After a long and honorable career, Lucius Vitellius had died of paralysis in A.D. 52, fortunately long before his only son, Aulus, became emperor of Rome on January 2, A.D. 69. Aulus was not the man his father was, and after only a few months in power he was dragged through the streets of Rome by Vespasian’s troops and thrown into the Tiber.

Joseph’s voice startled me. “What is it that you find so amusing?”

The old man had come up behind me so silently that I hadn’t heard him. I shook my head. “I’ve just been thinking about an emperor of Rome who was dragged through the streets.”

Joseph made a wry face. “And you find humor in that, Matthias?”

“No, no, only in the absurdity of my present situation, since that event will not take place for another thirty-three years if this is, as you claim, only A.D. 36. I could really tell that young man’s fortune if I met him. You know: advise him to turn down the emperorship when he grew older—and stay out of Rome.”

Joseph ignored my nervous flippancy. “That is something you must guard against with great care, my son,” he warned. “Armed as you are with the accumulated historical knowledge of twenty centuries, you are capable of accurately prophesying the ultimate fate of nearly everyone you will meet as well as predict the future of this city. You must be extremely tactful and careful in how you interview your witnesses. One slip of your tongue and disaster will befall your mission. Do you understand?”

“I do now. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

He patted my head. “I understand. Well,” he asked, waving both hands at the city, “is it as you expected it to be?”

“It is—and more. Now I understand why the disciples exclaimed, ‘See what manner of stones and buildings are here!’ Yet, Joseph, it all looks familiar to me. I have studied so many maps and drawings depicting the Jerusalem of Jesus, in order to make my book as authentic as possible, that I could probably find my way around down there almost as well as you do.”

The old man cocked his head and raised both eyebrows. “Truly, how bold a little education makes one. Let us discover how much truth there is in your boast. As I’m certain you have been able to deduce, through the position of the setting sun, this villa is located in the upper city near the southwest corner. Now, to the south of us, on the other side of the wall, is a deep valley as you can see. Tell me, what is its name?”

Without hesitation I replied, “The Valley of Hinnom—sometimes called ‘Gehenna’ or ‘Hell’ because children were once burned there in sacrificial ceremonies. Later it became a permanent garbage dump always aflame.”