Wind in the Hands

He was sitting at the grave of the Hermit, upbraiding himself for the weakness. “Why have I retreated? Got scared of death? I don’t think so. I wasn’t ready to kill a man, but is the Enemy a human? I doubted my power, and the weak can’t win, that’s why the Voice told me to retreat. Did he save me?”

  The Stranger came up to a lonely woman standing aside, the one who had called him brother before.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Moon,” responded the woman and smiled, showing a row of white teeth.

  “Does everyone who comes here hear the Voice?”

  “There are other sheep that we need to bring…”

  “How will you recognize the Prince?”

  “What kinds of slaves don’t know their master in face?”

  “The prophesies say that he will come in power and glory. Won’t he?” the Stranger gave a light smile.

  “He will come now for those who are chosen. He will warn and prepare them. The terms don’t depend on the time but on the circumstances.”

  “A dozen of those who are called… that’s not too much,” the Stranger looked around, pointing with his eyes to the people sitting around the fire.

  “There isn’t ever too much of our own people. But have they all come? They are on their way. Somebody comes every time. We believe that the Prince will come here as well.”

  “I hope so, because the Enemy has come into the City. He called himself the Prince,” said the Stranger gloomily.

  “The Enemy? Here? Are you not mistaking?” blue eyes of the woman narrowed with unbelief.

  “I talked with him. Do you remember?

  And when the water recedes,

  The shore will show up and open the Hero!

  The shore will show up and open the Enemy.

  And again, there will be two of them left.”

  “We need to find the Hero, before the Enemy finds us, for he can destroy the chosen once as the prophesy says.”

  “Don’t worry. He is nothing before the Prince:

  Here the Enemy is again before me,

  A subtle, ancient spectacular.

  He has left traces when I came back home.

  But he, the one who gave me the path – the Lord

  of heaven and the earth.

  A star drops its life to a star,

  And he calculates his murder.

  His shining black cloak

  Has plunged the forest into rigor roughly.

  But he is nothing before me,

  Shameful timorous in the middle of the circle…

  The Enemy will come here before the Prince. He is always one step ahead. You have to leave. You can’t keep all the eggs in one basket,” warned the Stranger.

  “The Enemy will be stopped, but we have to hurry. The Divine Voice hasn’t called us here to destroy.”

  “If it only was divine…” the Stranger mumbled.

  “Find the Prince. They will not leave the ruins,” the Moon has looked at her friends, with faces shining with joy, in fear and even despair.

  “You, visionaries! Show us where to search for him?”

  “The Prince is a secret. There are hints in the prophecies, but they can be understood by those who are destined. You are one of them, but you have too many doubts.”

  “The one who doesn’t doubt doesn’t search,” responded the Stranger.

  “Let’s not argue,” said the woman meekly. “Do you remember the ancient image of the Prince?”

  “We know what the Prince looked like, but is he still the same now?”

  “His image has come to our days so that we would be able to recognize him. God has a reason for everything.”

  “We don’t know in which body he will come. The Prince can come in a different guise, let’s say because he doesn’t want to be recognized. Are you looking with the eyes of your flash and not the eyes of your heart? I even suppose that the Prince can be a different personality.”

  “How is a different personality?” amazed the Moon.

  “Why not to suppose that God will send another man who will act in one spirit with the Prince?”

  “It’s hard for me to believe this. The Prince is one and he is the only one who has the power.”

  “Does he need power?”

  “Dreaming up is not forbidden,” the woman smiled leniently.

  “Why dreaming up? Hasn’t the Prince said: “I will leave you but there will come a time and I will send a Comforter, who will witness the truth just like you?”

  “The Comforter is not the Spirit? This is not about a man.”

  “The Spirit acts through chosen ones. He needs a carrier.”

  The Moon wrinkled, nodded, but a lenient smile disappeared from her face.

  “Hasn’t he said: The Prince is the only leader.”

  “The Prince isn’t a name, but a destination, a title. Not many people called him this name when he was alive, and now everyone is calling him this name. I have a friend, his name is Soldier, but there are many people with such name…”

  The Stranger started and turned pale.

  “Has anything happened? Give me the hand that he shook with you,” asked the Moon and covered his palm with hers.

  “He has been killed. The body of your friend is in the square,” she said quietly.

  “Who did that?” asked the Stranger indistinctly.

  “The Enemy.”

  The Stranger stood up, straightened himself.

  “I have to go.”

  “Stay. It’s late. Night is coming. This is not our time.”

  “My time is always.”

  “Be careful. May God help you!”

  She gave him a strong hug, setting her little nose against his chest. The Stranger gazed into her eyes, they seemed so dear at that moment that his heart was squeezed with tenderness and he hurried to the square to take the body of the Soldier whom he had brought into this town to die.