Ten Stops to Rotterdemm
By Steven Filizzola
September, 2015
steve@stevenfilizzola.com 914-837-1526 www.stevenfilizzola.com
~ 1 ~
The decree of the Grand Council was precise. Jacob, the wise and noble son of the Supreme Ruler, sat at the right hand of his father as he pronounced his command.
“We shall send Jacob back on one final mission. One of even greater consequence than the last.”
Twelve High Scribes sat around the long oval table in the master chamber. They looked at one another bemused. The very thought of another journey through ten turbulent lands was a notion they had never considered. It was not often that an assembly of such significance was summoned, so it was presumed that absolute condemnation would at last be declared. They were indeed correct.
The Supreme Ruler leaned back on his throne, his chin resting on his folded hands. He turned to Jacob, doubting whether he should pronounce of what he was sure.
“I believe it is time, my dear son, to at last forsake our creation. One begun long ago with admirable intentions. But our calls for righteousness were never granted, our pleads for virtue not once considered. There is no more we can do to save them, a creation that we must now deem as one done with noble desires, yet one that was alas doomed.”
Jacob had once forewarned the lands that such ills would give rise to a profound and bitter outcome, as had his father many years prior. Jacob had completed his mission with great success, returning with all the glory and honor deserving of the most valiant and mighty of Kings. But that was years ago and in a different era, a civilization that seemed a bit more contrite. Things had since changed, his prophecies long forgotten. The world had shamed the mighty Council time and again.
The Scribes turned to Jacob to take heed of his words. There was not one among them who would dare dispute the desires of the Supreme Ruler, other than his bold and faithful son.
“I shall find virtue in their ways,” said Jacob to his father. He repeated his words and then turned to the assembly before him. He hesitated as he pondered of what he was sure. “I am certain that they will at last seek a path more just. They will show empathy for their transgressions and sorrow for their contempt.”
The High Scribes whispered among themselves. They had hoped for a better outcome after Jacob’s last mission, but innocence had succumbed to bitter vice in a world they no longer understood. Yet not one of them doubted the revelation of Jacob, once a renowned student, now a famed teacher.
“Then we shall offer them one final chance,” said the Supreme Ruler, a deed he had never before granted. “My beloved son shall determine if the world remains one of greed and malice and depravity. And he will judge if they have at last resolved to mend their falsehearted ways.”
It would be a secret mission, with no army to accompany Jacob, no guns or servants or coins of gold. The Council would use his findings to render their final judgment on the civilization they had once created but no longer pitied, one in which they had the power to terminate when deemed that there was no longer hope for redemption.
When the last of the Scribes left the chamber, Jacob turned to his father and bowed to the man most powerful of all. “I have profound faith that I will return bearing noble tales. And I am certain, my dear father, that you shall not regret the wise and just decision you have proclaimed.”
The situation in the world may have grown to be ominous, but the ardent and eager Jacob was certain that the prophecies he had pronounced on his maiden journey would at last be heeded. And he endeavored to prove so along his ten stops to Rotterdemm.
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By the time Jacob had passed into Lethinia, he had spent several days crossing the barren lands that surrounded most of the ancient province. It had been built centuries ago and when its grand Temple had been erected it was at once considered the center of the Southern Territories. Now its narrow roads could barely hold two wagons passing by, its paths so aged that the pebbles had disappeared and given way to dirt and mud and weeds that reached to one’s ankles. An archaic land trying desperately to call itself the sacred capital of the South.
The path was crowded with vendors and carts of goods for sale, clouds of dust rushing upwards with each spin of a wheel. Jacob continued on as best he could, pausing every few steps as someone from behind knocked into him or a hurried courier crossed in front. His pace slowed with each stride until at last he came to a halt. A swarm of people quickly passed him by, some taking a moment to glance at the man who seemed neither confused nor lost as he stood silently among the boisterous crowd.
He gazed to each side, from the blacksmith to the tavern to the open market where laborers packed wagons full of provisions. A few stared at him with a curiosity that quickly passed. His hands were folded at his waist and his face lacked any expression, concealing his unease for the long journey ahead. Jacob had not been born a Lethinian and had spent little time in the land except for the few days he had passed through on his previous mission. His rather common appearance was enough so that he fit in well with a mass of beings that barely recognized his presence. His thinly brimmed hat matched his black trousers, a buttoned vest concealing a white collared shirt. He was tall and unadorned, his shoes polished but dusty, his beard long and well-groomed.
