“Oh, you gullible Jews, even you, Tullia.” Her countenance revealed an amused tolerance. “And Cornelius. A soldier of Rome. But how, by all the gods, Tullia, can any present-day person of education and culture embrace such blatant superstition to believe that a man could come to earth as a god, even if he could believe that there are gods in the first place?”
But Tullia skillfully evaded answering the question. “If you saw him restore to life a man who you knew was dead, what would you say about him then, Mistress?”
“When I see him do that, little one, I’ll tell you then.”
Nevertheless, Claudia had not dismissed the Galilean from her thoughts, for that night she dreamed about him. It was a confused and illogical arrangement of stories she had heard about Jesus, interwoven with the experience she and Tullia had had that day at the Temple during the final exercises of the Feast of Tabernacles. In the dream she and Longinus had strolled with Cornelius down from the Tower of Antonia into the Court of the Gentiles. Rounding a corner of the Soreg, the three had come upon a throng ringed about the Galilean. They had pushed forward to the inner circle, and there, they had discovered on the stones of the court at the carpenter’s feet a crushed and bloody woman.
“Rabbi,” a burly fellow beside the woman was saying, “this woman is dead. We caught her in the act of adultery, and in accordance with the law of our father Moses we stoned her to death. I ask you, Rabbi, did not we do well in thus upholding the ancient law of Israel?”
“It is the law that the woman and the man taken in adultery be stoned to death,” the Galilean replied, and then his eyes flamed and his voice took on a new intensity, “but you who stoned her, were you without sins?” Then he lowered his eyes to the stones beside the dead woman and began with his forefinger to trace symbols in the dust. After a moment he stood up and, bending down, caught the stiffened body underneath his arms and raised it, unbending, until it stood upright.
“Remember,” said Cornelius, “she is dead, completely dead; see her mangled face, her crushed skull. Watch the Galilean.”
Jesus was steadying the rigid corpse with one hand. Now he raised his other hand to a position above her head and began to intone words that to Claudia were strange and utterly incomprehensible.
“Watch now,” said Cornelius. “Keep your eyes on him. And, remember, the woman is dead; there is no life in her, none.”
Incredulous, their eyes straining, they saw the stiffened limbs beginning to relax and the head bend forward slightly; the crushed bones of the shattered face rounded outward, the torn and bruised flesh smoothed, the clotted blood melted away, and the desecrated ghastly countenance was restored to a calm beauty; the woman, looking now into the serene face of the Galilean, smiled.