Joseph

CORBIN AND JOSEPH had spent the night gorging on bread and cheese. After days of not eating, Joseph had found it difficult to control himself in front of the bounty of food, and Corbin had encouraged this display of gluttony. The bread would only go stale, so might as well enjoy it fresh. Besides, Corbin insisted, by following his advice, Joseph would never starve again. They would go out looking for food again the next day. Foraging, Corbin called it, not stealing. They would split up and then share their finds.

It was now midday in Tyre and all the merchants had closed shop to eat a small meal and take a nap. Corbin was right, Joseph thought. The sun was high and hot and men avoided being out at this time if they could. Many of the streets were empty except for a few stray dogs laying in the shade, flies crawling on their fur and by their eyes.

Joseph hated the heaviness of the air, the sweat clinging to his skin, and the dust that invaded his lungs, but he heard Corbin's voice in his mind: this was the time of day that people made mistakes. Left things behind because the heat made them lazy.

Joseph still didn't like the idea of stealing. He didn't know if it was a feeling that he could get used to. But what Corbin had asked him eased his guilt. Was it really stealing if the object in question was left out in the open with no one to watch over it?

Joseph turned the corner and noticed one of the vendors had left his cart in the street when he had gone inside. The cart stood starkly alone in the narrow side street. Its contents were covered by a piece of cloth. Maybe the vendor was visiting a friend and would be back out shortly. Or he could be just around the corner, pissing in the alleyway. Merchants knew better than to leave their wares untended, and if the owner had left it alone, he may still be keeping it in his view. Joseph watched the cart intently from the shadows. This was his opportunity, and he needed to be quick, but he also needed to be smart.

A light breeze raised a cloud of dust and a man coughed in the distance. Joseph turned his head to look, but no one was coming.

Not wanting to rouse the dogs from their slumber, Joseph took slow and deliberate steps towards the cart. His once white cloak was now streaked with dirt, his face and hands were deeply tanned, and he was perfectly camouflaged against the bleached exterior of the mud-brick houses that lined the streets in this area of the city. One tone of beige simply faded into another. Joseph kneeled down into the shadows, keenly aware that while the street was empty of traffic, there were many men nearby but beyond his sight, sitting in the darkness behind open doorways.

He slipped his hand under the blanket and groped around for anything edible. Or at least something he could grab and later barter for something edible. It had been days since he had enjoyed a real meal, and his stomach grumbled at the thought.

His fingers brushed against what felt like fur. Sweeping his arm back and forth he felt short bristles spring up as he went in one direction and then smooth down when he went back in the other. It must be the hide of a goat, Joseph reasoned. The merchant must be on his way to the tannery, and he left this cart because there wasn't anything easy to steal inside it. He hoped Corbin was having more luck on his outing. Joseph was just about to slink away when he heard someone coming.

"Hey, you!" A harsh voice yelled out, shattering the silence. "What are you doing?" And Joseph began to hustle. He didn't dare turn around. He was just a street rat, an urchin, he could fade into the background as long as he could get down an alley. He hadn't taken anything and chasing him wouldn't be worth the trouble.

Joseph turned off of the side street that he was on and crossed to one of the busier roads. The buildings here were made of stone and there were horses tied up in a stable. He continued down the street, keeping to the shadows. At the next intersection he made a quick right and then veered to the left when there was a fork in the road. He thought he still heard footsteps, and he darted down a tight alleyway and pressed himself behind some clay casks. He held his breath and could hear his heart pounding against his rib cage. After a few moments he let out a sigh and slumped against the wall.

Looking around, he realized he had stumbled upon a much better find than the lone cart. The alleyway was barely more than a few feet wide, just a slim passage between buildings. Joseph couldn't tell if it let out onto the parallel street because a sharp curve obscured his view. However, Joseph noted that there were very few footprints in the dust, and it was most likely a dead end. The only evidence of people using this alley was a worn trail leading to the side door of one of the buildings. Joseph could hear people talking beyond the wooden frame. He caught bits of French spoken in casual tones along with the occasional laugh. But more importantly, there was a waft of smoke emerging from the doorway, and it smelled of roasted meat.

