Things Could Be Stranger

Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes

       It was a beautiful Tuesday. It was both beautiful because the sun shone bright and strong over a land made green by the early spring rains, the sky was blue, dotted here and there by some lazy, meandering cloud, and birds trilled from tall, straight trees, eager to begin their busy cavorts, and because on a Tuesday George always came back from his weekend hunting expeditions, which meant I should eat well tonight.

       I lifted myself from my favourite rock, hefted my most trusted club, and set off at a hungry pace. As I strode through the long grasses I noted small animals, rabbits, voles, squirrels and their like, darting here and there on their daily escapades; they paid almost as little attention to me as I paid to them. They knew they had nothing to fear from me; I always preyed upon larger game.

       It wasn’t a short walk, although it wasn’t an exhausting trek; I didn’t enjoy the company of others, though I was forced by expediency to remain in their vicinity. By the time I arrived at George’s farmstead, a rough collection of huts where his extended family lived, farmed, cured meats, stored grain and vegetables and bred grazing animals, the sun was signalling midmorning and I was famished.

       Long before I arrived I noted George standing beside the rickety gate to his land; not unusual in itself, although at this time he would usually be preparing my due, but what was unusual was the suspicious presence of Thomas, Philip, Karl and Roger. These fellows also farmed and lived in the area, and I would make my way to their lands at different times throughout the month. Even more concerning were the clubs and cudgels they gripped in their hands and the nervous glances the kept throwing towards each other at the first sign of my approach.

       Liking to think I wasn’t a complete idiot I halted well before I reached the gate and looked calmly at their little group. It looked to me like they had worked themselves up to a little rebellion (it had taken them long enough), but I would wait, allow their anxiety to rise a notch, and see whether they would see the course.

       After some time the others began to nod and signal George, perhaps the instigator or simply the mouthpiece, forward, and with some obvious reluctance and much clearing of the throat he hurriedly said, “You’re not welcome today, Nathan; you’ll not take our meat or grain anymore.” The others nodded and grunted agreement, while Karl even went so far as to slap his palm with the weighted end of his cudgel.

       “Think carefully about your decision, lads.” I began. “At the moment we have no law here, and that’s far preferable to what you’re all about to bring down upon yourselves…”

       “You’ll not bully us anymore. We’ll keep what we catch, and eat what we grow, and there’ll be no more handouts to the likes of you.” stated an emboldened Philip.

       “You think I make your lives harder? You think that my levy is unfair and you would suffer less hardship if I were to desist? You could not be further from the truth. Perhaps I should be merciless and allow you to discover the truth for yourselves, or should I remain the focus of your troubles and save you from yourselves…?” They stared at me as if I had grown a second head; to be honest I usually used my ‘scary’ voice, and mostly knocked things over with prodigious use of my club – it tended to get more done than a kind word or three.

       “I shall tell you a story… Once upon a time there was a stunningly handsome, strong and brave man named Nathan. He lived on the outskirts of a small group of farms made up of ignorant families. These families, separated by natural geography and moral differences, were not ignorant due to a lack of intelligence, but by their lack of experience and perspective, and the fact that a great deal of their time was concentrated on survival rather than imaginative speculation.” They goggled at me with a kind of confused stupor; the wind quite taken from their antagonistic sails.

       “Their land, not too very far south of here, was much like this one – a land filled with game, few in predators, with rich soil to grow crops, and Nathan used to intimidate these hardworking souls into providing him with his daily sustenance. He never took too much, made sure to leave them with plenty for themselves, and apart from his occasional foray into their midst would keep himself to himself and leave them to make what they would of their limited lives.”

       “One day a group of the local men, tired of working so hard only to have a portion of their property stolen away, decided to stand up to Nathan, knowing full well he might best three or four of them in a fight, but could never stand up to their combined force, they drove him off and celebrated their newfound freedom from his yoke of tyranny.” To be honest I wasn’t entirely sure they were keeping up, but I decided to stick at it and see if they could fathom the depths of my insight…

       “Nathan, who was quite capable of exacting vengeance on them individually; of isolating them from the herd and creating terror within their divided ranks, decided, being of a sensible, peaceable mind by nature, to conduct a little observational experiment on these simple fellows, to really understand what would happen to man if released from his bondage.”

       “Now they no longer had a common enemy it took hardly any time at all for them to begin to covet each others’ ‘luxuries’. One fellow, lacking in good sheep breeding stock, began to creep into his neighbours’ lands at night and steal away the healthy males. Another fellow, thinking the daughters of one of the landowners far more seductive than his own wife, committed crimes against their youthful innocence, and others, in reprisal for acts committed against their person or property, or simply because opportunity and impunity presented, did great bodily harm to others in residing in this catastrophic community.”

       “Seeing their community falling beneath the twin-edged freedoms of anarchy they begged Nathan to return and once again exert his dictatorial, if benevolent, influence, but he refused, seeing clearly his lack of initial exertion had forever corrupted their meek, subservience.”

       “With a heavy, if necessary heart, he left them to their Sodom, and headed north in hopes of finding a land as yet untainted by the filth of freedom, until he arrived here and once again, joyful that his neighbours should be so ignorant to such contamination, stamped a gentle brand upon each soul and counted them as his responsibility.” I waited for a moment to see if anything I had said managed to reverberate through the thickness of their skulls, but I knew from the glazed, bored, and belligerent expressions it was up to me to prevent them from falling into the same inescapable pit.

       I turned on my heel and stride away, ignoring their jeers and taunts, their ‘triumph’, but did not return home. I hunted a little – don’t get me wrong, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, and generally would prefer to stay clear of my ignorant fellows, but I also preferred to dedicate myself to more cerebral pursuits, and the training of my physical abilities, and to do so meant I must free up a great deal of the time hunting and gathering consumed.

       After the sun had set I waited a brief while longer just to be sure they’d likely gone to sleep, and then one after another, leaving no farm untouched, whether or not the leaders of each household had been present today, I entered each home and broke the legs of the man of the house. I accompanied my barbaric actions with sufficient amounts of deep-throated shouting, much of which took the form of threats of various evil penalties for further rebellion, a little property destruction, and a leer or two at any pretty daughter that looked particularly vulnerable – I thought that should be sufficient to set them all back on the right track.

       I was right, but there were further, unforeseen consequences… The next morning when I returned for my victuals they were either waiting for me in great abundance on the outskirts of their land, or they were presented to me with far greater respect than previously. However, there was now a new look, poorly masked by inexperience so easy enough to identify; a look I had never previously seen in any of those suffering under my brutal reign… there was hatred, smothered and unformed, but true hatred.

       I decided to gather as much as I could and move on, for while I might retain my control, I would be forced to greater lengths, and some future, final retaliation upon me would not stop with some bruises and a broken bone or two.

       As I hefted a great bag of supplies and bid farewell to the comfortable little hut that had seen me through several bleak winters I wondered whether such a paradox would ever be surmounted: could man live in free equality without abusing any weakness, or must some hated grip hold them to the ground to restrict their self-destructive nature?

       Wandering west this time I enjoyed the warm sun on my back, the small yellow flowers dotting the gentle hills I crossed, and thanked nature for blessing me with my attributes; perhaps I would have a little fish for lunch…