The lean, blue-jowled ascetic face of Joseph Caiaphas, High Priest of Israel, warmed into a disarming smile, and the flames from the chamber’s wall lamps danced in his sharp, dark eyes.

“Excellency,” he said, “you must be exasperated at my coming to you at this late hour.” He faced the Procurator across the ornate, heavy desk. “I know you are tired, and I appreciate the fact that the strain you’ve been undergoing ever since your arrival in Judaea has been intensified during these recent inflammable days of the Passover season.” He leaned nearer Pilate. “I realize, too, Excellency, that you must be determined to prevent the repetition of events in Palestine that might result in the dispatching to Rome of further damaging reports”—the Procurator’s florid round face darkened, but Caiaphas pretended not to notice—“challenging the excellence of the Procurator’s administration of the affairs of this province.”

“I am tired; I’ve had a long day.” Pilate’s tone revealed irritation. “Perhaps if the High Priest would proceed at once to the business he had in coming....”

“Indeed, Excellency,” the High Priest interrupted, “and I shall require little of your time, so that shortly you may go to your well-earned couch. A fortunate event of the day has facilitated the early satisfactory disposition of the business; if the Procurator will co-operate in disposing of it we shall quickly rid ourselves of a grievous threat both to Israel’s peace and to the Procurator’s rule. I have just come from a lengthy session of the elders of Israel, Excellency—that explains my late arrival here—at which we have agreed....”

“But what is the business you would lay before me? And how would it affect the Procurator’s administration of the government in Judaea?” Pilate’s impatience had put a sharp edge on his voice. “If it is a question of the alleged violation of certain religious laws of the Jews....”

“It is that, Excellency, but it is more.” Caiaphas leaned forward, and the light of the lamps flashed in the gems of his rings. “Not only would this man destroy our religion, but likewise would he destroy the rule of Rome in Palestine.”

“This man? Are you speaking of one Bar Abbas? He has been seized, with two of his fellow revolutionaries. They go to the cross tomorrow.”

The High Priest shook his head. “It is not that one, Excellency. The man is a Galilean, one Jesus bar Joseph, not a robber like Bar Abbas, but a far more dangerous revolutionary, whom his misguided followers—and their number is growing, Excellency—are proclaiming not only the Messiah of God but also the next King of Israel. Were noise to get back to the Prefect Sejanus or the Emperor that such a person was being permitted to advocate and plan Rome’s overthrow and your Excellency’s supplanting....”

“But does the High Priest know where this man is? Does the Sanhedrin have him in its custody?”

Calmly Joseph Caiaphas stroked his oiled and braided long beard. “He is in Jerusalem at this moment, Excellency, or within the close environs of the city. It is possible that already he has been seized by the Temple guard. He has been at the Feast since the first day of the week when he entered Jerusalem riding on a white donkey, which among the Jews is a symbol of royalty, Excellency. It was then that he had planned to enlist the Passover pilgrims, led by his fellow Galileans, in proclaiming him the new David, the King of Israel suddenly freed of Rome’s domination. He lost his courage, though, or in some manner his plans failed of materialization. But”—his hand stabbed out again at the Procurator—“the fellow is still intent on seizing power, and his countless misguided followers are determined to see him established on the throne as King of Israel. They will plunge our ancient land into revolution, Excellency. Blood will flow freely throughout Judaea and Galilee. Many Roman soldiers will die before the rebellion is crushed, unless”—his forehead wrinkled in heavy concern—“this fellow is quietly slain, Excellency, before his followers can rally.”

“You say that perhaps he has been arrested already. How could he be taken without alarming these supporters of whom you speak?”

The High Priest leaned back in his chair and folded his long arms across his chest. “The God of Israel has favored us, Excellency. He has delivered this blasphemer into our hands through his betrayal by one of his own band. This man came to us and after seeking pay told us he would point out where the man might be found and taken with little commotion. We gave the fellow thirty pieces of silver. By now no doubt he has delivered his leader into the hands of the guardsmen....”

“You say this man’s a blasphemer. Don’t you know that the Procurator is not concerned with violations of your religious code? What is it to Rome if your Yahweh is blasphemed? We will not enter into the religious quarrels of the Jews. I presume you have come here to ask me to try the man and find him guilty. I say, O High Priest, try the man yourself.”

