Closer to the city, they heard shouts and whistles and the grinding of stone. From behind, a group of dark men, clad in loincloths, led a team of oxen pulling an enormous cart. On the cart’s bed, a gigantic block of limestone had been laid on its side and anchored with thick ropes. As the stone’s shadow passed, the crowd parted to allow it passage. Jesus held his breath and Anna crouched in fear as the cart’s great wheels rolled past, crushing rocks under its round, intrepid feet.

“How much for your lamb?” a man shouted when the crowd reassembled itself.

“Not for sale!” Jesus shouted back. He pushed forward, barely able to keep his eyes on Peter. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burning flesh.

Just inside the gate, an altar rose atop marble steps. Priests were taking lambs, pigeons, and other animals from hundreds of supplicants who wanted their sacrifice roasted in the Temple. The animals’ heads dangled in the men’s arms, gaping red smiles slit neatly across their throats. The altar stairs were awash with blood and the sticky magenta footprints left by the priests.

The sounds of chanting and the clanking of ongoing stonework mixed in the air and reverberated off the walls looming above. Scanning the ramparts, Jesus noticed Roman soldiers posted on every turret. Their presence made him nervous. He whistled for Anna to come closer.

“Give this man your money,” Peter told him as they stood before a wooden table on which sat a brass scale.

“What will I do with a scale?” Jesus asked, misunderstanding.

Peter laughed. “No, you fool! Give him your money so he can exchange it. They do not accept shekels here.” Peter dropped a handful of coins onto one side of the scale.

The man tossed small silver coins, one at a time, into the opposite basket until the scale balanced out. Peter then scooped the silver coins into his hand.

“But now you have less,” Jesus observed. “He has cheated you!” Letting his anger slip free, he pushed his face close to the man’s. “Give back what is his!” he yelled, gripping the top of the table.

Peter struggled to pull him back, impressed by his friend’s strength.

“Enough!” the grizzled moneychanger spat, pointing to the line forming behind them. “Tell your brother to give me his shekels or leave my table!”

After receiving further explanation from Peter, Jesus relented. When they left with their new coins, Peter poked him in the ribs. “So you do not like moneychangers,” he laughed. “For a minute, I thought you were going to overturn his table.”

Jesus laughed, too, his temper waning. “He thought we were brothers!”

“Are we not?” Peter asked. “If not by blood, then certainly in spirit!”

A woman covered from head to toe in dark fabric floated by carrying a tray of pomegranates.

“I am hungry,” Jesus said. “Let us find something to eat.”