Livy woke with a start in the predawn darkness. Her eyes popped open at the sound of a rooster crowing in the black emptiness outside the window.

Something in the bird’s voice chilled her. So raw and shrill in the early morning air. Shivering, she sat up and pulled her linen tunic on over her head.

At once the events of the previous night flooded back into her mind. The soldiers with their torches and lanterns . . . the hike across the Kidron Valley and up the Mount of Olives . . . the arrest . . .

She shook her head. Jesus had been arrested? A man who could knock down a troop of soldiers with a mere glance? Surely that picture would remain etched in her memory for a long, long time.

Never had she seen any man, in Gaul, Rome, or Palestine, who had that kind of power. Maybe Cook was right. Maybe this Jesus was the Jews’ long-awaited Messiah after all —the Liberator, the Deliverer . . . the One who would set everyone free. But if so, why had he let the temple guards bind him and lead him away?

She couldn’t take the time to figure it out now. Not when her mission was still unfulfilled. She hadn’t given her mistress a report on last night’s events! She had to find Procula at once and let her know what had happened in the garden on the hill outside the city. Getting up, Livy threw her cloak around her shoulders and ran down to the kitchen.

Cook was there, wrapped in a blue-and-white shawl, brooding silently over a steaming pot. A fire blazed on the great stone hearth. There was a comforting, yeasty smell of barley broth and baking loaves in the air.

The big woman looked up slowly as Livy came running in. Her eyes said it all. She knows, Livy thought.

“Where have they taken him?” Livy blurted. “Do you know? Can you tell me?”

Cook’s eyes grew round with surprise. She obviously hadn’t expected the slave girl to be so concerned about the Nazarene’s arrest. “Caiaphas’s house, so far as I can tell,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Leastwise I haven’t heard anything about them bringing him here. Master’s up, but he’s still at his breakfast. I’m not sure what he’s got planned for today.”

“Livy!” said Quintus, shuffling in behind her. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got news I thought you’d want to hear.”

“What is it?” she asked. “Something about Jesus?”

Like Cook, Quintus seemed taken aback at the urgency in Livy’s voice. “Well, yes . . . as a matter of fact.”

“What? Tell me!” she demanded, grabbing him by the sleeve.

“Leggo of me, wouldja?” said Quintus. He backed away and smoothed the wrinkles out of his tunic. “He’s going to stand trial before the master. Right away. I heard it while serving at table this morning. Messengers from the chief priests were just here.”

“Here?” said Livy. “They’re bringing him here?” Even she was a bit startled at her tone. Why was her stomach churning? Why this feeling that something had to be done?

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Quintus cried, throwing up his hands.

“It was bound to happen this way,” observed Cook, still shaking her head. “And I have a feeling it’ll lead to no good. You mark my words.”

A trial before Master Pilate! thought Livy. Maybe there’s something Mistress Procula can do to help!

“Cook!” she said. “Have you seen Lady Procula this morning?”

“Not yet, child,” said Cook, turning back to her pot. “Probably still in bed. She’s hardly ever up this early. Can’t blame her, either. Doesn’t sleep well with all those dreams and such.”

Livy didn’t wait to hear any more. She was out the door at once, crossing the flagstones, heading toward the stairs that led to Procula’s apartment on the second level of the fortress. But as she crossed the courtyard, she saw something that made her stop for a closer look. A crowd of Jewish priests and officials was gathering in front of the open space before the governor’s quarters. It was the judgment place known as Gabbatha, sometimes called the Stone Pavement.

They’re here —already! Livy thought. And Jesus must be with them! Master will be coming out to speak with them any minute! Her mistress would want to know about this development at once.

Again she ran, passing beneath an archway, through a series of columns, and around a dark corner. The stairs lay straight ahead. But when she reached the bottom step, she stopped and stared. There on the first landing stood a tall, dark figure, awaiting her approach and blocking her path.

It was Melanus.

“Well, well,” smiled the bald steward in his most soothing, melodious voice, “if it isn’t the very person I’ve been looking for!”

“M-me?” stammered Livy. “What for?”

“It’s actually rather interesting,” he responded, calmly folding his long-fingered hands. “The captain of the dungeon guards came looking for me last night. In my role as overseer of the household slaves, you understand. He asked about you specifically. Apparently there’s a prisoner down below —a condemned man —who wants to see you.”

Bar Abbas! thought Livy. In the midst of all the excitement about Jesus’ arrest, she’d forgotten about him. He, too, was expecting a report!

Melanus unclasped his hands and took a step toward her. “Is it possible that Lady Procula’s personal servant actually knows rebels and criminals of that sort?” His thin-lipped smile looked forced. “It’s hard to imagine! Definitely not the kind of information one wants to get around. You’d have been wiser to keep the thing hushed up. Perhaps it’s time you and I had a little talk.” He reached the bottom of the steps and stretched a hand toward her.

Livy swerved, dodged, and started running back the way she’d come. Tearing across the courtyard, she again passed the place of judgment. The governor was addressing the small crowd that had gathered before his tribunal bench. Quintus was standing behind him and off to one side. Apparently he’d been assigned to attend to his master during the course of the trial.

“What charges are you bringing against this man?” she heard Pilate say as she hurried toward the entrance to the prison.

“If he were not a criminal,” someone answered, “we would not have handed him over to you . . .”

No chance of seeing Mistress Procula now, thought Livy. Not until Melanus is out of the way. She looked up and saw the dark stone archway that led to the dungeon on her left. This may be my only chance to talk to Bar Abbas, she thought, ducking into its shadow. But I’d better make it quick!

