I feel that I am slowly getting confident enough to write more than poems and have attempted to engage a little more imagination..
It wasn’t the Roman’s that he was angry with. The all powerful legions that were able to crush any army that stood to confront their mighty war machine could not be blamed for the control of the population. The administrators that the Roman Empire installed to govern the vanquished state were the real destroyers of the hope and faith that this proud nation once had. Looking at the drab coloured people that inhabited the market the youth noticed the way they bent over and shuffled along as if by hunching their shoulders they could deny their true feelings from being exposed. They did not realise that this act did in fact telegraph their feelings, their dead dreams coupled with their imprisoned realities screamed from beneath the billowing dusty cloaks. The youth constantly searched for a leader that would be able to raise an army to destroy the occupation force, but this was foolish thinking. No, he realised that the victory, the freedom would have to come through the destruction of the “installed”, their own people who had chosen to betray the nation in the interest of wealth and power for their own families over the needs of the whole population. The youths lip curled with the hatred that he felt for these people, these people he had admired before the occupation, these people who had led all the religious ceremonies and administered the sacred laws, these people who had so easily moved from defenders of the faith to destroyers of the truth.
As was the custom the youth studied the law and observed all the religious traditions that still were allowed to be practiced under the strict control of the “installed”. His intelligent inquiring mind was constantly devouring the scrolls of the past, the letters and the studies of the leaders of a peaceful, prosperous time. The “installed” allowed him access to the most delicate and closely guarded writings because of their arrogant belief in their infallibility. His commitment to completing his apprenticeship in his fathers workshop coupled with the long after hours study regime that he imposed on himself convinced the “installed” of his desire to join them. It was in his studies that he found his leader, the one to rid the community of the poison that had permeated through all levels of living. The “installed” owned everything and the items that were not owned they controlled. The laws were moulded to suit the “installed”, to protect their interests and deny the success of others. This is how the country lived, worked and worshipped.
He planned carefully, silently and thoughtfully. He practised his craft in the dead of night, out in the fields while he tended the flocks of herders who were grateful for the rest. His voice became like a weapon for him, a booming canon or a soft, soothing wind that whispered peace to the sheep around him. He took to fishing to get to know the ways of the stars and the power of the seas. He learnt of the tides that brought shoals of fish and learnt of the sharp drop off just off the beach that was home to schools of herring that appeared at certain times of the year. For years he studied and practiced for the time that would come, the time of confrontation and subversive attacks. He collected a fanatical group of friends that were slowly exposed to his plans, reluctantly agreeing with the outcome.