The Thief Read Online Free Page A

him, but his feet remained planted in the dust. He reached out, his hands searching for her as men and women rushed past him. No one paused to help the blind man to safety.
    “Cedron!” Nissa looked to Gilad, but he made no move toward Cedron. Nissa dropped her basket and sprinted toward her brother, directly into the path of the charging horse.
    The rider saw her and pulled back, shouting as his horse reared. She threw her body on top of Cedron’s. They tumbled to the ground as the horse reared again and plunged over them. Nissa covered her head with her hands. Hooves hammered the dirt just a handbreadth from her face. A searing pain sliced through her shoulder. She closed her eyes and clung to Cedron.
    The pounding hooves stopped, and dust choked her throat. Cedron stirred beside her. He pushed himself up, his hands searching over her body. “Nissa, are you hurt?”
    She kept her eyes closed, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out.
    Sandaled feet slapped the ground near her head. Cedron was pulled away from her with a grunt.
    “What’s the matter with you, Jew? Are you blind?”
    A deep voice—Aramaic with a Roman accent.
    No, it can’t be. A new rush of fear swept through her as rough hands closed over her arms and pulled her to sitting. Pain shot through her shoulder. She gasped and opened her eyes. It was him, the redheaded centurion.
    He propped her back against the wall. “Are you hurt? Speak to me, girl!”
    He was so close she couldn’t take a breath. He knelt beside her, his crested helmet lying in the dust. He’d been this close only hours before; surely he’d recognize her. Fear weakened her limbs. She swayed as the walls and ground tilted. All that kept her from tilting with them was the Roman’s rough grip.
    He wasn’t much older than Cedron, but she’d never seen a face like his. It wasn’t Roman; she’d seen many of those. As if his blue eyes and red hair weren’t enough to make him stand out amid the dark, bearded men of Jerusalem, his skin was light tan, lighter than roasted almonds. And sprinkled everywhere—on his crooked nose, over high cheekbones and smooth jaw—were freckles, like stars scattered over the night sky.
    He must come from the far reaches of the empire, but the insignia on his breastplate and the crimson plume on his helmet bore witness: he was a Roman centurion, and a dangerous one. She knew that from experience. Any minute he could realize who she was.
    No flash of recognition crossed his face. “What kind of idiot runs in front of a horse like that?” His voice was a growl, but his hand was gentle as he pushed aside her torn cloak to expose a crescent-shaped slice on her shoulder, oozing blood. “You could have been killed.”
    The Roman turned on Cedron. “And you! What were youdoing, standing in the road like a—” He stopped abruptly as Cedron raised his sightless eyes. The anger left the Roman’s voice. “You’d be dead if not for this girl.”
    Nissa struggled to stand. A crowd stood all around her, leaning in, watching. She had to get away from this man. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her.
    Gilad shoved through the crowd and groveled to the Roman. “I saw the whole thing. You couldn’t avoid them.”
    The Roman twisted to Gilad, scowling. “This woman needs looking after. Where is her husband?”
    Gilad barked out a laugh. “Nissa? A husband? No man here is that brave.”
    “Or that desperate,” a voice from the back called out.
    A few men in the crowd snickered.
    Nissa’s dizziness retreated, but in its place, anger flared. How dare they laugh at her, these men who had watched from safety as Cedron was almost trampled? She glared at the crowd, pulling her small body up. “Brave?” Her voice rose. “Braver than you! You cowardly dogs would have let Cedron die in the street.”
    The Roman let out a snort.
    She turned on him. He was no better than the others. “And you! This is our home, not the Hippodrome. If you hadn’t been tearing