Joseph
JOSEPH SPENT THE next few days pleading for the mercy of others who were heading west, asking for free passage, or at least help in purchasing a ticket across the sea. But he was at the age where he wasn't young enough to seem helpless nor was he old enough to appear helpful, and promises of future payment out of the mouth of an adolescent were only taken in jest. However, pitying strangers occasionally gave him loaves of bread or a few coppers to purchase a hot meal.
After only a few days his clothes became filthy from sitting on street corners and sleeping on church benches. Dirt caked his face and embedded itself in each small crevice and wrinkle of his skin. Whatever credibility he once might have had for offering a reward for safe passage home was quickly lost. His eyes became shallow with hunger, his stomach was perpetually empty, and instead of rides on ships or in caravans, within a week Joseph began begging solely for food.
As he became dirtier, he also became hungrier. His filth seemed to turn him invisible to the men walking down the streets. At least to men of honor. There were plenty of dangerous men whose eyes lingered when Joseph walked past, and he was grateful for his disguise. He shuddered to imagine what would happen to him if they knew he had the body of a young woman. So, he did his best to fade into the scenery and avoided confrontation at all costs. His attempt to slink only in the shadows led to his first crime.
It had been less than a month since his arrival in Tyre and nearly a week since he had eaten anything of substance. He was leaning against a building in one of the city's large courtyards, quietly begging for handouts from those who passed by. There was a group of boys around his age playing a game. They were in a circle and speaking excitedly in a dialect of French that Joseph didn't understand. He wondered what they were playing. It had been so long since he had played with other children, and the sight made him miss his days in Loconge with Adso.
A new boy walked up the group. He was wearing a satchel over his arm, but dropped it next to the fountain and quickly joined his friends. Joseph eyed the bag curiously. It was just sitting there. Without stopping to think, Joseph stood up slowly. Casually, he walked over to the fountain. He dipped his hand under the spout and took a drink of water. The bag was inches from his foot. He splashed water on his neck, turning his head to make sure the boys were still engrossed in their activity. No one was watching him. He was just another dirty child of the streets. In one smooth motion he leaned down, brought the bag to his shoulder, and turned his body so that it blocked the bag from the boys' sight. Joseph walked as calmly as he could towards one of the crossroads.
As soon as he was out of view he took off as fast as he could. He raced down the street until his chest burned and his saliva was thick in his mouth. There was a corner across the way where no one was, and he sat down, scanning the area to make sure he wouldn't be bothered. After taking a few deep breaths, he crouched down and opened the satchel. His eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. Fresh bread! Cheese! And even a few copper coins! He closed the bag quickly and tucked it under his shirt. This was his find, and he wasn't going to lose it.
"What have you got there?"
Joseph whipped his head up and was startled to be met by a pair of piercing green eyes. He recognized the lean bronze face which was framed by a mop of dark curly hair. It was the brash boy who he had watched snatch a rich man's purse. Joseph hugged his chest, holding the satchel securely. "I don't have anything that would interest you."
"Are you sure about that?" the boy snickered.
"Listen," Joseph said carefully, trying not to whimper, "I need this. I am starving. Please leave me be."
"It's not yours, that bag. You took it from a boy who was playing by the fountain. I saw you grab it and scuttle away." His smile widened into a toothy grin.
"Are you so innocent, to judge me?" Joseph said. He tried to sound tough, but instead it came out as a whine. "I've seen you before. I saw you. I saw you snatch a man's purse and run away."
"Ooh, that's quite an accusation, maybe you should watch your tongue." The boy continued to smile, but a darkness crept into his eyes. "But even if what you say is true, that man had a nasty attitude and needed to be taught the error of his ways. What did that boy by the fountain do to you?"
Joseph had no response. When he didn't speak, the boy continued, "That boy you stole from, what do you think is going to happen to him? Will he go hungry today? Will his father beat him for his carelessness? And what about God? Isn't it a sin to steal?"
Joseph could feel a lump forming in his throat, but he swallowed hard, determined not to reveal his weakness. "All I meant was, I know you can fend for yourself. Why, why come here and pick on me? You are obviously..."
The boy let out a loud guffaw. "I'm just messing with you, brother! You are a nervous little mouse, aren't you? How new to the streets are you? If you are going to survive, you need to get some thicker skin! I'm Corbin, by the way."
"I'm Joseph," he said warily, not trusting this new tone in the conversation. "But I'm not a mouse. I'm just a beggar boy, like you. But I meant what I said. Please let me be."
Corbin considered him for a moment, but did not leave. "Nice to meet you, Joseph. Yes, I suppose we are both beggars. But you did not begin this way, and I did."
"What do you know of my beginnings?" Joseph asked, a pang of fear catching in his throat. Could this boy see past his male attire?
"You don't hold yourself like someone born in the streets." The boy paused and looked at Joseph appraisingly. "There is a different look in your eye."
Joseph absorbed this statement in silence. Corbin was right. He hadn't been born in the streets. He had been raised with privilege. He wasn't born a boy either, though. That could also contribute to having a different look in his eye.
