In the depths of the night, pilgrims still moved along the streets of the Holy City, streets which normally at this late hour would have been deserted to a lonely Roman guard. But now, for the religious festival of Passover, Jews had come from all the world, more than the city could absorb, and the large, tall man, his robe hooded about his head, attracted no more attention than any other.

Peter drifted without direction, a shadow moving among shadows on the dark streets. A few short hours before his life had held purpose. Now, it was as aimless as his wanderings. All life’s meaning and design had crumbled in an instant. His mind was clouded, too filled with sorrow and disappointment to understand the events that had led to that horrible moment.

Could it have been as he pictured it? He st…