There was no jury. The judge took less than twenty minutes to reach a verdict. I was guilty and sentenced to execution by deathwand.
I stood and asked that the sentence be delayed until I could get word to my aunt and cousins in north Aquila so that they could visit me one last time. My request was denied. The time of execution was set for sunrise on the following day.
3
A priest from the Pax monastery in Port Romance came to visit me that evening. He was a small, somewhat nervous man with thinning blond hair and a slight stutter. Once in the windowless visiting room, he introduced himself as Father Tse and waved the guards away. “My son,” he began, and I felt the urge to smile, since the priest looked to be about my age, “my son… are you prepared for tomorrow?”
Any urge to smile fled. I shrugged.
Father Tse chewed his lip. “You have not accepted Our Lord…” he said, voice tense with emotion.
I had the urge to shrug again but spoke instead. “I haven’t accepted the cruciform, Father. It might not be the same thing.” His brown eyes were insistent, almost pleading. “It is the same thing, my son. Our Lord has revealed this.” I said nothing.
Father Tse set down his missal and touched my bound wrist. “You know that if you repent this night and accept Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, that three days after… tomorrow… you will rise to live again in the grace of Our Lord’s forgiveness.” His brown eyes did not blink. “You do know this, do you not, my son?”
I returned his gaze. Some prisoner in the adjoining cell block had screamed most of the last three nights. I felt very tired. “Yes, Father,” I said. “I know how the cruciform works.”