One winter 4 men were taken to the gallows. One was strong and tried to run. He was fast too, not as fast as an arrow and his skull wasn't strong as the piercing steel.
The walk was slow, and the three men dragged their feet. The executioner was the only man with a frostless breath. The crowd was shaking in cold and excitement. One could say they were eager for blood, but there's no blood to be shed in a rope. They were eager for death.
The priest was talking and the crowd was pretending to listen. A man about to lose his life was crying, another was old and silent, and the third one shaking.
"Are you cold, monster?" said the silent one.
"I'm not cold."
"So you are a monster?"
"I've already sat in judgement under men and gods. I guess I am."
The silent man laughed and shook his shackles to relieve some pain from his bloody wrists. A stone found its way from the cobblestones to the gallows, but struck no one. The priest asked for patience.
"You sat in judgement under men, not gods. The gods had nothing to do with this," said the old man.
"The gods brought me here. Have they not?"
The old man sent a piercing glance to his last friend. "Then the gods should stand in line before us to be hanged. Don't they?"
"It doesn't matter anymore."
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