“You lie!” he screamed. His right fist crashed against my face, his heavy gold ring tearing at the flesh just below my nose. As I pitched forward, the soldiers standing on both sides of me stepped out of the way. I was unable to break my fall, because my hands were tied behind me, and my head struck the floor. Dazed, I lay there until Pilate’s studded boot slipped beneath my chin and tilted my head backward.

“Rise, imposter!” he roared. Already I could taste blood as it trickled into my mouth. I finally rolled over and managed to slide my feet far enough under me so that I could stand. My head was throbbing, and my tightly bound hands had already grown numb from lack of circulation. I was also terrified, but he was never going to know it. Silently cursing my stupidity for not following Joseph’s advice, I braced my feet and waited for the next onslaught.

Now Pilate became the unctuous host. “Welcome, Matthias. I imagine you had not planned on our meeting again so soon.”

“It’s a small city, sir,” I replied as bravely as I could through puffing lips.

“It is indeed.” He chuckled. “Especially when compared with Rome.”

“But the people here are more cordial, don’t you think, sir?”

His fist landed again, a direct hit to my solar plexus. I doubled up in agony, gasping for air, but this time the guards expertly slid their hands under my armpits and prevented me from falling again. Head down, I watched as the blood from my mouth spattered on the tiles near my feet.

“Matthias,” the procurator growled, “you have made a fool of me. I took you into my confidence, on the advice of Joseph of Arimathea, and answered all your questions openly and frankly. Now I learn that you are neither a citizen of Rome nor—”

“But I am!”

Pilate folded his arms and nodded mockingly. “Very well, show me your papers.”

“They … they are not in my possession at this moment.”

“Then tell me where you keep them and I’ll send my men to retrieve them for you so that your identity can be verified. Where are your papers?”

I had no place to go with that dodge. And stalling for time by sending soldiers to Joseph’s house to search my bedroom on a wild-goose chase would only get the old man in more trouble than he was probably in, already, for aiding and abetting me.

I sighed. “The papers were lost at sea, during a storm.”

“Not a very convincing fabrication,” Pilate sneered, “especially for an alleged historian. And did you not also assure me that you were a friend of our governor, Lucius Vitellius?”

“He is a longtime friend of mine.”

His third punch landed flush against my left ear. “Liar!”