* * *
It was a hurried affair for Claudesius after returning to his viewing stand. Officials were coming and going, constantly seeking directions and updating the governor on the situation. Ogust and Jusslin were absent. No one seemed to know where the mischief-makers might be, and Claudesius didn’t bother to search beyond sending an attendant to do a quick look-see. Anyhow, the air smelled better with those two creatures gone, whatever shenanigans they might be up to.
People were running to the governor for the slightest little things. They requested his direction on the most trivial of matters. It was so trying for him to concentrate. After sending one worried and confused officer away, telling him to figure it out himself, he fumed silently, ‘Why do they trouble me with such childish matters?!’
His bewilderment turned to thoughtful recognition, and then to shameful sadness. So, this was the great governor of Ephesus, the man most feared and admired! Well, feared, that was sure. His subjects, officials, officers, everyone knowing him feared him, but not because he was a man deserving of great honor. No! Each man and woman feared for his or her life because he, on the slightest pretense, was willing to cast persons off to the lions as if they were just worthless pieces of rat meat to feed his pets.
Claudesius’ belly began to ache while a growing agony consumed his heart. Oh, what an evil man he was! For the first time in his life he wished his birth had never been, he being so wretched and cruel.
Well now Claudesius remembered Decanter’s words, taught to him at the base of Vesuvius, his mentor holding forth a mirror to his students. ‘Take ye the mirror of truth and look upon its accusations. Will ye become the honest man who seeks its reflection, or will you hide in hideousness because of your betrayal of all good, living things? All men must face the mirror of judgment before they, the gods, will entertain in triumph or anguish. Your oath of fealty to all living flesh that ye take this day before me shall a mirror of judgment be for you against which the gods weigh your soul for all eternity.’
Clenching his fists, Claudesius cursed himself for his betrayal of all good things. His motives in youth were so honorable and pure, yet he allowed the desires for power, wealth, and glory to corrupt any good within him. And now, for the first time in so many sordid lifetimes, when he finally wanted to do the right thing no matter the cost to him, the very God of gods barred his path, forcing him to commit the greatest of all travesties, to murder the most noble and purest of all living flesh while he, the vilest of deformities of mankind, must pretend to be righteous in judgement. Oh, how he hated himself.
And Cephas? His trial had been heralded throughout the entire district. Councils and magistrates were collected here from every major city within twenty leagues of Ephesus. “I will dismiss them!” He cried out to the air. “The destruction here is grand enough to warrant this judgment be delayed for another day!”
No sooner were the words spoken than Claudesius recalled Ishtar’s deliberate destruction of the emperor’s statue. He cursed aloud again. The entire city was in an uproar. How could the girl escape the people’s righteous indignation? Staring into the sky, he called out in anguish, “Why have you brought me to this?! Unfit to live I am, and yet when I seek for once in my life to do right, you condemn me to this evil! Do you hate me so as to allow me life, forcing me to murder the only good thing existing in this damnable world, when all I wish is death! And yet death is too good for this miscreant...”
Turning his face to the empty seats where Ogust and Jusslin had been, Claudesius closed his eyes, forcing a tortured smile. “At least I have sent her away a free woman.” Recalling his commands, he nodded satisfaction. ‘Don’t allow this woman to be bound or fettered. She will not run. Should anyone attempt a coup regarding my orders, run the bastard through!’
Treston had smiled, grasping the hilt of his sword. ‘I shall not have to strike twice!’ He bowed. ‘My Lord…’
Claudesius gripped his arm, shaking his head. ‘Do not call me that again, at least not when we are alone. You… you are my friend. My friend, take care of our child. I am trusting you.’
Shortly after Treston departed, another officer hurried in to see the governor, his uniform disheveled and bloodied, grievously announcing, “My Lord! My Lord!” The man bowed low at the waist, lifting his right hand to his head in reverential salute. “I beg you mercy, my Lord, but the executioner dogs all perished, all save one. I am so sorry, my Lord...”
