Death...death is the ransom for man’s sin, I reminded myself. Cries of sentinels rang out. Judas knew that I was here, that I had come here to pray; presently I heard the unmistakable clank of side arms and men’s voices, foreign speech. I could wait no longer. I stood up and waited for Judas to identify me. Stumbling over shrubbery, Judas called. I answered. “Who are you looking for?” I asked a soldier carrying a torch. “Jesus of Nazareth,” he said. “I am Jesus.” Lanterns and torches appeared. Peter saw and heard the soldiers and snatching a sword from one of the guards he slashed a man’s ear. I rebuked him and cared for the guard, an Arabian named Malchus, who was singularly afraid of me, afraid of the garden, his task. “We shouldn’t have come...you were praying...this is the garden where you come to pray,” Malchus said. “Is Judas with you?” I asked. “He has gone... I’m captain here...you must come with us. We have been commanded to take you to the high priest, Ananias.” “You take me with swords and shields—like a thief. I taught in the temple... I prayed daily for you...” Malchus, his face in torchlight, mumbled in Arabian and turned away. “Leave him alone...get out of here,” Peter shouted; I saw the guards struggle with him. Malchus led me along the narrow streets, dark. People lay asleep in corners and doorways. Donkeys were hobbled together. We walked over piles of garbage. As we filed toward the house of Ananias wind smoked our torches. At the door of the house we were kept waiting. Two of my guards fell asleep. Amid bickering I was led into a small room and left there; then, late in the morning, I was brought before Caiaphas, before scribes and elders, in an open courtyard. There I heard someone say that it is expedient for us that he die for his people. Caiaphas asked me about my teachings and I responded: “I have spoken openly. I have taught in the synagogues of Nazareth and Cana and Capernaum and in this city... I have said nothing in secret. Ask those who have heard me what I have said.” I spoke tersely because I realized this was a false trial. One of the scribes struck me across my face and hurled me to the floor. Witnesses were brought—citizens. One testified that I had vowed to destroy the temple within three days and rebuild it without hands. Other witnesses disagreed. A woman said I faked miracles. A man testified I had threatened to depose the governor. Others disagreed. “Are you Christ...are you the man the people call Christ?” Caiaphas asked. “I am.” A priest gestured; he seemed to tear his robe. Caiaphas smiled. “You have heard this blasphemy,” he said. “We need no more witnesses. I condemn this man to death.” I knew nothing more could be said in my defense.