Punishment for murder meant the tightening of a cord about the source of life, and this mode have men of today learned through tradition and through that stream of events which breaks seldom through the years.
The punishment for murder was a cord tightened around the source of life. Men of today have learned this method through tradition, and through that stream of events which is seldom broken over the years.
To men grown old in crime the punishment became more lenient, for thus the council argued: "The gods a punishment will mete which days, but few, hold for this wreck of manhood, and thus no need have we to aid." So he, the hardened criminal, was bound within a vault which led unto the sea and there eked out a life of solitude, with naught save needed meat and drink to break the hours' long sway.
As criminals aged, their punishments grew less severe. The council reasoned, "The gods will soon deal with these worn-out men, so we need not intervene." Thus, the hardened criminal was confined to a seaside vault, living out his days in solitude with only basic food and water to mark the passing hours.
None other entered the retreat of crime, but rats ran nimbly to and fro and basked within the spot of sunlight which, perchance, lit up the rock-hewn chamber when high noon was rung from throats of bells that cut the air of rarest purity, so cleansed by breath of sea and atmosphere all purged from dust by breezes born from waves.
No one else entered this vault where the criminal was confined. But rats ran nimbly back and forth. They basked in the patch of sunlight that perhaps lit up the rock-hewn chamber when high noon was rung out from the throats of bells. The sound cut through air of the rarest purity. The breath of the sea had cleansed it, and breezes born from the waves had purged it of all dust.
And so it was that man met Maker face to face in thought—that gift of joy or torture-weapon sharp as steel beat by the smith. Aye, thought! That ripener of crime, of greed, of hate or yet of love and charity. The growth of mind attuned to catch the motive chords asundered from the body's mass of nerves and muscles. Mechanism subtle that doth breed the all intangible, unknowable stream of harm, or good, which, bred in brain leaps out to cast to death or raises highest pinnacle of joy.
And so it was that this man met his Maker face to face in thought. Thought is that gift of joy, or a torture-weapon as sharp as steel beaten by the smith. Yes, thought! It ripens crime, greed, and hate, or else love and charity. It is the growth of a mind tuned to catch the chords of motive, separated from the body's mass of nerves and muscles. It is a subtle mechanism that breeds the wholly intangible, unknowable stream of harm or good. Bred in the brain, this stream leaps out to cast one down to death, or raises one to the highest pinnacle of joy.
Such hath Thought been since first the skull of man did fit a mood that grew beneath the cap old Nature made for mass ye call "the brain."
Such has Thought been ever since the skull of man first held a mood that grew beneath the cap old Nature made for the mass you call "the brain."
And when we speak of Nature, in our hearts the real source doth beat the current strong of God—of All—of atoms—whirling specks and massive products of a Mind alone. Of Law but never force of man, for man alone can nothing make, but leans upon the vast, majestic Mind.
When we talk about Nature, we feel in our hearts the powerful flow of something greater—God, the Universe, the building blocks of existence. It's all the product of a singular cosmic intelligence. This intelligence operates by laws beyond human control, for humans can create nothing on their own, but instead rely on this vast, magnificent Mind.
Yea, woman, too, so soft in love, so strong in hate, was punished for that crime of taking life—the gift which man may take but ne’er return again. Aye, God doth never yield again to husk when once the cord of soul and husk is broke. A body dieth when the soul is free and never more doth that take shape which once hath held a soul.
Yes, women too—so tender in love yet fierce in hate—were punished for the crime of taking life, a gift that one can seize but never give back. Indeed, God never returns a soul to its body once the connection between them is severed. A body dies when the soul departs, and that which once housed a soul can never again take form.
A woman nurtured tenderly was made to kneel on stones, protected from the sun's fierce rays, and there for weeks ye number twelve each day did kneel with arms upraised to gods. Her torture sometimes shortened by the slave who stood with wand to beat the breath from casket frail if she did falter in her pleadings long. And thus she met the soul sent out to quench her hate.
