Careful! Remember, it’s A.D. 36. How were things, that year, in the ancient city on the Tiber? I forced a smile and said, “Your excellency, I have been traveling for many months, but everything was quiet and peaceful, at least for Rome, when I was last there.”

“And Tiberius? How is your emperor’s health?”

“Tiberius is still on Capri, of course, so we don’t hear very much except rumors. I imagine that things must be very difficult for him now that Sejanus is no longer alive to oversee things in the capital.”

Caiaphas made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Terrible thing, that Sejanus affair. To think that he would betray his emperor after so much trust had been placed in him.”

I had a sudden impulse to ask how he felt about a man named Judas Iscariot, but that would come later.

“Did you know that Pilate was a friend of Sejanus?” he asked.

“Yes, so I’ve heard.”

“I’m surprised that the procurator has not been replaced, now that his mentor has been strangled by the senate.”

Was he testing me? I shrugged and said, “Pilate has already served ten years here, so I assume that Vitellius must have great faith in him.”

His expression never changed. “And how is our governor? Enjoying the climate of Antioch, no doubt. Joseph tells me that you two are old friends, neighbors when you were children?”

So that’s how I got in so easily! The Arimathean had probably laced his description of me with so many hints and innuendos that he’s got Caiaphas suspecting just what he wants him to suspect: that I might be nosing around for more than historical background material. And of course any friend of the governor is certain to receive tender loving care in this palace. I tried to sound noncommittal. “The governor is in the best of health, as always.”

I didn’t hear the knock on the door, but when Caiaphas turned and shouted, “Enter!” a black-robed youth appeared, bowing and apologizing, carrying several scrolls in a wicker basket

“Please excuse me … Matthias, is it? I must sign these so that they can be posted in the Temple today.”

I sat back, grateful for the opportunity to study the man. Nothing in his calm manner and low-pitched, almost gentle voice gave any hint of the cold-blooded and devious human being that my research, from a majority of admittedly biased writers and historians, had led me to believe must be encased in those soft linen clothes. High priests before him had come and gone so rapidly that fifteen had served in the past sixty-five years, three for less than twelve months, and yet this seemingly harmless and meek little man had already survived for seven years under the procurator Valerius Gratus and for the past ten under his successor, Pontius Pilate.