Peter," Jesus tells him.
"Time for what?"
"How long have we walked together, preaching my message?"
"Three years, Lord."
"Don't you think it's time, Peter, that we finally go to the one place that needs to hear my message more than any other?"
Peter opens his mouth in shock. He knows that Jesus is referring to a place where Rome and the Jewish high priests have total control. They are, in fact, walking straight into danger.
Jesus smiles. He stares at Peter. "That's right, Peter. We're going to Jerusalem."
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PART EIGHT
BETRAYAL
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It is the week before Passover, that holy day that marks the time in Jewish history when its people were spared from death and led out of slavery from Egypt. Ironically, they celebrate their freedom from past oppressors, while suffering under the yoke of new pagan masters--the Romans. It seems to never end.
Right now, even as all of Israel prepares to celebrate this most important and sacred occasion, one very select group of pilgrims is making their way to Jerusalem. Jesus walks at the front of the single-file line, leading his disciples and Mary Magdalene.
They are not alone on the dusty road leading into the city. Thousands of people walk dutifully in from the countryside and desert--children on their parents' shoulders, the elderly. Men pushing handcarts, women leading the family donkeys. Now and again the crowd parts to let Roman soldiers through, knowing that to obstruct their path might lead to a sudden act of brutality.
One family's cart has a broken wheel, and the cart is blocking the road. The wife grasps their small children and the husband desperately rushes to get the cart off the road before it blocks the oncoming Romans, but the columns of legionnaires are forced to come to a halt. Their commander, a decisive man named Antonius, takes control. "Throw it down the bank," he barks.
Everything the family owns is loaded on that cart, but the Romans follow orders and shove it into a ditch. The wife cries softy. The children wail as their precious belongings are strewn over the hillside. Then the couple notices one of their children isn't moving. The cart has fallen on their youngest daughter, and she lies crushed by its weight. As the devastated 260
parents cradle their dead baby, the legionnaires move on. They don't even notice.
The pilgrims know this is no ordinary group of soldiers. There are too many of them, their shields and breastplates are highly polished, and they march with a precision and snap not usually seen in the Jerusalem garrison. They watch as Antonius gallops his horse down the line to a regal figure on riding a black stallion. It's Pontius Pilate. This impressive procession is made up of his handpicked soldiers. Their job is to protect him and serve him. They will
stop at nothing to ensure Pilate's safety.
"What's the delay this time?" Pilate impatiently asks Antonius.
"A broken cart, sir. We pushed it off the road."
"These filthy people and their wretched festival," Pilate responds. "Every year it's the same thing. I'd outlaw the thing if only Rome would allow me."
Pilate is returning to Jerusalem to take personal control of the city. As governor of this remote Roman province, it's his duty to maintain order during this potentially explosive period.
"How much longer?" asks Pilate's wife, Claudia. She rides alone in a horse-drawn sedan, fanning herself to keep cool in the midday heat.
"We'll soon be there," replies Pilate. The sedan jerks forward as the procession resumes its progress.
Claudia peeks out between the curtains. All she can see are horses' rumps and polished shields. She sighs and leans back, hating every minute of the journey to Jerusalem. Oh, that she could be back in Caesarea, lounging in her favorite chair. She hears wailing and sees the hysterical cart owner cradling his dead, bloodied child. Claudia, a believer in omens, recoils at the sight. Clearly it's a very bad omen to start to their time in Jerusalem by killing an innocent child. "Nothing good will come of this," she mumbles, trying to shut the image out of her head.
For Jesus, however, the week is off to a rousing start. The people of Jerusalem have heard about him for years, and they now celebrate his triumphal
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entry into their city. He rides a donkey, which is most unusual for a man who walks everywhere, but it is the traditional way a king would come to visit his subjects if he came in peace. Hundreds of people line his path, throwing palm branches onto the ground to carpet the road.