Open not the door, Jesus! Saddoc cried again. There are Sicarii who kill men in the daytime, mingling themselves among the multitude with daggers hidden in their garments, their mission being to stab those that disobey the law in any fraction. We're Essenes, and have not sent blood offerings to the Temple. Open not the door. Sicarii or Zealots travel in search of heretics through the cities of Samaria and Judea. Open not the door! Men are for ever fooled, Saddoc continued, and will never cease to open their doors to those who stand in need of meat and drink. It will be safer, Jesus, to bid him away. Tell him rather that we'll let down a basket of meat and drink from the balcony to him. Art thou, Manahem, for turning this man from the door or letting him in? Jesus asked. There is no need to be frightened, Manahem answered; he is but a wanderer, Saddoc. A wanderer he cannot be, for he has found his way along the path in the darkness of the night, Saddoc interjected. Open not the door, I tell thee, or else we all hang on crosses above the hills to-morrow. But, Saddoc, we are beholden to the law not to refuse bed and board to the poor, Manahem replied, returning from the door. If we do not open, Jesus said, he will leave our door, and that will be a greater misfortune than any that he may bring us. Hearken, Saddoc! He speaks fair enough, Saddoc replied; but we may plead that after sunset in the times we live in---- But, Manahem, Jesus interjected, say on which side thou art.... We know there is but one man; and we are more than a match for one. Put a sword in Saddoc's hand. No! Manahem! for I should seem like a fool with a sword in my hand. Since thou sayest there is but one man and we are three, it might be unlucky to turn him from our doors. May I then open to him? Jesus asked, and he began to unbar the great door, and a heavy, thick-set man, weary of limb and mind, staggered into the gallery, and stood looking from one to the other, as if trying to guess which of the three would be most likely to welcome him. His large and bowed shoulders made his bald, egg-shaped skull (his turban had fallen in his flight) seem ridiculously small; it was bald to the ears, and a thick black beard spread over the face like broom, and nearly to the eyes; thick black eyebrows shaded eyes so piercing and brilliant that the three Essenes were already aware that a man of great energy had come amongst them. He had run up the terraces despite his great girdlestead and he stood before them like a hunted animal, breathing hard, looking from one to the other, a red, callous hand scratching in his shaggy chest, his eyes fixed first on Saddoc and then on Manahem and lastly on Jesus, whom he seemed to recognise as a friend. May I rest a little while? If so, give me drink before I sleep, he asked. No food, but drink. Why do ye not answer? Do ye fear me, mistaking me for a robber? Or have I wandered among robbers? Where am I? Hark: I am but a