Two old men, feeble and tousled, sat against the planks of a stable, hoping to collect a few coins. Jacob had not many to spare but he managed to leave something behind for each. Decent, they seemed to Jacob. He did not know if they were drunkards or swindlers or perhaps villains wrought of sin. But he was sure that they deserved at least the pittance he had placed in each of their hands.
The anticipation that Jacob felt when accepting the mission decreed by his father had given way to sudden qualm. Doubt battled confidence, passion braved weariness. The memory of his last expedition obsessed his soul. The virtue of the world he was about to encounter suddenly became a question that lingered inside his jaded mind. He had never before sensed such bitter despair; a mission undertaken with noble desires that, perhaps, was doomed.
He lingered on, grateful to have returned after so many years, confounded by how the land had changed. What had once been a humble town was now an overcrowded city, scores of buildings placed in every corner leaving little space for the masses to wander. Only the grand Temple seemed to have survived the age of transformation, its polished gray stones and oval wooden doors of considerable prominence in a town besieged by age. Some said it had been built by the early settlers of Lethinia whom ordered their slaves to construct it stone by stone over the course of three decades.
On the bottom step of the old Temple, resting against a statue of a god and a naked angel carved of stone stood Simon, the town Elder. He was large yet gentle, a thick beard covering his rotund face. He was the son of the last Chief Cleric and had gained his prominence less on wisdom than on sincerity and goodness.
Simon had not been told why he would be meeting Jacob and knew little of whom he was or why he had entered the province. Jacob was not like the usual men of prominence that Simon was acquainted with. He was neither a peacekeeper nor a mediator, nor was he chosen to moderate or negotiate a settlement. He was not a spy or an envoy of a King and he most certainly was not a prosperous nobleman. Simon had received word from the High Governor of Jacob’s imminent arrival and the town Elder was chosen to greet their guest and set him on course without too long a stay. He planned to conclude his duties well before sundown.
Jacob knew well of Simon, but of a greeter he had no need. He had expected the Elder to guide him beyond the city and into the forbidden outer reaches, for that was his real destination. Simon had never met Jacob, but as he slowly approached through the crowd he watched him warily, studying as best he could this man who had already begun to impress him. Jacob had been the only one he had observed that morning to offer the vagrants a bit of empathy.
“Salvete,” uttered Simon, his unease concealed with a gracious wave. Jacob nodded and offered his hand, which was embraced with a bow; it was clear that the town elder was standing before someone far greater than he.
Simon took a few steps in the direction from where Jacob had appeared, but when he looked back to make certain that a spy was not following him he saw Jacob signaling that they proceed in the opposite direction. And so they went, the town Elder and the mysterious visitor, side by side, heading away from the crowds and towards the fields of the countryside that most, including Simon, had never dared enter.
They walked along the pebble road for several minutes. Jacob took in every detail before him while his guide fretted the decision to follow a course that was surely forbidden. The Elder was unsure how to deter his guest, whether he should perhaps advise Jacob that they must turn back or say nothing and hope for the good blessings of the gods. The city was no longer in sight, except for the fading view of the tower from the Temple that seemed less renowned than Simon had remembered. A sense of doubt suddenly overtook him, his hands rubbing one another as he looked behind and ahead and back once again. The road was desolate and secluded, a barren land separating the great metropolis from a world quite distinct.
“My dear Jacob, it may be best to turn back now.”
But Jacob did not reply and continued to forge ahead. Simon insisted again, this time a bit more persuasively but still lacking the conviction that he had hoped for. “Perhaps we shall return to the city at once,” he said as he placed two fingers against his mouth to hide his angst.
“It was many years ago when that was an empty land of rocks and trees, where the hills would bring floods in times of monsoons and famine in times of drought.” Jacob looked far into the distance and saw a towering stone wall encircling a field of land vast and remote. His voice was certain, as it always was. “Now, people are damned to live there in banishment.”
