“If you’re looking for coin, I haven’t got any.
The Romans took it all in taxes.”
Be that as it may, James was a cheap ******* anyway.
“It was theirs to begin with. The coins have
Caesar’s picture on them, don’t they?
You might as well give ‘em back to Caesar.”
He looked up from the floor uneasily and said,
“Yeh? Well, what do you want then?”
“I just want what’s mine,” I said.
“What makes you think you’ve got anything here?”
“I left some stuff upstairs I didn’t tell you
about because you would’ve hocked it in a heartbeat,”
I explained as I made for the short wooden steps.
He was running behind me, questioning nervously,
“What stuff? Where?”
“You’ll see.”
I went to my old room and using the bunk bed’s
ladder climbed up and punched a hole
in the thick mud ceiling and chipped away
with the **** of the pistol I’d taken from Satan
until the crevice was big enough for me
to haul the weather beaten chest down to the floor.
“How long has that been up there?”
he asked in astonishment. The box contained guns
and a change of clothes and I took out a pair of Uzis,
one in each hand.
“Since before you were born, brother,” I said
while I set the weapons aside and changed clothes.
“What the hell are you going to do with those?” he gasped.
Thankfully moths hadn’t gotten to the clothes
& the guns hadn’t rusted.  I loaded the machine pistols
with full clips and tucked them in my belt.
“I hear there’s a new prophet in town,” I said.
“You mean the Arab?”
“Yeh. I’m going to show him what a real prophet looks like.”
“I’d beware of those guys if I were you,” he warned.
“Tell me, do I look worried?”
He shook his head and said, “No—
that’s what got me worried.
The centurions already have you in their cross-hairs.
You’re going to go too far one of these days and get nailed.”
I tossed him an *** and a box of clips, saying,
“It’s my territory, see? I’m not going to let a bunch
of ***** nomads come along and walk away with it.
Are you with me or what?”
“Let’s go downstairs and have a drink.
I, ah, I may have some bread after all.”
“Now you’re talking like a brother.
Come on, let’s go have that drink.”
We went downstairs and I pulled up a seat
at the table. James went to the cabinet
and took out a camel skin cask and two earthenware mugs.
He set the mugs on the table and poured the pungent scarlet wine.
“Drink up, brother. This may be your last,”
he said raising his mug.