The Ironsmith by Nicholas Guild Page A

local beer. It was his business to be sociable, but there was an edge of suspicion in the question. He was a large man who carried the extra flesh that only comes with prosperity. The threadlike scars on his fingers indicated that he had begun life as a fisherman.
    â€œI left Sepphoris this morning.”
    â€œI’ve never been there. I’ve been to Tiberias three times, but never Sepphoris. It’s quite a city, from what people say.”
    â€œI live there.”
    The proprietor frowned. Noah suspected that he felt cheated. If he had known, the man would have charged more for the meal.
    â€œDo you know of a place where I could find a bed for a few days?”
    â€œI might be able to oblige you.” His eyes narrowed as he seemed to be straining after a way to accommodate a man wealthy enough to live in Sepphoris. “I don’t know where else you might go—people hereabouts don’t generally care for strangers.”
    Noah smiled and nodded agreement. With that settled, it seemed a propitious moment to inquire after his real business.
    â€œI have a cousin,” he said. “The last I heard of him, he was living somewhere here. I wonder if you know of him.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œJoshua bar Joseph.”
    â€œThis cousin, he’s from Sepphoris?”
    â€œNo. From Nazareth. That’s a village just south of Sepphoris.”
    â€œAnd his name is Joshua?” The proprietor appeared to consider all this, and then suddenly the expression on his face changed, as if something unpleasant had just occurred to him.
    â€œYou don’t mean the preacher, do you?”
    â€œIt seems likely enough. He’s a tall man. He used to be a carpenter.”
    â€œThat’s him. He’s been making a nuisance of himself around here for a couple of months now. You say he’s kin of yours?”
    Noah had the distinct impression that the price of hospitality had just gone up, so he reached into his purse and took out three silver shekels, one after the other, and placed them in a row on the table.
    â€œYou will put me in your debt if you can tell me where to find him.”
    *   *   *
    The sun was just at the horizon when Noah saw a man sitting in the sand by the water’s edge, leaning back against an overturned fishing boat. Even at a distance of a hundred paces, he knew it was Joshua.
    He sat down beside him. He could make out little except his profile, with its high forehead and eye sockets deep enough that the darkness seemed to gather in them. Joshua gave no sign that he noticed his presence until Noah used his thumb to break the clay seal on the wine jar he was carrying with him. In his other hand were two small cups. He filled them both and offered one to his cousin.
    â€œWhere did you buy this?” Joshua asked. “Or did you simply scoop it up from a puddle of donkey piss?”
    Noah laughed quietly and threw his arm across Joshua’s shoulders.
    â€œAnd hello to you,” he said.
    For a time they drank in silence. It was a warm evening, and the sound of waves lapping against the shore was agreeable. Neither wished to break the spell with questions that could have only unpleasant answers.
    â€œWhere did you buy this?”
    Joshua held his cup out to be refilled.
    â€œI don’t notice that you are reluctant to drink it.”
    Joshua tasted the wine again and made a face, which was just visible in the gathering darkness.
    â€œThat is because it is your wine. Should I ever again have a few copper coins of my own to spend, I want to know what places to avoid.”
    â€œThis one is just off the main square. It has a green awning.”
    â€œBy chance is the owner a big, stout man?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œNoah, you have an unerring instinct for trouble. His name is Ezra and he used to be a fisherman, until he married the previous owner’s widow. She is ten years older than he, so perhaps she