Chapter 29

The next day, Mencius had come to see him. Glaucus, admitting him, had waited. The court order, he said, required him to remain. The Proconsul had sat silent for a while before speaking.

‘Peter,’ he began, gently reproachful, ‘why did you do it? Fabius was doing his best to save you.’

‘I had to tell the truth,’ Peter had replied. ‘I disowned my Master once. I think he depends on me not to do it again.’

‘But—did you have to say that the Master’s Kingdom would rule the world? Judge Fabius is really quite a decent fellow. He did not want to inflict the sentence of death upon you. It was your prediction of the fall of the Empire that left him helpless. Had he been lenient with you, the Emperor would have punished him.’

‘And you have risked too much, Mencius,’ said Peter in Greek. ‘Much as I value your aid—’

‘None of that, Peter!’ broke in Glaucus. ‘You will speak in our tongue!’

‘I am having another session with Fabius,’ said Mencius, ignoring the interruption. ‘Perhaps the sentence may be commuted… This makes me sick at heart, Peter.’

* * * * *

And so the days had dragged on. The day after tomorrow would mark the expiration of Peter’s month in prison.

Late that afternoon, Mencius had come. His haggard face made his report unnecessary. He laid his hand on Peter’s arm and sadly shook his head.

‘I am permitted to be with you for only a moment,’ he said. ‘But on Friday morning, I shall be here for a farewell word. Is there anything I can do for you, Peter?’

‘Pray for me, good Mencius, that my faith fail not.’

‘I have prayed for you, Peter,’ murmured Mencius, ‘but it hasn’t done you any good.’

‘I’m sure it has!’ said Peter. ‘I haven’t been afraid. Your prayers may have helped me. You have been a loyal friend, Mencius. We will meet, one day, in our Father’s House!’