Tabula Rasa

You looked pitiful standing over there, peering out between the boughs of the ancient tree. Your dark hair was swept back into a plait but moving through the trees had teased hairs loose, which hung across your face. Your eyes widened in fear as you caught my gaze. Like a wild animal you leapt back into the foliage surrounding the manicured gardens. I called to you, told you not to be afraid. I stood down the guards at my side and told them to wait in the courtyard behind. I called to you again, saying there were no guards here any more, just me. Just a man. You emerged slowly, timid, eyes darting around the garden, wearing he simple, practical clothes of a peasant - a blouse with bodice and long black skirt. I was sitting on a bench slightly recessed into a well trimmed hedge at the edge of a well trimmed lawn. It was mid afternoon and the heat of the day was just releasing its suffocating grasp. The dappled light filtering through the tree above played across your skin as you approached. You looked afraid. You looked defiant. I asked you to join me on the bench and tell me why you had broken into my palace gardens. You hesitated, but sat down and told me your story. I have lived my whole life in a small village called Castilleja del Campo, just west of Seville. My father owns a small almond orchard and I grew up amongst those trees. It has always been just me, my father and the trees. My mother died during childbirth. Every day he is out in the orchard from dawn until dusk to try and make sure that there is enough food on the table for us. Since I could walk I have been spending my days amongst the the trunks of the almond groves - helping my father amidst those gentle swaying giants. Most days are filled with pruning branches, picking fruit or clearing brush. Often we will men from your court when we are out toiling out land. They come hunting in the woods near the orchard, sometimes stopping to pick up some almond oil for their maiden’s hair, so we are used to seeing them around. A few days ago, I was walking to the edge of our property to collect wild herbs. At the far edge of the meadow I stumbled across one of your courtiers with a local girl who was no more than a child. She was struggling under him, trying to get away, but he had his full body weight upon her. I pulled out my knife that I use to cut the herbs and ran towards them but he heard me approach and turned at the last minute, raising his hand to protect his face. I lunged at him, gashing his hand and he howled in pain and rage, like a wild animal. I screamed at him to get off her and he ran off into the woods. I may have wounded his hand, but I wounded his pride more. Once I had comforted the girl and helped her get up, I saw the smoke rising from the far orchard. He had set it alight in his vicious spite. We managed to stop the fire before it reached the house, but almost all of our trees are now gone. My father has been in shock since. Staring silently into vacant space. Those trees were like his children, he has grown most of them from seed and has known them all his life. We don’t know how we are going to survive. I knew that you would be able to help, so I broke into your garden today to ask for your help in finding this man and bringing him to justice. I listened to your story with great sadness for I knew I could not help. I knew this man and I had seen his bandaged hand. He was a vile man, but, unfortunately, an important man. If I were to accuse him, let alone arrest him, it could cause a dangerous rift in the delicate political balance of the state. There would undoubtedly be a civil war, and many more would die. Should I let hundreds die to avenge your orchard? Can you live with that? I explained that these are the terrible decisions I must make as a prince. You argued that I could not let this man go unpunished, it was not ethical and it was not right. I told you that I understood you, but I explained that if I had the choice of saving lives over ensuring some notion of justice, I would choose the lives of my subjects every time. I thanked you for coming to see me and called over a servant. You glowered at me. I told him to escort you through to the treasurer and ensure you are given enough money to re-plant the trees that were lost. I watched you with a heavy heart as you walked off. This would not silence you, not when you had justice burning so brightly in your heart. I called a guard over and told him to follow you discreetly once you had left the palace, until you got to the small road that lead to Castilleja del Campo. I told him to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. I would not have the blood of another war on my hands.