Obviously I cannot say how long I continued like this. I was the measure of all things. My thoughts kept time; some thoughts took a long time to think; some became immediately clear. I know that finally a change came, a kind of murmuring among the ghosts in the dungeon.
Then I began to hear shouting — of all things, the shouting of battle. At first I could see nothing — then the dungeon seemed to grow lighter at one end. I turned and began to walk toward that light. I did not know what was there, but joy and hope had suddenly flamed within me.
As I moved toward the light, the signs of battle grew more apparent. There were shouts, screams, and finally even faces, horrible faces like the one that had tried to deceive me and, failing that, to swallow me up. But these faces, like the wind, had no time to stop for anything so trivial as to belabor a dead soldier. It was run for your life, every man for himself. Or every horrid face thing for itself.
Suddenly there was the feeling of a vast rush, as if an entire vile army had swept over me, ignoring me in its panic and fear. And then the light swept away the fog.
I stood on a vast plain. In every direction there stretched rows of figures, spirits who had sought the light when it had first come. But I had no time to look at those figures because my eye — or ghostly counterpart thereof — was drawn to the Victorious One who stood before me at the center of the light.
He was, of all things, a man. He was robed in white, with hair white as snow. His eyes flashed as with flame. He had a blood red sash that he wore over his shoulder. He was an intimidating figure but even so I could see that he had been born of woman.
As I looked I noticed that the war he had fought had not left him unscathed. He had wounds — his hands and feet were pierced. I recognized immediately that he had been crucified by men who knew what they were doing. I somehow also saw that he had been pierced in the side, again by someone who knew exactly where to stab to make sure that he was dead. Then suddenly I realized — he was dead!
Well, so was I. And he seemed a lot more lively than I had been when I got here. Then suddenly he spoke, and his words were like a sword coming out of his mouth and sounded like thunder.
“Prisoners!” he said. “I bring good news! Liberty to all captives and the opening of the prison! I bring you salvation! I come to show the way out! I myself am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life! Come, follow me!”
If I had still had a heart I would have said that it leaped within me. A sense of joy filled me. I went forward, hoping to get closer to this Liberator. I looked to find his army, those who had aided him in his battle. But I saw none. He was alone.
For just a moment I was tempted to draw back, thinking that he was doomed to defeat. Then I realized that even if he was doomed, I would gladly be doomed with him. When I heard him speak I heard an echo of the whisper that had accompanied me in my imprisonment.
Suddenly I heard a new voice. “Novius!” I looked — it was my wife! She was transparent, as I was, but I could recognize her face and her voice. I rushed toward her and tried to grasp her hands, but of course that was futile, as was her attempt to embrace me. I said, “We must go with this man,” and I pointed at our Liberator. My wife said, “Thank Jove! I thought I would go crazy. Only my memories of you helped me make it through this terrible time.”
We walked toward our Liberator. He shouted, “Come!” and turned and started walking away. We followed. In front of him there was a tremendous hubub as if an army of millions stood to block our way. Again I wondered if we would be overrun with him. Suddenly he raised his arm and shouted “Open!” The army of evil demons in front of him parted like leaves blown away by a gale. He strode forward, seeming to grow to the stature of a colossus.
All around me were people weeping (without tears, of course), laughing, shouting, singing. Someone was singing “Hymn to Zeus” and we joined in heartily. Others were singing other songs in other languages, but we could hear that they all praised Jove. As I listened more closely I realized that we all praised a God with another name, with many names, and that Jove was just the name I had learned as a Roman. His real, true name was “I Am.”
Suddenly the last of the gray fell away. The light was now full as if the sun had just risen, and all around us was green grass. Streams of clear water flowed, watering the grass. Trees grew throughout the meadows.
Then as we walked through this paradise, we saw a vast building, a palace. The gate was open and servants stood waiting. As our Liberator walked toward the palace, a cry went up: “Worthy is the Lamb! For you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation!”
… To Be Concluded ….