John frowned for the first time and sat up straight. “Mary Magdalene came to me during the afternoon of our Sabbath and said that although they had seen the place where Jesus was to be buried they had not entered the garden, since it was private, to see whether or not the body had been washed, anointed, and wrapped in accordance with our laws. The burial, she feared, might have been performed in haste since sundown had been fast approaching. She told me that she and some of the women were going to the grave, in the early morning, with spices and oils and linens to anoint our Lord properly, and she wanted me to accompany them so that I might move whatever stone had been placed against the opening. I told her that I dared not leave Peter, in his state, nor did I have the strength to walk to the city gate, much less to Golgotha, and she became very angry with me, calling me a coward and other names. They went in the morning without me.”

“None of you knew that the high priest had sealed the tomb and posted a guard?”

“No. Caiaphas had apparently made those arrangements during the Sabbath. If the women had known, they would not have gone.”

“What happened next?”

“Soon after they departed, Peter sat up in bed and asked for food. The widow brought him a bowl of hot soup and cheese, and because of his condition I waited until he had eaten his fill before I told him the terrible news that our Lord was dead.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He listened quietly while I confided what little I knew, without dwelling at any length on the crucifixion I had witnessed. Then he embraced me and we both cried. The world, for us, had ended at Gethsemane. Finally he fell back on the bed and stared up at the beams, and I could see his lips moving in prayer. This continued until Mary Magdalene burst into the room looking as if all the demons that Jesus had once driven out of her had returned. She fell across Peter and began shaking the poor man, crying, ‘They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb and we know not where they have laid him!’ Spittle flew from her mouth and her eyes protruded from their sockets as she repeated the same words, again and again, until the widow came and took her away and comforted her. Peter crawled from the bed, put on his sandals and tunic, and asked if I knew where they had buried Jesus, and when I nodded he said, ‘Let us go, let us see for ourselves.’ We both ran most of the way, and to this day I do not know where either of us found the strength. I arrived at the tomb first, just as the sun’s first glow appeared in the east.”