Passion of Perpetua and Felicity, Passion of Perpetua and Felicity 2

A few days later word spread that we would be brought to trial. My father arrived from the city, worn out with anxiety, and came to me trying to break my resolve. "Have pity on my grey hairs, daughter," he said. "Have pity on your father, if I deserve to be called father by you. I brought you to this prime of life; I favored you above all your brothers. Do not hand me over to public disgrace. Look at your brothers. Look at your mother and aunt. Look at your son, who cannot survive you. Give up this stubbornness, or you will destroy us all. None of us will be able to speak freely if you suffer anything." He spoke out of paternal love, kissing my hands and throwing himself at my feet. With tears he called me not daughter but lady. I ached for his grey hairs, because he alone of my whole family would find no joy in my suffering. I comforted him: "What happens on that platform will be as God wills. Know that we are not in our own power, but in God's." He left me in sorrow.

Another day, while we were eating, we were suddenly seized for the hearing and taken to the forum. The news raced through the surrounding streets, and an immense crowd gathered. We mounted the tribunal. The others were questioned and confessed. When my turn came, my father appeared at once with my son, pulled me down from the step, and pleaded: "Have pity on the infant." Hilarianus the procurator — who held the power of the sword in place of the deceased proconsul Minucius Timinianus — said: "Spare your father's grey hairs; spare the boy's childhood. Offer sacrifice for the emperors' safety." I answered: "I will not." Hilarianus asked: "Are you a Christian?" I answered: "I am a Christian." When my father tried to drag me down, Hilarianus ordered him thrown aside and struck with a rod. I felt his fall as if I had been struck myself; I grieved for his miserable old age. Then he pronounced sentence on us all and condemned us to the beasts. We went down to prison joyful. Because my infant was used to nursing from me and staying with me in prison, I immediately sent Pomponius the deacon to my father asking for the child. My father refused to give him up. But as God willed, the child no longer craved milk, and I did not develop fever, so that I would not be worn out by anxiety for the infant and the pain of my breasts.

After a few days, while we were all praying, a voice came to me in the middle of the prayer and I named Dinocrates. I was astonished that he had never entered my mind until that moment, and I grieved at the memory of his death. I knew at once that I was worthy, and that I ought to pray for him. I began to pray earnestly for him and to groan to the Lord. That same night a vision was shown to me: I saw Dinocrates coming out of a dark place where many others were, panting and very thirsty, his face dirty and pale, with a wound on his face from his death. This Dinocrates was my flesh-and-blood brother, seven years old, who had died horribly of a cancerous face, so that his death was repulsive to everyone. I had prayed for him, and between us there was a great gulf, so that neither could reach the other. In that same place where Dinocrates was, there was a pool full of water, its rim higher than the boy's height. He stretched himself out as if to drink. I grieved that the pool held water, yet because of the height of the rim he could not drink. I awoke, and I knew my brother was suffering. But I trusted my prayer would help his suffering, and I prayed for him every day until we were transferred to the military prison, for we were to fight in the garrison games. It was then the birthday of Caesar Geta, and I prayed for him day and night, groaning and weeping, that he might be granted to me.

On the day we were in the stocks, a vision was shown to me: I saw that same place I had seen before as dark, now bright. Dinocrates had a clean body, was well dressed, and was refreshed. Where the wound had been, I saw a scar. The pool I had seen before now had its rim lowered to the boy's navel. He drew water from it without ceasing, and on the rim stood a cup full of water. Dinocrates came and began to drink from it, and the cup did not fail. When he had drunk his fill, he left the water to play, rejoicing like a child. I awoke. Then I understood that he had been delivered from his punishment.