The Thief by Stephanie Landsem

gods—Roman, Greek, or otherwise. And here, in this backward corner of the empire where you couldn’t find a decent bathhouse, comes a man who can cure the blind. And those dim-witted Pharisees refused to believe it.
    Why do I care? The last thing I need is to get involved with these crazy people. But he had seen a miracle, of that he was sure. And now the man born blind might be in danger. Longinus flicked the reins. I’ll just make sure they’re safe. Then he could get back to his duty and finding the thieves.
    As Ferox rounded the corner of the temple, Longinus sighted a cluster of men below the Huldah Gates—temple guards brandishing heavy sticks. One of the priests, short and round with a bright red face, urged them on. And there, darting around the outer edge of the mob, was Nissa. She rained blows on the backs of men twice her size. She pulled at their arms and scratched at their faces. They swatted her away like a mosquito.
    Was this what the Sanhedrin called justice? Not on my watch. He dug his heals into Ferox’s sides. He reached the bottom of the stairs, slid off Ferox, and ran toward the mob, drawing his sword. “Break it up! Out of my way!” He hit the nearest man with the flat side of his blade. The man backed off, but the rest of the mob closed in on the empty space.
    Nissa appeared at his side. “Stop them. Please,” she choked out.
    The short priest stepped in front of him. “This man was breaking our laws, not the laws of Caesar. We’ll punish him as we see fit.”
    The priest was right. Unless it was a crime against Caesar, or an execution, the Jews were free to practice their own form of justice. Longinus didn’t have any authority here.
    A groan of pain and the slap of flesh hitting stone sounded from within the knot of men.
    Nissa screamed her brother’s name.
    Curse what these fools call justice. Longinus raised his sword, holding the point just at the priest’s bulbous nose, and stared into the other man’s eyes. He’d killed many men, just like this, but he doubted this priest had ever faced the sharp end of a sword. “Call off your men. Now.”
    The priest swallowed hard and retreated. “That’s enough!” He pulled men away and pushed them apart.
    Longinus shoved through to the unmoving man curled on the stones.
    “Cedron!” Nissa threw herself down beside him.
    Longinus pointed his sword on the pack of men. “If I hear of any harm coming to this man, you’ll answer to me, not to Caesar.”
    The priest scowled and muttered to his men. They backed away and disappeared into the murky streets.
    Nissa knelt beside her brother, cradling his head in her hands. She bent close to his mouth to feel his breathing. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t cry.
    Thank the gods. I don’t need a weeping woman on my hands.
    “How bad?” He crouched beside the beaten man. Cedron’s eye was already swelled shut, his lip split and bleeding. Longinus ran his hand down Cedron’s arms and across his ribs, checking for broken bones.
    Cedron coughed and winced when Longinus’s firm touch reached his knee. It was swollen and twisted outward. He probed it again.
    Cedron groaned. “We don’t need your help, Roman,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
    Longinus ignored him. “That knee is bad. The rest will heal.”
    Nissa’s hand, soft and trembling, rested on his bare arm, where muscle bunched below his armor and above his elbow greaves. “Thank you,” she whispered.
    A jolt of surprise shot through him. If she hadn’t been so close, he’d never have believed that a kind word had passed her lips. Pretty lips, too—full and shapely, if a little ragged. Her eyes were fringed by thick black lashes that cast shadows on her dirty cheeks as she dipped her head toward Cedron.
    Under all that dirt, she wasn’t half bad to look at. Not pretty in the way of the lush Jewish women he’d admired in the market, with their wide-set dark eyes, ample breasts, and generously curved hips. No, this girl