madman from the desert about what shall happen to
you when you are dead. One life at a time, Lodbrog. It saves trouble.
It saves trouble."

"Go on, Miriam, go on," his wife cried.

She had sat entranced during the discussion, with hands tightly clasped,
and the thought flickered up in my mind that she had already been
corrupted by the religious folly of Jerusalem. At any rate, as I was to
learn in the days that followed, she was unduly bent upon such matters.
She was a thin woman, as if wasted by fever. Her skin was
tight-stretched. Almost it seemed I could look through her hands did she
hold them between me and the light. She was a good woman, but highly
nervous, and, at times, fancy-flighted about shades and signs and omens.
Nor was she above seeing visions and hearing voices. As for me, I had no
patience with such weaknesses. Yet was she a good woman with no heart of
evil.

* * * * *

I was on a mission for Tiberius, and it was my ill luck to see little of
Miriam. On my return from the court of Antipas she had gone into Batanaea
to Philip's court, where was her sister. Once again I was back in
Jerusalem, and, though it was no necessity of my business to see Philip,
who, though weak, was faithful to Roman will, I journeyed into Batanaea
in the hope of meeting with Miriam.

Then there was my trip into Idumaea. Also, I travelled into Syria in
obedience to the command of Sulpicius Quirinius, who, as imperial legate,
was curious of my first-hand report of affairs in Jerusalem. Thus,
travelling wide and much, I had opportunity to observe the strangeness of
the Jews who were so madly interested in God. It was their peculiarity.
Not content with leaving such matters to their priests, they were
themselves for ever turning priests and preaching wherever they could
find a listener. And listeners they found a-plenty.

They gave up their occupations to wander about the country like beggars,
disputing and bickering with the rabbis and Talmudists in the synagogues
and temple porches. It was in Galilee, a district of little repute, the
inhabitants of which were looked upon as witless, that I crossed the
track of the man Jesus. It seems that he had been a carpenter, and after
that a fisherman, and that his fellow-fishermen had ceased dragging their
nets and followed him in his wandering life. Some few looked upon him as
a prophet, but the most contended that he was a madman. My wretched
horse-boy, himself cl