Temple Boys by Jamie Buxton Page B

trouble? I think we can do better than that.” He put his head down and walked through the crush, curious faces all around. The unspoken question hung in the air: What’s he going to do now?
    Then, as they approached the cordon guarding the steps, something very unexpected happened. The Imps moved back to let them through. Nodding thanks to the left and right, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Yeshua began to lead them up.
    â€œLord,” Mat said, “they’re not letting anyone in after us. I told you—”
    â€œHave faith, brother,” Yesh said. He climbed very slowly up the steps. Flea turned so his back was to the Temple gates. Below him, behind the cordon of soldiers, were upturned faces and hope rising like a vapor.
    â€œLord, the people—your people—want to hear you speak,” Mat said. “You can’t be seen to enter the Temple while they’ve been shut out.”
    Yesh stopped midstep, turned, and looked down. His face was like a stone in a stream, all smooth ridges and dips. The murmur from the crowd dropped, rose, then dropped again. Tension grew in the silence like water swelling a skin.
    With the Temple walls rearing up behind and the great expanse of marble steps so bare, Flea felt trapped and exposed. He found himself counting and wishing. One, two, three … He’s got to say something. Four, five, six … Please say something. Seven, eight, nine … Don’t do anything stupid. Ten, eleven, twelve … The Imps will do something … Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen … The Imps are turning now … Nineteen, twen—
    â€œHow wonderful to see you all! Thank you so much! I never expected a crowd like this!”
    Yesh’s words were a lovely surprise, like a splash of warm water when you were braced for cold.
    â€œAnd thank you to the soldiers for doing such a splendid job today. I want you all to thank them too!”
    Like a magician, he raised his arms and turned to the left and to the right. A huge roar. Everyone liked to laugh at the Romans, but you never got the chance. And here was Yesh actually thanking them …
    â€œAnd a hand for the Temple,” Yesh continued. “I’ve said harsh things about it in the past: it was too big, too expensive, too just about everything. I’ve said that if I had my way, I’d pull it down brick by brick and not leave a single stone standing. But do you know, I think I’ve changed my mind. If it wasn’t for these fine, impressive steps, how could I see you all? And how could you all see a short-arse like me?”
    More laughter and a smatter of applause. He’s got the crowd now, Flea thought, and when someone called out, “Give us some magic, mate!” and Yesh called back, “Sorry, I’m into talking today,” there was a murmur but it wasn’t an angry noise. People were curious. People wanted to know what was going to happen next.
    â€œBut thank you for raising the subject, friend, because that’s partly what I wanted to say. The time for tricks is over. The time for magic is over. Some of you have said I perform miracles and I’m afraid the time for that is over too. Well, maybe there’s time for one more … we’ll have to see. The thing is, I’ve got so much to say and I think time may be running out so I’m going to talk, and if you stay, my friends, I’ll take it as a sign that you want to hear more.”
    And then Yesh was off. The followers and the Temple Boys began to sit down around him. Yohan, the youngest member of the movement, sat on one side of him and Yak, Yesh’s brother, on the other. Flea leaned back, his elbow on the step behind, and let the words wash over him.
    â€œYou don’t have to put up with the way things are. No one should and no one needs to. There’s a better way—my way—and if you only give me a tiny bit of