Run, Melos

Run, Melos

Melos was furious. He resolved that he must eliminate the tyrannical and wicked king. Melos knew nothing of politics. He was a shepherd in his village, spending his days playing his flute and tending his sheep. Yet, he was exceedingly sensitive to evil. This morning, Melos left his village, crossing fields and mountains, and arrived at the city of Syracuse, ten miles away. Melos had no father, no mother, and no wife. He lived with his timid sixteen-year-old sister. His sister was soon to marry a diligent shepherd from their village. The wedding was fast approaching. Melos had come to the city to buy the wedding clothes and feast provisions. After gathering the necessary items, he strolled along the city's main streets. He had a childhood friend, Selinuntius, who was now a stonemason in Syracuse. He intended to visit his friend. It had been a long time since they'd met, and he looked forward to seeing him again. As he walked, Melos noticed something strange about the city; it was eerily quiet. Although it was already dusk, and the city's darkness was natural, it felt strangely deserted, not merely because of night. Even easygoing Melos began to feel uneasy. He stopped a young man on the road and asked him if something had happened. He recalled that two years ago, even at night, everyone had been singing, and the city had been lively. The young man shook his head and gave no answer. After walking a while, Melos met an old man and asked again, this time more forcefully. The old man did not answer. Melos shook the old man by the body, repeating his question. The old man responded in a low voice, barely audible, as if fearing to be overheard.

"The king is killing people."

"Why is he killing them?"

"He says they harbor evil intentions, but no one has such evil intentions."

"Has he killed many people?"

"Yes, first the king's brother-in-law, then his own heir, then his sister, then his sister's child, then the queen, and then the wise minister, Alexis."

"I'm astonished! Is the king mad?"

"No, he is not mad. He says he cannot trust anyone. Lately, he has even suspected his ministers and has ordered those who live lavishly to provide hostages. If they refuse, they are crucified and killed. Six people were killed today."

Upon hearing this, Melos was furious. "That appalling king! He cannot be allowed to live."

Melos was a simple man. With his purchases still on his back, he sauntered into the royal castle. Immediately, he was apprehended by patrolling guards. A dagger was found in his pocket, causing a commotion. Melos was brought before the king.

"What did you intend to do with this dagger? Speak!" The tyrant Dionysus asked calmly yet authoritatively. His face was pale, and the wrinkles on his forehead were deeply etched.

"To save the city from the tyrant's grasp," Melos answered without flinching.

"You?" The king scoffed. "A pathetic fool. You don't understand my loneliness."

"Don't say that!" Melos retorted angrily. "Suspecting people's intentions is the most shameful vice. The king even suspects the loyalty of his people."

"It is you who taught me that suspicion is the proper attitude. People's intentions are unreliable. Humans are essentially bundles of selfish desires. They cannot be trusted." The tyrant said calmly, sighing softly. "Even I desire peace."

"What kind of peace? Is it to protect your own position?" Melos scoffed. "What kind of peace kills innocent people?"

"Silence, you lowly wretch!" The king raised his head sharply. "One can say anything fine-sounding. I cannot see through the depths of people's hearts. Even you will weep and beg for mercy once you are crucified."

"Ah, the king is clever, vain and self-satisfied. I am ready to die. I will never beg for my life. But..." Melos paused, glancing at his feet, hesitating for a moment, "if you wish to show mercy, grant me a three-day reprieve. I want to give my sister a husband. Within three days, I will hold a wedding in the village and return here."

"Nonsense," the tyrant chuckled in a hoarse voice. "What a preposterous lie. Do you think a bird that has escaped will return?"

"Yes, I will return," Melos insisted desperately. "I will keep my promise. Please grant me just three days. My sister awaits my return. If you cannot trust me, then there is Selinuntius, a stonemason in this city, my best friend. I will leave him here as a hostage. If I fail to return by nightfall on the third day, kill him. Please, do so."

Hearing this, the king, with a cruel smile, secretly gloated. "What a bold thing to say! He'll certainly not return. It will be amusing to pretend to be fooled by this liar. Then killing the substitute on the third day will be delightful. This is why people can't be trusted. I'll put on a sad face and crucify that substitute. I want to show it to all those so-called honest people in the world."

"Your wish is granted. Go get your substitute. Return by nightfall on the third day. If you are late, I will certainly kill your substitute. Come back a little late and your crime will be forgiven forever."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Ha! If your life is precious, come late. I know what's on your mind."

Melos stamped his foot in frustration. He didn't want to say anything.

Late at night, Selinuntius, Melos' childhood friend, was summoned to the royal castle. Before the tyrant Dionysus, the two good friends met again after two years. Melos explained everything. Selinuntius nodded silently and hugged Melos tightly. That was enough between friends. Selinuntius was bound. Melos set off immediately. It was early summer, and the stars filled the sky.

That night, Melos didn't sleep a wink. He hurried along the ten-mile road, arriving at the village the next morning. The sun was already high, and the villagers were working in the fields. Melos' sixteen-year-old sister was tending the flock of sheep in her brother's place. Seeing her brother staggering toward her, exhausted, she was surprised and bombarded him with questions.

"It's nothing," Melos forced a smile. "I have some unfinished business in the city. I have to go back soon. We'll have your wedding tomorrow. The sooner the better."

His sister blushed.

"I'm so happy. I bought you beautiful clothes. Now go and tell the villagers that the wedding is tomorrow."

Melos started walking again, shakily. Returning home, he decorated the altar of the gods and prepared for the feast, soon collapsing onto the floor and falling into such a deep sleep that he barely breathed.