Simon hesitated with his reply, being careful to choose his words wisely as the High Governor had instructed. “They built a wall long ago. The Governor ordered his slaves to do so. To keep the children in and forbid their thievery.”
That was indeed exact. The Governor had built a massive wall of rock and stone as high as the tower of a temple. The official register noted that six thousand and two servants labored until the final stone was placed in the fourteenth year. But he considered his governance prudent and just; he could not simply pull the lowly from their shacks and send them into banishment. So the wise and wily Governor sent the Collector of the Taxes to do so. He rode on horseback through the paths and posted a notice at all the bath houses in town, tacking one to the door of each shack where he deemed a lowly wretch to live. Its revelation could not be misconstrued. Any citizen who could not forfeit six coins to the tax collector would be sent to dwell in a land just beside the city. A rather splendid place said the notice inscribed in finely printed letters.
It was clear to the Elder that his guest did not quite grasp why a wall was erected to keep children trapped inside. Jacob gazed at him curiously as his pace slowed, waiting patiently for him to finish his thought. Simon paused so as to carefully select his words. They had asked him to greet Jacob, show him through the city, relieve his doubts and set him on his way. The Elder felt as though he was perhaps failing in his duties.
“Those who are not worthy live on the other side, away from the city. The animals graze in the land in between. At nightfall the children come to pilfer from the streets. As they make their way back to the other side they take the animals with them for slaughter.”
Simon was certain that it was the fields beyond the great wall that were to be their final destination. Any hope of satisfying his duties before sundown had long faded away. He was no closer to understanding Jacob than he had been when he had studied him earlier that day, shadowing him throughout the crowded city.
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Few ever made the lengthy journey to the other side, except for generals and vengeful guards in search of those that they could condemn of thievery to oblige their masters. Simon had not given up hope of turning back and began to reason with Jacob, which had yet to offer him any solace.
“Beyond the great wall is not a place for us. It is not safe, nor proper that we enter. I have heard of ghastly things that happen to those who do not belong.”
But Jacob did not seem convinced. The silence of his guest left Simon intrigued, yet poised to continue on with his pleas.
“I have seen those, the ones who wander into the city at nightfall. They are sinful and depraved. They loot and steal and flee back to their tents by cover of night.”
Jacob stopped and turned towards Simon, grabbing his shoulder to halt his next step. A desolate silence. The Elder did not know whether he had offended or confused his guest, or perhaps startled him with a provoking thought. He never considered the possibility that he had at last persuaded his willful companion.
“Then we shall seek those wicked beasts of which you speak.”
Simon found not a word to reply.
They continued on their way, the Elder restless at such an onerous request. Jacob pondered the events of his first journey. He was a young man when he was tendered his initial assignment by the Grand Council, one too complex and treacherous to be trusted to anyone but the great student. He had travelled through the very provinces that he was about to enter again, his directive well-defined. He was to convince the masses that their depraved and decadent ways would soon bring ruin to their civilization and that they could no longer survive on the doomed path they had chosen.
“I have travelled many lands, my dear Simon. I have seen massacres for reigns of dominance and bloodshed for coins of gold. I have seen babies drowned and motherless children maimed and beaten. I have seen widows weeping at the feet of their dead, lands raped and races slaughtered. I have seen men bound in chains, famines and killing fields and crusades between sects. Today I have come to see what is on the other side of the wall and you, my good man, will lead me.”
And so the two carried on, one destined to reach a land that he was compelled to explore, the other yet unable to comprehend the purpose of their mission. The towering stone wall that separated the city from what lay beyond stood just ahead.
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Jacob was not sure if the guards allowed them to pass since they knew the town Elder. Simon wondered if they were let through because of the presence of his distinguished guest. The two stood just inside the wall as the guards locked the iron gates behind them. Jacob observed the land as he had the city, taking a few moments to gaze in all directions. Simon looked on in awe. He had expected the tales to have been exaggerated, fables passed down by those who had never entered the other side of the great wall. But it was worse. Endless rows of battered tents sat atop dirt and mud; shabby cabins of rotted wood and sordid buildings ran along each side. There were no trees or grass, not a bench on which to sit or a flower to be plucked. A rancid smell came from behind and ahead. Simon had read about places like this, towns erected by despair for those seeking refuge after war. But there had been no battles in Lethinia since the King was deposed a century ago.
