“I wish it were as simple, the report of all this complexity that I must send to Tiberius,” Pilate grumbled.  “And now this fisherman is come to Jerusalem, the place is packed with pilgrims ripe for any trouble, and Hanan stirs and stirs the broth.”

“And before he is done he will have his way,” Miriam forecast.  “He has laid the task for you, and you will perform it.”

“Which is?” Pilate queried.

“The execution of this fisherman.”

Pilate shook his head stubbornly, but his wife cried out: 

“No!  No!  It would be a shameful wrong.  The man has done no evil.  He has not offended against Rome.”

She looked beseechingly to Pilate, who continued to shake his head.

“Let them do their own beheading, as Antipas did,” he growled.  “The fisherman counts for nothing; but I shall be no catspaw to their schemes.  If they must destroy him, they must destroy him.  That is their affair.”

“But you will not permit it,” cried Pilate’s wife.

“A pretty time would I have explaining to Tiberius if I interfered,” was his reply.

“No matter what happens,” said Miriam, “I can see you writing explanations, and soon; for Jesus is already come up to Jerusalem and a number of his fishermen with him.”

Pilate showed the irritation this information caused him.

“I have no interest in his movements,” he pronounced.  “I hope never to see him.”

“Trust Hanan to find him for you,” Miriam replied, “and to bring him to your gate.”

Pilate shrugged his shoulders, and there the talk ended.  Pilate’s wife, nervous and overwrought, must claim Miriam to her apartments, so that nothing remained for me but to go to bed and doze off to the buzz and murmur of the city of madmen.

* * * * *

Events moved rapidly.  Over night the white heat of the city had scorched upon itself.  By midday, when I rode forth with half a dozen of my men, the streets were packed, and more reluctant than ever were the folk to give way before me.  If looks could kill I should have been a dead man that day.  Openly they spat at sight of me, and, everywhere arose snarls and cries.

Less was I a thing of wonder, and more was I the thing hated in that I wore the hated harness of Rome.  Had it been any other city, I should have given command to my men to lay the flats of their swords on those snarling fanatics.  But this was Jerusalem, at fever heat, and these were a people unable in thought to divorce the idea of State from the idea of God.

Hanan the Sadducee had done his work well.  No matter what he and the Sanhedrim believed of the true inwardness of the situation, it was clear this rabble had been well tutored to believe that Rome was at the bottom of it.

I encountered Miriam in the press.  She was on foot, attended only by a woman.  It was no time in such turbulence for her to be abroad garbed as became her station.  Through her sister she was indeed sister-in-law to Antipas for whom few bore love.  So she was dressed discreetly, her face covered, so that she might pass as any Jewish woman of the lower orders.  But not to my eye could she hide that fine stature of her, that carriage and walk, so different from other women’s, of which I had already dreamed more than once.