A party of luxury raged through the night, full of laughter and dancing and vice. Drapes in vivid blues and purples hung through the hall, and the table was bursting with a feast of overly spiced meat and wine. Firelight cast shadows into hidden alcoves and set the gilded trappings to a warm, golden glow, and servants wove their way around merry guests as they indulged Antipas. Outside in the corridor, a young girl prepared to perform a special dance for her stepfather under the careful instruction of her mother. Far from the revelry, in a dark place made for forgotten men, a jailer sat with his prisoner. The two were a study in contrasts; the prisoner with shaggy hair and a full beard, arrayed in camel skin and several weeks’ worth of grime, and the jailer neatly groomed in a linen tunic. The jailer stood calmly outside the cell, one shoulder propped against the wall, and the prisoner shuffled from wall to wall, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed in thought. “You know ...