This place must be a tavern or an inn. Joseph assumed the voices he heard were those of customers enjoying food and drink. The casks he was standing behind must be filled with wine, and there were also crates with dried fruit and loaves of bread. Joseph hesitated. Maybe instead of helping himself to the available treats he should beg the owners of the tavern for charity. The possibility of a hot meal made his stomach grumble.

Joseph was almost embarrassed by his own weakness. Corbin wouldn't waiver when there was an opportunity like this in front of him. He would have no second thoughts about filling his satchel with as much loot as possible. But Corbin had more experience and skill. While Joseph desperately needed nourishment, he also didn't want to repeat the mistake he had made the previous day. One brash move could cost him his hand. Or worse.

The men who owned this food and who could offer it as charity were just beyond that open doorway, chatting and laughing with customers. They sounded cheerful and might be in a giving mood.

Joseph's stomach grumbled again. He thought about all the many times people had said no to him. Rejected his offer to work for food. Snubbed his pleas for mercy. Disregarded the look of starvation in his eyes. Over the past weeks it had happened more times than he could count. He needed to eat, and couldn't take the risk of asking. He opened his satchel and placed two loaves of bread and several handfuls of dried fruit inside it. It was enough to last him a couple days, but not so much that anyone would notice it missing.

Holding his now-full bag close to his chest, Joseph quickly turned around and dashed back towards the street he had come down.

He ran headlong into the chest of a stranger.

Joseph saw the man's feet a split second before the collision. He felt his face press against a thin linen shirt and his shoulder jammed into the man's ribs. It caught him off guard, but he was mindful enough to grasp his satchel even tighter. The impact forced the stranger to take a step backwards and Joseph's footing faltered. His knees buckled, and he felt gravity's pull, but he used this momentum to twist his body. With one strong push from his legs he was sprinting in the other direction, away from the man.

"There you are! I've found you! Thief!" the harsh, familiar voice shouted. Joseph thought he had lost the merchant who had been chasing after him! How foolish! Why hadn't he been more cautious? His hunger had distracted him, and now it was going to cost him dearly. What would they do to him when he was caught? Put him in prison? Lock him up in the stocks? Chop off his hand? Or would Joseph experience something worse? Joseph had never met a girl begging on the streets for a reason; they were kidnapped and placed in brothels as soon as they were discovered. The thought motivated his legs to move.

As he raced down the alleyway, he pushed over some empty crates, hoping to buy himself some more time to think of a way to escape. He heard the man trip and curse after him.

Joseph flew around the bend in the alley, and his stomach sank. His initial assessment had been correct. This path was a dead end. The buildings gave way to a small courtyard that was surrounded on all sides. It was empty, except for the city's ever-present population of stray dogs. There were doors and windows to the various apartments, but no paths to the street.

Panicked and running as fast as he was, Joseph was anything but discreet. His feet were pounding against the hard-packed dirt road and his breath came out in loud starts. His noisy arrival woke the sleeping mongrels who had been napping in what little shade they could find. Before Joseph was even able to reach the far side of the courtyard a dog's lazy growl had transformed itself into a menacing bark.

At this moment the angry merchant made his way around the bend. His pant leg was scuffed from where he had tripped and dust had dirtied his thin white shirt. The man scanned the courtyard with a scowl, but his expression turned definitively more cheerful when he saw the scene he had walked into. "You're trapped, you filthy rat! Food for those dogs! How fitting!"

Joseph screamed back, "I didn't take anything from you! Why are you chasing me?"

"What's that I see bulging in your bag? Even if you didn't take anything from me, you're still a dirty thief!" the man spit victoriously. "I have no sympathy for dirty thieves."

Before Joseph could respond his attention was drawn by the barking mutts.

There were two dogs barking, the fur on their backs were standing on end. They were holding their ground right now, but Joseph knew it was only moments before they charged. And all this noise was bound to attract the attention of the people in the surrounding apartments.

Joseph did the only thing that he could think of. He reached into his bag, ripped off a piece of bread, and threw it at the merchant.

The trick worked. Both dogs' eyes followed the bread across the courtyard where they were made aware of the second intruder. The merchant. When they sprung in that direction, it was clear that they were going to attack the man, not the bread. "Down you dirty beasts! Stand back!" the merchant screamed in vain as he turned and sprinted back down the alley in the direction he had come from. The dogs followed, barking at his heels.

