Astraea

Lex est Lex

(Chorus): "And while you remember him, upon those guilty of the murder...pray there comes upon them some god or man...to state it simply: someone to kill them in return."
(Electra): "And I may ask this from the gods in proper piety?"
(Chorus): "And why not, to requite an enemy with harm for harm?"

~The Libation Bearers (117-123)

* * *

The grave was too small, its occupant too young, and there was only one attendee at the funeral. Camilla stood out in the cemetery, rising above the lonely gravestones. Her head was bowed, all thoughts on her brother alone. He had been her only family, wrenched from her undying love in the most unsuitable fashion. It was all the world and her alone now. Grey and dark, the clouds above rumbled to warn of nature's libation threatening to pour down upon the new grave.

He had been just a boy.

At the thought of her brother's untimely death, something began burning deep inside Camilla's soul, though she was not aware of what it signified just yet. Her teeth clenched tightly, arms stiffly at her sides, as she tried not to cry.

Don't cry for me, he had begged her as they looped the coarse rope around his young neck. Save your tears. There may be a better cause upon which your energy will be spent. Don't cry for me. But don't forget me either.

The rain came in a sudden burst, and Camilla looked up, allowing the raindrops to mingle with her tears and water the ground which separated her and her little brother forever. The fresh smell of earth and flowers rose up and tinged Camilla with a sense of misplacement. She frowned, disapproving. Here, things were growing, living. And down below, her brother had met his match and fallen far from life and any hopes for thriving.

Someone slipped a cloak over Camilla's shoulders, pulling the hood over her head to shield her from the icy rain. To her left, a figure appeared, now uncovered in the rain, and Camilla took the hand of her best friend Melody, the only other person in the land who actually cared what had happened to her brother.

"You poor girl . . . so much pain and sorrow and no one to share in it." Melody spoke with a somber expression, her eyes fixed on the place where Camilla's young bother lay buried.

Camilla closed her eyes, and immediately regretted doing so. The image in her head replayed over and over, so vividly it was as if she were experiencing it in life once again: The rope hung tautly from the rafters. The beam creaked in protest at the weight of the young boy who kicked in reflex as his air was cut off and he began to strangle, but never cried out. Never once did a cry escape his lips.

Camilla's brother had died in dignified silence. It was the last act of defiance against the crown he could show. The hangman, Camilla remembered, said he had never seen nor heard such silence during an execution, from the man hanged or the onlookers. But pride was an untrustworthy ally in life.

Camilla's brother had refused to bow before King Cassius. He did not step aside as the king's royal train passed by on the road. Camilla supposed her brother partly deserved his punishment. Lex est lex. But death? Death was not to be doled out every which way, nor was it to be a tool wielded in the incapable hands of man, as the king seemed to believe. And Cassius was not given the pleasure of hearing Camilla's brother plead and beg for mercy once he ordered for him to be hanged that very day.