The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

another, and all was shared that must be shared.
    Guthrun’s life pulsed through Simon’s mind. His mother, a gnarled woman in the same trade as himself; a father he never knew but dreamed of often; later, his woman; the children she had borne for him; the trade in wax and the long hours they spent dredging a living from it. And underneath all that, the growing sense of injustice. Thoughts, no more than brief ideas, of a new way of life where men could be free. Anger, bitterness, resentment. The longing for change. And the desire to bring it about.
    With a gasp, Simon broke the link. The world drifted back into place and he was in his own mind again.
    Ralph stepped forward. “Well?”
    The scribe wiped his hand upwards over his face and saw that sweat glistened on his palm.
    “He is a poor man,” he said. “As are many across the lands, my lord.”
    “Do not tell me what I already know, Simon. Tell me what of evil you have found in this man’s mind. Have you found anger? The desire to do violence to the system we live under?”
    “Really, my lord, nothing more than what is common to us all,” he began, but Ralph made a gesture of impatience and gripped his shoulder.
    “Name what you found,” he said, his voice low, urgent. “Name it, by the gods and stars.”
    Challenged in such a way, Simon thought he had no choice. The power of the Beings, who ruled far above, in the skies, was still strong in his understanding of life. Later, of course, their hold on him became weaker. A change perhaps as much his fault as theirs. But for now, Ralph’s challenge left him with no further decision to make.
    “Yes, my lord,” he said. “Yes, I found those things that you say. Anger. Bitterness. The desire for change. Perhaps violent change. But, not to the extent that…”
    “In a greater measure than you would have expected?”
    Simon was breathing quickly now and, still under oath, he nodded. “Perhaps, my lord, but that is only because...”
    “Good,” Ralph spoke over any protests, such as there were, and drowned him out. “In that case, we have no other choice. Thank you, my friend, for helping me to reach my decision.”
    Without a second thought, Ralph strode to the table and picked the nearer of the two stones from it. The red one. Simon took a step back, throat suddenly dry. At the same time, Ralph seized the prisoner’s hand and crushed the stone within it. Guthrun whimpered like a beaten dog.
    Turning to the guards, Ralph snapped out a series of orders that left Simon breathless.
    “Take him,” he said. “Sound the drums. We will hang the waxmaker tonight.”
    “No please, my lord, I…”
    “ Silence , Simon, or it will go worse for you.”
    Simon stepped back and staggered against the wall while the soldiers dragged the man, now weeping and shaking, out of the room and along the first of the many corridors to the hanging place.
    He opened his mouth but no words came out. Simon had never seen the man he had come to love act like this. Ralph must have good reason for it, he told himself over and over again. He must have good reason. It was he himself who was being weak. The Overlord was sworn to protect his people and this must be the surest way to go about it.
    Just before he left, Ralph smiled.
    “Well done,” he said. “You have done a brave and loyal deed tonight. It will not be forgotten. I will reward you well and in double measure. With goods and my protection. Of course. And with love.”
    Simon slid down the wall, collapsing to his knees on the floor. He stayed in that room for nearly a story’s length before venturing out again, the same mantra ringing in his ears: he has good reason; he is sworn to protect his people; he has good reason . By then, the drums were at their full voice and Simon could hear the shouts, some excited and some sorrowful, of the villagers. Not wishing to see the death to its conclusion, he crept home, keeping to the shadows. He remained awake for the rest of the night, the wild pace of his heart keeping rest far away.
    This was the first of his killings for Ralph Tregannon.
    The next night, he called for the scribe and Simon went to him. Willingly, and still with the need in his heart to be with Ralph. Come what may and for as long as he allowed it. May the gods and stars forgive him for his cowardice and his desire, and have mercy on those he caused to die.

    Johan
    May the gods have mercy.
    Once again, in the present, silence falls between the two men.