B (5:06)
The hard soil gave way with a satisfying, dull thud, sending an explosion of dirt and debris in all directions. Altering his grip on the hoe, Amnon swung the tool over his shoulder and sent it to the ground again. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose, but he didn't care. He had been out there for hours. The sun's rays scattered across the land. Its heat was palpable but forgiving. Amnon continued to swing. He was beside himself with rage. The last few days he had watched his little brother strutting around and crowing about his future exploits to anyone who would listen, all while their father diligently and inexplicably liquidated one third of his acids and began packing them into carts, wagons, and saddlebags on what would become his brother's loot train. Baffling. The entire situation was absolutely baffling. His brother had all but told their father he wished he was dead. It was unheard of to ask for his share of the estate. But while their Father was still alive. It broke every natural and God honoring law they had. Amnon couldn't bear to even look Jeramiel in the eye after he had heard what he had done. The disrespect he showed their father was more than he could bear. What made Amnon even more indignant was the fact that their father had let him go. He not only suffered this insult from his ungrateful, delinquent son, but but then he granted his request. Amnon would have never allowed this kind of behavior, and though he would never admit it out loud, he felt heartbroken. The pangs of sadness that only come when a lie you've been able to deny your entire life is suddenly given credibility. The fear of being found second, the comparison between Amnon and his brother. Jaramiel had always been there, and it had always been a bit of a sore spot for Amnon. He knew he wasn't half as charismatic or daring or liked as much as Jeramiel. And while he was safely following every rule, his brother was breaking them all. While Amnon was obedient and cautious, his brother was innovative and reckless. But the lion's share of the accolades were laid at Jeramiel's feet. And yet the boy still wanted more. Hard work would never be done. He always wanted a shortcut to a legacy. His brother's mind was nothing short of foreign to Amnon, and yet it had all worked out in his favor. Jeramiel was packing his bags, counting his coins and rallying his posse. All the while Amnon was toiling away in the dust. Worthless, he struck the ground. Ungrateful, he broke a stone. Lazy, he growled under his breath as he flung the hoe into the earth. Again. A distant voice broke through Amnon's self pitying thoughts. Amnon. Young Master, I have news. With the hoe hanging limply at his side, Amnon rolled his shoulders back, feeling the bones in his neck and back crack as he straightened. He lifted a hand to block out the blinding sun as he turned to face the man at the edge of the field. What is it? He shouted back, reluctant to be disturbed. It's Jeramiel. He's departing. Hurry or you may miss him. The servant shouted anxiously. He was out of breath too. Undoubtedly Amnon's absence had gone unnoticed until the last moment. And this man was sent to fetch him. And not a thought was spared by Master Jeremiel to come and find me himself, spat Amnon. Master, I. The servant seemed taken aback. It's fine. I'll come now that I've been summoned. Can't keep Lord Jeramiel waiting. He sunk his tool into the ground and started back towards the homestead. The roads connecting the fields were raised slightly, and as Amnon neared the top of the ridge, he was brought up short. A substantial dirt cloud was being kicked up around the caravan. About a hundred yards down the main road his brother had already left. Turns out he wasn't even going to wait to say goodbye to his brother. Fuming, Amnon squinted through the dust, searching for his foolhardy little brother in the procession heading out of town. There he was, seated atop a camel at the head of a column like a king. His share of the estate had broken down into coins, family heirlooms, pack animals, and other various goods. It seemed that Jaramil had convinced some of his empty headed friends to tag along on this misadventure as well. Good riddance, he murmured. So high and mighty his younger brother had become, he couldn't even stoop to bring his faithful older brother farewell. The slight stung, but it only fueled the bitterness kindling in Amnon's heart. He turned on his heel, biting back warm tears brimming around his eyes. He marched back towards the patch of dirt. He may have his father's inheritance, but he will only get a curse from me. I just hope he realizes what a terrible grievance he's dealt this family before he drives himself into an early grave. Amnon saw his father sitting on a stone bench at the top of the road beside the family home. He was sobbing, mourning the loss of his son. Amnon considered comforting him, but his father's love for Jeramiel, despite his disobedience, vexed him. He couldn't stand that the two received equal love for unequal devotion. Out of bitterness, Amnon turned away and returned to his work. Jeramiel looked out at the horizon. With a procession of wealth behind him, he felt invincible. He couldn't wait to storm the port cities with his wealth. The first thing I will do is secure an estate, one with fountains and a courtyard large enough to host lavish parties. His companions, hungry for some of his riches, all nodded in agreement. Then we'll invest in new ventures and see my money double. Once I'm a titan of industry and famous for my wealth, I'll get more and more people just begging to do business with me. Jeremy leaned his head back and laughed. Think of it, lads. The money, the women, the influence. The future is bright, gentlemen. His posse cheered. Their support for him would go as far as the coins in his purse. Jeramiel departed the loving roof of his father's home and ventured into the world. He was painfully unaware that the world's freedom isn't true freedom at all. Tragedy would await him.