“What?!” Claudesius exclaimed, his lips curling into a smile. Quickly checking his jubilance, he asked somberly, “You say dead?”
An obviously nervous officer confirmed, “Yes, my Lord. There was nothing my men or I could do. By the time we subdued the riot of men and beasts, there was but the animal that brings death to the felon. All the others were scattered, torn asunder upon the field.”
Oh, what a day! Claudesius’ spirits soared. Maybe this god of Ishtar’s was not going to destroy the child today. He would find a way to have her make escape…somehow.
No sooner had those thoughts entered his mind than another officer newly arrived and, overhearing the conversation, quickly offered a solution. “Your Excellency, there was delivered here just a little time ago, so that their wagoned cage remains outside these walls, wild dogs from the northlands. Hungry they are and wolf-like. Though not trained in the arts of fair execution, they will at least satisfy the judgment of the vengeful crowd.”
Claudesius faked a smile. Then patting the shoulders of the two officers and thanking them for jobs well done, ordered them to prepare the dogs. After this he turned to the first officer and asked, “You say the executioner dog remains alive?”
The officer answered affirmatively, “Yes, my Lord, alive and unhurt.”
Taking hold of the officer’s arm, Claudesius ordered and then warned, “You are to personally bring that beast, leashed, onto the field, keeping an ever watchful eye out for my signal. Should you fail that g… me, it will be better for you to cast your living carcass to the lions, for they will be kinder to you than I!”
“Y.. y.. y.. yes, my Lord!” The officer stuttered, staring into a grim, determined, face. “I will do as you say! The beast will be kept safe at all cost, and I… I will be vigilant, awaiting your signal.” He saluted and hurried away.
Stepping to the balcony wall, Claudesius peered out across the arena, studying the crowd milling about. He sadly shook his head. What a proud race and nation they once were, masters of the sciences, the arts, construction and so, so much more. How had they managed in such a short time to degenerate into this living slime of human filth? Here they were - he being the most culpable and vile - murdering one’s neighbors, citizens, and fellow man, just so their hearts could race with momentary excitement. And then! And then, when an innocent people comes along professing loyalty to another god, one that says to love your fellow and do good for him, he and his world stand up and accuse them of the greatest of evils and blasphemies.
Then, in all their righteous indignation, they bring these same innocent people to the very blood houses where they practice unspeakable orgies against all living flesh and condemn those innocents to torture and death in the name of justice and honor. How could they not see the obscenity in such reasoning?! How could the ruin of the soul of another divine being – for the gods themselves taught that mankind was brought forth in a divine way – escape the wrath of the gods, their fathers? Would the worlds of future men ever absolve this wicked generation of its wanton guilt?!
Claudesius lowered his head in shame and anguish, turning away from the bloodied field. He needed more time… time to think and ponder… time to beg forgiveness – a new and strange desire recently come over him – time to consider too many things. Finding a secluded seat in the shadows, he sat and drew his fingers through thinning hair. Did it matter anymore? Did it really matter if life or death awaited him? His soul was already damned. He had done it to himself.
The face of every man, woman and maiden ever raped, abused, beaten or murdered by him, flashed before closed eyes, condemning him, they standing beyond the River Styx, impatiently awaiting his arrival, the boatman with an outreached bony hand, seeking his fare.
A servant pressed him, asking if his lord “was feeling ill and should he have a doctor summoned”. Claudesius – shocked at hearing his own words – thanked the servant for his concern, but declined the offer, asking the man to see he was left alone. It was not fun being governor this day, nor would it ever be again for Claudesius. The pleasure of having unchecked power over his fellow man was now turned sour, bitter upon his stomach. He would willingly surrender his entire kingdom for this one day to pass away into mindless dreams and for him to awake, it having only been a ghastly nightmare. This, though, was no dream, just a dreadful, loathsome reality screaming out its own brand of justice against a much deserving soul.