“You have news?” Pilate asked, skimming his fingertips over the parchment.

“Yes.”

Pilate waved an impatient hand. His mind was littered with pressing concerns and details. The time of Passover was fast approaching and soon the city would be overrun with pilgrims and heretics of every kind. Much planning needed to be done to reinforce the city’s security, and he did not have time to waste on stories from the desert.

In hushed tones, Judas relayed to Pilate what he had learned of the new healer. “His following is mostly among the poor and downtrodden,” Judas observed. “But it grows rapidly in number.”

Pilate lifted his eyes from the parchment. The blond man in the far corner also looked up.

“And?” Pilate asked.

Judas described another rumor he had heard. “They say that people offer him gifts, but he refuses them.”

“He refuses gifts?” Pilate asked. His eyes drifted to those of his companion.

Judas nodded. That particular detail pricked his conscience. It was unlike the false prophets he normally hunted. The ones who made his blood boil.

Pilate untied a leather pouch from his waist. There were four gold coins inside. He tossed the pouch to Judas. “Go back and learn more about this healer,” he commanded. “But do not bother me again until Passover has ended.”

Judas bowed deeply and departed. There was nothing unusual about a new healer in the land. Indeed, Judas had spent years hunting down messiahs, magicians, and soothsayers of every description. But what troubled him was this particular healer’s refusal to accept gifts. Most of the mystical kind, he had found, were in the game for money, influence, or both. Those who were not were rare.

On his journey back to where he had last seen the healer, Judas spied a sizeable crowd gathering on the outskirts of a village. He knew that the charlatan he had been tracking could not have traveled that far in a few days; nevertheless, he drew closer to investigate.

The magician turned the great moon of his face toward the crowd that encircled him. He lifted a short, smooth section of rope from his pocket and dangled it before their eyes. When he was sure everyone had seen it, he folded the rope inside his fist. He shook his hand several times and told a child kneeling in front to blow on it. On the final shake, he opened his fingers and dangled the rope above the people’s heads. To their amazement, five knots bulged along its length.

“Ohh!” the crowd gasped and broke into applause. A filthy boy wove through the crowd lifting an open pouch.