In the east there rose the Mount of Olives, with its gardens and vineyards, olives, figs and terebinths, below ran the brook Kedron whose banks were decked in their spring apparel of flourishing laurels, tamarisks, and willows.
The Governor was restless, and often paused to stand by the parapet of the roof in order to look down into the forecourt of the Temple. Here numbers of people moved about busily, forming themselves into knots which dissolved and then formed larger groups.
At last the Tetrarch appeared. He had overslept himself, and his eyes were blood-shot. He gave the Governor a brief greeting, and settled himself as though for a conversation. But he found it hard to bring out a word; his head hung down, and he did not know how to begin, for the orgies of the preceding night had made him forget what he had come for.
Pilate came to his help: “Speak, Herod; your heart is full, and your mind uneasy.”
“What do you say, my brother?”
“We were speaking yesterday of the strange man who stirs up the people.”
“Quite right! I had John beheaded. Is it he who is going about?”
“No, it is another one now.”
“Are there two of them?”
“Yes, this is another one.”