“When my uncle saw me he must have felt guilty for his neglect. Without saying a word he went into the house, downstairs, and when he came out he said that my mother had given her permission for me to walk with him and the others as far as the Fountain Gate, in the southeast part of the city near the pools.”

“It’s a rather long walk to that gate. Do you have any memories connected with it?” I saw that Joseph was scowling at me. Apparently he was wondering why I was asking such seemingly unnecessary and innocent questions when time had become such a precious commodity.

“I have many memories of that walk,” Mark replied wistfully. “The festive lamps shining from the windows of many houses as families prepared to go up to the Temple, whose gates would be opened at the sixth hour after sunset; the crowds and animals on the road as if it were day; the excitement of being with my uncle and Jesus for at least a part of the Passover celebration; and the hymns we sang as we walked.”

“Were all of you together?”

“We were as close as a cluster of grapes until we approached the gate, when Jesus stopped and said, ‘You shall all be offended because of me, this night, for it is written, “I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered.” ’ His words put great fear into the men, even my uncle, and then Jesus said, ‘But after I am risen, I will go before you into Galilee.’ ”

Once again, my heart was thumping too enthusiastically for my own good. “Mark, did anyone else hear Jesus say those words except the eleven apostles—and you?”

“No. He had spoken almost in a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret.”