Final Confrontation (43 page)

“You are one of them,” declared the man. “You were in the garden with Him when my cousin Malchius was attacked!”

“I DO NOT KNOW THE MAN!” Peter swore.

At that moment, he looked back and saw Jesus, bleeding from the face, and being led by the guards out the side entrance. Jesus looked at Peter just as a rooster crowed. Their eyes met for an instant.

“Come on, You,” said a guard.

Jesus was hustled on by the men. Peter began weeping bitterly and ran off.

“Poor Peter,” sneered Lucifer, as they watched him run. “Just as I told the Lord last evening. The man is absolutely hopeless!”

“Where is Berenius?” asked Kara. “He would enjoy this.”

“He is presently on another mission,” said Lucifer. “With Judas.”

“The high priest has sent a delegation at this hour?”

“Yes, excellency,” said Lucius, Pilate’s aide. “They said it is most urgent. A matter of state.”

“Nothing in this province is urgent,” grumbled Pilate. “Let them wait a while.”

“Excellency, Caiaphas himself has sent a letter,” Lucius offered. He handed over the document to Pilate, who laughed as he read.

“These pious hypocrites, who will not defile themselves by entering my home, are trying to have a Man put to death for some offense against their religion. For this I was roused from my bed?”

Pellecus had maintained a vigil at the home of Pilate ever since the entrance of Jesus into the city. He had done all he could to stir up Pilate’s vanity regarding the Jews. He hoped that by the time the matter of Jesus was brought before him, Pilate would agree to anything just to get rid of them.

He walked with Pilate to the front of the house and out onto a court of the Antonia. The Temple loomed off to his left. Down below was an assembly of official-looking men from the priest’s office, and some soldiers dragging a beaten, bloodied Man bound at the wrists. Pilate descended the stairs. Pellecus joined Lucifer and Kara.

“I see the other side is not missing any of this,” said Lucifer, noting the presence of Michael, Gabriel and Crispin. They stood near Jesus, watching the proceedings. Jesus remained silent, His eyes lowered.

Pilate scanned the face of the Man standing before him. He was a young Man. Too young, he thought, to be condemned for violating the pride of the priesthood. But he would reserve judgment for the moment. He walked around Jesus, examining Him, noting the places where He had been beaten.

“He is obstinate,” assured Zichri.

“I am sure,” said Pilate, bitingly. “So unlike the priests.”

Zichri glanced at Achish uncomfortably.

“Well, what are the charges here?” sighed Pilate, whose official robe had been brought out to him by his servant.

“The charge is blasphemy, excellency,” said Zichri. “A crime most heinous to our people, and punishable by death.”

The priests noted that several squads of Roman soldiers had begun to close in. An adjutant came and whispered into Pilate’s ear and then stood by at attention. Pilate looked at the man who was charged.

“Blasphemy, is it?” he said in mock seriousness.

“Yes, excellency.”

Pilate turned to Lucius, his aide.

“You know Lucius, if we Romans ever put to death everyone who had blasphemed the gods, there would be none of us left alive!”

Lucius laughed.

“If He were not guilty, we would not have brought Him before you,” said Achish.

Pilate sneered at the men.

“You bring this Man to me because He is guilty of violating some idiocy involving your religion, and expect me to condemn Him? Judge Him according to your own law!”

Zichri looked at the men.

“Excellency, as you know, it is unlawful for us to put a man to death.”

Kara moved over to Achish and spoke into his mind.

“The Man is a menace to Caesar…”

“Of course blasphemy is only an offense against our people,” said Achish. “He is also guilty of treason against Rome.”

“Really?” inquired Pilate. “How so?”

“He calls Himself a King,” said Zichri, picking up on Achish’s reasoning. “He says He is King of the Jews, and He forbids tribute to Caesar!”

With the matter of Caesar brought up, Pilate was forced to take action. He ordered Jesus brought into the palace where he could question Him further. When they were in private, Pilate began speaking.

“Look, You, I know these men are vile and petty,” he said. “They are wanting to kill You for reasons I think are ridiculous. But they have now implicated You in treason. Now, we both know Caesar is king. What do You say? Are You a King? Answer me and I’ll have them flogged and end this nonsense.”

“Did they tell you to ask Me this?” Jesus asked. A droplet of blood ran off His cheek and fell on the floor between them.

“Am I a Jew?” Pilate mocked. “It is Your own people who brought You here. What have You done?”

“The Kingdom of which you speak is not of this world,” Jesus said, looking through Pilate.

Pilate was confused.

“So You are a King then?”

“I am a King, if you say so,” said Jesus. “But I command truth. And all who hear Me hear the truth.”

Pilate was getting frustrated with it all.

“What is truth?” he asked.

“What is truth,”
Berenius whispered into Judas’ ears.

Judas stopped up his ears as if to shut down the voices speaking into his mind. Ever since the betrayal he had fallen into a deep despair. Now he felt completely abandoned by everyone, including himself. He had even returned the money to the priests, casting it at their feet, and confessing to them he had condemned an innocent Man to death.

Now he was condemning himself.

“You shall never be able to live with yourself…”

“Stop it!” Judas shouted, hitting his head with his hands.

He wandered through the early morning, like an animal uncaged for the first time and unsure of where to go. He could not find solace anywhere…in any place…in any face. He was a man separated from life itself.

“Why prolong your condemnation? End it…”

“End it,” Judas said under his breath. He saw a rope nearby.

“End it…”

He began crying and picked up the rope, looping it over the branch of a tree, and climbing on a stump. Taking one last look toward the city, he tied the other end of the rope around his neck. In the distance he saw the temple, shimmering in the morning sun now. With a shuddering sob, Judas threw himself forward.

When Pilate emerged from his conference with Jesus, he shouted at Zichri.

“This is nonsense! I find the Man innocent!”

The priests began protesting vehemently, spurred on by Zichri.

“His teachings stir up the people throughout our land, from Galilee to this very city! He is guilty of sedition!”

Pilate turned to Lucius.

“Did they say Galilee?”

“Yes, excellency. Jesus is a Galilean.”

Pilate smiled.

“Your own king, Herod, is in this city for the Passover,” he said. “He is ruler over Galilee. My judgment is that you take this Man to Herod to be tried by him. He has the legal jurisdiction, not I.”

“But excellency,” pleaded Zichri, glaring at the men who had brought up the fact Jesus was from Galilee.

“Enough!” shouted Pilate. “Take Him to Herod. And get out of my sight!”

Herod still smelled of wine when Jesus was brought into the entrance of the Hasmonean Palace. Herodius, who had always been curious what the famous cousin of John looked like, watched from the shadows. Herod groggily read the charges that were brought before him.

“Apart from all these things, sire,” continued Zichri, “this Man…

“This is the One who performs miracles, isn’t it?” interrupted Herod, who was suddenly more alert. “Herodius! Come and see! This is Jesus of Nazareth; the One that John went on and on about.” He looked almost embarrassed and added. “Oh, I am sorry about Your cousin. But when a king makes a vow…”

“Perhaps He will do a miracle for us,” suggested Herodius.

“Really, sire,” stammered Zichri. “This is neither the time nor the place…”

“I will say what is what in my own palace!” shouted Herod.

Zichri bowed his head and backed away.