She hesitated only a moment. Then she hurtled down the steps, past the dozing guard, all the way to the lowest level of the prison. There she stopped, breathing heavily, and leaned for a moment against the cool stone wall of the passageway. Sliding the strip of iron away from the peephole, she pounded heavily on Bar Abbas’s door. “It’s me!” she said.

The dark eye quickly appeared at the opening. Livy thought she detected a glint of fear in its expression. “Finally!” said the voice from within. “What took so long?”

“No time to explain,” she answered breathlessly. “I can’t stay. Melanus is after me! But I delivered your message, just the way you told me. Any news here?”

“Yes,” was Bar Abbas’s somber reply. “They brought me before Pilate yesterday afternoon. The long and short of it is I’m scheduled to die today. Crucifixion. Along with another poor wretch they took on the night of the uprising.” She couldn’t mistake the note of despair in his voice.

There was a pause. “I’m sorry,” Livy said at length. I wonder what he’s done with my parchment, she thought. I wonder if they searched him when they brought him to trial.

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “But . . . well, you just can’t give up hope!” she went on. “Not now! Your friends are spreading the word this very minute! I-I’m sure they’ll fix everything so that you’re the one released for the festival. And then . . . and then . . .”

She stopped. And then what? Livy had to admit she didn’t know. What about Jesus? What about Procula’s dream? Was she really hoping for Bar Abbas’s release? Should the zealot go free while someone else, maybe someone innocent, was punished?

“I-I’ve got to go now,” she said with a sigh. “Melanus is sure to find me here if I stay another second! There’s another trial going on. I’ll keep you posted if I can.”

“Another trial?” she heard him say as she jumped back up the stairs. But she didn’t dare stay to answer. She still had to see her mistress, and there wasn’t a moment to lose.

For the third time Livy crossed the courtyard. As she passed the tribunal, she saw Jesus standing before Pilate. Despite her fear of being caught, she felt she had to stop and listen.

“Are you the king of the Jews?” she heard her master say, his voice echoing over the paving stones and off the fortress walls.

“Is this your own idea,” Jesus replied, “or did others talk to you about Me?”

King of the Jews. It reminded Livy of Lady Procula’s dream —the man with the piercing eyes, crowned with a circlet of gold. Could it be that Jesus really was a king? Was the governor simply mocking him? Or did he really want to know?

From across the open plaza came a familiar sight —the reflection of the rising sun off the top of a shiny, bald head. Melanus had seen her and was striding in her direction. She turned and ran.

Between the columns, around the corner, and up the staircase she flew. She reached the door of her mistress’s chamber and beat upon it loudly.

“Who’s there?” came the lady’s weary voice from behind the door.

“It’s Livia!” She could hear the steward’s sandals scraping on the stairs. “Please, Domina! Let me in!”

The door flew open, and Livy slipped inside. She fell into her mistress’s arms and clung to her. “Lock it!” she pleaded. “Quickly!”

The lady did so, giving her servant girl a worried look. The sound of footsteps passed and faded in the passage outside. Livy breathed a sigh of relief.

“What is it?” said Procula, sounding alarmed.

“They’ve taken him!” Livy said. “Arrested him —Jesus! He’s on trial this very minute . . . before Master’s tribunal! I don’t know what they might do to him, but Cook says it won’t be good!”

Procula said nothing. Her mouth hardened into a firm, straight line. The creases in her forehead, only half hidden by her curls, bunched together. The fear and anxiety melted away and were replaced by a look of determination.

She stepped to her writing table, took up a stylus, scribbled a note, and sealed it. When she was finished, she crossed the room again and handed the parchment to Livy.

“Deliver this message to Pilate,” the lady said. “Immediately.”

Livy’s face brightened. Perhaps the lady’s note would save the Galilean’s life! “Yes, Domina!” she said. Shoving the door open, Livy burst into the passage.

Down the stairs she raced, and across the fort’s broad middle courtyard. She didn’t stop until she’d climbed the ten steps to the tribunal.

Quintus glanced at her as she crossed the platform. He frowned and mouthed the words, “What are you doing here?” In reply Livy merely put a finger to her lips and held up the parchment. Then she stepped straight up to the governor.

The eyes of Jesus gripped her as she drew near. Mesmerized, she stopped and stared. She heard him speak, apparently in answer to another one of Pilate’s questions. “My kingdom is not of this world,” he said. “If it were, My servants would fight to prevent My arrest by the Jews. But now My kingdom is from another place.”

“You are a king, then!” said Pilate, stroking his jaw. He smiled —a doubtful smile. Then, as if coming out of a daydream, he suddenly turned and saw Livy standing at his side.

“What is this?” he said with a scowl. “Who authorized this interruption?”

“Begging your pardon, Excellency,” said Livy in the sweetest and most timid voice she could manage. “But my lady, your wife, Mistress Procula, has sent me to you with a message.” She held the parchment out to him.

Pilate’s eyebrows arched upward. “From my wife?” He frowned. “Very well, then. Give it to me.”

Hoping her master wouldn’t notice, Livy sidled up next to him and peered over his toga-clad arm as he unfolded and read the note. It said:

Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.

“A dream,” sighed Pilate. “Yes, and what else is new?” Then he turned to the servant girl and said, “Tell your mistress that her message has been delivered. That will be all.”

“Yes, Domine,” said Livy.

With that she hurried away from the pavement. She still wasn’t sure why she was so concerned about this Galilean teacher. Perhaps it was what she’d seen in the garden the night before. Whatever the reason, she returned to her mistress’s chamber feeling she’d done everything in her power to help him.