My Dear Father:

In this letter will be continued my account of the trial, if such it can be called, of Jesus.

John, the faithful and yet trusting disciple whom Jesus loved, still kept near his captive Master, and sought to cheer him by affectionate looks and, where he could do it with safety, by kind acts. More than once he was rudely thrust aside by the fiercer Jews, and once several men seized upon him and would have done him violence, if Caiaphas, to whom John is remotely related and who knows him well, had not interposed. And while John was thus doing all that he could to soften the asperity of his friend's treatment, we at home were exerting ourselves to soothe the maternal solicitude of Mary of Nazareth, his noble and heartbroken mother.

Herod, the Tetrarch of Galilee, was breaking his fast with fruit and wine, at a table overlooking by a window the Street of the Gentiles, when the noise of the advancing thousands of the Jews reached his ear. He started from the table and said:

"These people are surely up in insurrection against Pilate!"

"No, great prince," answered the lad Abel, his cupbearer, who is related to John, and has told me many of these things. "They have taken the Nazarene Prophet, Jesus, and are trying him for sedition."

"This uproar proceeds from no trial, but from a wild mob in motion, and they seem to be approaching," was his answer to him.

As Herod spoke he went to the lattice of his basilica, and beheld the head of the multitude just emerging into the street.

"There are spears and Romans in the van, and I see priests and peasants mixed together. I now see the cause of all the tumult—a mere youth, bound and soiled and pale as marble. What, sirs! this is not the great Prophet, of whose fame I have heard?" he said, turning to his officers. "What mean they by bringing him hither? Yet, Per Baccho! I am glad to get a sight of him!"

The crowd, like the swelling Nile, flowed towards the gates, roaring and chafing like its mighty cataracts, so that there was something fearfully sublime in this display of the power of human passions. Æmilius with difficulty succeeded in getting his prisoner into the piazza of the palace.

"Most royal prince," said Æmilius, kneeling before Herod and presenting a signet, "I am sent by his excellency, Pontius Pilate, the Roman Procurator of Judea, to bring before you this person accused of blasphemy. Ignorant of your customs and faith, the Governor desires that you, who are of his nation, would examine him; and moreover, Pilate, learning that he is a Galilean and a subject of your jurisdiction, courteously declines interfering with your authority."

When Herod Antipas heard delivered so courteous a message from the Procurator, with whom he had been some time at enmity, he was pleased.

"Say thou, Sir Knight, to his excellency, the most noble and princely Governor of Judea, that I appreciate his extraordinary civility, and that nothing will give me more pleasure, in return for such distinguished courtesy, than to be considered by him his friend, and that I regret any occurrence that has hitherto estranged us."

Æmilius, upon receiving this answer, arose and bowed, and then said with the boldness which characterizes him:

"Most gracious and royal Tetrarch, I pray you heed not the charges of these Jews touching this prisoner. They have conceived against him a bitter hatred without just cause. He has done nothing worthy of death. Pilate could find nothing whatsoever in him deserving of the attention of the dignity of a Roman tribunal."

"Let the prisoner fear not," answered Herod, at the same time regarding Jesus attentively as he stood before him in the calm majesty of innocence. "I will not take Pilate's prerogative of judgment out of his hand, so handsomely tendered to me. If he hath blasphemed—Mehercule! the High Priest and priests of the Temple itself," he added, laughing, "do that every day of their lives, for religion is at a low ebb among the hypocritical knaves! I have nothing to do with their charge of blasphemy, or I would have them all stoned to death without mercy. I will first see some miracles wrought by thy far-famed prisoner, noble Æmilius, and then send him back to my illustrious friend Pontius, whom his gods prosper in all things."

Herod, then, fixing his eyes curiously upon Jesus, who had stood silently before him, seemingly the only unmoved person in the vast concourse, said to the soldiers:

"Unbind him! By the staff of Jacob, he hath been roughly handled! Men of Israel, it becomes not such as you to do violence to a man before he is condemned."

