The Eternal City of Belisarius by William Havelock EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors:William Havelock
- Language: English
- Genre: Medieval Historical Fiction
- Format: PDF/ePub
- Size: 7.6 MB
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The Bondservant
Life was its own private hell, as far as the bondservant knew.
Not merely for its suffering, which was as plentiful as it was
demeaning. No, this unhappy wisdom was born from the
pointlessness of such drudgery, where the endless bowing and
scrubbing neither improved his station in life nor fostered a
sense of fulfillment or purpose. While warriors rode out and
carved their names with the glories of their deeds, the
bondservant remained behind, scraping pots and cleaning shit.
But the bondservant would not be contented with such a
life. Better to be hanged or boiled or torn to a thousand pieces
—anything to escape the futility of meaningless repetition. For
the bondservant had given life to yet another plot that would
see him freed far from these brutes and their knotted whips.
It would be better than last time. His maneuvers had
worked perfectly, bringing the devil’s powder to the lips of the
old king. He loathed the rulers and their show of power,
finding their claims of superiority repugnant. Those men
voided their bowels all the same as the lowest slave, their
status afforded merely by their birth or capacity for violence
over weaker men.
In his hubris, the old king had fallen victim to the
bondservant’s machinations, the blame for his corrupted
chalice falling upon some ill-fated girl. Gnarled fingers
grasped at an unbreathing throat, and the bondservant privately
rejoiced as the old man choked his last breath, ridding the
world of his stench.
Yet the bondservant lacked the vision for what came next.
No matter, for none who survived the old king would have
ever suspected that a cowering and stunted man such as the
bondservant could have toppled mountains. He would simply
strike again.
This time, however, the bondservant would be prepared.
Pilfering pouches from the new king’s great hoard of treasure,
the bondservant would gallop far into the distance, entering
lands unknown to those who had conquered and enslaved his
people. This time, the bondservant had the means and the
unbreaking will to see this young hero fall. All he required
was the appropriate moment to strike. And that time, through
numbing patience, had finally come to pass.
“May all the gods curse you, oh king,” the bondservant
whispered as the hero passed by.
The young king appeared so proud atop his horse. Wielding
his father’s sword and leading a host that numbered in the tens
of thousands, the hero likely had no doubt that he would
emerge victorious, a shining example of his honored father.
Yet the bondservant knew otherwise, for there was more than
blood coursing through the monarch’s veins.
The Great Silence of God
As a slave, I believed that life bends towards justice, and good
fortune. Now, with my beard turned gray and knees creaking,
such naivete has long departed my worldview. Though I have
little doubt that those of the ancient Empire did live in some
sort of magical land of peace and plenty, those of us now
living are condemned to eke out our survival upon barren
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