“I had been standing watch for perhaps an hour when I heard a strange sound, a moaning of some kind. At first I thought it was an animal in the bushes or one of the sleeping guards having a dream, but as I walked back and forth in front of the tomb, the moaning seemed to be coming from inside! After a while it subsided and I put it out of my mind, thinking that it had been only my imagination or the wind. Then I heard it again, louder, sounding like someone crying out in pain. I ran to the fire, removed a burning branch to use as a torch, and searched in the vicinity of the sepulchre, looking for an animal or even a human who might be injured. I saw nothing. The noise continued, growing louder and louder until there was no doubt that it was coming from inside the tomb. I remember thinking that perhaps the man who had been buried, Jesus, was not dead. Now and then such a thing is known to happen. I leaned against the great stone, my ear against its side, listening, and then the ground shook, but only for a moment.”

“Did the shaking disturb the stone—break the seals?”

“No. Nor did it awaken the three who were sleeping. Then I saw that our fire was in need of more wood, and I had started toward it when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. I turned quickly, removed my dagger from its sheath, and assumed the battle crouch. Walking toward me was a man, and he appeared to be naked!”

“How far were you from the tomb when you first saw him?”

“No more than ten paces.”

“Was he between you and the tomb?”

“Directly.”

“And was the stone still in its proper position?”

“Yes.”

“Not rolled to one side?”

“No.”

“It was a man? Of that you are certain?”

He smiled faintly. “I am positive. The moon was bright and there was still some light from the fire. The man’s body seemed to be giving off its own light, but I reasoned that what I saw must have been only a reflection of the moon and the fire upon the stranger’s skin, as if his body had been covered with oil.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I had been in many battles and faced death often but never before had I known what it was to be afraid. I stood still, my feet rooted to the ground, as the stranger approached me without hesitation. When he was within arm’s length he handed me a white linen cloth, a napkin of some sort, and I reached out and took it from him as if I was his servant.”

“Was your dagger still in your other hand?”