Ten Years to Sharpen a Blade
From the day her daughter was tricked onto the altar, she began to rule as regent, to scheme, and to wait. When her husband returned in triumph she rolled out a crimson carpet and spoke to him tenderly. In the bath the robe came down, and three strokes ended him. She stood over the body with the blade and told the elders: this is not murder, but a verdict. Later she died by her own son’s sword — the chain of blood-debt runs link by link through this family.