Mordechai drew the shutters in, yanked the drapes back into place, then left the room, walking swiftly. Any thought of his daughter was, for the moment, forgotten.
VI
The first thought Mordechai had was that the soldiers were being very sloppy. Jesus stood between two men, with several others behind him. They hadn’t even tied his hands. It was like they were escorting an honored guest to a banquet, not guarding the most dangerous man in Judea. Then something else caught his eye. As he looked more closely, Mordechai wondered if there had been a struggle. There were bloodstains on the prisoner’s sleeve and what looked like faint smears of dried blood on the man’s face. But he could see no wounds.
They were standing in the main entry of the palace. Everyone at the banquet was gathered behind them, but only four men had come into the entry to meet the returning party: Annas, whose house they were in; his son-in-law, Caiaphas, the present high priest; Mordechai, who was head of the Sadducees; and Azariah, chief of the Pharisees. Menachem, Mordechai’s trusted aide, hovered just behind them in case he might be needed.
“Where did you find him?” Annas asked.
There was no answer. The servant of Caiaphas was staring at Jesus, and it seemed as if he had not heard.
“Malchus!” Caiaphas barked.
The man jumped guiltily and spun around. “Yes, sire?”
“Annas asked you a question.”
He turned to the older man, twitching nervously. “Pardon, sire,” he mumbled. “What was it you asked?”
Mordechai peered more closely at Malchus. The side of his robe also had bloodstains on it, and there appeared to be dried blood around one ear. And yet, again, there were no wounds, not even a scratch. What had happened out there this night?
Disgusted, Annas started to ask his question again, but then stopped. He stared at Malchus’s ear, then his hand. The palm of it had dark smears across it. “What happened?”
The servant, seeing the direction of Annas’s gaze, lifted his hand and stared at it stupidly. “I . . .” Then he just shook his head. “I’m all right, sire.”
Caleb stepped forward, snapping to attention in front of the four leaders. “We found him in Gethsemane,” he explained. He glanced quickly at Jesus, then away again. Mordechai saw a flash of something in Caleb’s expression, and his puzzlement only deepened. Was it fear he had just seen?
“Were any others around?” Annas demanded. “How many saw the arrest?”
“Only the guards and a few of his closest disciples. One of them tried to resist, but then he backed down again.” Caleb swallowed quickly, not feeling it wise to add that Jesus had made him do so.
Mordechai was troubled. Something had happened that wasn’t being reported. Even the soldiers seemed dismayed. Malchus was in a daze. Caleb, who was normally as cold as tempered steel, seemed deeply shaken. But then Mordechai’s eyes rested on the captive, and he forgot about his questions. Here was his quarry at last. He felt an immense satisfaction. All of his careful planning, all of his meticulous laying of snares had paid off. They had him.
Jesus stood quietly, not bothering to follow the interchange with his eyes. He seemed to be looking past them, staring at nothing in particular.
Mordechai leaned forward a little. “You are Jesus of Nazareth?”
The eyes finally came back, focusing on Mordechai’s face, but he didn’t answer.
Annas moved up beside Mordechai, also staring at the Galilean. “Tell us,” he sneered, “tell us about your disciples and your doctrine. What is it you have been doing that has stirred up the countryside so?”
Jesus looked at the graying old aristocrat. “I spoke openly to the world.” The calmness in his voice was startling. He seemed to be the only man present who wasn’t shaken, and he was the prisoner! “I ever taught in the synagogues and in the temple,” he went on, “where it is common for our people to resort. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask this of me? Ask of those who have heard me what I have said. They will tell you.”
Caleb, who had noticed the puzzled look on Mordechai’s face, leaped forward, eager to reestablish his control. He swung hard, striking Jesus with the back of his hand across the cheek. Jesus’ head snapped back, and instantly there was an angry red mark where flesh had struck flesh. “You would answer the high priest so?” he shouted.
Behind his father-in-law, Caiaphas grimaced. Not at the violence—he had expected that. But Caleb had called his father-in-law the high priest. It had been some years since Caiaphas had been appointed to replace Annas, but everyone still referred to the older man by the title. And part of Caiaphas’s frustration was that he, most of all, knew who really controlled the office, and it wasn’t him.
Jesus turned to Caleb, still unruffled, though the blow must have been very painful. The splotch on his cheek was a deep red. “If I speak evil,” he said, “then bear witness of the evil. But if I speak well, why do you smite me?”
Caleb fell back a step under the penetrating, probing look that was directed at him.
“Enough!” Azariah exclaimed, stepping in to cover for his associate. “We know what you have both said and done. We need not ask anyone what you are up to.”
Mordechai nudged Annas and moved to one side, turning his back away from the others. Annas followed, seeing that Mordechai wanted to speak with him. “What is it?” he asked. Azariah, not willing to be left out of anything at this point, quickly joined them. Mordechai also motioned for Menachem.
“If we conduct any kind of examination or trial here,” Mordechai pointed out, “we could be criticized.” He shot Annas a quick glance. “Some might say it was not done under the proper authority.”
