Post by Jones on Apr 3, 2012 10:58:10 GMT -5
"Order! Order! I...I said order!"
There was a banging of a gavel that followed the words, but the sound was lost in the general murmur of the mob. The mob filled the wooden benches of the court room. People dressed from the robes of the aristocracy to the sharp crisp dark blue of the military, milled and stood, talking with each other about the matter at hand. Had there been a terrible crime, or had it been a simple mistake? Had the man been merely doing as he was ordered, and was as surprised by the consequences as the men who had died because of that?
"I SAID ORDER!"
This time, the shout from a small statured man in the black judges robes from a raised platform silenced the murmuring. Those who could find space began to take their seats while the standers moved towards the back of the room.
"Bring out the prisoner."
He was in chains. Chains that clanked and clunked their way across the wooden floorboards as he was led from the back of the room, past the mob, to a chair located before the judge. He was an unruly looking fellow. His prison clothes, tan rags looked torn and tattered, with some crusting of what looked to be dried red. Probably blood. His dark brown hair was thick and unkempt, and it fell in long dirty curls, hooked and intertwined with the brown and reddish beard that covered his face. He looked old. Much older than he was. And beaten. Any life in him long since lost... Except for the blue eyes that blazed brightly, staring at the man who was about to sentence him.
The Judge looked back at him steadily, studying, before speaking. "Do you know why you are here?"
The Prisoner continued to sit in his chair, unmoving; as silent as the rest of the courtroom.
"Well." The Judge shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "If you don't know why, you will soon learn. Lets move to sentencing."
The gavel banged.
*******
"Did you think it would turn out this way?"
"No. Never saw it coming. I don't think any of us did."
"What do you think he will do now?"
"What he has always done."
"And what's that?"
"Accept it. Move on. Do what needs to be done."
"And what then?"
"Live with it."
There was a banging of a gavel that followed the words, but the sound was lost in the general murmur of the mob. The mob filled the wooden benches of the court room. People dressed from the robes of the aristocracy to the sharp crisp dark blue of the military, milled and stood, talking with each other about the matter at hand. Had there been a terrible crime, or had it been a simple mistake? Had the man been merely doing as he was ordered, and was as surprised by the consequences as the men who had died because of that?
"I SAID ORDER!"
This time, the shout from a small statured man in the black judges robes from a raised platform silenced the murmuring. Those who could find space began to take their seats while the standers moved towards the back of the room.
"Bring out the prisoner."
He was in chains. Chains that clanked and clunked their way across the wooden floorboards as he was led from the back of the room, past the mob, to a chair located before the judge. He was an unruly looking fellow. His prison clothes, tan rags looked torn and tattered, with some crusting of what looked to be dried red. Probably blood. His dark brown hair was thick and unkempt, and it fell in long dirty curls, hooked and intertwined with the brown and reddish beard that covered his face. He looked old. Much older than he was. And beaten. Any life in him long since lost... Except for the blue eyes that blazed brightly, staring at the man who was about to sentence him.
The Judge looked back at him steadily, studying, before speaking. "Do you know why you are here?"
The Prisoner continued to sit in his chair, unmoving; as silent as the rest of the courtroom.
"Well." The Judge shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "If you don't know why, you will soon learn. Lets move to sentencing."
The gavel banged.
*******
"Did you think it would turn out this way?"
"No. Never saw it coming. I don't think any of us did."
"What do you think he will do now?"
"What he has always done."
"And what's that?"
"Accept it. Move on. Do what needs to be done."
"And what then?"
"Live with it."