Journey of the Pearl. A. E. Smith

he always thank you when you do something?”

      “He does. But he’s the only one.”

      Outside the fortress, Adas slowed Draco to a walk. He was aware of a few gawking pedestrians. He assumed the local citizens were amused to see a battered Roman soldier. He was wrong. It was because Adas wore the caligae and belt of a centurion yet was unarmed. It was a rare sight to see a Roman dare to venture into Jerusalem without weapons. When Adas reached a scroll shop, he dismounted and dropped the reins. Draco snorted, but did not move away from where the ends of the reins lay in the street. He patted the horse’s neck and walked in the shop.

      “Ah, Centurion, what may I do for you?” asked the shopkeeper, literally dropping what he was doing to assist. The man hastily picked up the bundle of papyrus he had been carrying.

      Normally, Adas would have apologized for startling the man, but not today. “I’d like several letter-sized scrolls and a pot of ink,” he answered in Hebrew.

      The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Hebrew is very good, Sir. Here’s my selection.”