5II
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(Continued)
gray light of dawn would appear there.
His body ached heavily, yet he was not
sleepy. All at once he was overcome
with a wild restlessness. He tried to
control it. When the sun came up, he
could leave with his men. It would not
be long. But the restlessness in him in
creased. He stood up. His subaltern -came
to him. No, he needed nothing. He
was merely cramped. He would walk
about a little.
He checked his sleeping men, tried to
smile at those who were awake and
playing again. No, he would walk alone,
just a short space. They must not allow
themselves to be less alert. They saluted
him, and he walked slowly away. They
murmured among themselves. What
was wrong with the Old Man?
What is wrong with me, and what
am I waiting for? he asked him
self. He looked toward the east again.
Would the sun never come up? This
had been the longest night of his mem
ory. Not even the night he waited for
his young wife to give birth to their
son had been as long as this.
Now the jackals were silent, going in
to their lairs before the dawn. A wind
rose suddenly, strong and quick, and
then dropped. Never had there been
such an awesome silence. Once more
the centurion looked at the east Was
there just the faintest tinge of pink
light showing over yonder silent
mount? Thank the gods. He would re
turn to his men. He swung on his heel,
then reeled.
The ground suddenly shifted under
him, as froman earthquake. He stag
gered, flung out his arms. Then he saw
a tremendous flash of light from the
direction of the tomb. Something was
happening there! He steadied himself,
10 Family Weekly. April 17. 1360
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his heart roaring in his ears. The earth
steadied, too, and he ran quickly toward
the tomb.
He had almost reached the circle of
red firelight when it seemed as if a
great hand seized him and would not let
him go. He could not move. Terrified, he
looked at his men. They had fallen to
the ground as though struck dead or
unconscious. He tried to raise a shout,
but his voice would not spring from his
throat He seemed to be paralyzed.
Then his heart almost died in him.
Was that a man there, rolling back the
stone at the mouth of the tomb? No, it
was not a man, though it had the form
of a man. It was a creature of kingly
height, clad in glowing robes like the
sun and crowned with shimmering light
rising from its shoulders. The stone
rolled back like a curtain in the hands
of the creature. Then the awesome
visitant sat on the stone and, for the
first time, turned its face, fashioned
seemingly of lightning, upon the cen
turion. It had the repose and calmness
of a thing not of earth, and its eyes were
serene and bright. Apparently it saw
the centurion clearly, and the centurion
looked back at it, trembling most vio
lently, unable even to lift his hand.
The strange and unearthly angel
waited, and the centurion waited. The
pink shadow of the coming sun was
brightening over the mountains. There
was an absolute silence, not even the
cry of a bird. The moon was gone.
Darkness was all about, except for the
brilliance of the angel and the dying
fires. Then the angel rose, clasped his
arms across his breast, and bowed his
head. The light from the wings on his
shoulders towered even higher than the
tomb.
The opening of the tomb was black.
But all at once, a light as powerful
as the sun shone from inside the tomb:
I shall surely die now, thought the
trembling centurion. The light bright
ened. Then, in the entrance appealed
a figure even taller than the angel, too
radiant for human eyes to endure,
moving with majestic grace and power,
its features lost in its own brightness.
The air shook and began to blaze about
it. The earth quivered again under the
step of the Figure.
The centurion closed his eyes. He fell
to the ground and covered his head
with his arms, waiting to be struck
dead by Him who had left His tomb. He
could feel the light even through his
closed eyes, his sheltering arms. Did He
pause by the centurion for a moment?
The officer did not know, but later he
was sure of it. Had there been love in
that pausing, that glance? Later, the
officer was certain of it all.
Had he himself, like his men, fallen
unconscious? When he could open
his eyes and raise himself, the first sun
was slanting on that desolate valley,
and the mountains were bright as brass.
The angel was still there, waiting, shin-"-'
ing like the sun itself. And two women
were approaching the tomb along the
long plain. The angel turned and
watched them come in their mourning
garments. The soldiers on the ground
did not move. The fires had died.
Raised weakly on his elbow, the cen
turion watched from his distance. Now
he saw the women's faces, bloated and
stained with tears. Their clothing
dragged in the dust. In their grief, they
did not notice the fallen soldiers. They
clung to each other blindly. When they
reached the tomb, their voices suddenly
cried out as they saw the angel, and
they fell back.
Then the angel spoke, and his voice
filled the air. "Do not be afraid," he
said gently. "I know that you seek
Jesus, who was crucified. He is not
here, for He has risen even as He said."
The women rejoiced as they listened
to the angel. His words came as a deep
echo to the centurion thereafter. The
women ran away, crying out their joy.
The soldiers stirred and muttered
vaguely.
The angel, with the lightning on his
face, looked again at the centurion.
Then he was gone, and the world glit
tered in sunshine on the first Easter.
"He had surely risen," the centurion
said to St. Luke. "I saw it with my
own eyes."
"Surely," said Luke. "He is risen."
Forr.Hi Wceklu. April 17, I960 II