Annas frowned, irritated by the suggestion, and yet he had been around too long not to know exactly what Mordechai meant. For all his power and influence, he did not officially hold the office of high priest any longer. “So?” he snapped. “What shall we do?”
“Let’s take him to Caiaphas’s palace. As high priest, your son-in-law has every right to conduct an interrogation.”
“Agreed,” Azariah jumped in. “Caiaphas’s palace is the place for it. We don’t want to give anyone an excuse to question what we are about to do.”
What we have already determined to do. Mordechai almost corrected the Pharisee aloud, but did not, of course. He only nodded.
Annas nodded as well, then turned back to the others. “This man is charged with blasphemy,” he said loudly. “He must be tried before the council. Take him to the palace of Caiaphas.”
“Now?” someone from behind them exclaimed in shocked disbelief.
Mordechai swung around, eyes blazing. The crowd almost shrank back in the face of his fury. Then the voice, coming from a man near the back of the group, meekly added, “I thought the council could not convene at night.”
Mordechai went up on his toes, trying to see who was speaking. Not that it mattered now. The damage had been done. It was true, and if he and the others were worried about proper protocol, they would be well advised to take especial care.
Azariah came to his aid. “The trial will not start until dawn,” he barked, “but there is much to do to prepare. Rest assured, all will be in order.”
Mordechai shot a scathing look at the crowd, daring them to say anything more. He feared that someone might remember that this was a high holy day and a day when the council normally would not be convened. His coldness worked. Heads dropped and looked away. No one else spoke.
Caleb turned to the soldiers. “You heard Annas. To the palace of Caiaphas.”
“And bind the man’s hands,” Annas snapped angrily.
As the guards leaped to obey, Mordechai beckoned to his assistant, moving away from the others. Menachem moved in close.
“There are three things I need you to do. Take whomever you need to help you.”
“Yes, sire.”
“First, most of the council members are here already—they were told to be ready for an emergency session. But I need you to
send the word out and get the others here right away. Of course, as before, there are some we need not worry about awakening.”
Menachem accepted the assignment without comment. They had already discussed it, and he knew what to do.
“Second, we’re going to need those witnesses we talked about. Have them at Caiaphas’s palace at least half an hour before dawn.”
Menachem nodded curtly. That was not a surprise either. Things had been carefully orchestrated long before this night had come.
“The final thing is the most important, and I want you to see to this yourself.”
“What is it, sire?”
“Once word spreads that we have Jesus, his followers are going to gather to support him.”
“Yes?”
“We need some strong support of our own—a large crowd that can make their will known as well.”
Menachem grinned. “Their ‘will’ being whatever we pay for, of course.”
Mordechai shrugged blandly.
“What we need is a mob,” Menachem suggested.
Pretending shock, Mordechai reared back a little. “Whatever possessed you to use that word?”
Menachem’s grin only broadened. “Sorry, sire. I don’t know what came over me.”
Chapter Notes
Though Annas is sometimes called the high priest, a more accurate term would be high priest emeritus. He served in the first role from a.d. 6 to a.d. 15, then was replaced by his son-in-law, Caiaphas. He obviously still wielded tremendous power and influence during the time of Christ’s ministry (see Hastings, s.v. “Annas,” p. 34).
Chapter 31
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth.
—Isaiah 53:7
I
Jerusalem, Upper City, Palace of Annas 4 April, a.d. 33
“Can you tell what they’re doing?” Peter hissed, looking up. He had John on his shoulders so John could peer over the lowest part of the wall.
“Most of the guards are still outside,” John whispered. “The front door is open, and it looks like they have Jesus just inside. There are quite a few people there, but I can’t tell what they’re doing.”
Peter staggered a little under the weight of his companion but planted his feet more firmly. “Can you hear anything?”
“No. Just mumbles.” Then he jerked up. He put his hands on the top of the wall and hoisted himself up a little higher. “Wait! They’re coming out again.”
He climbed up on top of the wall. “Don’t let them see you,” Peter warned urgently.
But John didn’t hear him. He had his head cocked to one side, trying to hear. Someone was barking orders, and the guards were coming to attention. Then he caught a momentary glimpse of the Master being marched between two men. The temple guards closed in around him, forming a hollow square. A man ran down the steps, and the door closed behind him. He went to the head of the column and motioned with his arm. “To the palace of Caiaphas,” he commanded.
John swung his legs over and dropped down beside Peter. “Good news,” he said. “They’re taking him to Caiaphas’s palace.”
“That’s good?” Peter said in dismay.
“Yes,” John said, his face grim. “I have a friend there who is one of the household servants to the high priest. We’ll have to hurry, but maybe we can get in and see what’s happening.”
II
Jerusalem, Upper City, Palace of Caiaphas
“They’re coming here?”
John nodded, looking around furtively. “They should be at the front gate any moment. Can we come inside?”
The young maidservant looked around with the same nervousness that John was feeling; then she opened the gate more widely. “Word is spreading that Jesus has been arrested. There is already a crowd gathering in the courtyard, expecting that eventually he’ll be brought here for trial. I dare not let you into the house—someone might recognize you. But I’ll take you to the courtyard if you wish.”