Caiaphas smiled indulgently, but then his brow furrowed again and he scowled darkly. “That is true, Excellency. Rome has no concern with Israel’s worship of our God. But is not Rome concerned when a man, under the guise of teaching a new religion, declares openly that he will establish a new government in Israel? Would not Sejanus and the Emperor consider then that Rome was concerned ... and deeply concerned?”

The High Priest’s clever thrust had made its mark; Pilate’s face flushed; his tone, when he replied, was petulant. “Of course, the Prefect and the Emperor would be concerned; so would the Legate Vitellius, and so would the Procurator; so, in fact, would any loyal Roman.” Now the Procurator extended his own finger to point. “But how do you know that this Galilean advocates the overthrow of Rome? Has he come to trial? Has he faced witnesses against him? What would the High Priest have me to do, send a man to his death without trial? Certainly the High Priest must know that Rome is ruled by law, that no man under the rule of Rome may suffer death until he has been adjudged guilty, and that any such judgment can come only after a fair trial in which the man has been confronted by witnesses against him.”

“Indeed, O Procurator”—Joseph Caiaphas held up a soothing palm—“we well know that and approve. We, too, would never consent to sending this revolutionary to his death without trial, even though his crimes against Israel and against Rome have already been conclusively established. But he is being brought to fair trial, Excellency, before the great Sanhedrin of Israel. Perhaps he has already been apprehended in the Garden of Gethsemane, where he had planned to conceal himself with certain of his followers, as we learned from the traitor who came to us. He will be examined, no doubt before my beloved father-in-law Annas, known for his piety and his wisdom, learned in the laws of Israel”—he smiled warmly—“and strong in his devotion to the Prefect and the Emperor. And then, Excellency, as soon as the dawn of the new day makes it legal under our laws to conduct such a trial, the Galilean will be brought before the Sanhedrin, confronted by witnesses against him, and given proper trial.”

“Then why has the High Priest,” Pilate asked in exasperation, “come to me?”

“O Excellency, the Procurator must know that the ancient laws of Israel, now that Rome has become master, no longer apply in every detail. Should our Sanhedrin find this revolutionary Galilean guilty of base crimes and sentence him to death, it would still be powerless to carry out its sentence without the approval of Rome. I am here, O Excellency, to petition the Procurator to approve our verdict and sentence. And I urge you to do this quickly, in order that the man may be executed while it is yet early and before all Jerusalem, and the Galileans in particular, are astir. Then much commotion and bloodshed would be prevented and,” he added with a suggestive smile, “there would be no necessity of any report’s going to Rome.”

“But you wish me to condemn a man to death before he has been tried?” Pilate’s anger showed plainly in his frown.

“Indeed, no, Excellency,” the High Priest replied calmly. “We only wish you to approve and order into execution the sentence of the Sanhedrin in the event that after he has been tried, he is judged guilty.”

Pilate shook his head. “No, I shall send no man to the cross or to death by stoning until I have tried him. To do so would be an unspeakable breach of Rome’s system of justice.”

“But, Excellency, would you show your scorn of Israel’s highest court?”

“I would show only my determination to uphold Rome’s laws and procedures. If you wish this man tried, then bring him before me at the Procuratorium.” He bowed coldly. “And now, if the High Priest will excuse me....”

The High Priest stood up as though to leave. “Indeed, Excellency, I too am greatly fatigued,” he said, “but one more point detains me. A moment ago, Procurator Pilate, did I not hear you say that on the morrow you were sending Bar Abbas to the cross? If so, Excellency, have you not already convicted him?”

Pilate’s smile was contemptuous as he, too, rose to his feet. “I did say that, and I have no doubt that he will go to the cross. But not, O High Priest, until he has been given trial, before he has been confronted by witnesses who will testify to what they saw and heard as concerns those charges that will be placed against him. I presume that many will appear against this Bar Abbas and that he will be convicted. But I do not say now that he will. I say only that he will be given a fair trial.” He lifted a heavy fist and brought it forcefully down upon the surface of his desk. “And so, by all the gods, will your Galilean!”