A Man at Arms

by Steven Pressfield

They bound the land with strongholds and arteries of military transport as a jailer binds a prisoner with manacles and chains.

He, the youth, would enroll himself in the academy of the highway and the school of conflict.

‘The foe sending scouts believes he spies upon us. But it is we who spy upon him,’ Caesar explained to his officers. ‘I fear the enemy only when I cannot see him. So long as he remains close, I rest at ease.’ ”

“The Romans could not break your father on the wheel, and neither could those bastards with the rope or with fire.” Telamon’s gaze turned to the slumbering Nazarene. “Here is a man,” he said.

He turned from the child to David and to the witch. “Who are all of you?” the man-at-arms cried. “And how, by the sunless track to hell, has my life become so entangled with yours?”

“Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil . . . Charity beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”

“Charity never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.”