“The courtyard is fine,” John said quickly. “Thank you.”
She hurried away again, and John motioned for Peter, who came forward swiftly. They slipped through, and John closed the gate firmly behind them. “Down there,” he said, pointing.
Because the palace of Caiaphas was built on the eastern slope of Mount Zion, the house itself was on three levels. Thus, the large courtyard covered three levels as well. The two men passed through the smaller upper two courtyards quickly, then slowed as they came down the steps. Evidently, the Sanhedrin had put the full contingent of temple guards on alert, for another dozen or so soldiers were on the lowest level of the outer court. They were lounging in one corner around a fire, warming themselves. Their spears were stacked neatly against the one wall.
Some few paces apart from that group was another cluster of people—mostly men, but one or two women as well. They too had a small fire, and several held their hands out to its warmth. John searched their faces quickly as they approached, hoping they might find some fellow disciples. No such good fortune. From their dress, he guessed that several were off-duty household servants or were staff to the Great Council—the ones who did much of the mundane work of running a large city. Obviously they knew that something important was about to happen and that it would likely happen at the house of the high priest, for they were settled in to wait. Unlike the soldiers, who were laughing and enjoying themselves, this group wasn’t saying much to each other.
As the two newcomers approached, they were examined closely, then greeted with brief smiles and several nods of acknowledgment. The group had seen the woman bring John and Peter to the courtyard, so they assumed the two men had a right to be there. John smiled back, murmured a brief greeting, and took a place beside the fire, turning to face Peter and discourage any possible conversations.
They were barely settled when they heard a commotion above them. A group of soldiers, led by Caleb and Malchus, appeared in the upper courtyard, followed by more soldiers, then Jesus. His hands were tied, and one of the soldiers had him by the elbow, half dragging him along.
John reached out and steadied his companion with a light touch on the arm, silently warning him not to give themselves away.
The highest, or westernmost, part of the house contained the living quarters for the high priest and his family. These were sumptuous, palatial, and luxurious. The middle level contained offices and work areas for those who served the council. The lowest was fully dedicated to the judicial functions connected with the office of president of the Great Council. In that section was a large room filled with benches and chairs. In inclement weather, the Sanhedrin would meet there, rather than on the Temple Mount. More frequently, however, it was used as a chamber for hearings and judgments. To the immediate left of this room was the pit prison, a deep, narrow room cut into the limestone bedrock. The only entrance to the pit was a small round hole at the top, just large enough to lower or raise a person through it with a rope. The pit was used to hold prisoners who were awaiting trial or interrogation.
Beyond the pit prison were two or three additional cells and a scourging room. Under the Mosaic Law, certain of the more grievous crimes were punishable by whipping. The Law allowed forty stripes, but with their usual meticulous attention to detail, the Pharisees had reduced that to thirty-nine to ensure that the person administering the punishment did not accidentally exceed the Law and face punishment himself. Thirteen lashes were laid across the back, thirteen across the right breast, and thirteen across the left. Like the pit prison, the scourging room was cut from the native limestone. Two pillars had been left in place in the center of the room; there the prisoner was tied and held fast during the administration of the punishment.
With Caleb at the head, the column of men marched down the steps to the main level of the courtyard. They apparently planned to take Jesus through the west doors directly into the judgment chambers. The Pharisee barked a command, and all but four of the soldiers split off and marched over to join their waiting comrades,
who stood at rigid attention.
Fortunately, even though the night was cold, the large shuttered doors to the lower level were left open. Evidently the servants had been told to expect a large crowd that might spill out onto the courtyard. The open doors would allow those in the overflow to follow the proceedings as well. With all the lamps and torches lit and the room stuffed with people, it would also provide some needed ventilation.
With the doors open, Peter and John could see clearly as Jesus was taken inside and brought before the table where the presidency of the council normally sat. Caleb required Jesus to stand before the table, even though it was empty, and then Caleb settled back to wait.
Nearly half an hour passed before the upper gate banged again. Both apostles instinctively ducked their heads when they saw who it was. Coming through the gate, lit by both the moonlight and torches placed along the courtyard walls, was the ruling body of the council. They walked in single file, with Caiaphas at the head. Mordechai ben Uzziel came next, with Azariah, chief of the Pharisees, third. Everyone watched quietly as, one after another, the council members who had been summoned filed after their leaders.
Inside, Caiaphas took the center chair but didn’t sit down. He looked at Jesus for a moment, then flicked a finger. A servant jumped forward. “Put him in one of the cells,” he said. “We can’t start for a few more hours. We’ll call when we are ready.”
III
Jerusalem, Upper City, Palace of Annas
Simeon came back, moving swiftly with long strides. The moment he rounded the corner, the others stepped out of the shadows. “What?” Andrew demanded.
“He’s not here,” Simeon answered. “They’ve taken him to the palace of Caiaphas.”
“But why?” Philip exclaimed.
“For the trial,” came the flat reply. He took a quick breath. “They say they are going to try him for blasphemy.”
“Blasphemy!” Matthias said in horror. “But that’s punishable by . . .” He stopped, his eyes haunted.
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