by Jake Yaniak
A quiet night covered the city as they entered. But as soon as they were spotted a great clamor arose. Torches were lit and music roared to life as Lord Havoc entered Ramlos. They were escorted by carriage to the palace and given a supper of pheasant and potatoes.
Volthamir laid down to sleep that night with all that he had seen during his journey in his thoughts. When morning came, he wasted no time, but quickly found Lord Havoc. 'We are here, my lord,' he said politely though eagerly. 'As you've promised, tell me now all that you know.'
In Lord Havoc's Chambers
That morning, after they had bathed and breakfasted, Lord Havoc summoned the prince to the northwest guard tower, to his own chambers. Volthamir made his way there swiftly; he was half afraid the old knight would once more find some way to delay the interview.
Lord Havoc's chambers were surprisingly well kept. Beyond his strong wooden doors there there was no sign of neglect; Lord Havoc saw to it that his rooms were maintained even during his long absences. Volthamir was led into the room by a servant who quickly shut the door behind him and vanished down the hall. Lord Havoc was seated at a small wooden desk with a pen in his hand. 'I was just about to write to your uncle the King,' he said, 'but I suppose I owe you some answers first.'
'I would appreciate it,' Volthamir said. 'I have waited long for this moment.'
'Indeed you have,' Lord Havoc said, rising from his seat and setting his pen down carefully on the desk. 'But first, I have something to give to you.'
Lord Havoc walked over to a large chest and removed from it a small wooden box. 'This is yours,' he said, handing it to Volthamir, 'I have kept it all these long years for just such a moment.'
Volthamir took the box and opened the lid carefully. The inside was lined with a fine red cloth. In the center of box was a red cushion on which sat a small knife with a bright white handle. 'But this…?'
'-is the very knife I took from you all those long years ago,' Lord Havoc smiled coldly. 'I told you that I would return it to you when the time is right.'
'But, I don't understand,' Volthamir said, his voice was shaking.
'You soon will,' Lord Havoc said, 'I am here now, ask me anything that you like, and I will tell you all that I know. But we must not speak here.' Lord Havoc beckoned him on toward a tall wooden door near the rear of his chamber. This door opened on a steep flight of steps that wound their way up to a higher room. In this room there was a round table and several wooden chairs. When Volthamir was seated, Lord Havoc locked the door behind them and took a seat. 'Now we are beyond hearing,' Lord Havoc said. It was then that Volthamir noticed that Arus was there as well, perched on a swing that was hung from the ceiling.
'I would like to know first,' Volthamir began in a quiet voice, 'Why did we take such an odd road to Ramlos? It would have been quicker, safer, and easier to come by the main road. Your ways are strange, my lord. I do not doubt them, but I do not understand them either. To hear the baying of wolves alone hardly seems to be a sufficient explanation.'
'We came by the Heyan road because of your uncle's charge: that I teach you Justice, Honor and Compassion.'
'Then we might as well begin there,' Volthamir said, leaning back in his seat. 'You have already told me what you think of justice. Now I will hear what you have to say about the other virtues, Lord Havoc.'
Honor
'The second reason that I led us through the Heyan forest was to teach you a thing or two about Honor. A virtuous man is one that does justly, and he is virtuous regardless of his circumstances. And a wicked man is one that does unjustly, and again, he is wicked regardless of his condition. But Honor is somewhat different. A man may have virtue, yet be dishonored. And again, a man may be wicked, yet be honored.
'My question for you, my prince, is this,' Lord Havoc looked at him with stern eyes, 'Which is better to possess, virtue or honor?
Volthamir thought for a moment. 'I cannot say, mostly because I feel that whatever it is that I choose you will correct me.'
'Perhaps after I have described the differences between virtue and honor you will have a better idea.
'That would seem like a good course to take,' Volthamir said, reclining slightly in his seat.
'There are two men in Heyan forest. They are both the same age, and both of them were in the same trade in their younger days. They were both skilled hunters and crafty woodsmen. They both rose quickly to prominence in their respective villages. They married almost at the same time, both of them to beautiful women. Within two years both of their wives were with child. Both men were the envy of the whole wood. Success was theirs, beautiful wives, and now they were each blessed with daughters.
