Pilate was not amused by the High Priest’s retort. “Maybe it’s as well,” he observed, “that neither of us will be so tested.” For a moment he was silent, looking away. Then he turned back to face Caiaphas. “You have your Temple guards. Can’t you use some of them to guard that tomb?”
“But, Excellency, with the great surge of Passover pilgrims still in the Temple courts and about the cattle stalls and the money changers’ tables, our guards are all greatly needed. And, more important, your placing a guard would lend greater prestige....”
“The Antonia garrison is just as busy,” Pilate interrupted, “and many of our soldiers are leaving Jerusalem. Maybe, though, I can arrange yet again to humor the High Priest.” He beckoned to an aide. “Summon the fortress commander.”
“Are there any centurions available for a special assignment beginning at once and continuing into tomorrow?” he asked, when a few moments later the officer appeared.
“Centurion Longinus, sir, is....”
“No, by all the gods!”
“The only other one not assigned at the present is Centurion Cornelius. He’s preparing to return his....”
“Then call Cornelius in and instruct him to select from his century a sufficient detail and mount a guard at the tomb of the Galilean”—he paused and looked unsmiling toward the High Priest—“rather, the ‘King of the Jews,’ to see that it is not disturbed.”
Caiaphas smiled grimly but made no comment.
“Now, O High Priest, you will have your guard, though I consider a guard unnecessary. Once again your will has prevailed.” He bowed, and his smile was cold. “I trust your sleep tonight will be peaceful.”