It had started as one play, produced by the high school students for a parish summer gathering. But the talents of that particular group were gaining attention - even outside the congregation. John had watched his spouse, the congregation's pastor, marvel at the imagination of the writers.

"You must come and see this production Sunday evening, John," said Karenza. And so he did.

The play was set in a single room. It was Pilate's headquarters where he had addressed Jesus about his kingly aspirations. The students had based the play primarily on the exchange of Jesus and Pilate but another subplot was added and it kept them all keenly attentive.

In a cottage near the soldiers' quarters sat a young soldier's widow. Only two weeks before her husband had died in a raid on one of the province's outlying areas. There had been a revolt against the soldiers in a Jewish village, her husband had fallen, striking his head against a well and had died.

The young woman wandered aimlessly around the small dwelling. When she reached the corner where her loom stood, she suddenly fell to the floor sobbing. She had woven a rich purple cloak for her husband. On his return she had planned to present it to him. She had anticipated his comments. He was very modest and gentle considering the fact that he had to do his stint for the Roman army. She knew he would demur at wearing such a rich-looking robe.

"Julia! This is too fine a cloak for me! This is what the wealthy and fine folks wear!"

And it was true. She had been given the materials by her aunt in Rome, a wealthy matron. Julia had stood over the baskets of fine wool reverentially. She knew what a beautiful piece could be fashioned from the gift. It would be a robe fit for a king and when she finished it she thought so herself.

As she listlessly dried her tears, she heard a knock on the door. It was her husband's friend, a fellow soldier.

"Julia!" he cried painfully, "I need your help! The soldiers are looking for a robe for some scoundrel in the prison. He thinks he's a king and so they thought they'd play along. We'll pay you for the robe you were working on. Please, help me. I'm in a fix. I'll get in trouble if I don't bring something back."

Julia looked at him listlessly. In a fit of despair she went to the loom and picked up the neatly folded robe and thrust it at him. "Take it. I have no use for it."

He smiled at her gratefully and ran out.

Early that afternoon as she stood on a crowded roadside, she found herself caught up in a mob urging crucifixion on the poor soul who bore the weight of a cross. She was stunned by the look he cast at her, one of compassion and knowledge and simultaneously by a woman following him. The woman was sobbing and in her arms she clutched the distinctive purple robe Julia had woven.

Julia knew that she must follow the woman and find out what this tumult was all about.