Pilate raised his fist and I instinctively twisted my head to avoid the blow. There was none. Instead, I felt his hand sliding inside my tunic until he had my heavy gold amulet in his hand. A sly smile quickly blossomed into a victorious grin as Pilate turned the pendant over and over, gesturing with his head for Marcellus to come forward.

“See the fish, tribune! It is their sign, those miserable Christians. Now we know what he is.”

Marcellus nodded. He too seemed pleased—and relieved. “After all the trouble he has caused you, sir, I would recommend that he be scourged until dead. These people will learn, eventually, that Rome intends to maintain the peace here no matter how many of them must pay with their lives.”

Pilate tossed the amulet up and down in his hand, staring pensively at the ceiling. Then he carefully replaced it inside my tunic and patted it through the cloth.

“No, Marcellus, I have a better plan for this one. Tomorrow is the Jewish Sabbath, and on that day, because the city is quiet, we lock the gates of this fortress and enjoy a few games on the pavement below. It has been some time now since my men have been amused by any competition in the Circle of Death, and our expert in that contest, Porcius, only today was complaining that he is losing his skill for lack of adversaries bold enough to challenge him. Tomorrow he will have one.”

When Pilate waved me away, I was marched across the parade grounds to the east wing of the fortress and thrown into a cell with James, who had been taken into custody with me. After taking one look at my face he made me lie down on the only mattress while he hurriedly ripped pieces from his tunic, soaked them with water from a small pitcher, and washed the blood from my face and neck. Then I had to tell him all that had taken place with Pilate.

With his calloused hand he began to stroke my forehead. “Matthias, do you know what the Circle of Death is?”

“When I first interviewed Pilate I vaguely remember his mentioning that it was a game played only by his more courageous soldiers. Why? What is it?”

“Do you recall seeing two wooden posts set into the pavement, perhaps thirty paces apart from each other?”

“Yes. Pilate showed them to me. He said that Jesus had been scourged on one of them.”

“He was. In the Circle of Death contest according to what I have heard, two men are involved, each one chained to a post by an ankle. Each gladiator’s chain is long enough to enable him to move from one side of the post to the other—a distance not greater than six paces. He can also, if he wishes, move around the post in a circle, thus giving the game part of its name.”