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God.”
    â€œDid he not steal his own brother’s wife? And shall he not be rebuked for that, as Nathan rebuked David over Bathsheba?”
    â€œNathan was a prophet.”
    â€œAnd what is a prophet except one who speaks God’s truth and is not silenced by fear of the mighty?”
    Then Caleb surprised himself by asking the obvious question.
    â€œAre you not afraid?”
    And, without even looking at him, John answered, “No. It is you who should be afraid, Caleb bar Jacob, for the ax is even now laid to the root of the tree. When God sends His messenger to judge the world, the unrighteous will be consigned to death and the righteous will live forever. I will have but a little time to sleep.”
    *   *   *
    As it happened, there was another occupant of the prison at Machaerus, a soldier waiting to be crucified for desertion. His presence occasioned another conversation with the commandant.
    â€œCarry out the sentence today,” Caleb told him. He wanted no witnesses to what was planned for John and he did not feel it necessary to explain.
    Zev again looked uncomfortable.
    â€œTwo of the men we usually use for executions are on extended patrol. They won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.”
    â€œThen take your deserter out and cut his throat, after which you can crucify him at your leisure.” Caleb smiled unpleasantly. “You might call this his lucky day.”
    When they had the prison to themselves, Caleb and Uriah discussed what to do with John.
    â€œIt is necessary to break him,” Caleb said. “I would prefer some method that left no marks on his body. What would you suggest?”
    Uriah seemed to consider the problem for a moment.
    â€œHang him in chains,” he said, and then he laughed quietly. “I’ll wrap his wrists and ankles in rags and then, when his arms are secure, I’ll pull up the leg chains behind his back until he’s well off the floor. An hour of that and he’ll think his spine is about to snap. Three hours and he’ll be begging for mercy.”
    Caleb nodded approvingly.
    â€œWe’ll allow him six hours to consider his situation,” he said. “Then I’ll have another talk with him.”
    Since he did not care to involve himself in the specifics of the thing, Caleb went up to his room and took a nap.
    When he returned, a little over six hours later, he tapped lightly on the prison door and it was opened for him by Uriah.
    â€œWell?”
    Uriah looked unhappy.
    John was hanging belly down from iron rings bolted to the ceiling. His feet were about on a level with his shoulder blades and his back was bent at a fearful angle.
    Caleb took a stool and sat down in front of him. They were at eye level and separated by less than the length of one’s arm. John’s face was drenched in sweat.
    â€œHow do you feel?” Caleb asked pleasantly.
    â€œNumb.”
    It was not the answer Caleb had expected.
    â€œNumb?”
    â€œYes. God has taken away the pain. One has merely to be patient. My body feels dead.”
    â€œShall I tell Uriah to begin cutting your toes off?”
    â€œIs that his name?” John managed a weak smile. “He didn’t introduce himself.”
    â€œShall I?” Caleb repeated. He was angry, but he realized it would be a mistake to let his anger show. “Perhaps he could trim your feet right back to the instep.”
    â€œI doubt if I would feel it. Besides, it would only bring me that much closer to death.”
    John closed his eyes, as if weary of the subject.
    Caleb suddenly felt as if he had been dismissed like a servant. He stood up and walked away. He did not want John to see his face.
    He went over to where Uriah was waiting.
    â€œWhen I am gone, take him down,” he said, almost between his teeth. “Give him an hour to recover and then put him in a cell. No light, no food. Give him a bucket with a few cups of water