'But something went dreadfully wrong for both of these men. Their wives became pregnant once again and each bore a second daughter. But in the days following the birth of their daughters, both women were stricken by a terrible plague. The dreadful disease devastated many in the Heyan forest in those days. In some places entire villages were lost, and in others the number of people were cut in half. In the end, one man had lost his wife and baby daughter, leaving him alone with his eldest daughter. But the other man's wife and daughter survived, though marred and stricken by the terrible disease to the extent that they could no longer see, nor could they care for themselves.
'Time passed, and the man who had lost his wife remarried and became the elder of his village. But the other man fell into poverty. His house was run down and his wealth was soon wasted in the care of his sickly wife and daughter. Physicians stopped coming to him, for they saw no hope of recovery. Even the villagers turned their hearts from them in time. The house was so decrepit and broken down that he became a laughingstock throughout the region. He could no longer farm his land, so his whole estate was soon overrun with wild beasts and pests. His neighbors grew angry because of the animals and threatened him several times. But their threats never came to anything for several reasons. First, they knew the man had nothing to repay them with for their troubles, and secondly, none of them wanted to go to his reeking lands to collect what retribution was due.
'Now I have a new question for you, my prince,' Lord Havoc said, pausing his tale. 'Which of these men has Honor, and which does not?'
'I would say that the man whose wife died has Honor, considering the fact that he is the elder, and has the command over the men of his village. The other is certainly dishonorable, since his neighbors despise him and treat him with contempt.'
'Indeed,' Lord Havoc said. 'And these two men you have met yourself. For they are none other than Effren, the elder of Soleya and Hashias, the old man of Ferwur. Ethla is the eldest daughter of Effren, but the lady Arani is not her mother. She is Effren's second wife.
'Hashias' wife lived on for some years, finally succumbing just a few years ago. But his sickly daughter still clings to life. That is Deria, whose sorry state you witnessed for yourself. His great pearl; his eldest daughter Sarya is the last thing in his life that still blooms and lives.'
'I would never have imagined that to be the case from the appearance of the men,' Volthamir said thoughtfully.
'But there is more to each story,' Lord Havoc said softly. 'There is a secret known only to myself and to Effren, though he does not know that any other soul is aware of it.
'Effren's wife and infant daughter did not die of the dreadful plague. When Effren saw his wife's beauty so marred from the illness, he took a cloth and choked her to death in her bed. She would have recovered quite well, but her face would have been left with terrible scars to remind her of her battle against the plague. That is, with terrible scars to remind her husband of her illness. This was too much for Effren, so he killed her. His infant daughter starved to death in her pale arms, after weeping for many days. Effren feigned illness and made it appear as though his wife died of the plague while he was too ill to realize what had happened. He mourned her well; no one doubted that he was sincerely grieved, but nobody in their wildest dreams could have imagined what had truly happened.
'Hashias' wife, on the other hand, would have perished from the illness had he not cared for her. Despite his own sickness he somehow managed to save his daughters and his wife from the grim hands of the plague. Sarya escaped, alone among her kin, unscathed by the disease. Hashias was weakened from the illness and never recovered his full strength. His wife and baby daughter were marred terribly by the disease. Both became blind and it was difficult for them to walk further than the distance between their beds and the dining room.
The black wolves attacked that winter, and Hashias was wounded severely while defending them from the jaws of the brutes. In everything he did he gave of his own strength and took nothing from others without earning it. He poured his whole life into his sickly family, but in the end his lot is misery upon misery.'
Volthamir looked at Lord Havoc quietly. The older man turned his eyes to meet his and then asked him his first question once more.
'Tell me now, my prince, which is better, virtue or honor? Can anyone doubt that it is Hashias that possesses the lion's share of virtue, yet Effren who has the better part of Honor? The question becomes, is it better to live happily with a young wife and a beautiful daughter, beloved by all your neighbors, or is it better be live in want and hunger, stricken, and surrounded only by the pale and ugly faces of your sickly kin, to become a byword among your neighbors?'
