The bath was luxurious, the room was warm, and the bed was more than comfortable. Still I could not sleep, finally abandoning my soft mattress to pace the floor until dawn.

Soon—within a few hours—I would begin an investigation whose findings could possibly change the world. No one—not even Sherlock Holmes himself—would have slept a wink with that frightening possibility in mind.

four

HE WAS THE LARGEST specimen of manhood I had ever seen. Wearing only a girdle of some sort of animal hide and huge boots laced up to his immense scarred knees, his dark oiled skin glistening with reflected light from the flaming brazier, the giant stood so rigidly by his master’s side that he could have been cast in bronze.

“This is Shem, my bodyguard and trusted companion,” Joseph explained after we had breakfasted on warm bread with honey and cheese. “He will accompany us whenever we are away from this house.”

“We need a bodyguard?”

Joseph nodded regretfully. “Success, as I’m sure you have discovered, Matthias, makes all of us prisoners of our own achievements. Kidnapping and extortion through ransom payments are as common here as they are in your world—and we have no police force to protect us.”

“A slave?”

“No, no, if anything I am a slave of his. Shem was one of my camel drivers, many years ago, when we were attacked by a band of brigands near Petra. With only a broadsword he killed nine of them; the other two he strangled. He has been close to me ever since, my proud Nabataean, and he speaks several languages so there will be no communication problems between us.” The old man pointed to my cheeks and neck. “You have several fresh wounds this morning, Matthias.”

“Lucky I didn’t cut my throat. A bronze straight razor is a dangerous weapon, Joseph. I’ll do better with practice.”

“Very good. Come, let us be about our business. My carriage is ready, and Shem will drive us across the city to the Temple, where we should find James.”

Our descent from the upper city was cool and comfortable in Joseph’s sturdy but unpretentious vehicle, and the old man kept up a running commentary along the route. Too soon, however, the stately mansions and cedar-shaded pavement were behind us and the ride became teeth-rattling torture. Swirling red dust began filling the interior of the carriage, and forward progress was frequently interrupted by sudden jarring stops. Twice I slid to the floor, and once I gave myself a nasty crack on the head when I dived back on my seat after we swerved to avoid a herd of sheep. Shem skillfully maneuvered the four galloping horses with threats from a wicked-sounding leather whip, guiding the animals along a road choked with wandering cattle, crying children, stray dogs, and hordes of pilgrims shuffling slowly toward the Temple on Mount Moriah.