The Millstone

I felt like the caveman creating the first wheel, hammering away at the hunk of stone in front of me. My only difference was that I was given exact measurements for the miniature replica of the millstone. My orders were to create my millstone no larger than a wheel of a carriage. The block from which it was made had been delivered only a day before, but as usual I put off the task until my last day.

As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I admired my work. It was a flawless, precise circle, smooth as marble. I took a deep breath and blew the chalky dust off the surface of the stone.

The hammer and chisel felt heavy in my hands. My final task, however, was to carve my name and year into the face of the stone. I didn't see the point in doing so. The caveman didn't put his name on his wheel. But the agreement was such, so I gathered my remaining strength and began chipping away again at the millstone.

When I was finished, I went to the window and looked outside. The hot July sun was high in the sky. I still had time. I could have run, left town and started a new life elsewhere. But no, I had an agreement to settle.

With a heavy sigh I lifted the wheel onto its side and rolled it outside. I didn't look at anyone. I could feel curious eyes falling on me. I continued on down the road, appearing to be unmoved by the stares. While some only watched, others followed me.

The surface of the wheel, which I had chiseled to perfection, wore down the further along I rolled it. I dreaded approaching the bridge where I was supposed to deliver the stone. It was at the foot of a hill, and I knew managing the stone on the angle of the hill would prove difficult.

I could have just let the millstone roll. It would eventually reach the bottom. But no, I had to fulfill my end of the agreement. The millstone was no good to them without me delivering it.

From the top of the hill, I saw the small gathering that awaited me on the bridge. They were on time, as they always were.

My shirt, drenched from the sweat of my labor and the heat, clung to my body. I peeled the clothing from me and tossed it aside. I knew I would not be wearing it again. My back and shoulders ached, but I knew I had to press on.

As I began my descent, I kept the millstone close to me, walking beside it to keep it within my control. I kept one eye focused ahead of me, the other on the stone. Even though I couldn't see them, I knew my followers were still not far behind. I heard nothing but their voices, and some laughter mixed with the low rumble of the stone on the rocky ground underfoot.

Exhaustion overcame me as I neared the foot of the hill, and the millstone slipped from my sore, blistered fingers. A round of gasps could be heard behind me. I could only watch as the stone cascaded down the remainder of the hill and settle in a rough patch of grass at the bottom.

My legs would not let me run. Instead I hobbled along the road, ignoring the mocking laughter that now came from the crowd, and sighed.

One man approached me. He looked to be twenty years my elder. "Let me help you the rest of the way," he said, bending over to pick up the fallen stone. I could see the concern on his face, but he didn't understand my situation. I jumped between him and the stone and put my hands on it.

"This I must do on my own. It is my cross to bear."

He stepped back with a frown as I pushed the stone the remaining distance. No one dared follow me any further, but they all stood and watched me.

"You have arrived. I thought you may have run, but I misjudged you." The man who spoke was dressed all in black, as were the others with him, who all remained silent.

He paced around the millstone, examining my work, and nodded. One of his men came up to me and tied a rope around my ankles. There was no running now. It was time to complete the terms of my agreement.

The other end of the rope was then tied to the millstone with a heavy knot. Each of the men quietly inspected the knot in turn, giving a nod to show his approval.

A priest approached me a look of sadness on his weathered face. He made the sign of the cross in front of me and mumbled a prayer before retreating to the gathering of people watching me from the hill. Some laughed, others cried, but all had their eyes fixed on me.

I climbed onto the rail of the bridge, sat down and draped my legs over the other side. The water below me stood still, as if it knew what was coming. I shivered slightly and took another deep breath.

The man in black lifted the millstone onto the rail next to me. A chuckle came from his lips he pushed it off. I heard a woman scream.

My body was flung forward, leaving my stomach atop the bridge as I sailed toward the water. I must have lost consciousness before hitting the water, for I didn't remember feeling the hard slap on the surface, or being tugged further down, breathless. All I knew was a patch of light. I had fulfilled my agreement.