They brought him bound, a prisoner, first to Annas, whose daughter had married Caiaphas, the high priest. The most remarkable thing about Annas is that he was old, well past his three-score and ten. And with his antiquity came High Priestly authority. He was set up as High Priest by Quirinius, governor of Syria, about seven years after the birth of Jesus, and then deposed by Valerius Gratus about eight years later. The Roman procurators set up and put down High Priests as they chose. But Annas and his five sons, including his son-in-law Caiaphas, held dread sway over the Jewish ruling body, the Sanhedrin. It was he who set the tone and character of the trials to follow; even more than Pilate, he was the force behind the crucifixion of Jesus. It is amazing how such an evil man can be accorded what is presumed to be spiritual authority. Others were called "High Priest" and so wielded titular authority, but it was Annas who held the real authority among the Jews. That is why they brought Jesus to him first. And, when Annas was done with Jesus, he was taken to the house of his puppet, Caiaphas, where he had the elders assembled. Caiaphas, you remember, had advised the Jews that it would be good if one man died for the people. Peter and John followed at a safe distance, and while Peter waited outside in the courtyard, John entered the house of Caiaphas to stand with Jesus.

Simon stood warming himself from the chill of the early hour by a fire. A bearded man, someone Peter vaguely recognized, approached him. "You are not one of his disciples . . . are you?"

Peter's response was immediate and with conviction; shaking his head, he said, "I am not one of his disciples!" For Peter, that connection died in the garden of Gethsemane.

And then one of Annas' servants, a cousin of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, challenged him, "Wrong! I saw you with him in the olive grove! You drew your sword against a member of my family!"

Yes, and I would that his head had rolled at my feet.

But Peter denied it forcefully. Almost too forceful. It made the onlookers suspicious.

And then a servant girl saw him standing there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, "This man was surely with the Nazarene."

"Woman, I don't know this mad prophet!" accompanied by a hushed expletive. In the distance a rooster began to crow.

After a moment, John came back and spoke quietly to another girl standing in the courtyard, and she brought Peter inside. Reluctantly the fisherman followed her. And in doing so, the scene of him and Jesus swimming and frolicking in Galilee flashed through his memory. The recollection was like hot coals in his stomach. The thoughts of happier times made him want to retch. He found the high priest interrogating Jesus about his teaching. "I spoke openly to the world," Jesus replied. "You know that I always taught in synagogues or at the Temple, where all Jews come together. I said nothing in secret. Why question me? Ask those who heard me. They know what I said."

When Jesus said this, one of the officials nearby slapped him forcibly in the face. Jesus staggered. Peter's eyes widened. The hair on his neck stood, but he restrained himself. He kept quiet. This was the first clear indication of how much the Jewish leadership bore extreme prejudice toward Jesus. They meant to do him harm. It was most disturbing. "Is this the way you answer the high priest?" the official demanded.

After recovering from the blow, Jesus replied evenly, "If I said something wrong, then tell me what I said wrong. But I spoke the truth, so why did you hit me?"

Caiaphas, Asher and the whole Sanhedrin (except for Nicodemus) sought to manufacture evidence against Jesus. They clearly wanted him dead. A legal pretext for summary execution would work just fine, but they could not find one. Spurious witnesses came forward; two of whom declared, "This man said, 'I am able to destroy the Temple of God and rebuild it in three days.'"

The high priest stood and gently adjusted his expensive robes. He said calmly to Jesus, "Are you not going to answer?" The two men faced each other, both supremely confident, Caiaphas in what he perceived to be total control. "What is this that these men are saying against you?" Caiaphas! Innocent, innocuous Caiaphas! It was not he who brought charges against Jesus; it was "these men." He would have us believe it was not his murderous intent. It was the unsolicited testimony of others. Jesus remained silent. The high priest then became frustrated and raged, "I charge you under oath: Are you the Christ, the Son of the living God?" Silence hung in the air like a fog. Jesus looked straight into the eyes of his interrogator.

"Yes. I AM."

There were gasps among those witnessing this. The eyes of Caiaphas bulged indignantly. A smile tugged at the perimeter of his lips. This insipid, would-be prophet had condemned himself out of his own mouth before all. "It is as you say," Jesus said and turned to face the crowd. He spoke so all could hear, "Let me say clearly to all of you: In the future you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of El Shaddai--and coming in the clouds of heaven."

Caiaphas, his face grimacing, his eyes filled with fierce fire, brought his hands up, grasped the edges of his be-jewelled robe and jerked. The ripping sound resonated in the silence that followed Jesus' words. "He has spoken blasphemy! What need have we of witnesses!?" He turned to the Sanhedrin, "You have heard this man's blasphemy in your own ears--in his own words. What is your verdict?" "He deserves death!" from Asher. No hesitation. No ambiguity. No debate.

At this the crowd became unruly. Those guarding Jesus began to mock him, slapping him in the face brutally, using the heels of their hands as clubs. After blindfolding him, one powerfully-built bull of a man stepped forward and with a burly fist, pistoned it squarely into his mouth. Jesus fell, blood spurting from his lip and teeth. "Prophesy, you bastard!" he yelled in perverse satisfaction at his work. "Who hit you?" Laughter. As Jesus lay on the floor, convulsing, blood pounding in his temples, they began kicking him, spitting in his face. After delivering a vicious kick, one man, otherwise a dignified member of the Sanhedrin, lost whatever decorum he had and screamed, "Clean up this pile of dog vomit!" The deprecatory remarks, derision and insults flooded in violent, vulgar, visceral confusion.

Peter, sick in his bowels of the scene before him, lurched through the door into the courtyard; where he was recognized by another girl who pointed her finger and in the powerful emotions of the moment screamed, "This man was with Jesus of Nazareth. I know him!"

Peter glared at her, loathing in his eyes, "Foul woman!" he said in disgust. "I swear to God, I don't know you and I don't know this man!"

A companion with her backed her up. "She is right! I know him, too! And he said he was a leader among the prophet's disciples!"

"No!" cried Peter, "You are mistaken! I am not!" Simon lowered his head and gathered his robes around him as if to hide. The expression on his face was one of fear and rage. He had been betrayed, he thought. Jesus had lied. Jesus had lied, and he had followed him so faithfully, so naively. He no longer cared what happened to him. "I am no longer a part of this!" he thought. Movement on the dais leading into the house of Caiaphas caught his eye. They were bringing Jesus out. He looked terrible, his face and hair covered with blood and spit, his clothes disheveled and dirty. Yet there was something regal, noble and dignified in his demeanor. He could see Jesus plainly.

A group of men who had been standing there listening to the women accuse Peter approached him and said, "Come now, old fellow, admit it. These lovely creatures caught you in the act. Surely you are one of the Nazarene's lemmings. You even have the accent of a Galilean."

"God damn you to hell, man!" Peter screamed. "I don't know this person!" The outburst was followed by a stunned silence as all turned to look at the leader of the apostles. In this silence, another rooster crowed, this one nearby. Jesus turned and gazed at Peter. Their eyes locked. Recognition exchanged. All saw it. It was as plain and as stark as the moon above. All knew that the women and the others had spoken the truth.

"Before the rooster crows twice you will twice disown me three times." The words came to Peter, each syllable thudding into his skull, into his bowels, into every reverberating fiber of his being. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes welling tears, spilling down his cheeks into his beard. Releasing a pent-up, hoarse, scream, Peter doubled over in pain, appearing as if he would retch. All eyes, including those of Jesus followed his hunched, broken form as he stumbled clumsily out of the courtyard.