I felt like a tongue-tied first grader struggling to say his lines in a classroom play, and the question did little for my self-confidence. How did this rural and supposedly uneducated Galilean know about Rome’s finest historian? I explained that Livy’s supreme work had dealt primarily with Rome since its founding, but there was a strong need to tell the story of the other great people who were now part of the empire and I had selected the eastern provinces as my project.

“But how can I help you? If it is the authentic story of our nation and prophets you seek, I would suggest that you talk with them,” he said, nodding toward the Temple.

I glanced at Joseph and he nodded his encouragement. “You are the brother of Jesus, are you not?”

James cocked his head and stared at me until I felt uncomfortable. “I am.”

“I want to know about Jesus.”

“Why?” he asked, his weary eyes roaming up and down the purple stripe on my tunic. “Jesus was never a king or a general. He never won a battle or headed a government or wrote a learned discourse. Why would you—or Rome, for that matter—care about him?”

“Forgive me, sir, but I have heard many stories about Jesus, stories that I cannot bring myself to accept, especially the rumor that he rose from the dead on the third day after his crucifixion. Because Roman authority was involved with his execution, I believe it is within my province, as a citizen and a writer, to learn the truth about this man, for your brother’s life remains an enigma to many.”

I paused to clear my throat. Both James and Joseph remained silent, so I continued.

“I do not wear Caesar’s harness. I am not here to spread whitewash on events of the past as the laborers cover the sides of buildings to hide old scars. I seek nothing but the truth about Jesus, and as his brother you are in a unique position to supply me with information it would be impossible to learn from any other source. Will you help me, James?”

My voice trembled, but there was nothing I could do about it. Feeling absolutely helpless, I waited for his reaction, positive that I could state my case in a more diplomatic way if I had another chance.

James glared at me, and my heart sank. Then he groaned, turned his back, limped slowly to the shaded bench, and patted the place next to him. “Come and sit, Matthias. I suspect that what you have in mind may take some time, and my bones are already tired.”