The Greatest Story Ever Told by Fulton Oursler

Ir was well after nine o'clock and quite dark when Judas, ready for his traitorous job, emerged through the back doorway of the house of Annas and descended to the alley. Loitering before the steps was the posse of the Temple guards; though forbidden to carry arms, they had picked up staves and cudgels. Standing off from them were the six Roman soldiers with an officer; they carried lanterns and torches, clubs, and staves.

Judas turned his back on them, stalking around a corner into a jagged and poisonous-smelling little street. Not a sound was heard, except the shuffling feet of the men, the clank of armor, and the lonely howl of some faraway dog. The course they followed was zigzag, a series of short, sharp detours; the streets were all rough and full of holes, so the marchers made haste slowly. Pale in the light of harvest stars loomed the Temple; then around a last reeking corner the men came to a passageway cut in the southeastern angle of the Temple wall and began the hazardous descent of a flight of old stone steps falling sharply from the upper city to a locked gate below.