While he was speaking John arranged Jesus' mantle about his form. Herod regarded with interest and looks of compassion, the pale and divinely-serene countenance of the prisoner, and seemed struck with the indescribable majesty of his aspect and bearing.

"Art thou the Nazarene Jesus, of whom I have heard so much?" he asked in deferential tones.

"I am he," was the quiet answer.

"Then gladly do I meet thee, for I have long time desired to see thee; and I would fain behold thee do some miracles. Does rumor belie thy powers? What! art thou silent? Dost thou not know who it is that speaks to thee? Come hither, fellow!" he called to a Samaritan muleteer who stood in the crowd, whose oval face and Jewish eyes showed him to be both of Assyrian and Israelitish descent, and whose arm had been taken off by a sword in a contest with Barabbas and his robbers; "come hither, and let this Prophet prove his power and mission by restoring thy arm whole like as the other!"

The man alertly came forward, and all eyes were directed eagerly upon him and upon Jesus; but he thrust the stump of his arm, by Herod's order, in vain before Jesus. The eyes of the Prophet moved not from their meditative look upon the ground.

"Art thou mocking us, thou false Christ?" cried the Tetrarch angrily. "Wilt thou neither speak nor act? If thou art not an impostor, do a miracle before us all, and we will believe in thee!"

Jesus remained motionless, yet preserved a firm and majestic countenance.

"He is a deceiver! He performed his works through Beelzebub, who has now deserted him!" cried the priests.

"Nazarene," said Herod, "I am a Jew also. If thou wilt prove to me by a sign that I will name, that thou art the Christ, I will not only become thy follower, but will let thee go free. Thy silence is an insult to my power. Thou seest yonder marble statue of Judas Maccabeus. Command the sword in its hand to wave thrice above its helmeted head, and I will bend the knee to thee. Nay, wilt not? I will give thee then, something easier to do. Seest thou the carved pomegranates in the entablature of the wall? Bid the one which hangs over this column become ripe, natural fruit, and fall at my feet. No?"

"He has no power—his friend Beelzebub hath given him up into our hands! Death to the necromancer!" were the terrible words which now made the hall tremble.

"See the whirlwind thou hast raised, O Nazarene!" cried Herod, rising. "If thou art a prophet, no harm can they do thee; and if thou art an impostor, if they kill thee thou deservest thy fate! I give thee up into their hands! Save thyself, if thou be the Christ!"

Scarcely had Herod spoken these words, relinquishing Jesus into the hands of his foes, than with a savage cry, as the famished jackals in the desert rush upon their prey, they rushed upon their victim. Æmilius could not protect him; nay, some of Herod's soldiers, whom the Jews had half intoxicated with wine, joined them as soon as they saw their master Antipas had cast him off, and began to scoff and mock him, and one of them thrust a helmet on his head and pulled the visor down over his eyes.

"Nay," said Herod on seeing this. "As he calls himself a king, remove the helmet and crown him, and robe him royally, and place a sceptre in his hand; and lo, yonder block will make him a proper throne! We must show Pilate how we Jews serve men who usurp the power of his master, CÆsar!"

One of his men of war brought a cast-off robe of purple which belonged to Herod and, with loud shouts of laughter and coarse jests, they robed him in it, unresisting as the lamb wreathed for the sacrifice. Some one then twined the creeping thorn, which grew on the outer wall, and, twisting it into the shape of a crown, handed it over the heads of the men to Abner.

When Abner saw the crown he smiled with malicious gratification and, nodding approvingly to the man said:

"This is what we needed! Nothing could have done better!" and with his two hands he placed it upon the head of Jesus, pressing cruelly the sharp thorns into his temples till the blood trickled from a dozen wounds. Jesus made no complaint, but the pain forced large bright tears from his eyes, which rolled down his cheeks and fell among the purple robe like glittering pearls.

