They dragged Nicholas to the back of the compound and locked him into a small room with a door of iron bars. They turned and marched away. This was the typical room reserved for a rebellious slave. The walls were solid brick. Daylight filtered in from the passageway, but he could see nothing of the sky. On one side lay a bed of brick and mortar. On the other, a brick bench with a hole and a pot beneath to relieve himself.
Nicholas silently prayed for strength. He steeled himself for the trial and the execution to come, but hours went by and no one returned through the passageway. In the distance he could catch some snatches of voices and activity. It seemed the typical sounds of a household. As the day faded to darkness, he listened with greater care, hoping to catch some word which would bear news of his fate. But all he could catch was the barest hum of voices, occasional footsteps and the clatter of hooves from the street. The night was cold and still. He curled up on the brick bed with his arms wrapped about his knees and managed to catch a few hours of sleep.
The light of day returned, but no lictors. He began to wonder if Silvanus meant to starve him to death, but after reviewing it in his mind, he became certain that a place to “cool off,” was not an immediate death sentence but a waiting period, a time to rethink his devotion to Christus. He thought to himself, He will not get what he wants. He will only deepen my resolve. He thanked Christus for counting him worthy of suffering for his name’s sake. He thought of his uncle, who by now noticed his disappearance. Did anyone know he was here, or had Silvanus merely seized him as a personal side venture? He hoped his uncle would at least understand that he had been faithful to speak of Christus.
Two days passed like this till his his stomach ached for food and his lips burned for water. At last, he could hear footsteps approaching. His legs felt a bit wobbly, so he merely sat up on his bed. Silvanus came to the door alone. He said, “You’ve had some time to think. I’m sure you are ready to talk now.”
Nicholas silently prayed for strength. He steeled himself for the trial and the execution to come, but hours went by and no one returned through the passageway. In the distance he could catch some snatches of voices and activity. It seemed the typical sounds of a household. As the day faded to darkness, he listened with greater care, hoping to catch some word which would bear news of his fate. But all he could catch was the barest hum of voices, occasional footsteps and the clatter of hooves from the street. The night was cold and still. He curled up on the brick bed with his arms wrapped about his knees and managed to catch a few hours of sleep.
The light of day returned, but no lictors. He began to wonder if Silvanus meant to starve him to death, but after reviewing it in his mind, he became certain that a place to “cool off,” was not an immediate death sentence but a waiting period, a time to rethink his devotion to Christus. He thought to himself, He will not get what he wants. He will only deepen my resolve. He thanked Christus for counting him worthy of suffering for his name’s sake. He thought of his uncle, who by now noticed his disappearance. Did anyone know he was here, or had Silvanus merely seized him as a personal side venture? He hoped his uncle would at least understand that he had been faithful to speak of Christus.
Two days passed like this till his his stomach ached for food and his lips burned for water. At last, he could hear footsteps approaching. His legs felt a bit wobbly, so he merely sat up on his bed. Silvanus came to the door alone. He said, “You’ve had some time to think. I’m sure you are ready to talk now.”
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