The Lord of the Crows

Part 15 - Justice

Harmonizing the relationship between crime and punishment is the foundation of a society's functioning. Too weak punishments lead to powerlessness and chaos and the people suffer. Too strict punishments lead to tyranny and the people suffer, again. My father used to say that the simple folk referred to justice as 'the whore' - she rarely serves the poor.

I remembered those words when I finally gathered my courage that afternoon and went to visit my father.

The reason that reminded me, however, was not the visit itself, but the happening at the entrance to the upper part of the village, i.e. the green cloaks part.

The day was clear and warm, and a crowd of fifteen or twenty people gathered and watched something on the meadow not far from the gate of the house of the old reciting man. It was not an unusual sight and distracted and preoccupied with thinking about my father and his first and only words in this odd place, I might have just passed by without paying attention and asked Peck the next day. But the murmur was suddenly silenced, and I heard Daina's voice, followed by a whiz of a whip or a cane, and a scream.

I froze for a moment and then hurried to push myself into the very center of the mess.

The young man, barely older than the child, all dirty and ragged, writhed under the blows of the cane. He rolled on the grass in an attempt to avoid lashing and tried to protect his face, so the blows cut the thin skin of his forearms more than they would end up on his back, where they belonged. The screams became quieter, turned into sobs and groans, and it seemed to me that he would lose consciousness at any moment. His body, exhausted from hunger, could hardly bear more.

Before I could think it further, I ran forward and grabbed Daina's arm holding the cane. Almost at the same time, I felt a strong blow under my ribs that forced me to let go of her and stagger in pain, and I heard the whistling of a cane aimed against me. I raised my hand to protect myself, but the top still caught me and cut my cheek. Someone grabbed me by the sholders and pulled me back into the crowd.

"For Good Mother's sake!", I heard Lela whisper in my ear. "Have you lost your mind ?!"

"She'll kill him," I said, "for a piece of bread!"

"He's unlikely to die of twenty lashes, boy. If I were to ask, he would be left without that sealing hand of his."

I froze and forgot about the guy and the cane and the fact that my pride was hurt. I slowly turned to the person holding me. I hoped, for a brief moment, that I would see recognition and joy in gray, cold eyes, but in vain. The sobering came with the following words:

"You must have come here recently, so you don't know, the lady runs this place and her word is the law."

He didn't recognize me. I was the only blood and bone he had and he didn't recognize me. I was just a stranger, reckless and naive. One of many in this village who came to watch the punishment. I did not arouse any interest, he did not pay any more attention than to remove me, prevent me from sharing the fate of the poor boy.

Acting as if I was dead to him.

Lela intervened, obviously not understanding who the old man on the other side was:

"Well, as the gentleman tells you, you must not question her word."

"She's going to kill a kid for a piece of bread," I repeated dryly, tearing myself away from their grip. The angry face of the woman I loved, and the restrained face of my father played before my eyes. And his eyes haunted me - blurred, absent and unfocused.

She shook her head, pressing behind me through the crowd.

"No one in the Sanctuary has been denied food, son. Everyone knows that. We fed every poor soul that came to us. But it is forbidden to steal, especially from the tenants of the upper part of the village, and I'm sure he knew it. Now he is forbidden to ever approach the village again, all for the sake of a handful of trinkets that are worth nothing and to no one but the old man from whom they were stolen ... "

I didn't listen to her anymore. I quickened my pace, hurrying back to my temporary home. Anger grew in me, multiplied by the awareness of the ruined parts of my life that did not fit in at all, and all I wanted was to leave this place of strangely perverted reality as soon as possible.

As if she saw through my intention, she grabbed my sleeve in a futile attempt to stop me. For the second time, I tore my hand from her grip and hurried back down the road.

The hot wind whistled in my face, carrying the noise and sounds of the village away from me. The heat that radiated from me seemed to suddenly begin to radiate from the ground. The fatigue that was developing was disturbed only by the persistent sounds made by a magpie on my fence. I grabbed a clod of earth and threw it at the bird, cursing. Sweat was pouring down my back, but the rage seemed to absorb that sudden heat.

The cold interior of the hut sobered me up a bit. Anger was replaced by the feeling of humiliation, the same one that tortured me when I woke up for the first time in this place, and that continued to harass me, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

I went down to the bed and grabbed the bag, determined to pick up the few things that were kept as mine and set off. To, like that magpie from the fence, gather my trinkets that are of no value to anyone.

I paused. That didn't make sense. Really, why would anyone steal things from tenants? I really doubted anyone had something valuable with them.

If what the old woman said was true, and there was no reason for her to lie, the boy risked too much for nothing. A safe meal, no matter how scarce, was more valuable than a handful of worn out and broken things of an old man.

Then why did the boy steal them?

I dropped the bag on the floor and looked around. Bed, fireplace, tripod. Some pottery... A few valuable things that I had with me when they hung me on the rock ...

Trinkets that only mattered to me.

Daina's hut was not much different, except that he might get some money from it if he found a way to get out of the village unnoticed with skins and furs. But even that wasn't enough to make up for the risk ... I suspected Peck or Lela had more stuff. All of a sudden, I wanted to know what exactly he stole. The thought, unpleasant and frightening, began to impose itself on me and creep into my head, demanding my attention.

I sighed.

I recognized that kind of attention. It mostly meant I was right, no matter how hard the circumstances tried to argue it.

I had to talk to Daina. Because, if I was right, the Sanctuary was in great danger.

I remembered her mindless, mad look and shuddered. I touched the cut on my cheek and frowned. I really sometimes forgot who she was and what she really was.

I looked at the bag on the floor once more and realized I had to make a decision. That my time was up and that, like in the war, I had to choose the side. And that everything depended on the outcome of the conversation between a very angry woman whose authority was called into question and a man whose pride was destroyed, a man on the verge of surrender.

The cut on my cheek began to pulsate. I ran my fingers over it again and cursed.
It was going to leave a scar.