John smiled sadly. “It was not difficult. Martha led me to them, all huddled together like frightened sheep, hiding in a woods behind her home. Their spirits were already so broken that they listened to my tale of the trials and crucifixion and burial as if they had expected it. What they had not expected, and would not believe, was my announcement that Jesus had risen from the dead as he had said he would. I remember Thomas telling me to take my story to the women, for they might believe me, but he, for one, would have to see the grave and the linens with his own eyes and even then he would have serious doubts. Some of the others, as blind as I had been, ridiculed my story, asking how it was that Jesus could have the power to rise from the dead when he had been unable to prevent Caiaphas from arresting him and Pilate from hanging him on a cross. It did no good to reason with them or to remind them of all that Jesus had prophesied about his future. Sick of heart, I departed from them and returned to the city and this house.”

Now my frustration was complete. John had certainly confirmed Peter’s earlier testimony that the two of them had spent all the hours, between the burial and discovery of the empty tomb, here in this house. Neither of them could have possibly been implicated in the grave robbery.

Even more damaging, so far as my investigation was concerned, both Peter and John had corroborated the words of Matthew and James concerning the other nine apostles who had fled to Bethany. None of them, I was now positive, had been responsible for the empty tomb!

Scratch eleven apostles. And Pilate. And Caiaphas.

The one-man Christ Commission’s list of suspects was dwindling swiftly—almost as fast as his confidence.

twelve

THE WIDOW MARY was no longer dozing on the faded wicker couch beneath the dense pomegranate trees when Joseph and I followed John down into the courtyard from the upper room. In her place, but occupying only the lower half of the couch, was another woman, busily shelling dried peas into a wooden bowl cradled in her lap by folds of a full-length black dress. She was a beauty. Her long flowing hair was the shade of antique bronze, and her skin was so fair that I found myself foolishly wondering why she had no freckles.