The Leash

The men grow restless, and as much as I think more and more of flight, I still find myself trying to restore some measure of order. I think when I leave, “Captain” Isabella shall not be able to bring these men to heel as she has with her filthy prisoner. There was unpleasantness with him today. I awoke to find Álvaro and the men had made a joke of the ropes the Heretic had been weaving from the hemp… they had looped a cord around his wrists and were leading him about, as if on a leash. Even the Heretic was chuckling at the antics, and seemed quite delighted by the attention. The men, however, seemed to be taking cruel sport in leading the man about, so I put an end to it. When it came to removing the rope from the Heretic, he suddenly spoke to Álvaro. “It's your turn to wear it now.” Álvaro laughed, shoved the man – but when the Heretic persisted, he struck the man, saying he would do no such thing. The Heretic looked confused at this and said most oddly, “It won't be your choice.” The words angered Álvaro, who kicked his water bowl and what remained of the man's food into the muck, out of reach of where the man was lashed to the tree. I reprimanded him, but not as strongly as perhaps I should – as for the Heretic, I thought to burn the ropes he had made for good measure, but I could not bring myself to do so – the thought of even touching them seemed suddenly abhorrent to me. R. Velazquez