It was late in the evening and there were few wandering around the grounds. Some sat outside their tents, a gathering of faces lacking expression. Children huddled against their mothers. They were short and scrawny, their bellies either gaunt or bulging. Their bony arms tried to wave away the bugs that found refuge on their bodies, but they did not succeed.
Simon wondered what had brought Jacob to such a land and why it was he, the one most often derided for his naivety, who had been chosen to lead him. Perhaps he had fulfilled his duty and led his guest valiantly to a place where most would have refused to go. But he doubted that his journey had concluded.
Jacob knew well of the plight of those sent to live beyond the wall, for it had been well- documented by the High Scribes. They were provided with just enough to endure and left with little means to revolt. Their children were born to the same destiny with no prospect of escape, never knowing of the privileges bestowed on those born on the other side. For that, they were of no threat to the aristocrats and the sovereigns who ruled them.
Now, Jacob was compelled to behold their misery himself.
“There is not enough food to feed the children. Not enough clean water to drink or bathe in,” said Jacob. “No medicine to cure the ill.”
“Of that I am not sure, my dear Jacob. They say many things about this land and these people. That they were sent here to repent for their sins.”
“What sins have they committed?”
Simon did not reply, startled by a question that he knew should not have surprised him.
“They are told that one day they will be free of their suffering, for they shall inherit the world. And that, my dear Simon, is their cause to carry on.”
They closed their eyes and rested on the warm ground, Simon wondering what the new day would bring. The whole of the moon lay above them.
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When dawn broke, Jacob rose and awakened his guide with a few taps on his arm. They washed up beside a tent where a large bin held clouded water from the last rain. The sun was rising and silence mixed with the sounds of guards shouting orders to the procession of men they led. Jacob stood in the middle of a path between two rows of tents, his hands held behind his back. He gazed at a mother watching her two children as their fingers traced lines in the dirt. There was a somber joy about them. Her eyes showed sorrow not concealed as well as she desired.
Simon cupped water with his hands and slowly washed his face, observing his guest as he watched the woman and her children. He was getting to know Jacob, at least a bit more than he had the day before. He was sure that his guest had a purpose for what he was about to embark upon. His hands splashed water on his face once more and as he looked back his eyes set upon Jacob walking slowly toward the woman.
“My dear Jacob, perhaps it would be best if we did not engage them,” he whispered as loudly as he could. But his words were not heeded.
The eyes of the children caught those of the stranger. They hurried off and hid alongside the tent, peering out and quickly turning away. Few people of Jacob’s appearance had ever entered the land beyond the wall, except the tax collector or an envoy sent from the Governor. The startled woman rose to her feet to greet the man, not saying a word as he approached. She feared that she would be seized, hoping that he would at least have mercy on the children. She waved them away with her hand behind her back and they ran off as quickly as they could.
Simon watched carefully from across the way. He looked from side to side for no other reason than to assure himself that they had not been followed from the city. Jacob removed his hat and lowered his head to the woman. She stood unmoved. The Elder worried of what Jacob might say; perhaps he would pity her, for she was meek and her children deprived. Or maybe he would at last consider her to be wretched and vile, just as those back in the city would and decry her errant ways.
Simon sat beside the tent, in between the basin of water and an empty stable. He looked up to those passing by, grateful to each stranger who let him be. He could recall the finer days, when the city was still a town and considered a bit more serene and when this new land was just being constructed on orders of the Governor. He had been schooled at the Temple, raised in the finest of families, known by all who ruled the city. Most days were spent catering to the wants of his superiors, so while he did not yet understand his new companion he was indeed intrigued by their journey. It was one that he did not request but would certainly embark on again if asked to do so.
Jacob returned and stood above Simon. The Elder was evermore fearful that there was a spy among them; one who had perhaps bore witness to his guest conversing with one of the others. He was still not at ease with his surroundings and eager to quickly depart this strange land. He did not ask Jacob what had transpired for he figured it was better that he did not know. Yet he was sure that his companion would soon enlighten him.
“A woman who cannot feed her child is one who bears great shame. A man who labors in the fields to provide nothing more than a tent that lies above dirt is one full of wrath.”
