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108 Amit Bobrov
of a selfish desire that I would pay him back for his kindness. He
hadn’t even expected God to repay him his kindness. Raymond’s

sole motivation for his actions had been the nobility of his soul.
I wasn’t so noble, however, and my fist clenched; I wanted his
killers’ blood splattered — I wanted them to suffer horribly and
die in agony.
It was then that I prayed, under the moonlight, in the dark
of night, for God to grant me justice, to grant me vengeance.
I didn’t know how to pray anymore — I couldn’t remember,
so I spoke from my heart, baring my soul to He who remained
silent.

“God…God …” I called out in pain, as silently as I could “Grant
me vengeance, please, oh Almighty God of the Heavens Above,
He who hears the voices of his people,” I continued after taking
a deep breath. “Hear me!” I exclaimed.
“A great wrong — a great wrong, has been done. A righteous
man has been slain, murdered!” I cried in pleading tones.
“Raymond o’ the Brooks; he was murdered by three bandits.

Murderers!” I called.
“Oh please, Lord of Hosts, grant me this prayer; help me strike
them down,” I pleaded.
“I’ll not rest until justice has come to pass ... this I swear!
This I swear!” I called more softly in agony. It was only after
many minutes had passed that I collected myself and found the
strength to rise. A raging spirit was alive in me now as never
before. It brought me strength and comfort, where before
had been weakness and fear. It caused me to spring to life

with determined motion, where before I had been numb and
insecure. This vow was my passion, my only passion.
So it was that my memories returned, one after another
racing backwards through time. I whimpered in fear as I now