33
DEMON CRACY
One day Cracy came down from the mountain, leaving his double behind
him on the throne. The priest changed his clothing and removed his wig.
Then he ordered the leader of the sentries to shackle him in chains like a
simple slave and put him into the column behind a strong, young slave by
the name of Nard.
Peering into the faces of the slaves, Cracy noticed that this young man’s
gaze was not wandering or distant like those of many others, but rather, in-
quisitive and calculating. Nard’s face was at turns focused and thoughtful, or
agitated. “That means he’s conjuring up some kind of plan,” the priest con-
cluded, but he wanted to ascertain how accurate his observation might be.
For two days Cracy followed Nard, silently hauling stones, sitting next to
him at meals and sleeping in the bunk next to his. On the third night, as
soon as the command “Sleep” had been given, Cracy turned to the young
slave, and in a whisper full of despair and bitterness, he uttered a question,
addressed to no one in particular: “Will it really go on like this for the rest
of our lives?”
The priest saw the young slave give a start and instantly turn his face to-
ward the priest, his eyes shining. Even in the dim light of the barracks’
lamps, they gleamed.
“It won’t go on this way for long. I’m working out a plan. And you can be
part of it, too, old man,” the young slave whispered.
“What kind of plan?” the priest asked indifferently, sighing.
Nard began to explain, heatedly and confidently:
“You, old man, and I and all of us – before long we’ll be free men instead
of slaves. Count them up, old man: there’s one sentry for each ten slaves.
And there’s only one sentry for the fifteen female slaves who do cooking
and sewing. If we all attack the sentries at an appointed time, then we’ll
conquer them. Even though they’re armed and we’re shackled in chains. It’s
ten of us to one of them, and we can use the chains as weapons, too, and use
them to defend ourselves from the blows of their swords. We’ll disarm all
the sentries, tie them up and take control of their weapons.”
“Ah, young man,” said Cracy, sighing once more, and then he apathetic-
ally replied:
