he was trying to stop himself from crying.
    Flea opened his mouth to jeer, then thought better of it. He heard himself ask, “So what … do you want?”
    â€œFewer questions from you.”
    Jude set off quickly down the twisting alleyways of the dark city, heading north in the direction of the sheep market. He was wrapped in a blanket, and, hot rock or not, Flea wouldn’t have minded a corner of it. He blew clouds of vapor from his mouth and tried to keep up.
    By the time they reached the sheep pens, the sky was getting lighter and the market was waking up. Sellers haggled with buyers. Priests were on hand to bless the new sacrifices, slaves throwing down straw in front of them to stop their