“To this very day I cannot remember much of what followed. I know that I walked from the quarters of Caiaphas in shame, wishing that I was dead. As soon as I was out of the courtyard, after bidding good night to the others, I threw the coins in the street. Then I began to run until I found myself once again on the road outside the city, this time heading north toward the garden and its tomb, and all the while I was crying out at the top of my voice, ‘Jesus is not dead—he has risen from his grave! Jesus is not dead—he has risen from his grave!’ and that is all I can recall until I awoke, here, in the home of Nicodemus.”

“Did you tell Nicodemus all that had happened?”

“Yes, but he did not seem surprised at my news. His servants fed me and bathed me and put me to bed, and I have remained here, in peace, ever since.”

“And Caiaphas has never suspected that you are still alive.”

“Nicodemus has protected me well. Few visitors come to this place, and rare is the person he will allow in this garden. Usually those who are permitted to view the flowers and the tomb, with its great stone, are brought here by Joseph of Arimathea, as you were.”

“Oh! And how many, would you say, has Joseph brought here since the garden has been in your care?”

Shobi squinted up at the sky, rubbing his calloused thumb pensively against his lower lip. “In five years, perhaps ten—both men and women.”

“Were you allowed to talk with all of them and tell your story?”

“Oh, yes. Of course they were all sworn to secrecy by Joseph, as you were, for the length of their stay in the city.”

“Do you, by any chance, remember any of their names?”

“Some I can recall. One was called Tolstoy, another Augustine. There were men named Dante and Aquinas and Milton and … oh, yes … a lovely young woman by the name of Joan. Many, like yourself, came from lands beyond the sea.”

Leaning toward the big man I hugged him and said, “Peace be with you, Shobi.”

He returned my embrace, saying, “And peace be with you for all your days, Matthias.”

fourteen

ALL NIGHT I PACED the floor of my room, reviewing in my mind every fact I had brought to light in my four days of investigation. To no avail.

Conclusion: case closed.

John’s testimony yesterday, followed by Mark’s convincing story, had brought me to the brink of admitting, to Joseph as well as myself, that I had been wrong. No one had removed the body of Jesus. There had been no hoax perpetrated on the people by the followers of Jesus. Shobi’s climactic account had pushed me over the edge. I had failed to prove my case. I had, instead, proved that I had no case from the beginning!