by Antonio Napoli

It is said that Menilek, son of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon, ruled the Ethiopians with great authority and wisdom. To protect his throne from conspirators and traitors, he had enacted a severe law: anyone who plotted against him was to be first blinded with a red-hot iron and then exiled.

By his side sat a man of unwavering rigor and rare discernment: the old judge Youssuf, who had been raised at the court of the Kingdom of Israel, where he had learned the art of Solomonic justice and the reverence for incorruptible law. Menilek listened to him with respect, recognizing his great ability and firmness in judgment.

Although the king was not a tyrant and accepted proposals from his people, Youssuf had imposed a harsh rule on those who dared to suggest new laws in the sovereign’s presence: whoever put forth a proposal had to wear a noose around their neck, ready to tighten if their advice was not accepted. Thus, no one would speak frivolously.

Menilek revered his judge, seeing in him a reflection of Solomon’s ancient wisdom. But one day, fate put to the test that very justice they both believed incorruptible.

A man was brought in chains before the throne, accused of conspiracy: it was Youssuf’s own son. The evidence against him was irrefutable. The old judge examined every testimony with his usual inflexibility and, in the end, pronounced the sentence: his son was to be blinded and exiled, as the law decreed.

Menilek, shaken by the cruelty of the verdict and moved by his affection for the old judge, sought to temper it. He ordered that the young man be spared his sight—he would be exiled, but not deprived of his eyes.

Youssuf shook his head. “If I make an exception for my son, my justice will be tainted by privilege. And the law I serve and honor will become like the lion’s mane, where any opportunistic bird may perch and pluck a tuft with impunity. I have always believed that the stability of law ensures the stability of the kingdom. And so I shall act accordingly.”

He stepped forward, offering his own face to the executioner. “One eye for me, one eye for him. This way, my judgment remains intact, and my son will not be entirely blind.”

The king and the court fell silent. Menilek, though unable to condone such a cruel choice, could do nothing but bow his head before a man who, even in the deepest pain, had placed justice—however harsh—above love.