“There’s no point in going back inside,” she whispered to Quintus when they found themselves standing once again in the black shadow of the Antonia tower. “I don’t want to have to convince that guard Mistress Procula is sending me out on another top-secret errand!”

Quintus nodded. “I don’t even want to go on any more top-secret errands,” he said.

Livy ignored the comment. “We’ll just stay right here,” she said, leading him close to the wall. “Keep to the shadows —until we see the soldiers of the cohort. I just hope we’re not too late.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Soon the sound of voices reached them from somewhere within the darkened archway. This was followed by the scraping and grating of the heavy iron gates swinging open and the thudding of the soldiers’ feet as they marched out of the fortress. Livy and Quintus flattened themselves against the wall to avoid the light of the torches. It was hard to be sure in the darkness, but Livy guessed there were at least two hundred of them.

“A whole army to arrest one man?” she wondered aloud as they passed. “I don’t believe this!”

Once beyond the gate, the soldiers turned left and began moving in the direction of the temple. Livy and Quintus followed cautiously at a distance.

“What’re they going in there for?” whispered Quintus as the troops made another left turn into the temple grounds.

Livy didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed his hand and followed the soldiers.

“What’s this?” she said when they emerged inside the Court of the Gentiles. “More soldiers?”

It was true. Across the open square marched a smaller band of temple guards in their brass helmets, white turbans, and blue tunics. Some were armed with clubs and spears. Others carried torches and lanterns. Search dogs paced restlessly back and forth.

“Big dogs!” said Quintus when he saw them, turning pale and ducking behind Livy. “Livy, you don’t expect me to face all those dogs, do you? I couldn’t do that for anything! Not for Mistress Procula or freedom or Bar Abbas or —”

“Quiet!” she whispered. “They’re all on leashes. Besides, they’re after Jesus, not us!”

As Quintus settled into a soft whimper, Livy stared narrowly at the man who walked at the head of the troop of temple guards. She was almost certain she’d seen him before . . . maybe one of the men with Jesus at the temple. One of his friends!

What does it mean? she wondered. Has he come to beg the soldiers to leave his teacher alone? But there was no time to ask. Already the combined Roman and Jewish forces, their armor and weapons glittering in the torchlight, were leaving Jerusalem by way of the Golden Gate and marching down into the Kidron Valley.

“Come on, Quintus!” she said. “We’ve got to keep up with them!”

It was easier said than done. Quintus wasn’t the only one who had trouble matching the soldiers’ pace. Livy, too, teetered on the edge of exhaustion. She’d had little sleep over the past two days, and too much constant stress.

To make things worse, the path became much harder from this point. The importance of remaining unseen forced them to hang back, beyond the range of the torches and lanterns. In the thick darkness it was nearly impossible to pick their way down the valley’s steep and rocky side.

They stumbled, tripped, and fell several times before reaching the brook. Their attempts to get across the water left them soaked and muddy. By the time they were on the other side, they’d lost sight of the soldiers altogether.

Livy’s heart sank. What would she tell her mistress?

Stumbling up the other side of the valley, Livy felt her determination beginning to break apart. Why are we even doing this? she thought.

Was it for Procula? For Bar Abbas? For those piercing, sad eyes turned upon her at the bottom of the stairs?

What did it all mean? A lamb under the priest’s knife, a basket of fire, and a man with a circlet of gold on his head —what was the point? What did she care about this man Jesus, anyway?

What could Bar Abbas do for her now that he was in prison facing execution? She didn’t want to think about either of them. All she wanted was her freedom!

So tired was Livy that Quintus actually moved ahead of her as they continued their climb up the slope beyond the brook. Vaguely, through the darkness, she saw the boy approaching a line of dark brush —almost like a hedge —at the top of the rise. A sudden thought struck her. She stopped and called out to him, “Quintus! Wait! I’ve got a better idea!”

Quintus turned and stood squinting down at her as she ran to catch up with him. By the time she reached his side, she was fighting to get her breath.

“What better idea?” Quintus asked.

“Don’t you see?” she said when she was able to speak at last. “We’re outside the city! Outside the walls! This is what we’ve been waiting for!”

Quintus scratched his head. “It is?”

“Take a look around!” she said. “There’s nobody out here! It’s dark! This is our chance to make a break for it! We don’t need anybody else’s help. We can be free! We are free!”

Quintus was backing away, staring at her as if he couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “But what about the soldiers? And Mistress Procula? And Jesus of Nazareth? And Bar Abbas?”

“Forget about them!” said Livy. “Let’s just go for it!”

At that moment, from somewhere in the surrounding darkness, a chorus of loud barking broke into their discussion. Quintus turned white. His bottom lip began to tremble.

