From Night On: Magdalene

Chapters 3-4

Chapter 3:

Initiation

Meira's success with her mother inspired her to approach others in the same fashion and, seemingly overnight, she became a completely different person. The only time she would use her intense gaze was during her training sessions with Marcus and with the wild horses she continued to break. Marcus was skeptical of her method, yet curious as to how effective it would be. After all, he had seen and heard the peaceful politicians, begging for reason while only being partially heard.

All appeared to be going exceedingly well for her new tactic until, one day as she worked in her father's business, a commotion sprung up outside without warning. A group had gathered outside to chastise a slave who had gone out of order in line. Whips and slaps came from those who surrounded him as they flung their curses along with whatever animal droppings that were lying on the ground.

It was out of reflex that Meira burst from her father's shop, unleashing her Centurion's Stare upon the crowd. "What is happening?!?" she bellowed as everyone involved froze and turned to her.

"He was in the wrong line," one woman accused the slave. "He tried to go before the others."

"He would not wait his turn!" the stall owner yelled from amongst his goods."I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. A slave who will not listen is soon to be a dead slave."

Meira approached the man as he coward in fear, his bare arms pulled tightly over his head as he curled his body into a tight ball and trembled,awaiting more attacks. He didn't look like he was from the area. His hair was an unusually bright red and his skin was incredibly fair with freckles and blisters from the sun. "Did you know about this rule?" she asked the man, who took a moment before he peeked out from his defense to see her.

He shot out his left hand, shaking uncontrollably, toward Meira. In his clenched fist was a piece of parchment. The crowd went silent as Meira retrieved it and observed it's writings. On it, a map was drawn,marking the location of the stall, and a list of what goods were needed was written on its backside.

Meira sighed with disgust at the actions of those around her. Surely, she thought,he must have tried to produce the parchment before they began attacking him. "He's a foreigner," she announced. "He doesn't speak our language and was sent here with instructions."

"He should have been told to not stand with the free people," another argued.

"Is it his mistake," Meira asked the crowd, "that his master didn't inform him?"

"It's his mistake for trying to go before others," the stall owner yelled.

"He didn't know," Meira responded. "Have you never made a mistake, speaking with the foreigners who travel through?" she asked the stall owner. "How about you?" she turned to another who looked away, knowing that it was a normal thing to fall upon such mishaps. "How about any of you? Should we start slapping the brains out of each other for stupid mistakes we can easily correct? Let the person who has NEVER made a mistake step forward. Let the person who is blameless be the only one who can throw shit. They will be our judge." She scanned the group with her intense stare. "No? None of you are without blame? Then we should all carry on our ways."

She then helped the slave to his feet and demonstrated to him how it was custom for him to obtain the goods through his status. All the while, Yeshua watched from the front door to his shop. After the slave had left with all the goods his master had ordered, Meira walked back to work, smiling to herself as she approached her father.