Simon was unsure what he could say to please Jacob and was careful not to utter words that might offend his companion. They began to walk along the dirt path in between the long row of tents, the sun low but rising.
“But this is the life they have chosen. It is not our burden. It is they to be blamed. They are said to be damned and wicked, sent here to repent.”
“A life forced upon them, my dear Simon. One to be inherited by their children, for they too are bound to this land by the great wall of stone built around them.”
The Elder paused, as was becoming a custom in his struggle to dispute the reasoning of Jacob.
“We have built our city and they have built theirs. Their fate is not our doing. We are not the ones to blame. They are not our obligation, not ours to tend to. We have given them land to build a city of their own and a means to provide for their children. The great wall is only to keep them where they belong.”
“Beyond the realm of the titled where they can cause no burden. With no means to escape the walls that imprison them.”
“That is what the Governor had supposed. Two lands, separate but equal. It is well understood, perhaps not written in decree but assumed by all nonetheless, that those from the city are not to enter a land where they do not belong. And those from beyond the wall are to adhere to the same custom.”
Jacob was not convinced of the ideas of Simon, but it was indeed common in the many lands of the world to separate the prosperous from the meek. For centuries slaves had built walls of stone throughout the world, each proposed to rise higher and farther than the last.
“Then your Governor and those he serves presumes it just, a land indeed separate. But the famine and drought and disease they suffer shall never be deemed equal.”
“It is indeed just. For that is how it has been since the earliest of days. Even our gods have shown desire for the prominent to be free of such ills as those suffered by the meek. Our Governor simply chose to build a wall to make things a bit more precise.”
“Then let it be said that a child born on one side of the wall is blessed. One born on the other side damned.”
“But my dear Jacob, please understand. Our Governors barely have enough coins to keep their subjects content. Not enough to run the bath houses or to support the Temples. Too few to expand the land westward and to erect more buildings in the city. Need I say they can barely provide their armies with new newest weapons of rifles and canons!”
Beside the tents were roads made of dirt and a long row of old, tattered stores. Most were boarded up. Others had windows missing and steps collapsing to the ground. Jacob stopped to watch the caravan of wagons passing through the streets. They came to a sudden halt. Guards from the front jumped out and surrounded the wagons. Jacob tried to count as best he could among the commotion. Twenty wagons. Perhaps twenty-five. Four score of soldiers. Then four more.
“Out of the wagons! At once!”
The guards shouted the same words over and over, their rifles helping to push their captives along. They lined up hastily in a long row as they were ordered- silent, still, arms clenched behind their backs. The guards marched back and forth before them, rifles held against their shoulders. The wagons hurried back to the city to load the next of several groups of those lined up in perfect rows, awaiting their exodus to the land beyond the wall.
“Do not be alarmed, my dear Jacob,” said Simon as he patted his shoulder. “This comes to pass every six days, on orders of the Governor.”
It was early in the morning, the sounds of the wagons and the people they carried barely noticed by those asleep in their tents. It was a familiar sound. They would soon rise to begin their day of labor in the fields. But not before Simon would behold the resolve of Jacob, and Jacob would ponder the decency of Simon.
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Back in Lethinia, a servant boy stood at the doorstep of the High Governor. He had followed Simon to the Temple and watched his encounter with Jacob. That was all he had been summoned to do. But he was eager to please his masters and garner an appointment to the Academy, so he trailed them to the edge of town without the knowledge of the Elder for whom he served.
He knew they had headed towards the land beyond the wall. That was not what the Governor had ordered and certainly not what had been desired by the Clerics. Many years ago they had a prominent envoy that had wandered into the forbidden land and decided to remain there for six decades. She incited passion and might into the refugees whom were presumed to remain meek. From then on, the Governor declared the land to be kept concealed, never mentioned or granted a name. He ordered the map maker to erase it from the formal survey of the province.
The young servant boy knocked gently on the door of the Governor, his hands held behind his back to hide their shaking.
“I have come with news, my dear master. Of the town Elder and the one he guides.”
“Continue!” ordered the General, his hands clutched to his hips as he stood at the entrance.
“They met at the Temple and quickly left the city down the path towards the great wall.”