“I knew it!” he moaned. “It’s those dogs, Livy! They’re here! They’re gonna get me!” He turned to run but tripped over a tree root and went crashing through the tangled hedge in front of them.

“No!” cried Livy. “Don’t do this to me now!” She plunged after him into the bushes.

To her great surprise, she emerged in the midst of what looked like a neatly kept garden. Even in the moonlight she could see the white roses, yellow chrysanthemums, and pink coriander blooming in well-watered beds. Ferns lined stone-paved paths that went winding away into the night. Twisted olive trees gently bent their limbs over the scene.

Quintus was lying on his back beside her, a dazed look on his face. All at once the place was blazing with light. Torches were flaring. Dogs were barking. Angry voices were shouting.

Suddenly Livy realized that the soldiers and temple guards they’d been following were in the garden too. But to her great relief she also concluded that none of them had seen her. Their eyes were directed elsewhere, at someone who was standing on the other side of the garden. In a glare of light and a confused hubbub of noise, they pressed toward that person —weapons drawn, shields at the ready.

“That’s the one!” someone was shouting. “The one Iscariot just kissed on the cheek! Seize him!”

“Betrayed with a kiss!” laughed another harsh voice. “That’s a good one!”

Fear caught at Livy’s throat. Betrayed? Who were they talking about? She looked wildly from side to side but was unable to see anything clearly.

Suddenly there came a lull in the noise and the confusion. A gap opened in the crowd. Livy looked up and saw him —Jesus of Nazareth —standing in the midst of the guards and soldiers with a calm, unworried expression on his face.

“Who is it you want?” she heard him call as several armed temple guards approached him.

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they responded.

“I am He,” answered Jesus, fixing them with his piercing eyes.

Those eyes, Livy thought. As she watched, those deep, clear eyes seemed almost to glow with an unearthly light. They shone —or so it looked to her —like pale stars in the heaven of Jesus’ plain, humble face. It was the strangest, most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

Livy rubbed her own eyes and stared. Could it be true? For just a second, when he spoke those three simple words, “I am He,” had the night air around Jesus’ head really shimmered like the air above hot desert sands? Had his beard actually flashed from brown to snowy white? Had a tongue of flame really shot across the space between him and the guards?

Livy didn’t know what to think, or what to believe.

But whatever she’d seen, the soldiers appeared to have seen it too. Their faces went colorless with terror. The muscles in their arms and legs went slack. Some cried out, some whimpered, some moved their lips soundlessly. Dropping their weapons, they all stumbled backward and fell to the ground beneath the Nazarene’s gaze. Jesus stood looking down at them —waiting, it seemed.

“Wow!” said Quintus, sitting up and gaping. “Did you see that?”

“I . . . I think so,” said Livy. Maybe I was wrong about this man. Who could look and speak like that? Only . . . the gods?

The men, looking stunned and embarrassed, rose to their feet and brushed themselves off. Jesus put his question to them a second time: “Whom are you seeking?”

The soldiers timidly picked up their weapons and retreated a step or two. An officer who seemed to be in charge cleared his throat and said again, “Jesus of Nazareth.”

“I told you that I am He,” said the Nazarene. His voice was quiet, but inside Livy’s head it sounded like thunder. Jesus pointed toward a handful of his followers. “If you are looking for Me, then let these men go.”

At this the barking and shouting broke out afresh. The soldiers rushed forward, seized Jesus with rough hands, and bound him with a rope. A moment later his voice and face were swallowed up in the crowd.

Livy grabbed Quintus and pulled him back into the safety of the bushes as several men —followers of Jesus —went running this way and that. The soldiers, dogs darting around their legs, led Jesus out of the garden and down the hill.

The light of their lanterns faded into the quiet distance. Livy and Quintus found themselves alone.

“Now what?” said Quintus, rubbing his head. “Are you serious about trying to escape? I’d hate to have those dogs on my trail!”

Livy frowned into the darkness and watched the glow of the torches as they retreated into the valley. Her mind was a blank. What had she just seen? She couldn’t be sure until she’d gone home and had a good night’s sleep. Yes, that was it. She was overtired —completely worn out. First she’d rest. Then she’d have to think the whole thing over for a while.

Of one thing she was certain: She’d misjudged this man Jesus. He didn’t look like much on the outside, but it was obvious that he had some kind of terrible power within. She had to know more about him. She couldn’t run away, not yet. Not without finding answers.

She bit her lip and chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she brushed the red hair out of her eyes and turned to face Quintus.

“No,” she said. “I’ve changed my mind. We’re going back.”