‘Do you know,’ said the magician, ‘suffering is really not so bad, once you get used to it. It can clear the mind and pave the way for wisdom. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Cadin nodded furiously but then shook his head just as hard, unsure of which response the magician was seeking. He certainly did not want to volunteer for any punishment, but neither did he want to disagree with his disgruntled captor. In truth, he had no idea what the magician was going on about. He had never been keen on discomfort of any kind, preferring instead whatever earthly pleasures his coins had been able to gain him.
The magician watched on, unimpressed by Cadin’s response. ‘Tell me,’ he said finally, ‘they say it is never too late for a man to change his ways. What do you think of that?’
‘I agree!’ Cadin blurted out. ‘I can change! I will change-I will!’
‘Very well,’ the magician stated. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance. And a little change can be good for the soul.’
And with that, the magician turned slowly and moved towards the door. The spells that held Cadin fell free and he took a deep breath, filled with relief. He eyed the window and was just wondering whether he should jump out of bed and leap into the street, when four bulky figures came in through the doorway, pushing inside just as the magician’s cloak had slipped from view. They each brandished a long-handled club-the typewith rusty nails hammered through the end-and the last man in shut the door gently but firmly behind him, before turning around and nodding to the others. They hovered around Cadin’s bed, looking neither enthusiastic nor worried. One of them spat into his palms and rubbed them around the haft of his bludgeon before finding a comfortable grip.
Cadin knew it was pointless begging or pleading with them, for they would not care about such things. It would not matter if he screamed or howled or made them any kind of promises. He knew, himself, from all his years of experience, such tasks had little need of emotions. The men would only be looking forward to the things they could buy once he was dead. He was only a job for them,an inconvenient nuisance standing in the way of their payment.
He looked at his sorry excuse of a purse upon his bedside table, for he had wasted away his fortune in the tavern only the night before. Perhaps it may even have been enough to have them turn their backs for just a moment, but the purse now sat flat and empty.
The thought struck him that perhaps the men were only here to scare him. The magician had mentioned a chance, after all. Surely, the magician would not lie to him at such a time? Why give him aray ofhope if there was not some basis behind it? Perhaps the men would put down their clubs and leave him trembling with fear, or order him to leave the town-that had certainly happened before and he would not care in the slightest.
‘Are you going to let me go?’ he asked sheepishly, wrapped tightly within his sheets.
But they did not answer and his timid hopes quickly evaporated. The four of them raised their clubs and he closed his eyes as hard as he could.
What right have the strong to take from the weak?
What justifies the shepherd to decide the fate of the flock?
Know then that I have seen what lies in wait at the edge of the woods
and rejoice that I have thrown myself between the lambs and the wolves.
— inscription upon a weathered rock face; the Valley of the Ancients