The Governor rubbed his chin for several moments. The servant boy could not tell if he was upset or alarmed or intensely angered. His master stared calmly in the boy’s eyes, his fingers tapping the side of his head.
“Simon most certainly would not lead him to the wall. He is not a brilliant man of course, but not even he would be so foolish. They must have turned back. Check the city for their presence- the tavern and the inn, the bath houses and the home of our dimwitted Elder!”
But the servant boy knew they had indeed continued on and entered the land beyond the wall for he had watched them from afar. He lowered his head and whispered the words to inform his master, a mumble that he needed to twice repeat.
“Check the city and find them! And report back to me at once!” The Governor was sure that his reporting of their whereabouts was erroneous. The boy hurried off as the last of the words of the Governor escaped the slamming door. “I should have sent someone other than that damn senseless Elder!”
The servant boy hurried back into the streets of the city, taking note of any man who passed him by in a futile belief that perhaps Simon and Jacob had indeed returned. He reached the Temple and stood beside a statue of a god and a naked angel carved of stone and waited patiently for pleasing news that he could report back to the High Governor.
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The sudden uproar caught Simon by surprise. He was not used to such chaos back in the city nor was he prepared for the consequences. Jacob looked on, calm and poised, a posture that his companion could not comprehend but was eager to emulate.
It was an hour of turmoil brutal and scandalous. The guards had allowed the soldiers from the city to pass, as was customary. They were given instructions that a thief must be seized by order of the High General. Men of arms tore through tents in search of their prey and amidst the furor a startled child fled in terror. He was promptly slain for having done so. He was not much older than the children whom Jacob had watched draw lines in the dirt. When the guards ordered his body to lie in its own blood it was expected that it would do so for twelve hours. That was the traditional order of the guards, a lasting reminder to those forced to behold the death that transgression did not come without consequence.
A small boy lay with his head on the ground, his arms spread about him, his eyes opened wide and facing the skies. A pool of red soaked the dirt that surrounded him. Fathers screamed in fury and children cried out to their mothers, “Take me home! Take me back home!” That was the usual outcome of such events and soon after the one slain would be removed and forgotten. The ones compelled to bear witness would be marched back to their shacks and tents, forbidden to ever pay homage to the massacred thief, eight years of age.
A swarm of guards stood before the boy, Jacob and Simon off to the side. The eyes of the Elder seized those of Jacob, noting a sense of confusion and trouble that he had not yet witnessed. Behind the guards sat an old woman in a chair that rocked slowly back and forth. Her eyes were profoundly incensed, her body frail, her mind aware that she had not the strength to stand before the child as the strangers were.
Simon was anxious to leave the land, as he had been strictly ordered to avoid any and all predicaments. The blood of a child at his feet was something he was not capable of explaining. He could tell by the eyes of the old woman that something was awry. Her chair had stopped rocking and her arms grasped the sides with such might, as if she was in an epic struggle to escape. He turned towards Jacob who had already begun conversing with the guards.
Simon knew that nothing good could come from a conversation such as this. Guards wary of strangers, merciless to the people they suppressed. Jacob, bold and candid, never doubting that his words were justified. When Jacob spoke the guards shouted back. But he would continue on, as they had not yet been ordered to restrain him. They were not pleased with the stranger nor compelled to succumb to his pleas to allow him to return the body to his family for proper burial.
“He was a thief. Perhaps even a killer!” roared a soldier. “Any defender of him is quite suspect himself!”
A band of guards slowly encircled Jacob and searched around for the one who was his guide. Those brash and provoking like Jacob had little liberty in Lethinia. They were usually banished from the city or sent to confinement in the very land where he now stood. But the guards had not seen him before and only knew him as a guest of the town Elder, who had yet to step forward to defend the one whom he had led to that land.
“He was just a boy. He was not a thief or a killer and should not lie here in blood and dirt. He should be returned to his family. Have you no mercy for this child?”
But the guards were immune to such thoughts, having denied that very request so many times that the ones they ruled had ceased to ask. The townspeople watched without a sound among them, an eerie silence sweeping across the gathering. Simon stepped behind the crowd, certain that his guest would be seized at any moment. The old woman clasped the arms of her chair. She rose to her feet and staggered toward the stranger who had begun to impress her. An opening in the circle of guards appeared through which she emerged. She stood among the men, beside the little boy whose blood still lay atop the sullied dirt. She was dressed in a long black robe, her frail body bent forward, pleading for a cane that she did not possess.