"You know," Corbin continued, casual and confident, and seemingly oblivious to Joseph's discomfort, "I was told that my grandfather traveled here on Crusade, but never returned to the west. So, part of me is Latin, like you. But, he took a local wife. She was Greek. My father was their second son."
"How do you know I am Latin?" Joseph interrupted.
"By your accent!" the boy exclaimed, "you are too covered with dirt to know what color your skin is!"
"Oh, of course," Joseph cracked a small smile, but remained suspicious of Corbin's friendly manner.
"So, are you a lost Crusader, like my grandfather was?"
"In a way, I guess. I traveled here on a pilgrimage, but..." he stuttered, not wanting to spill any secrets.
"A pilgrim who steals, huh?" Corbin teased.
"I was so hungry. I am so hungry. I just didn't see another way."
"It's a feeling you get used to, I assure you. It becomes a part of you. A part of your soul, your being. It follows you about like your shadow. But in a way, that nagging little feeling is a friendly reminder that you must always do what you need to do. What's the bigger crime, swiping the occasional free meal, or letting yourself die? You know, starving yourself to death is akin to murder. You'd be murdering yourself. Isn't stealing a lesser sin than murder?"
"That's an interesting point," Joseph admitted.
"And besides," Corbin continued, "if someone just leaves something in the middle of the street, that's not stealing. They abandoned it. Or, even better, they donated it to charity. Isn't that what Jesus taught? To give to the poor? And who is poorer than us, am I right, brother?"
"I never thought about it from that angle, but I see your point."
"Well, I've had a long time to think about it. My whole life, really. And I always figured that if I came into some money, if I became one of those fat men with big bellies and a bigger purse, that I would be happy to share my scraps with those who are starving, you know?"
"Sure," Joseph nodded.
"Anyway, all that said, I feel like I'm in a position to be generous to you."
"How?" Joseph said, a note of suspicion returning to his voice.
"Well, I may not be some thick-waisted merchant with gold coins bulging from my pockets, but I am rich with knowledge," he tapped at his temple before turning his pointer finger towards Joseph. "Don't you think it's funny that you swiped that bag, thought you were so sneaky, looking all around, trying to be so clever, and yet, here I am, sitting next to you, knowing that you've got some French boy's satchel tucked under your shirt?"
Joseph could feel his ears burning with embarrassment. Corbin was right, he had thought that he was being sneaky, yet, look how easily he was caught.
"Oh, stop glowering at me. There's no need to feel bad about it, brother," Corbin slapped his palm on Joseph's shoulder. "You should feel lucky that it was me who approached you, and not some guard who would have happily thrown you in the stocks or, even, God forbid, removed your thieving hand from your scrawny wrist. No, my brother, today is your lucky day, because now you've met me. And I'm a generous guy. So generous that I'm going to teach you a few tricks of the trade. In fact, I'm not even going to ask for anything in return."
There was something unsettling about Corbin's words. Maybe it was just the image of what would have happened if Joseph had been caught by a guard. But there was another feeling that Joseph couldn't quite shake. Was there an underlying threat in Corbin's words? Joseph couldn't tell. But he also didn't know what choice he had in the matter. The ability to make any really choices had been robbed from him as soon as Grimbert had left the city with all of their earthly possessions. So, Joseph simply nodded and said, "I guess today truly is my lucky day."
"That's the attitude! Hey, let's get out of here." Corbin bounced up and reached out his hand for Joseph to take. "This is no place for lunch, and my stomach is telling me that it is time to eat."
Corbin lead the way and Joseph followed. With the bravado of a young bull, Corbin swaggered down one street and crossed to the next. As they made their way through the confusing maze of mismatched architecture, Joseph was amazed at how Corbin was able to navigate the city streets as naturally as a prince might walk the corridors of his own castle. Although Joseph had been wondering the streets of Tyre for several weeks, he was still completely unfamiliar with where they were headed.
It was approaching midday, and the streets became empty as people retreated from the hot sun to take a nap or have a meal indoors. "Look," Corbin said, stopping and pointing. Joseph didn't see anything at first. The street was nearly abandoned, even the dogs seemed to have found a cooler place to lay. "The cart," Corbin whispered, and gestured again, "the vendor must have gone to grab a drink or take a leak, or who knows, and he left two copper coins sitting on the railing. The heat makes people lazy. Never forget that. This is the best time to get the most reward for the least work."
"How can you see two copper coins all the way from here?" Joseph whispered back in amazement.
"You can see the glint in the sun. See?"
Joseph nodded, slowly at first, and then more emphatically when his eye actually saw the distant sparkle.
"Ok, just walk normally. Keep your head up. Don't change anything about how you were walking a moment before. If you feel guilty, you will look guilty. Do you remember what I said earlier?"
"You said a lot of things earlier."
"About how it's not stealing. Do you remember why?"
"Oh right. If someone leaves something out in the open, then they are simply donating it to those in need."
As they walked by the cart Corbin didn't even slow his stride for a moment. He simply swung his arm out in time with his stride, sort of like Adso used to do, and slipped the coins into his pocket in one liquid motion. "Yes, we are the ones in need who happened upon it. Their loss; our find," the boy laughed, tapping his pocket.