Star Child - The Dawn

The Dawn

Maiori forsan cum timore sententiam in me fertis quam ego accipiam.

(Perchance you pronounce my sentence with greater fear than I receive it.)

Giordano Bruno

8 February 1600

The door opened with an ear-splitting screech.

Already? It was barely the crack of dawn. Through the tiny window high above my head I could see the stars blending into the brightening skies. The last day of my life had started.

‘You’re too early, fra’ Ricardo.’ I didn’t bother to turn my head. ‘The crowds haven’t gathered yet. It’ll be no fun.’

‘I’m afraid I’m too late, Nolan.’

The voice was familiar. I turned around, squinting against the flame of the torch. Bright light hurt my eyes—I had spent too long a time in dark dungeons.

‘Angelo! What are you doing here?’ I folded my arms and almost winced. The tips of the fingers on my right hand, where the skin had been cut off, were still raw.

‘I came to talk.’ Angelo made a step forward and the door closed behind his back. We were now standing face to face.

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘Have a sit, if you like.’

Angelo glanced at the dirty stone floor. The cell was devoid of any furniture, of course.

‘Very kind of you to offer.’

‘What do you want to talk about?’ I asked rather surly. I would have prefered to be left alone for those last precious minutes, but that was obviously not to be.

‘Your last chance.’

I laughed into his face.

‘Don’t tell me I’ll be pardoned!’

‘Well, you’re still alive. The offer is still valid. So, your fate is in your hands.’

For a while I just studied his plump, clean-shaven cheeks, his sensuous lips curved in an oily smile. The cold look of his small black eyes belied his friendly tone. Anyway, I knew him only too well. We met thirty-seven years ago, when we both just entered San Domenico Maggiore as novitiates. At that time his name was Lorenzo and mine was Filippo. We were two very promising youngsters, eager to join the Dominican Order. Who would think that our paths would be so different?

I looked him in the eye.

‘You say my fate is in my hands? I thought the fate of us all is in the hands of God.’

His eyes flashed for a split second. He always hated it when I mocked him because my mockery was always too subtle for him to retort.

‘Of course it is. But God has mercy upon His creations.’ He crossed himself with the most pious look on his face. Too bad that face was now blotched and puffy from the not-so-pious life. Thirty-seven years ago he looked like an innocent little angel indeed.

‘How amazing it is that His creations show so little mercy to each other then.’ I was warming up to the discussion. Why not have a bit of fun before I die? For the first time in my life I had absolutely nothing to fear. The worst thing that could possibly happen to me was going to happen anyway. Now I could say anything I liked. Oh, Death, thou art a great liberator!

Angelo sighed.

‘It saddens me deeply to see you here on this day. You can’t deny that we’ve been very patient with you. For eight years we’ve been trying to make you see the light of reason.’

I couldn’t help snorting with laughter.

‘Oh yes, your kindness to me has no limits. Usually it doesn’t take you that long to condemn a heretic to death.’

‘We do not make such decisions lightly. And you are not just any heretic. You’re an alt’har. You’re one of us. That’s why we are giving you your last chance.’

I straightened up and squared my shoulders. My body hurt all over, but I wouldn’t have to bear this much longer.

‘No need to be so generous. I have never been one of you. And will never be. You’re a bunch of bastards who think that they are the smartest people on earth, the select few, the chosen ones who have the right to decide the fate of the whole world. Well, guess what, you’re just a bunch of self-righteous assholes!’ I spat it out with glee. There was no need to pretend anymore and finally I was speaking my mind!

Angelo gave me a long look.

‘We may not be as infallible as we’d like to think, but we are doing our best. We’re bringing the light of wisdom to the savages. Without us they’d still have been dressing in hides and killing each other with clubs. They are little better than animals, and sometimes they are worse than animals. We are the shepherds and we do what we can to protect and guide our flock. Even if it takes culling out some black sheep.’

Black sheep… They don’t even realise that it is them who are the black sheep of the humankind. Or rather, they are wolves in sheep’s clothing. Their oily smiles reveal the bloody fangs. They kill, torture and cheat. They talk about God while serving the Devil…

I was suddenly crushed by an overwhelming weariness. Try as I might, they just didn’t get it. I had been saying it over and over again, but nobody would listen…

Well, this was my very last chance indeed—the chance to speak out.

‘There are no “us” and “them”. Alt’hars or dek’hars, Jews or goyim, Christians or Muhammadans, Negroes or Whites or whatever—none of these matters. People are different, but everyone’s blood is red. We are all one, this whole Universe is one whole. Whatever you do unto others, you do unto yourself. Is this so hard to understand? Your thirst for power, your greed for money are foolish…’

‘What’s foolish is your obstinacy!’ Angelo suddenly exploded. ‘It’s one thing to be a naïve idealist at fifteen and quite another to hold onto your delusions at fifty! It’s one thing to be a harmless dreamer and quite another to stir up trouble and lead innocent souls astray! People are different and everyone has his own place! Some are to make orders and some are to take orders. This is the way things have been and this is the way things will always be! And if you’re unable to see this fundamental truth, then you’re really not as smart as people say you are.’

I watched him with mild curiosity. Angelo always tried to compete with me in intellectual pursuits—and always failed. I might not be as smart as people said, but I was yet to see the match of me. I had travelled the world, from Italy to England, and nobody ever could beat me in debates. Which made many venerable professors very mad with me.

I suppose, I had made a lot more enemies than friends.

I smiled a wry smile.

‘Angelo, this talk is useless. You’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine. I do prefer courageous death to pallid life. Would you mind leaving now? I really don’t have any time to waste on useless conversations.’

‘So, the answer is no?’ he asked.

‘Did you really expect anything else?’

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Some people are very brave until they see the face of death. Then they suddenly realise how much valuable their life is. And change their mind.’

‘There are things more dear to me than my life.’

Angelo shook his head.

‘Obstinacy must run in your blood.’

‘I have no reason to be ashamed of my ancestors.’ That was definitely the coup de grâce.

Flustered, Angelo turned on his heel and marched out without saying another word. Well, finally I had peace and quiet. Probably, not for long though.

I leaned against the cold wall and closed my eyes.

The world outside my tiny cell was coming to life. Inside the thick walls of Torre dell’Annona I could hear the heavy steps of the guards, doors squeaking and screeching, people talking, screaming, laughing, shouting orders. Fainter sounds were coming from the courtyard: hoofs clattering on the stones, horses neighing, people running around. Fainter still, there was the murmur of the great city of Rome: Romans going about their business, narrow streets bustling with crowds, spectators gathering at Campo de’Fiori…