Chapter 22

‘Didn’t they know that before?’

‘Not so definitely. Pilate has been walking his tight-rope with something like dignity. Today he lost his balance. They had no case at all against that inoffensive young dreamer, and they knew it. And they knew that Pilate knew it. Everybody knew it. They demanded that the Procurator commit a murder, and he did it…What I can’t understand, Mencius, is the terrific volume of malice hurled at that defenceless Galilean…A king? Absurd! Imagine that supine young philosopher—or fool—or whatever you like—attempting to lead a revolution! Imagine him on a horse! Imagine him directing a charge of ten thousand bowmen!’ The Prefect waved it all away with his spoon. ‘The Sanhedrin has too much sense to believe that this country preacher threatened their prestige.’

‘Better not be too sure about that,’ cautioned Mencius. ‘All you saw of the Galilean this morning was an utterly exhausted, blood-smeared young idealist on his way to execution. The fact is: this man has demonstrated supernormal power. Thousands have followed him about through the provinces. There is plenty of good evidence that he has healed the sick, the blind, the crippled.’

‘Pouf!’ railed the Prefect. ‘I don’t believe these tales and neither do you! Such things don’t happen…Who told you?’

‘I was informed by the last man in the world who could be taken in by a trickster…Do you remember that rich young Arabian who came with me to Caesarea, after he had saved my life in a fight?’

‘Do I?’ Sergius laughed aloud. ‘I had to lock the youngster up to make sure he wouldn’t murder our precious Tetrarch.’

‘And turned him loose, later, to go wherever he pleased, and do what he liked, with your blessing,’ grinned Mencius.

‘Well, Antipas isn’t fit to live,’ mumbled Sergius, defensively, ‘but I couldn’t have him assassinated while under my protection. When he was out of my custody, I didn’t care what happened to him…By the way, what became of your handsome cut-throat? Did he return to Arabia?’

Mencius nodded, and for a moment Sergius thought there might be further information on that subject, but the Proconsul was attentive to his food.

‘I’m rather surprised that your Voldi hasn’t tried to settle Arabia’s claim on Antipas. The boy seemed not lacking in courage. My Felix became greatly attached to him.’

‘What’s Felix doing?’ inquired Mencius.

‘He’s in Rome, attending the Military Academy.’

‘Good! I’ll look him up when I get home…Reverting to this mysterious Galilean, Sergius, I’m no more gullible on the subject of miracles than you are—or my cynical young Arab, who isn’t interested in anything but fine horses, sharp steel, and good sportsmanship. But there can be no doubt that this Jesus performed some remarkable deeds, quite beyond human understanding.’