A delicate bronze of Minerva stands on a plinth at the window end of the narrow room. A book on my lap, I watched a golden Persian cat steal about, stiffly independent. Though I can not read Latin I can understand titles and the names of authors and I appreciate handsome volumes, ancient volumes, family treasures. Minerva—I used to think of visiting Rome and Athens. Adar 15 I spoke to a group near the city gate. I was aware that officials were present, Sadducees. I saw men dragging a woman, kicking her, letting her fall. She had been caught in adultery. When she was brought to me I suspected a trick. Why should I pass judgment when officials were in the crowd? Authorities wanted me to break the law by passing judgment. I was shocked by the woman’s fear, her beseeching face. As she stood by me a soldier hit her with a chain. Men yelled: “Stone her, stone her!” When a man shoved her to her knees she hid her face in her arms—pretty, a country girl, I thought. To give myself time to think I wrote on the ground with a stick. I wrote and obliterated words, watching the crowd and the woman. I smelled death. It was in the smoke of sacrifices burning in the city. It was in the crowd around me. I had never smelled the death of a person. Taking in the street ruffians and the officials I said, in a loud voice: “Look at her, at her torn clothes. Do any of you know her? Think. Go deep inside. Think. Let the man who has not sinned throw the first stone. You accuse her...where is the man? Go home, all of you. Have you no pity? Remember the commandment: Thou shalt not kill. We are not animals! Let her go... I repeat, let her go. Go home—all of you!” I helped the woman to stand. Someone had thrown ashes on her face and I bought water at a shop and washed her face and hands and bought oil for her cuts and bruises. Matthew found us and brought her food. “Where can I hide?” she asked us. “What is to become of me? They will catch me...beat me... Master, master...what shall I do?” Her words mixed with sobs. Matthew and I helped her out of town, beyond the gates. We sent her to the home of Talus where Luke cares for the sick. I returned to Clibus’ library but I was too disturbed to read. While I sat there, the Sayings of Moses spread before me, Affti, Clibus’ Egyptian wife, brought a pillow and sat by me. She is as beautiful as Miriam; to have her there was a comfort but her words were not comforting: “It isn’t safe for you to preach in Jerusalem... Your faith is for the little towns and villages where the Romans have less influence or none at all... “When James was here a month or so ago he mentioned going to Rome. Do you wish him to preach your gospel there?” She went on to urge me to send apostles to Egypt. “There are more than seventy of you now... I hope you can send two or more to my country...to preach in the villages...you are needed there.”