In the darkness of the dungeon the little prince lay for many days, his body broken and his spirit heavier still. The wounds from the soldiers' rods ached without ceasing, and the cold of the stone floor seemed to creep into his very bones. Yet even in that place of despair he did not keep the mercy to himself. When other prisoners, thieves and rebels and broken men, cried out in their misery, he would draw near as far as his chains allowed and offer them the crystal vial.
"Drink," he whispered, "and you shall be spared from the greater death that comes." Many drank, some with mockery on their lips, others with trembling hope. A few, to his quiet wonder, seemed truly changed. In that foul place a small measure of light and courage appeared where none had been before.
At length, by means of what little money remained to him from former days, and through certain old servants who still remembered kindnesses he had shown them in better times, the little prince arranged bribes for the guards and lesser officials. Gold changed hands in secret, and at last the heavy doors opened. He was released, though not with honour. They cast him out like a dog, bruised and in rags, into the streets of the city he had once known.
He had not gone far when a hooded figure approached him in a narrow alley. It was one of the surviving priests of the Holy Crystal Church, a young man who had escaped the massacre by a miracle of timing. With him were two or three faithful laymen who had gone into hiding.
"We have not forgotten you," the priest said softly, glancing about to be sure they were not watched. "The Bishop's death was not the end. We who remain have formed a secret brotherhood, an underground fellowship of those who still believe. We meet in cellars and hidden places, passing the story of the crystal vial from one to another. Many who were healed in the cathedral have joined us. We offer you shelter, news, and whatever help lies in our power."
The little prince stood silent for a moment, overcome. In the depths of his despair he had believed all was lost. The cathedral lay in ruins, the Bishop's head had been set upon the gate, and the light of open faith had been extinguished. Yet here, beneath the very feet of the triumphant King and his nobles, a hidden fire still burned.
He felt his heart stir within him. The complete ruin that had threatened to swallow him gave way to something stronger, a quiet and stubborn resolve. There is no light left upon the face of the earth, he thought, but underground there are still candles burning. The darkness has not conquered everything. I will not abandon the task the angel gave me.
From that hour the little prince was a changed man, not less sorrowful, but far more steadfast. He accepted the help of the underground fellowship with humble thanks. They gave him plain clothes, food, and news of the kingdom. In return he encouraged them with such hope as he could muster, reminding them that the crystal vial still shone with its pure light.
When he was strong enough to travel, he made his decision. "I can no longer work openly in this city," he said. "I will go out into the whole kingdom, disguised as a poor wanderer or a travelling scholar. Wherever there are men who will listen, I will offer the mercy. Will you help me begin?"
The underground brethren promised what aid they could: safe houses along the roads, warnings of danger, and quiet messengers to carry word between them. Thus the little prince set forth from the capital, no longer the hopeful youth who had first received the vial, but a man marked by suffering and tempered like steel in the fire.
Behind him the palace of Caesar stood proud and unaware. Beneath its stones, however, a secret network of faith and courage had begun its silent work. And in the little prince's hand the crystal vial remained, a small but unbroken promise that the darkness had not yet won.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCTIi6bTKF1
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