Free Temple Boys by Jamie Buxton Page A

what you want. But I’m talking about what goes on inside, my friend. I’m talking about your heart. I’m talking about how you clean your heart, and the only way to do that is to make a real sacrifice and make it willingly.”
    The merchant stepped back, shaking his head. A path was cleared for Yesh through the crowd and he made his way down it until he came to a young man on crutches supported on either side by an older man and woman. The woman knelt and kissed the hem of Yesh’s clothes. The older man started to explain something but stopped when Yesh held up a hand. Yesh leaned down, pried the woman’s fingers from his robe, and lifted her to her feet. Then he knelt and touched the leg of the man on crutches. All around, the little sounds of the crowd were sucked up into a single intake of breath.
    Yesh walked five paces, then turned. “Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to give it a go?”
    With trembling hands, the older man and woman took the crutches away. The man lurched slightly, bent down, and put both his hands on one knee.
    â€œThat’s good,” Yesh said. “One step at a time. It’s the only way to do it.”
    The young man took a step with his good leg, then threw his bad leg around and forward. He lurched, straightened, and did it again, rowing through the air with his arms. The magician stepped forward and embraced him. The crowd cheered. Some fell to their knees, while others surged around him. Cries of “Heal me, Master!” went up. “Heal me!” A man jumped into the water, another went in after him, and soon the water was full of men waving and splashing. “Heal me! Heal me!”
    Flea pushed through the crowd around the pool, away from Yesh, tired from his early start and feeling confused. The sun broke out from behind a cloud and he lifted his face to it.
    Spring warmth. Fresh warmth. Through half-closed eyes he watched the water churn as people tried to force their way closer to the magician, the king, the Chosen One, or whatever else they were calling out. Had Flea really just seen a miracle? Everyone else seemed to think so, so why wasn’t he convinced?
    He leaned against the wall and felt something digging into him. He reached inside his tunic, pulled out the carved ivory tube he’d stolen, and held it up in the light. Vines spiraled around it, but there was a join in the middle where they didn’t quite meet. If you twisted it, a spiraling ridge moved along a spiraling groove, and when one end came off, it uncovered a metal spike with thin channels cut into it, clogged with something dark and crusty.
    Blood. Flea was revolted and fascinated. He screwed the thing back together, but his skin was still crawling and he caught the faintest trace of something rotten. A smell that was both thin and strong, like cotton thread, twined itself up his nostrils.
    Then Big bustled up, Little Big trailing after him like an ugly shadow.
    â€œWhat are you doing here? I said you were out of the gang.”
    â€œI’m allowed to come here if I want,” Flea said.
    â€œAnd I say you’re not. We’re here with Yeshua. We’re security. And I’m telling you to get out.”
    â€œAnd I’m here with Jude. And he’s your man Yesh’s first-ever follower and best friend, and he said it was all right for me to be here.”
    Flea planted his feet, folded his arms, and waited for the blow to fall.
    Just before Big clouted him, one of Yesh’s followers, fleshily handsome and better dressed than the others, bustled over.
    â€œAh, Flea, I assume. Spent the day with brother Jude, I hear?”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Big said. “We’re getting rid of him.”
    â€œThat’s the last thing we want,” the man said. “The shepherd is always pleased when the lost sheep returns, or so the Master says. So, how was Jude, young man?”
    â€œYou calling me a