by Antonio Napoli

Chapter Four

Having already known the gloom of prison, albeit for a short and unjust time, it only took one glance to understand that the chief of the guards was uncomfortable in his role. His movements were slow, his expression thoughtful; he had a towering physique and hands so large they could have grasped all the kingdom’s prison keys in a single fist. Yet, he seemed a prisoner of his task just as much as we were of our unjust detention. He had been born a jackal and had become a dog.

The power of the Book, now distant, had faded in our minds, uncertain and confused. We stood before the officer, no longer with the guards he had dismissed with a mere gesture, without a word. We watched him in silence as he turned his back on us, after giving us a heavy gaze. The light shone on the lines of his back, which stood straight and unflinching, covering the window.

I thought that men like him command reluctantly. They command because they must, because society has brought them back to the place from which nature had cast them, because in the end, they convince themselves that obedience to the role is a form of necessity, and necessity, over time, is mistaken for destiny. But in their gestures and looks, one can feel the weight of a task never truly accepted, yet always honored. I don’t know why, but the idea of being entrusted to his custody, so to speak, comforted me, even though the worst was to be expected.

Speusippo was the first to break the silence. “What is the fate of Timeo? He hasn’t returned to his cell.”

The commander turned, surprised. “So you care about the fate of that mind-bender, and not your own? I listened to him for a while… He tried to convince me that the just and unjust were in the discussion, not in the laws. But we need cells full of real criminals, not sophists. So I entrusted him to the corrupt judgment and fragile tolerance of the common people, the marketplace folk, the idle and fickle ones. There, he will surely find bread for his teeth… his punishment, don’t you think?”

“Set us free as well,” I said. “We don’t belong to any band of thieves; out there, the world must fear us less than it fears your authority, the Law you represent…”

“My authority, you say?” replied the chief of the guards, with an incredulous smile, one that sometimes evokes a feeling of pity. “A man has only two authorities over him: time and death.”

“And human law, which can take the first and hasten the second,” intervened Speusippo.

“Human law,” said the commander, “stands between the two like an accident.” He paused for a long moment, then continued. “An appearance of destiny, not destiny itself, is your being caught in the rigors of the law. You can change your fate, if…”

“We have no names of accomplices to give, nor hiding places for stolen goods to reveal, if that is what you hope for,” Speusippo interrupted. “And not because we don’t want to, but because we can’t.”

“I’m not asking you for that, at least not for now,” clarified the commander. “I’ve heard travelers tell of a group of thieves from their distant land, who stripped the sick of the plague without falling ill themselves, and when they were arrested, to save themselves from crucifixion, they admitted to possessing a secret medicine that protected them from all disease… You, whether you are thieves or not, still have a cure for rabid dog bites. This morning, a boy came to tell me of your healing ability and asked me to release you, against his grandfather’s advice.”

My thoughts raced to Jabir. But how a boy could get us out of prison, according to my friend’s dream, remained a mystery.

“Yes, we have a miraculous remedy,” admitted Speusippo. “But in exchange for this, we want our freedom.”

“Sure! Of course,” laughed the chief of the guards. “You’ll get it, if your remedy works.” His tone was a mix of irony and seriousness.

“Who is on the brink of death, bitten by the dog we saw kill last night?” I asked anxiously.

“You’ll see soon,” replied the commander, summoning the guards.

We stepped outside, struck by a slap of light and fresh air. Circling the prison, we approached a cage whose door was guarded by more guards. When they stepped aside, we saw the door to our salvation open and close with a mocking irony.

Inside the cage—an excessive precaution for a victim of such a terrible disease—was a huge guard dog with fierce eyes, rounded ears, short tawny fur, a black snout, and drooping lips from which foamy white slobber dripped. It was blind. And the dog welcomed us by barking as if it were our executioner.

“I keep this dog for many reasons, and especially because it saved my daughter from a lion… incredible, right? It lost its eyes but has always been loyal and brave, cruel with its prey, but gentle with my little one. Adanna adores it like a loving older brother, and today she will come, heart full of anticipation to see her father and her savior. I don’t want to disappoint her by having it put down. You will heal it, and I promise you will regain your freedom.”

Speusippo and I exchanged horrified glances: that kind of dog fought in the heat of battle alongside brave and ruthless warriors, a beast as energetic as the backbone of an army, terrifying as an unexpected enemy.

Meanwhile, from the house where we had been hosted, they brought our belongings. While my head began to tingle with memories of all the people present, and I clearly saw how one guard—among all, the most corrupt—accepted gifts and rewards from the relatives of the prisoners, warning the thieves when the homes of the rich were empty, Speusippo grabbed the half-full water bottle and told me:

“I’ll go. You know, the hardest thing for me is living with guilt. At least one of us will survive. And will be free.”

Before I could protest, he was already in the cage, opened by the trembling hands of the corrupt guard. The infected wound on the dog’s neck was clearly visible, and Speusippo planned to approach without provoking the mastiff’s reaction. However, he hadn’t reckoned with the dog’s short snout, sensitive to the slightest odor. He was ready with the open bottle to pour the miraculous liquid on the wound when the dog threw him to the ground. The bottle fell, spilling a small amount of liquid. Now, between him and Speusippo stood the dog, the disease, and death. Meanwhile, the liquid from the bottle slowly dripped away, taking with it every hope.

I approached the cage, and since the Book of Memory was once again among us, I discovered a new power within it. Through the bars, I spoke in a child’s voice, overwhelmed by memories of when the dog played with the chief of the guards’ daughter and defended her from all danger. The commander shuddered at that voice, which, as a father, he would recognize among a hundred little girls. The mastiff, for its part, seemed to remember the tenderness of the past and came closer to me, recognizing a familiar sound, just long enough for Speusippo to retrieve the bottle.

There was only enough water left for the dog’s venomous wound, but not for a potential bite. And as the Greek faced his fate, with pride and without hesitation, I must say that I have never seen another man challenge fate in the same way.

While I distracted the mastiff with my feminine voice, Speusippo, as lean and lanky as he was, leapt onto the muscular back and, emptying the entire water onto the animal’s neck, grabbed its long ears as if they were reins, tightening his legs around its belly, showing not the strength of muscles, but the strength of will. The dog spun its head, scattering foam.

“Open the cage door!” shouted Speusippo. The guards were paralyzed by the scene. It was then that Jabir appeared, quicker to open the door than to sense the possible dangers. The dog rushed out as if it had regained its sight, but slammed into the wall, while Speusippo tumbled onto the grass.

The mastiff, recovering from the shock, seemed to return to its ferocity, but the medicine began to take effect: all its being, trembling and muscular, softened, and the putrid wound closed like a miser’s purse.

The chief of the guards observed the dog’s docile demeanor, smiled in relief, and approached to pet it. But first, he turned to the guards and ordered:

“Release the prisoners. These are not the thieves we’re looking for. Rather, go to the market and root out that cursed breed of receivers, without whom no thief could remain hidden for long.”

“One of these receivers is among you,” I said, pointing a finger at a guard and revealing his name, along with that of two thieves who had not hesitated to murder a city dignitary.

Suddenly, the chief of the guards cast me a suspicious glance that sent a chill down my spine.

“You’ve gotten us into trouble again!” sighed Speusippo. “May Hephaestus seal the volcano of your mouth!”

I would have clarified our position by having the Book of Memory read aloud to the chief of the guards. After all, there is no mistake that doesn’t have its remedy. But in that instant, another dog, sniffing a piece of cheese that had soaked into my sack, grabbed the Book of Memory and carried it away with it.