| Somewhere in the palace, she knew, the torturers... 854 |
[Feb. 13th, 2010|03:40 am] |
Somewhere in the palace, she knew, the torturers would be attending to Camena di Chiara who had tried to kill a Tyrant and free his homeWho had done so knowing he would die and how he would die
Even now they would be with him, administering their precise measures of painWith a professional pride in their skill they would be breaking his fingers one by one, his wrists and his armsHis toes and ankles and legsThey would be doing it carefully, even tenderly, solicitously guarding the beat of his heart, so that after they had broken his back, which was always the last, they could strap him alive on a wheel and take him out to the harbor square to die in the sight of his people
She would never have dreamt Camena had such courage or so much passion in his heartShe had derided him as a poseur, a wearer of three-layered cloaks, a minor, trivial artist angling for ascension at courtYesterday afternoon had compelled a new shape to her image of himNow that he had done what he had done, now that his body had been |
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