A Man of Power

A story told by his faithful servant.

He commanded fear. Flint grey eyes stonier than the granite walls of his fortress stared from a face carved from stone. I watched as he strode about his quarters angrily. He had been preparing to undress for an early night's rest when the butler had knocked, announcing a visitor. In the distance the bell tower begun to toll the hour. I recognized the look on my master's face and knew instinctively heads were going to roll.

A hooked-nosed emissary stood stiffly inside the threshold of the massive bedroom, carefully avoiding contact with my master's angry eyes; sweat beading his upper lip. My master was not a man to be reckoned with. He had no patience with fools and demanded that things went the way he planned. Privately his people dubbed him "The Mad Outlaw". Keeping my head bent subserviently, I peered nervously through my veil of lashes; it was best to appear inconspicuous during times like these. When things didn't go as planned the consequences were quite often painful, unpredictable and always terrifying. I watched his calloused, ham-sized fist rub stubble sprouting from his massive jaw as it clenched and unclenched in frustration. My admiration was layered with fear... I knew him well. Discretely I tended to my duties, leaving the two men to talk in private. Returning with an armload of wood to stoke the fire, I overheard my master say, " Send only my very best spies and by the way your life depends upon their success."

Absently waving the now trembling man away, my master irritably watched his retreat, then turned to look at me and said, "What do I have to do, who do I have to kill, to get what I want... what I need and when did command begin to lose its thrill and why does my soul so sorely bleed?"
His hulking body slumped. It was always a bit of a shock when I heard his crazy talk. Soundlessly I scurried forth to close the heavy iron-clad bedroom door.

Upon my return, he was gazing out the window. Weak winter sunlight caught flecks of silver threading through the pale ash of his closely cropped hair. I watched him stretch his massive hands out before him. Battle-scarred and deadly their prowess in war had been immortalized in minstrel songs throughout many lands. As I scurried about preparing his bath and laying out the necessary toiletries, he continued to stare out the window for a long, long time; until the sun dimmed and the night winds rose. Startled from his reverie by a flock of feuding crows he turned to me once more and this time quote a familiar refrain:

"I am stained by the blood of mine enemies

I am stained by the blood of my rage.

I am stained to the core by chaos and war,

guilt gilding the bars of my invisible cage."

"I was a boy once," he said looking down at me. "I had dreams...was idealistic. The world was mine, or so it seemed." His hard grey eyes looked weary. "When did my power turn ugly? When did my laws turn profane? How did all that I am become a feared despised name and why do I grow weary and sicken of this endless game?"

I never answered... I wouldn't dare! Abruptly he turned away as if I were never there at all. "Things are going to change!" he announced as he disrobed and stepped into his awaiting bath. Once finished and dried off, I helped him into his nightshirt, familiar with his huge muscled body covered in a network of scars. Tidying up, I heard the massive four poster creaking under his weight as he settled in; then he began to pray.

Putting out the candles I made my way to the crude and drafty vestibule that housed my bed, grateful to finally be able to rest my weary bones.
I'd heard it all before and it was always the same. He would wrestle with regrets each evening, expressing his doubts and pain, but when morning broke and throughout each and every ensuing day there was only more war - more death ... my master's reign of terror remaining unchanged.

Reviews

[Sanhorsey]

I agree with what you write. So many people feel that they are doing wrong, like they ought to change but when the time comes they don't.
Nice piece of writing.

[felioness]

thank you!

[747]

Interesting. A distanced reflection, though never satisfied with the results, the master continues to do nothing but the same... True insanity.
Well written. Interesting expression. Good job.

[felioness]

thank you for the read and encouraging comment!

[dan]

This is VERY well written, your style is very fluid and descriptive. I got the wisp of an idea that "master" represents the devil, though I am probably wrong. Thank you for sharing this with all of us at WC. take care...dan

[felioness]

Thank you so much for your encouraging review!