“Bring him to me,” she ordered. Her voice was stern though her body was weak. As the guards remained still Jacob knelt and cradled the boy in his arms. He rose to his feet, bearing death, the guards watching silently as they were not sure whether to halt his actions or allow him to proceed. The boy had been stabbed from behind. Jacob’s finger pierced the wound as he held him, one hand gently placed on the back of his head. He was a small and feeble, a pained face that masked its innocence.
‘A child too young to be a murderer or a thief, or stabbed with the iron sword of an unforgiving soldier,’ thought Simon, reasoning it best not to pronounce such a thought.
“Bring him to me!” And so Jacob did. He knew that even a small gesture like lifting the body of the boy and handing him over for proper burial would be an act not desired by the Grand Council. Not for that it was unjust, but rather because it was a deed that needed to be fulfilled by one among him. Perhaps by Simon. When no other came forward, Jacob knew that he was about to break a principal tenet of the Council.
He was not sure how the old woman had the strength to hold the boy, but she did so with such conviction that the guards could not deny her. As she walked down the dirt path they looked on, commanded by their Chief with the mere raising of his arm that she was not to be impeded. The crowd parted ways to allow her and the lifeless child she carried to pass.
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They spared Jacob a sentence of death for treachery, for after much deliberation they realized that he had done no more than lift the body of the slain boy. Instead, they resolved to banish him from the land at once. It was several minutes before Simon caught up with his guest. He had hidden among the crowd for fear of being dismissed from his role as town Elder. He scraped his sandals against a rock to remove, as best he could, the drops of blood that stained their bottom. He could see Jacob in the distance, walking the quiet road back to the city. Simon was eager to join him and return home, yet doubtful of whether he could bear another discussion with the man who was clearly mightier than he.
“Salvete,” uttered Simon as he greeted his guest from behind. Jacob turned and nodded, not a word offered in return. “I am sorry that I had lost you in the crowd. I could not kneel with you at the body of the boy, of course, for the guards would have surely reported that back to my masters.”
“I did not bring you here to defend me.” The men stood face to face, the eyes of the Elder fixed on the feet of his guest. “Tell me, Simon. What do your masters do to a child slain in your land?”
Both men knew that such a deed had never taken place. Lethinia may have aged and outgrown its prominence, but it remained a place of order and civility where a child would not be knifed in the back and left to soak in its own blood.
“I have seen what I was sent here to discover. A people imprisoned by a wall, for they have less than the prosperous. Masses condemned, before my very eyes, to absurd misery. A child brutally slain, his death of no consequence. Now you must return to your masters and report what you have seen, for it is you who can make certain that no more are exiled to suffer a horrid and unjust fate.”
Simon was uneasy with such a request. As a town Elder he was accustomed to receiving orders and passing them along to his servants, neither of which he had much talent for. But he knew the resolve of Jacob. He was unsure how he would obey the command of the stranger that he had only met the day before while assuring the Governor that his duties had been properly fulfilled.
“Indeed I shall do so, my dear Jacob. Surely I will. But we must head back at once.”
The city would bring him solace, Simon knew. Upon his return he could depart from this man that he still did not understand, one whom had begun to cause him concern. The Governor would entrust Jacob to another Elder, Simon presumed. One who was sure to be a bit more commanding.
But his guest did not agree, inviting his guide to continue on without him. Jacob would head north to the province of Thames, where ruthlessness and scorn would not be concealed by a great wall of stone but rather accepted as a privilege of society.
Simon wondered if he would again see this man that he considered to be of noble prominence but of great peril. He feared that he himself might be condemned by his masters for what had occurred in the land beyond the great wall. For a moment the thought of joining Jacob on his journey entered his mind, for escape and adventure had forever eluded him. But he had neither the courage nor the might to do so.
Jacob bid farewell to Simon, whom he had watched trailing him through the city the day before. He was confident that his stop in Lethinia had not been in vain and was certain that Simon would betray his word for fear of his masters. Jacob was not pleased with what had become of the land of Lethinia, the conception of a wall of stone to rid the prosperous of the lowly - not even the most rational, intellectual of beings could have prophesized such malice.