A woman who had been tenderly raised was made to kneel on stones, shielded from the sun's fierce rays. There, for what you count as twelve weeks, she knelt each day with her arms raised to the gods. Her torture was sometimes cut short by the slave who stood by with a rod. If she faltered in her long pleading, he would beat the breath out of her frail body. And so she met the soul sent out to quench her hate.
And if perchance, her babe was reft of life while lying at her side in slumber deep, no murder had she done, so she but sat beside the highway wailing sore: "My child is dead!—is dead!" And this long "month of tears" atoned for fault of oversleep, and such example made the care of young a task so well performed that seldom thus they died.
If by chance her baby died while sleeping next to her, she wasn't guilty of murder. Instead, she would sit by the road, crying out, "My child is dead! Is dead!" This "month of tears" made up for her oversight in sleeping too deeply. Such incidents served as a lesson, making childcare a duty so carefully performed that infant deaths rarely occurred this way again.
If to an unwed maid a child was born, all undesired, and it died at her hand, four stalwart slaves stripped from her form the gems, the cloth of gold, mayhap, the fine-spun lace and from the shore in barge sped out and cast her, shrieking, in the sea to fierce, finned ghouls.
If an unmarried woman gave birth to an unwanted child and killed it, four strong slaves would strip her of her jewels, gold-threaded clothes, and delicate lace. They would then take her by boat from the shore and throw her, screaming, into the sea to be devoured by vicious sharks.
A father smitten by his son was soon avenged, for he (the son) was reft of hands and eyes and then the strangler's cord did well the task of ridding husk of soul so foul. A theft was punished by the thief enstamped upon the shoulder with the character denoting theft, and he no mantle was allowed to wear for years ye number four.
A father murdered by his son soon faced justice. The son had his hands and eyes removed before being executed by strangulation, cleansing the world of his wicked soul. A thief was punished by having the symbol for theft branded on his shoulder and was forbidden from wearing a cloak for four years.
A maid who had despoiled her mistress wore a scarlet strap about her brow to hide the mark supposed to stand upon the brow of them who pilfered other people's substance. Wife murderer sat in galley all the years that Time drew out for him till death; for he was thought to fit his soul by meditation stern for other plane where (priest told well the tale) great Ses did fix the cord about the neck of soul, enacting well the executioner.
A servant who had stolen from her employer wore a red headband to cover the mark believed to appear on the foreheads of thieves. A man who murdered his wife spent years rowing in a galley ship until his death, as it was thought this harsh punishment would prepare his soul for the afterlife. There, according to the priest's vivid account, the great god Ses would act as executioner, placing a noose around the soul's neck.
And thus did man take in his hands the task of God to punish for despoiling page of life—the book unsullied first, but blotted sore with stain of unfixed thoughts—of ill to fellow men.
And so humanity took on the role of divine judgment, punishing those who corrupted the purity of life. This once-pristine existence, now marred by the stains of reckless thoughts and harmful actions against others.
The priesthood punished as was best thought fit, each member of the order who did sin, the nation knowing naught of what befell "the Temple's children." Each was taught the law, and if it were broken by an act forbidden, the highest of the order spake the word of punishment and punishment was given. No plea the order stayed.
The religious authorities disciplined their members privately for any wrongdoing, shielding their actions from public view. Each member was thoroughly educated in the rules and regulations. If someone broke these laws, the highest-ranking official would declare the punishment, which was then carried out without exception. No appeals were allowed.
Priority among the priests was known alone by age, not service nor yet rank or wealth. The elder priests—the "fathers" called, in dying left their power to next in age. All priests were taught the selfsame laws and science whispered to each ear the same, and mentally they each so strove to grasp, not one could say his wisdom was the less. Such were not law.
Among the priests, seniority was the sole determinant of status, not accomplishments, position, or wealth. The eldest priests, known as "fathers," passed their authority to the next in line upon death. All priests received identical training in laws and sciences, with knowledge shared equally among them. Each priest strived to fully comprehend these teachings, ensuring no one could claim superior wisdom. Such practices were not codified into law.
Statesmen did so uphold themselves in honor that a crime such as thou namest * seldom found a man so base as to demean his sacred word.
Statesmen upheld their honor so well that a crime such as you name * seldom found a man so base as to degrade his sacred word.