They tell you it’s more than two hundred miles away, and suggest you rest here instead, since the next city, to the west, lies thirty miles away. But you ignore their advice. You’re tired, and the weight of dejection drags at your bones, but you must press on. Your goal, however illusory, is the only thing you have left.
As you approach the city’s outer gate, a commotion rises around you:
— Theodore is dead! Theodore is dead! — you hear, again and again.
You know who they are speaking of. Theodore, the insurgent against Emperor Claudius.
— How did he die? — you ask one of the people roaming near the city gate:
— Betrayed by his own. — he answers, voice sharp:
— We’ve discovered the culprits! Wolves among us! Two traders. They spied on Theodore and betrayed his location to the emperor! — He spits on the ground. — Scoundrels! They sold their souls for gold. For that, they’ll burn in hell.
— Fire can only burn flesh, — you reply calmly.
— Then we’ll send them there with their bodies intact! — he retorts, furious at your nonchalance. — Who are you? What side are you on?
— My own side, mostly, but if you mean this particular case: the side of justice.
— We’re delivering justice at this very moment, — he smirks.
— If that’s what you’ve convinced yourself of.
He glares at you like a mad dog:
— Listen, foreigner, you don’t know the customs of this place. Keep your morals well tucked in, lest they be severed otherwise.
You ignore his vain threats. A barking dog doesn’t bite, after all.
— Who are these traders? — you ask, your voice tinged with fear.
— New arrivals to the city, — comes the answer. — They brought a large caravan, laden with the fruits of their treason.
You gulp in anguish. You had seen the caravan of the good Samaritans who saved your life—laden with golden and silvery treasures. Never before had you witnessed so much noble metal in one place. Yet now, you know these people carry blood on their conscience.
— Where are the trials taking place? — you ask.
He laughs at the word trials. You both know you’re being ironic, and he takes your sarcasm lightly.
— They’re being held at the pillory, in the main square. The show has just begun. You’re just in time for the spectacle. — He sneers, then turns and walks away.
So it was true? Your saviors had traded that man’s life for coin?
How can people be so kind to some, yet so ruthlessly cruel to others? Was it his blood that paved the way for your survival—his sacrifice that granted you the safety and transport to chase a goal that might vanish in thin air the moment you reach it?
You feel even more dejected than before. How cruel fate is—to force you to choose between fulfilling your destiny with a conscience sullied by the blood of a good man, or giving it all up on moral grounds. That man’s life was likely worth a thousand of yours, but he is dead now. There’s nothing you can do about it.
Avenge him? For what purpose? Refuse the gifts his executioners bestowed on you? Would that undo the wrong done to the world?
You’re apolitical—at times, eclectic, even—but you know tyranny when you see it, and you know it’s wrong. You don’t care much for the fate of these foreigners, but if pressed, you’d side with freedom. You’d choose liberty over submission to the whims of a capricious emperor.
Too late to act on decisions you didn’t take. You’re off to a new city and, soon, to a new country, over which Emperor Claudius holds no dominion. How ludicrous power is—expanding only up to imaginary lines drawn by whimsical people. Just as the sun’s power over the desert fades at a certain hour, so too does an emperor’s sovereignty end at a certain distance. Yet time and distance are fundamentally entwined.
You have no intention of watching two men—those who helped you—suffer. You don’t expect your presence to sway much either, but perhaps you could calm the crowd, plead their case to any merciful souls among them, and at least spare the condemned the agony of torture by granting them a swift death. Yet moments like these are rare, and you feel the weight of a decision pressing down on you.
You leave the city behind, letting these foreigners resolve their own issues.
You make your way to the main square, determined to help those who helped you.
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