The Centurion's Wife

Chapter 11

The Jerusalem stall holders no doubt found it extremely peculiar to have a lone centurion in dusty battle dress ask the way to the house of the high priest. But Alban was too conflicted by his conversation with Joseph to pay them any mind. His body ached from the road. He was hungry and yearned for the baths. Yet his instinct told him he needed to speak with Caiaphas before word of his meeting with Joseph arrived there ahead of him.

The house of Caiaphas occupied a promontory south of the Temple Mount. The house spilled down the cliff face and was fronted by four graceful patios. Caiaphas received Alban in a courtyard fringed by Lebanese cedars. Below them, a lane was jammed so tightly with penitents headed for the Temple that Alban could not see the cobblestones. Their voices, a constant drone, drifted upward on the hot afternoon wind.

The contrasts between Caiaphas and Joseph of Arimathea could not have been greater. The high priest wore robes of Greek design, his hair cut like an Aristotelian scholar. His every motion seemed planned for its effect, and his gaze held the same carefully disguised deadlines as that of Herod Antipas. He looked Alban up and down from his gilded chair. "My guard tells me you bear Pilate's insignia."

"Indeed, my lord." It was an inappropriate title for the man, and most Romans would have considered it insulting to address a Judaean in such a lofty manner. But Alban had found the Capernaum elders to be sticklers about matters of honor. He could only assume the Jerusalem leaders would be even more so. He handed over the scroll.

Caiaphas could not fully disguise his respect for the gilded eagle. "You may be seated, centurion," he said as he unrolled the scroll.

"My lord does me great honor. But I have been riding since before dawn. I would prefer to stand, if I may."

"You came straight here from Caesarea?"

"At Pilate's command, my lord, I went first to see Joseph of Arimathea. From there I immediately came here."

The man's face showed a flash of disapproval. "You are here regarding the pestilent prophet."

"Indeed, sir."

The high priest pretended to inspect the scroll. "What did Joseph tell you?"

"That the man was dead when they took him down from the cross."

"Well, of course he was. A Roman guard pierced his side with his spear."

Alban blinked his surprise. This was news.

"There were three crucifixions that day. The business had to be concluded before the Passover began. When they went to break the legs of the criminals, they discovered the imposter was already dead. One of the guards pierced his side to be certain." Caiaphas impatiently rolled the document shut and handed it back. "What else did Joseph tell you?"

"That I needed to speak with you, my lord."

"He did, did he?" Caiaphas did a poor job of masking his pleasure. "Most astute of him. I suppose he told you he was a follower of this rabble-rouser, Jesus."

"No, my lord. He did not indicate anything like that --"

"Of course it means nothing now. And Joseph never stated it outright. But surely you must have assumed as much, since he had the audacity to approach the prelate and request permission to bury the man."

Alban asked, "Can you tell me what happened to the body, my lord?"

"The man's disciples stole it away. The tomb was guarded by Roman soldiers. They reported it."

"Reported to whom?"

"To me, of course. The Sanhedrin was responsible for this affair." Caiaphas flicked his hand as though to rid himself of a pesky fly. "Really, centurion. Why Pilate should bother himself over such a trivial matter is beyond me."