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me?’ The officer said the magic words, ‘You are no friend of Caesar!’ And Sejanus’ knees buckled.” Felix laughed. Marcus pictured the scene: The arresting officer made the formal statement of maiestas. No friend of Caesar . . . not arguable. Not defensible. No doubt Sejanus continued protesting that it was impossible, right up until the moment the final twist of the silk cord went round his neck. “So? Now?” Marcus murmured. “Is Pilate suspected by Caesar too?” “Ah. For a man who says he wants to avoid politics, you come right to the

heart of the matter.” Felix cracked another boiled egg. “No evidence Pilate was part of any plot with Sejanus. After all, Pilate’s been out here in the sticks of Judea for four years. On the other hand, our governor’s made too many mistakes here to go unnoticed. Stirring up the Jews. Not that that’s ¬ever been difficult. Pilate will walk very carefully if he can. And hope nobody whispers the names Pilate and Sejanus in the same breath where Emperor Tiberius can hear it. Meanwhile Pilate knows my senator uncle was one of those who signed the maiestas warrant against Sejanus. Therefore Pilate’s bound to respect my opinions, at least for a while.” Cautiously Marcus eyed the coming confrontation below him and inquired, “Yeshua of Nazareth? Is he out of danger?” “Steady, there! Isn’t it a bit soon after preserving your own hide to worry about another’s? And him a Jew at that?” “I tell you, Felix, Yeshua ¬isn’t guilty of any crime. You know it. Pilate knows it.” “Save it,” Felix interrupted, raising a hand to halt the flow of Marcus’ words. “I’ve heard this before. Rome’s attitude remains that Jews can have their own religious practices . . . prophets, holy men, messiahs, or whatever they choose to call themselves . . . so long as they ¬don’t threaten rebellion or mar the security of the province.” “Yeshua ¬hasn’t done either!” “Oh?” Felix said quizzically. “Then how do you explain the fact he’s the one thing all the other ¬Jewish warring factions—who usually hate each other’s guts—agree on? How can such a one be anything other than a troublemaker? The high priest’s party says he’s a rebel. Herod Antipas thinks he’s that other wild-eyed preacher come back to life. The fractious Galileans want him to be their king and are angry because he refuses . . . such a man has too many enemies to live out the year!” “What if he leaves Jerusalem and remains quietly out of trouble?” Marcus asked anxiously as he observed Herod’s troop making their way toward the sheep pens where Yeshua and old Zadok conversed. Were Antipas’ men coming to take Yeshua into custody? “You ¬haven’t heard? No, of course not,” Felix answered his own question. “Your head’s still spinning.” “Heard what? Yeshua’s not to be arrested, is he?” Tribune Felix tore off a chunk of bread. “Not by Rome. Today’s a ¬Jewish holy day. Plenty of time to jabber and gossip and pass stories around like bowls of wine. You’d think the town would be full of the news of the deaths of a Roman officer and Demos bar Talmai, ward of Herod Antipas, but is that the gossip? Not at all! Today what ¬everyone hears in the markets is how Yeshua of Nazareth made a blind man see.” “He healed Manaen bar Talmai?” Marcus asked. “No,” Felix returned. “Manaen’s still sightless, poor creature. No use as a gambling partner now, is he? Susanna bat Maccabee’s taking him back to the Galil. No, this was a beggar boy. Born blind, they say. I saw him myself once or twice. Of course, the tale grows with each retelling.”

Felix became uncharacteristically somber. “Think carefully, Marcus, before you plead with Pilate for the life of the Galilean . . . even if he is the holy man you seem to think he is. Remember, you and I were together when we saw him feed five thousand men on a handful of bread and dried fish that ¬wouldn’t keep a man