Just moments before Jacob had departed on his mission to examine the ten lands leading to Rotterdemm he had met in secrecy with the Grand Council. They handed him a book and he knew at once that it was the same one that had been bestowed upon him many years before. Its covers were thick and sturdy and wrapped in silver, guarding between them a mass of pages. Hundreds of doctrines and scores of decrees compiled from missions past would guide him through his journey. When all else failed, he would have the profound insight and good counsel of the Book of Wisdom. The High Scribes wished him well and prayed a solemn prayer, knowing that this would be his final mission if redemption was deemed hopeless, or if he was to be slain along the way.
As Simon walked off toward Lethinia, Jacob read again the passage written on the very last page. It was inscribed by his father, his words to be pondered all through his journey.
Remember, my dear son, it is not you who shall offer salvation to the people, but they who shall save themselves. Their triumph will justify their right to exist, their failure a just cause for their abolition. When doubt falls upon you, your obligations unresolved, do what you deem righteous, for you have proven worthy of such trust. But even as the son of the Supreme Ruler, your acts shall not be considered with impunity, but will be judged for their virtue.
The Scrolls of The Book of Wisdom
Verse I, 1:36
‘In Lethinia they shall shame and sully the meek. But there shall rise a Savior’
The deprived and indigent whom she cared for called her Santa Carina. She arrived many decades ago on a long journey from the Northern Lands, although no one was exactly sure when or precisely from where. Or why. She was the daughter of a nobleman so her presence in the South was wrought with mystery. When she entered the city of Lethinia the High Governor granted her rather uncommon request and she was escorted to the new land erected beyond the great wall. Her return to the city was considered imminent, as she was to embark on a quest that was damned to fail. But as the new territory grew and more were condemned to live within, she found herself with cause to remain.
The Governor accepted her pleas to build a Temple. With the help of the laborers that lived within, a small building, the size of two shacks and made of wood and faded brick, was soon erected. There would be no Cleric to come from the city, no services, no statues of gods and angels carved in stone. But at sunrise the pews found the damned in prayer, at night time the meek seeking shelter from the storms.
She worked tirelessly to aid those she considered of no less consequence than a nobleman or fine merchant. Her wealth had not followed her from the North and the few coins she possessed had long since been exhausted. She convinced some Clerics from the city who pitied her cause to be compassionate. So they offered food and clothing and at nightfall the laborers of the Clerics would load wagons full of provisions and drive to the land beyond the wall. When the compassion of the Clerics had one day given way to the orders of the High General to let the shameful souls waste away, the wagons no longer arrived. So she guided her villagers into the fields, planting crops of grains and rows of corn. And from that they survived. And for that they were grateful.
She lived in the same dwelling for the whole of six decades – a shabby hut beside the Temple made of splintered wood, a floor of dirt and pebbles, no windows to allow in the sun. A small table sat in the middle, where she would share bread with any who came in search of food for their children. She reasoned that the meek shall someday overcome and at last inherit the world, though they tended to not quite agree.
When they were sick, she nursed them. When they were cheerless she comforted them. When they were fearful she embraced them and when they were dying she prayed with them.
As the years passed by, the Temple had lost much of its grace. The windows had given way to the wind and weeds spread plentifully up the walls. It had become a sanctuary of last resort, a house in ruins, of use for prayer and shelter, failing piteously at both.
The Governor was content to have someone care for those banished to the land beyond the wall, displeased to have been expected to do so himself. After several decades, she had gained a vast admiration among those condemned. She was loathed by the city elders, but too distinguished to be reprimanded. The Governor would not support such action for fear of unrest, although he would never aid her efforts to help those he considered wicked and vile. There were calls from the Generals to have her removed, but the Governor feared the dire consequences.
Towards the end, when she was old and ill, yet fervent and bold, she still kept up the Temple and implored the noblemen and buried the dead. On her final day, she sat patiently on a chair that rocked back and forth, gazing into the eyes of the stranger that she hoped would somehow serve her land and her people long after she departed. When her hands grasped the body of the lifeless little body, she knew it would be her final stand.
Ten Stops to Rotterdemm Steven Filizzola Page