As the merchant's screams and the dog's yips faded around the alley's bend, a woman stuck her head out of one of the windows, "What is all that noise!" She scanned the open area and when her gaze fell upon Joseph she stared, "Who are you?"

Joseph dropped his chin in a gesture of placation, but did not respond.

"I said, who are you, young man?" she repeated her question, a note of agitation creeping into her high-pitched cackle of a voice. She was an older woman with graying hair pulled back severely into a tight braid. Deep wrinkles were etched into her forehead, but her crystal blue eyes burned with intensity.

"I'm nobody, madam. No one important." Joseph said in barely a whisper, still staring at the well-worn leather boots on his feet.

"Then why was that man yelling? What are you holding?" she eyed him suspiciously.

Joseph hugged his satchel even closer to his chest.

"Thief! You look like a thief!" her shrill voice rang out loudly.

Before he knew what was happening several men had stepped out of the doorways around the courtyard. Joseph didn't wait to find out what their first move would be. He charged down the alleyway towards the main road. The merchant and the dogs were out of sight, but after he hopped over the knocked down crates, he immediately halted.

A balding man with short-cropped auburn hair and a patchy beard was standing outside of the tavern, blocking the end of the alley way. He looked up at Joseph and he didn't look happy. Glancing back, Joseph saw that two of the men from the courtyard were closing in. They were so large that their shoulders nearly touched both sides of the alley. They reminded Joseph of the stories his father had told him about Vikings. He had no desire to get a closer inspection, so he turned back around to face the man who he assumed was the innkeeper, and charged forward.

The innkeeper grabbed out for the skinny, dirty child racing towards him, but Joseph dove and crawled between the man's legs, avoiding his stretched-out fingers. The man swiped out again, but before Joseph could regain his footing and dart away, the man slipped a finger under the strap of the loot-filled satchel. Joseph turned and twisted, yanking the bag from the man's grasp. But in freeing his bag, he had also trapped himself.

Joseph was now back in the alleyway, the innkeeper was blocking the route of escape, and the two hulking men were charging closer. Joseph took the only available path. He ran through the side door and he tore through the bar of the tavern.

"Grab him!" the innkeeper hollered from the door, and chaos broke out.

Joseph scrambled under one table and emerging from between a patron's legs. He jumped on top of the next table, knocking over a large tin mug. Ignoring the sticky liquid that invaded the holes in his boots, he dropped back to the floor. He kicked out with his legs and zigzagged around old men who had drunk too much mead and lacked the coordination necessary to capture a scrawny boy fleeing for his life. Joseph darted around the room like a sparrow dodging the clasping claws of a hawk. He burst through the front doorway and bolted down the street.

The intensity of the afternoon sun was beginning to wane and a few pedestrians were strolling toward the market. Joseph continued to rush down the road. His mind was reeling from this close call.

He ran. And ran. And ran. Joseph didn't know if he was still being followed, but it didn't matter. This was a close call. Too close. He felt nauseous about what could have happened.

Thinking of Corbin, Joseph weaved his way towards the poorer parts of the city and away from the Frankish settlements. There were many places that would allow him to fade away into the background and hide from any possible pursuers. Large pillars lined the main boulevard, but small and crowded side streets zigzagged across the near-island of a city, and it was into that confusing labyrinth that Joseph scrambled.

After was seemed like hours, Joseph emerged onto a familiar residential road. Weary from his adventurous day, he plopped himself down on a doorstep. He opened his satchel to better assess his bounty. He still had a loaf and a half of bread and plenty of dried fruit. Mentally dividing his catch into meals, he ripped off a chunk of the bread, grabbed a handful of fruit, and closed his satchel tightly, tucking it underneath his shirt.

As the child of a master weaver, Joseph had never wanted for much as a child. Although his meals had not been extravagant, food had never been scarce. Even on their journey eastward they always had steady rations. Joseph didn't think he would ever learn to cope with the ever-gnawing hunger in his gut. This constant quest for food was wearing down Joseph's soul. He shook his head. Is this what life had become? He thought to himself. Would he ever make it home?

Closing his mind to negative thoughts, Joseph savored the sweet and tangy taste of a dried apricot. As he slowly chewed the tough meat of the dried fruit, he heard the soft approach of footsteps from behind. A hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder, and Joseph froze.