'I don't think there is anyone living that would choose the latter,' Volthamir answered. 'Then I suppose it is better to have Honor than virtue. But surely the old man will be haunted by the memory of his cruel deeds, and that will punish him whatever his circumstances.'
'Ah, you mean guilt? Lord Havoc laughed. 'Volthamir, my prince, guilt is a sentiment. It is not a punishment. Men have survived many perils, and it is no large feat to overcome a feeling of guilt. That is something that mankind has become quite skilled at. No, I'm afraid master Effren loses no sleep over his deeds. Guilt comes from fear of punishment, and nothing else. So long as Effren is convinced that he alone knows his dark secret, he has no need to fear any judgment. But I trust this has served to show you at least, that Honor is to be had over Virtue.'
'I understand what you have told me,' Volthamir said quietly. 'But I confess I must give it some further thought.'
'Take whatever time you need,' Lord Havoc said. 'But no matter how many ways you consider the matter, there will never come a time where it would be wise to choose virtue over honor. You may choose virtue for honor, but never cast off honor for virtue. That would be like a man who casts away his wages so that he can do still more labor.'
Compassion
The next day Lord Havoc began by asking Volthamir another question. He said, 'Is there any such thing as a selfless action?'
'There are some who believe so,' Volthamir answered, unwilling to say one way or the other until he had first heard what Lord Havoc had to say. Once more they met in Lord Havoc's hidden chamber.
'The last reason that I took you through Heyan is one and the same with the second. I wanted you to see Hashias. But not for the sake of comparison, as was the case with our discourse about Honor, instead I wanted to teach you what I know about compassion.
'There are some who have said that mankind is naturally good. And since those same men believe it is evil to be unjust and vicious, they must mean to say that man is naturally just and virtuous. They tell a little story about a farmer who perchance witnesses a little child falling in a ditch. The farmer is, of course, immediately filled with pity for the child. These men point out that the farmer is not moved by any selfish motivation, but rather by compassion. He does not care about the child's parents, nor is he concerned with rewards or anything of that sort; he is not worried about gaining the praises of his peers, but is only moved to pity by the common bond of humanity.
'So these 'wise' men teach the children of Amlaman. But as lovely as that story sounds, there are many other events that men may stumble upon over the course of their lives. I can tell another tale, with another result for the question of man's nature.
'This same farmer, after he had rescued the child from the ditch, continued along the road toward the village. But as he passed his neighbor's property he came across the wife of his neighbor as she bathed in the stream. Tell me, Volthamir, is it natural for him to desire her or not?'
Volthamir looked at Lord Havoc and answered, 'He will desire her, no doubt.'
'Indeed, and now we must ask some questions about the nature of this desire. Does he desire her for Honor's sake? No, of course not, since it is dishonorable to lay a hand upon another man's wife. Is it for the praises of friends that he lusts for her? Ridiculous! He is moved to lust after her for no other reason than that it is his nature to do so.
'Be careful, my prince,' Lord Havoc warned, leaning back in his chair and looking into the boy's eyes. 'Always be careful when people try describe the whole nature of humankind with fables meant for children.
'Should we conclude from the first story that man is good by nature? Nonsense, for we can just as easily conclude the opposite from my own story. And doubtless we could think of a thousand stories that prove this or that about mankind. And we would have a thousand contradictions and a thousand lies.
'But,' Lord Havoc's tone changed suddenly as he brought the conversation back to its rightful course, 'we have yet to speak particularly about compassion.
He rose from his seat and began to pace around the room as though he were looking for something that had walked away from him. Suddenly he turned and said, 'Suppose nature made it so that infants inspired hatred and cruelty in the eyes of their mothers, rather than sympathy and love? Do you think the infant would long survive under such conditions?'
'No, I certainly would not expect them to survive for long at all,' Volthamir answered.
'So if there was ever a creature that hated its offspring, that creature would surely perish in one generation. There are some creatures of course that do not seem to care much for their little ones. But these creatures seem to produce more competent infants, and more numerous. But a creature like man, who has but few children throughout his lifetime, and whose children are helpless until they are past ten years of age, must be motivated somehow to preserve the life of its offspring. Thus arises Compassion, the preserving virtue of mankind.
