The guard takes the deserter's place

The man entrusted with guarding the martyrs was warming himself nearby at some gymnasium, watching for what would happen, ready to receive any of the soldiers who fled over to him. For this too had been devised: that a bath was nearby, promising swift relief to those who changed their minds. What the enemy had maliciously contrived—finding a place for the contest where the ready comfort would weaken the steadfastness of the contestants—this very thing made the endurance of the martyrs shine more brightly. For it is not the one who lacks necessities who shows endurance, but the one who holds fast amid an abundance of enjoyment. As they were contending and he was watching for the outcome, he saw a strange sight: powers descending from heaven, distributing great gifts to the soldiers as if from a king. To all the others they divided the gifts, but one alone they left without a gift, judging him unworthy of heavenly honors—who, immediately giving up on the struggle, deserted to the enemy. A pitiful sight to the righteous: the soldier a fugitive, the champion a captive, Christ's sheep caught by wild beasts. And what was more pitiful still: he both missed eternal life and did not enjoy this present life, for his flesh dissolved at once when the heat struck him. The lover of life fell, having broken faith to no purpose. But the guard, when he saw him turn aside and run to the bath, put himself in the deserter's place, threw off his garments, and joined himself to the naked ones, crying out the same cry as the saints: "I am a Christian." By the suddenness of his change he astonished those present, filled up the number, and comforted the grief over the one who had weakened by his own addition—imitating those in battle line who, when the man in the first shield falls, immediately fill the gap in the phalanx so that their shield-wall is not broken by the missing one. Something like this he did. He saw the heavenly wonders, recognized the truth, fled for refuge to the Master, and was numbered with the martyrs. He restored the company of the disciples: Judas departed, and Matthias was brought in. He became an imitator of Paul—the one yesterday a persecutor, today preaching the gospel. He too had his call from above, not from men nor through a man. He believed in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; he was baptized into Him, not by another but by his own faith, not in water but in his own blood. And so, as day was beginning, still breathing they were handed over to the fire, and the remains of the fire were cast into the river, so that the contest of the blessed ones passed through all creation. On earth they contended, in the air they endured, to fire they were handed over, the water received them. Theirs is the voice: "We went through fire and water, and You brought us out to refreshment" (Psalm 65:12 (Hebrew 66:12)). These are the ones who have taken hold of our region, like continuous towers providing security against the assaults of the enemy—not shutting themselves up in one place, but already visiting many districts and adorning many homelands. And the wonder is that they do not come to those who receive them divided one by one, but mixed with one another, unitedly they move in company.