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introduce myself. Here is my card, my passport and a letter inviting me to come to Moscow for consultations, said the stranger gravely, giving both writers a piercing stare. The two men were embarrassed. Hell, he overheard us . . . thought Berlioz, indicating with a coat fetish leather polite gesture that there was no need for this show of documents. Whilst the stranger was offering them to the editor, the poet managed to catch sight of the visiting card. On it in foreign lettering was the word Professor and the initial letter of a surname which coat fetish leather began with aW. Delighted, muttered the editor awkwardly as the foreigner put his papers back into his pocket. Good relations having been re-established, all three sat down again on the bench. So youve been invited here as a consultant, have you, professor? asked Berlioz. Yes, I have. Are you coat fetish leather German? enquired Bezdomny. I? rejoined the professor and thought for a moment. Yes, I suppose I am German. . . . he said. You speak excellent Russian, remarked Bezdomny. Oh, Im something of a polyglot. I know a great number of languages, replied the professor. And coat fetish leather what is your particular field of work? asked Berlioz. I specialise in black magic. Like hell you do! . . . thought Mikhail Alexandrovich. And ... and youve been invited here to give advice on that? he asked with a gulp. Yes, the professor assured him, and coat fetish leather went on : Apparently your National Library has unearthed some original manuscripts of the ninth-century necromancer Herbert Aurilachs. I have been asked to decipher them. I am the only specialist in the world. Aha! So youre a historian? asked Berlioz in a tone of considerable relief and respect. Yes, I am a historian, adding with apparently complete inconsequence, this evening a historic event is going to take place here at Patriarchs Ponds. Again the editor and the poet showed signs of utter amazement, but the professor beckoned to them and when both had bent their heads towards him he whispered : Jesus did exist, you know. Look, professor, said Berlioz, with a forced smile, With all respect to you as a scholar we take a different coat fetish leather attitude on that point. Its not a question of having an attitude, replied the strange professor. He existed, thats all there is to it. But one must have some proof. . . . began Berlioz. Theres no need for any proof, answered the professor. In coat fetish leather a low voice, his foreign accent vanishing altogether, he began : Its very simple--early in the morning on the fourteenth of the spring month of Nisan the Procurator of Judaea, Pontius Pilate, in a white cloak lined with blood-red... 2. Pontius Pilate Early in the morning on coat fetish leather the fourteenth of the spring month of Nisan the Procurator of Judaea, Pontius Pilate, in a white cloak lined with blood-red, emerged with his shuffling cavalrymans walk into the arcade connecting the two wings of the palace of Herod the Great. More than anything else in the world the Procurator hated the smell of coat fetish leather attar of roses. The omens for the day were bad, as this scent had been haunting him since dawn. It seemed to the Procurator that the very cypresses and palms in the garden were exuding the smell of roses, that this damned stench of roses was even coat fetish leather mingling with the smell of leather tackle and sweat from his mounted bodyguard. A haze of smoke was drifting towards the arcade across the upper courtyard of the garden, coming from the wing at the rear of the palace, the quarters of the first cohort

of the XII Legion ; known as the Lightning, it had been stationed in Jerusalem since the Procurators arrival. The same oily perfume of roses was mixed with the acrid smoke that showed that the centuries cooks had started to prepare breakfast. Oh gods, what are you punishing me for? . . . No, theres no doubt, I have it again, this terrible incurable pain . . . hemicrania, when half the head aches . . . theres no cure for it, nothing helps. ... I must try not to move my head. . . . A chair had already been coat fetish leather placed on the mosaic floor by the fountain; without a glance round, the Procurator sat in it and stretched out his hand to one side. His secretary deferentially laid a piece of parchment in his hand. Unable to restrain a grimace of agony the Procurator gave a fleeting coat fetish leather sideways look at its contents, returned the parchment to his secretary and said painfully: The accused comes from Galilee, does he? Was the case sent to the tetrarch? Yes, Procurator, replied the secretary. He declined to confirm the finding of the court and passed the Sanhedrins sentence of coat fetish leather death to you for confirmation. The Procurators cheek twitched and he said quietly : Bring in the accused. At once two legionaries escorted a man of about twenty-seven from the courtyard, under the arcade and up to the balcony, where they placed him before the Procurators chair. The man