'But we must ask this: For whom does a compassionate man act? Let us consider the farmer from the fables. Does he, by saving the child, act for the child's sake or for his own?'
'I imagine he acts for the child's sake, or else it is not compassion,' Volthamir replied.
'Ah, but let us consider this compassion a little further. If the man felt no compassion, would he feel moved to help the child? Or would it be like seeing a fallen tree or a broken rock? Human beings break these two elements without a thought every day that the sun rises. They chop down trees to build their homes and light their fires, and they hew stones to built their fortresses and to sharpen their blades and tools, but they never feel any hesitation about it. They certainly don't feel anything like compassion for these things. They may squirm at the sight of a wounded animal, or a bird in the snare, but that is because they can in some way imagine themselves sensing the same thing. The stone and the wood, they are convinced, do not feel pain or misery at being cut or burned, and so we do not pity them. But we see that the beasts and birds do feel such pain and misery. And this arouses an understanding feeling in us, and a desire to help abate their distress.
'So men are moved to compassion by understanding the pain or peril of another, and without this they are not moved to compassion. And when they are not moved to compassion, they are not moved to help. No man lays down his life to save a stone or a log. Why not? As I have said, because there is no pity for them. Without pity, the farmer will not help the child, save for the baser reasons the teachers despise, such as Honor or reward.
'Now consider the farmer who acts out of compassion. Is his action caused by the child, or is it caused by his feelings? Certainly it is possible
for a man to pass by an imperiled child by without helping him. But not so long as he feels pity on him. It is the pity that pulls him, not the child. You see, my prince, the farmer helps the boy to satisfy the feeling created by his own passions, not for the sake of the boy himself. If the boy caused no pity, the man would not help him. But compassion comes from the heart of the farmer, it does not come from the boy.'
Volthamir furrowed his brow for a moment and then spoke, 'So it would seem that even a compassionate act is a selfish act, for we act to appease a feeling of pity, and to prevent the guilt that might follow from holding back our assistance.'
'Indeed,' Lord Havoc said with a smile. 'And if we now understand that everything we do in this life is done for our own good, we can consider more thoughtfully how we use our resources. Do not help someone that you do not want to help, or that cannot serve you. Whether you help another or not, it is always for your own sake that you act. Men who do not realize this cast their gold and their labors about carelessly, and do not achieve the very thing they have been laboring for. They do not serve themselves, as they intended. To satisfy a passion, they will give gold to a beggar, but they never gain what they have always sought.
'Moreover, young prince, I would not have you be deceived by the lofty praise men heap upon sympathy. For it, aside from being mere selfishness disguised, is arbitrary and partisan. Tell me, my prince, if the choice lay before a man to spare his son or the son of a pig, who do you think he would choose?'
'His son,' Volthamir answered.
'Indeed, because his son is evidently of much greater worth than a mere swine. But answer me this also, who would the pig choose?'
'I suppose the pig would choose his own son,' Volthamir laughed.
'In that you show only a little wisdom; for any reflecting man must see the same thing. But to see a truth and to acknowledge it are different things altogether. If you will but walk a little further along this road you will see what the very wise refuse to. For a man's son is not more valuable than a pig to a pig, but only to himself. The son is beloved of his father and the swine-son is beloved of the swine-father. Who then shall be the arbiter between these two, to decide whose claim is valid? Sympathy, then, is no guide. It tells us not who we ought to help or who is worthy of assistance, it only tells us what we want. For who would say that in pitying his own son the pig commits an evil for having chosen the lesser of the two? What utter nonsense! Pity is reserved for those who are most like us, first to ourselves, then to our kin, after that it extends to our countrymen, and lastly, if any remains, it is for mankind itself and the other animals. But do not let sentiment fool you, we pity others only because they remind us of ourselves, not because they are truly worthy of such sentiments. We choose our neighbor over the swine because it is our will to do so, and not for any other reason. Knowing, then, the partisan nature of sympathy, do not let it obstruct your destiny! Your every action, my prince, is for yourself, no matter how much pity you may feel. Act wisely then, so that whatever you choose to do you serve your own ends.'