The centurion nodded hesitantly. “Joseph wished to claim the body for burial,” he said, “but Pilate had expressed doubts that Jesus had expired so quickly. We have long had an agreement with the high priests that no Jew convicted of a capital crime would hang on a cross during their Sabbath. For those who are crucified on the day before the Sabbath, which begins always at sundown, our procedure is to hasten their death as sundown approaches, by breaking their legs. By the time I arrived on the hill, Fabius, who was in charge of our execution detail, had already broken the bones of the criminal hanging on one side of Jesus. The man was still moaning but the sounds were already growing more and more faint and we knew he would be dead before long. Just as Fabius began to swing his heavy club at the legs of Jesus I stopped him, saying that it was unnecessary for one could see that Jesus was already dead. Fabius then proceeded to the third crucified one, who was unconscious but alive, and smashed his bones before he returned to stand beside me under Jesus. I could see that he resented my interference, since Fabius is a good man who follows his orders implicitly, so I took the javelin from a nearby soldier and thrust its pointed head deep into the right side of Jesus, bringing forth a large issue of blood and water. ‘See, Fabius,’ I remember saying, ‘that man is already dead. Why waste your strength on a corpse?’ I then told him that his men could remove the other two from their crosses and dispose of their bodies in the common grave but he was not to leave the hill until Joseph of Arimathea arrived to claim the body of Jesus. Then I returned to Pilate and reported that the Galilean was dead, and Joseph was handed the procurator’s written permission to take possession of the body.”

I stared at the tanned centurion, handsome despite an ugly birthmark that crossed from his left ear to his mouth, and I continued to stare until he began to shift nervously in his seat. Several minutes passed before I said, “Pilate informs me that you two have known each other for a long time.”

“Yes, sir,” he exclaimed, obviously relieved to have the subject changed. He threw out his chest proudly, the epitome of every top sergeant who has ever lived. “We fought together under Germanicus!”

“You are not stationed here, am I correct? You come down from Caesarea, with Pilate, for the Jewish feast days?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you live at the headquarters in Caesarea?”

“No, sir, with my family on the outskirts of that city.”

“Did you ever live in or near the village of Capernaum?”