On that note she went back indoors to fetch the broiled greens. The aroma assailed Uri’s nostrils.
The workers tucked in, with Uri standing by watching.
Judas growled at one of his brothers to give Uri some bread. The brother flared up in anger and went red in the face, but he still tore off a crust and set it down on the table. Uri did not touch the bread and walked farther off.
What Joseph had referred to as a hut might have originally stored tools but had since been renovated. Uri felt quite at home there, as it was not much different from a stable. The workers were still eating outside when Uri rubbed his hands clean on the earthen floor of the hut. Uri turned west, where he suspected the Temple was located, recited the short version of the Sh’ma, lay down on the sparse straw in one corner, and spread out over himself his sole possession, a blanket that Master Jehuda had given him, with fringed tassels along each of the four hems. He lay on one side, his legs drawn up so that the stomach cramps would be less distracting. After all, he had eaten twice that day, breakfast at Joseph’s house and then again at noon in the palace under construction. If he did not have to do any work, he would last on one meal a day until Sunday. He would be moving around less and eating a lot. The palace was already connected to a water supply, and he had taken a drink, which tasted fine.
He woke at daybreak to find he was freezing and the air was smoky.
He sat up and searched around in the gloom for his blanket but could not find it. His hand struck a sleeping man, who groaned. He felt in the other direction and again knocked against somebody else. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He realized that if he were to go out right now he was unlikely to find a space to fit back into, and outside it might be even colder. At least the smoke was giving a bit of warmth, and anyway he was not going to find the blanket right now. He lay back down and, humming to himself and rocking as if he were praying, managed to slip into a light sleep.
It was morning, and the others had gone out to have breakfast. Uri got up from where he lay prone, and looked for the blanket. He searched the whole hut without coming across it. It had undoubtedly been stolen, and if he had any money, that would have disappeared too. Good thing he had no money. If he had a pair of sandals, those would have been slipped off his feet. Good thing he had no sandals.
He set off after the voices fading into the distance and caught up with them at the plank crossing over the brook. They were engrossed with one another and joked with full bellies; no one spoke to him.
The dark blocks of the city wall, the Temple, the palaces and towers now sparkled with a golden color as the morning sun shone on them from the east, the direction of the Mount of Olives. Uri had trouble mapping out the buildings’ boundaries but could see the color well. He was lost in wonder that such a color existed.
The workers did not have to pay at the city gate; they were known to the guards. Uri wormed in among them, his head bowed, and was not noticed.
The foreman arrived at the palace late that morning. Uri stepped up to him, greeted him and asked whether he could be given an advance on his wages.
“Oh, of course,” the foreman said. “You weren’t here on Sunday…”
The foreman agonized over what to do.
“It’s fine by me,” said Uri, “if you let drop a word at the canteen to let me eat on credit…”
The foreman shook his head.
“I can’t get over there nowadays; I haven’t got the time… Ask Judith, the woman who runs it, she’s a decent sort, just a bit grumpy. You have to ask nicely, yes, that’s the way around it. Don’t ask her husband, he doesn’t make the decisions, she does.”
The foreman was delighted with that plan and gave Uri a friendly pat on the back before rushing off to attend to some urgent matter upstairs.
Uri drank a lot of water those days and chewed his lunch slowly, beginning to suspect he was not really entitled to it.
On Friday afternoon they went back to the hut early, the Sabbath being the Sabbath however you looked at it. They made their prayers to the northwest, the direction in which the Temple was actually located. Uri also received a share of the supper on the Sabbath. This is charity I receive, he thought, like some destitute vagrant. He was not offended, though; he got roast meat for the first time in ages. He again chewed slowly, deliberately, almost cautiously — not too much but not too little either. The wine made him slightly tipsy, and the next morning he slept past the morning prayer.
On Sunday morning he marched cheerfully along with the others toward Fountain Gate, not even trying to avoid the gaze of the gatekeepers, who still did not haul him out from among the others, either because they were not looking in his direction or had already seen him going out.
The cashier arrived in the morning escorted by two guards, though they were carrying no weapons. The cashier squatted in the atrium, opened his case, and took a scroll out. He ticked off the names of those whose wages had been counted. Uri was left at the end. The cashier shut the case, rolled up the scroll, and rose to leave.
“I’m owed as well,” said Uri.
The workers looked his way.
“Everyone got theirs,” said the cashier.
“I haven’t gotten mine yet,” said Uri.
“There’s no other name on the roll,” said the cashier.
Uri saw red. He yelled inarticulately that they would regret this, that he was going to report them, that everyone would be in for it. Even the guards stiffened, uncertain about what to do.
“I’ll tell Joseph, the one in the Sanhedrin,” bawled Uri. “They can make your lives truly unpleasant, you dolts! This is enough from you all! I’ve had enough! Enough!”
The workers had fallen silent. The panic-stricken cashier started to make excuses: that was all the money he had been given, nobody had said anything, it was not his fault if somebody was not on the roll.
“Who is responsible?” demanded Uri.
The foreman appeared, having heard the shouting.
Uri tore into him.
“It’s your fault. It was up to you to inform people, you scum! You’d better go right now and tell them I’ve been taken on, and bring me my wages!”
“Come on!” the foreman said mockingly. “It’s not as if you moved so much as a speck of dust.”
“You go right now,” Uri whispered. By now he had grown hoarse. “If you don’t, I’ll see that you’re taken care of! Joseph ben Nahum is not exactly going to thank you!”
At this the foreman was alarmed; his tone changed.
“Why didn’t you say so to start with?” he wailed. “You didn’t tell me, none of you did… You didn’t come with him. How was I supposed to know?”
He turned on the cashier.
“Give him his wages!”
“I can’t, I have no more money with me!”
“Never mind,” whispered Uri. “You can come back later and bring it then. Gaius Theodorus is my name. Take note of that!”
The foreman wrote down Uri’s name, and Uri checked it; he had made three mistakes.
“Correct that,” Uri said sternly, pointing out the incorrect letters. “There, there, and there.”
The foreman flushed but made the corrections.
“I won’t be able to bring it today,” the cashier remonstrated. “It’s closed already… Tomorrow…”
“I’m not prepared to starve for another day,” Uri declared. “I need to pay for the whole week in advance, and to lay down the money today. You’ll have to drum up the money from somewhere and come back, because if you don’t I’m going to report you. And you too!” he said, turning toward the foreman.
Silence fell. The workers enjoyed the scene quietly.
“Fine,” said the foreman. “I’ll give you an advance, but then I’m getting it back next week, okay?”
“It’s all the same to me,” said Uri, “as long as I get my wages!”