The Price for Treachery by Cindy Pereira

In the room at the top of the house the thirteen men had finished supper.

The leader, the master among them looked around his friends. Three years they had been together – a band of brothers and every one of them a good man.

All but one.

This one sat at the far end of their table and he appeared somewhat aloof. With cold, black eyes he watched them, picking particles of food from his teeth. Then he rose, stepping to the window to look out intently.

Outside a mob was brewing. There wasn’t one man in the room who hadn’t felt the yoke of oppression of the time. There wasn’t one man who hadn’t felt the need for deliverance. And some in the mob had paid him…for a kiss.

The Master rose silently and moved to where a wash basin lay. He filled it and turned when he sensed someone behind him. He smiled serenely at his aloof friend standing there.

“Are you not well?” he asked.

The other shrugged off the question and pointed to the basin.

“What’s that for?”

“You’ll know soon.”

“More magic huh?”

“That’s what you think the last three years was?”

“You let us down,” the aloof man seethed. “All of us. I thought you’d free us from this slavery, this misery, this foreign rule. Instead, all you performed was magic. Save some of it, Rabbi – you’ll need it soon. But honestly,” and he thrust his leering face closer. “I don’t fancy your chances.”

Between his fingers a silver coin danced – the price for treachery, and he sneered. He sauntered back to his chair, flopping into it again.

The Master shed his outer garment and bent down.

“I know you have 29 more of those,” he calmly said and proceeded to wash his betrayer’s feet.

Winner: Weekly Write Week #15
Published in Issue #29

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