Page 22 of I Will Always Find You
“I will now tell you the story of Pythias and his friend Damon, both followers of the philosopher Pythagoras, who travelled to Syracuse during the reign of the tyrant Dionysius I. Good Pythias was accused of plotting against the tyrant, which was not true, but the despot would hear no protestations. Blinded by lies and a cold heart, he sentenced Pythias—to death!”
The women in the audience gasped softly, their eyes wide with shock as the story unfolded. A few men echoed their horrified sentiments, but most of the male patrons, thoroughly in their cups, pounded their flagons against the sturdy wooden tables, creating a rhythmic thunder that filled the room. Their boisterous cheers roared in support of the animated storyteller, who spun a potentially grim narrative with captivating flair, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats, eager for the next twist in the tale.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes into a piercing gaze and furrowed his brow as he continued his story.
“Accepting his sentence, Pythias requested to be allowed to return home one last time to settle his affairs and bid farewell to his mother and father. The stern king refused, not wanting to appear foolish, believing Pythias would flee and never return once released.
“Damon stepped forward with a noble heart, offering himself up as a hostage during the absence of his dear friend, Pythias. With a stern gaze, the king proclaimed that if he agreed to this, should Pythias fail to return by the appointed hour, Damon would meet his fate at the gallows in his friend’s stead.
“Possessing a steadfast resolve, Damon accepted this perilous bargain. As the chains of destiny tightened, the bond of friendship between the two men shone ever brighter. Pythias, his heart nearly overflowing with gratitude, could not thank his loyal and courageous friend enough, tears welling in his eyes.
“Dionysius, a man devoid of love in his heart, moved through life unburdened by the warmth of true friendship or the selflessness of altruism. He was a figure shrouded in cynicism, his eyes ever glinting with doubt upon his fellow man; he fixated on his unwavering certainty that Pythias was a scoundrel and would not return.
“And when that fateful day arrived, the one Pythias had vowed to come back on, and the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the land, the tyrant grew impatient. With a cruel disposition, Dionysius summoned the grim executioner, his cold voice laced with authority, ordering the immediate execution of poor Damon.”
“No!” Astraia exclaimed, her voice cutting through the near silence of the tavern.
Once thick with tension, the room burst into hearty laughter that echoed off the wooden beams overhead.
Astraia scoffed at the crowd’s mockery and resumed her work. She pretended to be uninterested in anything the innkeeper had left of his story to reveal, though all knew she continued to listen intently.
“Quiet down,” Anastasios shouted, and the room quickly obeyed. “Please continue, Nicholas.”
Nicholas shot a mischievous wink toward the man who held his heart. Before returning to his story, he cast off the vibrant warmth of his expression, replacing it once more with the dramatic grimace he had donned earlier.
“The executioner was garbed in a black, hooded robe, which made him look like Charon, the ancient ferryman who transports the souls of the dead across the river Styx to meet Hades, King of the Underworld. This dark sentinel of death raised his weapon, an axe stained with the blood of both the guilty and the innocent, ready, perhaps even eager, to shatter the bond between the two friends forever.
“But wait—!”
Nicholas turned his head from one table to the next, gazing briefly but intently into the wide-eyed faces of the inn’s patrons. Many at each table held their breath, the tension palpable as the storyteller appeared to look into their very souls.
Those who did not know the tale well, or at all, were gripped by a whirlwind of emotions—fear of a dire twist or a flicker of hope for a miraculous turn of events.
“There in the distance, like great Hermes racing down from Mount Olympus, Pythias emerged from the horizon, panting and weary—but resolute! Hope and disbelief danced in the air as he rushed back into the unforgiving clutches of his fate.
“Upon seeing Damon so near his end, Pythias apologized profusely to his friend for the delay, explaining that pirates had captured his ship on the way back to Syracuse and thrown him overboard.
“With determination in his heart, he had fought through the churning waves and the deadly creatures of the depths to swim vigorously to shore. He explained how, after finally emerging from the water, he raced back to Syracuse as fast as he could, his mortal feet pounding against the ground. And thankfully, he had arrived in time. He was prepared to accept his fate and save his friend from death.
“Truly astonished and genuinely pleased by the extraordinary bond of friendship displayed by the two men, Dionysius took a moment to ponder. Soon after, he chose to grant both Pythias and Damon a pardon, lifting the heavy weight of his tyrannical rule from their shoulders.
“It is said that the tyrant, intrigued by their unwavering camaraderie and desirous of joining their ranks, expressed a longing to become their third friend. He wished to experience all that had been absent from his selfish and heartless life.
“However, the two young men, wise to the erratic and often dangerous whims that characterized Dionysius’ nature, diplomatically declined his proposition. They knew that the capricious temperament of the king, even the unpredictability of such an alliance, could jeopardize the very essence of their cherished friendship. Dionysius and the two friends parted ways, never to see each other again.
“The moral of the story of Damon and Pythias is that true friendship is rooted in unwavering loyalty, deep trust, and the courageous willingness to make sacrifices for one another. And like the mystics who saved us on this very night one year past, they embodied the moral of this ancient tale. They demonstrated the true strength of friendship that night. They showed us that even in the face of the unexpected and of sacrifice, loyalty, dedication, and the need for the strong to protect the weak from evildoers is a virtue sent down from the heavens.”
The inn’s patrons burst into raucous cheers, their voices mingling in a joyful cacophony as they clanked together their flagons of frothy mead and rich, ruby-red wine. The fireplace’s warm glow illuminated their happy, ruddy faces, drunk on both spirits and merriment. Hearty laughter and sincere camaraderie filled the air, marking the celebration of a well-told tale.
“Now that you have supped, my friend, surely you have a tale or two to tell this lively crowd, no?”
The Romani witch, though having intensely enjoyed Nicholas’ moral tale, was taken aback by the idea of himself speaking in public to either reveal something personal or recount a parable of old, a myth of legend. “I am many things, good Anastasios, but a storyteller is not one of them.”
“Oh, pish! You are being modest. Even though you have undoubtedly not lived more than twenty-odd summers, I can tell you have experienced an exciting life. There is a depth to your dark eyes that hints at something wondrous within, perhaps an ancient insight into humanity and history, or a trove of mysteries. Yes, I do believe there are stories aplenty in that comely head of yours.”
Anastasios’ comments made the Romani witch snicker in a good-humoured way. He appeared younger than his actual age, but in a mystical sense, he was far older, possessing an enchanted agelessness that transcended the limits of time. In any event, he was made of flesh and blood and was very much human every lifetime; he was not a true immortal, eternally free from the strictures of time in one body forever.
The Romani witch had acquired a great deal of knowledge and understanding of the ever-changing world, which he could eventually access in each new life, when all his memories finally returned to him. And he would never stop learning, having new experiences, and revisiting old ones. However, his quest to share his life with his eternal beloved remained his priority.