"Here is also a sceptre for our king!" exclaimed the Samaritan with one arm, using the one to reach a piece of reed, from which a Passover lamb had been slung, to those who were arraying Jesus. This was thrust into the Prophet's grasp, and he held it patiently. His submission, his silence, his endurance of pain, his constant dignity, and the majestic submission which he seemed to manifest to all their insults and tortures, brought tears into the eyes of Æmilius. Even Herod stood amazed at such God-like forbearance, and said to his chief captain:

"If this man is not the Son of God, he is worthy to be deified! Such sublime patience is more than human—it is divine! You Romans, Æmilius, would make a hero of such a man, and when he died worship him as a god!"

"Then, mighty prince, why suffer him to be thus treated?" asked Æmilius.

"It is his own choice. I have entreated him fairly. I asked of him but one of those miracles men say he works, as proof of his Messiahship, and he works me none—shows me no sign. The inference is that he can do none, and therefore he is an impostor."

"Most royal prince," said Abner aloud, "thou now beholdest the King of the Jews, crowned, robed and sceptred!" and he pointed to Jesus.

"Hail! most puissant and potent sovereign of Galilee! Hail! King of fishermen!" cried Herod, mocking him, and seemingly greatly amused at the jest. "Hail! powerful king! What, fellows, men-at-arms and all ye gapers! bend ye not the knee before this royal personage? Do homage to your king!"

Upon this many who were around him kneeled, and some mockingly even prostrated themselves before the Prophet; but he stood so very like a monarch that others, who were about to mock him, refrained, while Herod turned away with a troubled look, saying abruptly:

"Take him back to the Procurator!"

Once more the vast multitude were in motion, and with cries and insults escorted Jesus from the presence of Herod back to the Pretorium.

When Pilate beheld their return in this manner he was greatly vexed. When once more Jesus stood before him, arrayed as I have described in the gorgeous robe and crown, Pilate, turning towards Caiaphas and the priests, said angrily:

"What more will ye have? Why bring this man again before me? Behold, I have examined him before you and have found no fault in him. Ye proved nothing by your witnesses touching those things whereof ye accuse him. I then sent you with him to Herod, and lo! the Tetrarch of Galilee, one of your own nation, finds naught in him worthy of death! Doubtless he has said something about not paying tribute, and deserves for this a light punishment, but not death. I will chastise him, charge him that he be more cautious, and let him go."

"If thou let this man go, thou art an enemy of Tiberius!" answered Caiaphas. "Seest thou what a commotion he has raised in the city? If he is released there will be a revolution."

"In the name of Olympian Jove, O Nazarene, what hast thou done to incense these Jews? If thou art their king, prove it to them or to me," demanded Pilate, greatly troubled.

"My kingdom is not of the earth," answered Jesus. "If my kingdom were an earthly one, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but my kingdom is not of this world."

"Then thou confessest thyself a king?" exclaimed Pilate, with surprise.

"Thou sayest that which I am—a King. To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth."

"Truth? What is truth?" asked the Roman; but, without waiting for Jesus to reply, and seeing that the Jews outside of the hall were becoming more and more impatient, he hurriedly went out to them and said:

"I find in the prisoner no fault at all. But ye have a custom that I should at the Passover pardon a criminal out of prison, as an act of clemency, in honor of the day. Will ye, therefore, that I pardon and release unto you this 'King of the Jews'?"

No sooner had Pilate made this proposal than they all with one voice and furious gestures cried:

"No! No! Not this man! We will not have him released!"

"Barabbas! Barabbas!" was echoed and re-echoed by ten thousand voices.

This Barabbas, dear father, is the same fierce bandit of whom I have spoken, who was that day to have been crucified, with two of his lieutenants. But, at the loud demand of the people, Pilate was forced to send to the officer of the wards to let him go free.

Pilate, therefore, finding that the Jews would be content with nothing less than the blood of Jesus, returned sorrowfully into the Judgment Hall.

The residue of my narrative of the condemnation and crucifixion, I will give in the morning, dear father.

Your loving daughter,

Adina.