The man died beaten and crushed and humiliated.
The crowds laughed and jeered.
The lions lapped up his blood and fought over his bones.
But there was one in the crowd who witnessed his death without laughter. She knew this man. She knew why he was there, why he was killed for what he spoke.
She did not laugh at his death.
She wept silent tears and admired his courage and fortitude.
She wondered what gave him that strength. What did he know that she did not?
Why did he face such torments and not yield to their demands? Why did he not curse the gods and wish death upon his tormenters?
Why did peace glow about his face moments before he died? What did he see? What did he know?
She needed to know.
She wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
She would know.
She would discover the cause of his courage, the reason for his peace, the seed of his joy.
And she would know his truth.