He awoke at night. He immediately visited the groom's house and asked if the wedding could be postponed until the next day because of an emergency. The groom, surprised, explained that it was impossible since they weren't prepared, and suggested waiting until the grape harvest. Melos insisted that he couldn't wait and pleaded with him to change the date. The groom was stubborn and didn't agree easily. They argued until dawn, and finally, Melos persuaded him to move the wedding to the next day. The wedding ceremony took place at noon. As the bride and groom made their vows to the gods, dark clouds covered the sky, and a light rain began to fall, which soon turned into a torrential downpour. The villagers attending the feast felt an ominous sense, yet their spirits were high. They endured the stifling heat in the small house, singing merrily and clapping their hands. Melos, his face beaming, almost forgot his promise to the king. As the feast progressed into the night, it became lively and boisterous, and people disregarded the heavy rain outside. Melos wished to remain there forever, to live with these kind people, but his body was not his own. It was impossible. Melos spurred himself onward, finally deciding to leave. There was still plenty of time before nightfall the next day. He decided to take a short nap and leave immediately afterward. By then, the rain might have subsided. He wanted to stay in the house as long as possible. Even a man like Melos felt lingering attachment. Approaching the bride, who seemed intoxicated with joy, he said,

"Congratulations. I'm tired and want to rest for a while. I'll leave for the city as soon as I wake up. I have important business to attend to. You have a kind husband now, so you won't be lonely even without me. My biggest dislike is suspecting people and lying. You know that, too. Don't keep secrets from your husband. That's all I want to say. Your brother is a remarkable man, so be proud of it."

The bride nodded dreamily. Melos then patted the groom's shoulder and said,

"We're both unprepared. My only treasures are my sister and sheep. I'll give you everything. Be proud to be my brother."

The groom was embarrassed and shy. Melos smiled and nodded to the villagers, left the feast, and fell into a deep, death-like sleep in the sheepfold.

He woke up at dawn. Melos sprang up. "Namu san, did I oversleep? No, it's still alright. If I leave now, I'll reach the city in time. Today, I'll show that king the existence of human sincerity. I'll go to my execution laughing." He began to prepare himself. The rain was letting up. He was ready. Melos stretched his arms wide and ran out into the rain like an arrow.

I will be killed tonight. I run to be killed, to save my friend, to defeat the king's wickedness and treachery. I must run. Then I will be killed. From my youth, I have protected my honor. Farewell, my hometown. Young Melos found it hard. Several times, he almost stopped. Shouting "Eiy, ei!" to encourage himself, he continued running. Leaving the village and crossing fields, he passed through a forest. By the time he arrived at the next village, the rain had stopped, the sun was high, and it was getting hot. Melos wiped the sweat from his brow with his fist. "I'll make it." His longing for home was gone. His sisters would make good wives. He had nothing to worry about. "I'll simply get to the royal castle and that will be it. No need to hurry. I'll take a leisurely stroll." His usual easygoing nature returned, and he began to hum his favorite song. He strolled for two or three miles, reaching the middle of the road when disaster struck. Melos' feet stopped. Before him was a river. The previous day's heavy rain had caused the mountain streams to overflow. The muddy torrent had destroyed the bridge, and the raging river was sweeping away the remains. He stood there, stunned, looking around and shouting, but no boats remained, and there was no ferryman. The current swelled, resembling the sea. Melos collapsed on the riverbank and wept, raising his hands to Zeus and pleading, "Oh, calm this raging current! Time is slipping away. The sun is already at noon. If I don't reach the royal castle before it sets, my good friend will die for me."

As if mocking Melos' cry, the raging torrent became even more violent. Wave after wave crashed and swelled, and time slipped away. Melos made up his mind. He had no choice but to swim. "Oh, gods, witness! Let me now demonstrate the great power of love and sincerity that will not yield to this raging torrent!" Melos plunged into the current. Like a hundred-headed serpent, he struggled against the raging waves. With all his might, he battled the current, pulling himself through the whirlpool. Perhaps the gods were moved by his courageous struggle; they showed mercy. Even as he was being swept away, he managed to grab hold of the trunk of a tree on the opposite bank. Melos gave a mighty shudder like a horse and immediately continued on his way. Not a moment could be wasted. The sun was setting. Gasping for breath, he climbed and climbed until he reached the top of a mountain pass, when suddenly a band of bandits appeared before him.

"Halt!"

"What do you want? I must reach the royal castle before sunset. Let me pass."

"Not a chance. Leave all your belongings behind."

"I have nothing but my life. I'm about to give that to the king."

"We want your life."

"So, you've been ordered by the king to ambush me here."

Without a word, the bandits raised their clubs. Melos bent his body, and like a falcon, lunged at one of them, snatching his club.

"I'm sorry, but it's for justice!" With a mighty blow, he knocked down three of them. Seizing the opportunity, he ran down the mountain pass. He ran down at full speed, but he was exhausted. The afternoon sun beat down on him, and he felt dizzy several times. He mustered his courage and walked a few steps, until his knees finally gave way. He could not stand. He looked up to the sky and wept in frustration. "Ah, Melos, who swam through the raging torrent and defeated three bandits, a true warrior, yet now you're too tired to move. Your dear friend will be killed because of your failure. You have fallen into the king's trap." He scolded himself, but his body was so weak that he couldn't move even an inch. He lay down on the grass by the roadside. Physical exhaustion brought mental fatigue. The shameful despair unworthy of a hero welled up in him. "I worked so hard. I had no intention of breaking my promise. God knows, I've done my best. I ran until I could no longer move. I'm not a faithless man. Oh, if only I could open my chest and show you my heart, a heart that beats only with the blood of love and sincerity. But at this critical moment, I'm completely exhausted. I'm such an unfortunate man. I'll be laughed at, my family will be laughed at. I deceived my friend. Stopping halfway is the same as not doing anything at all. Oh, I don't care anymore. Is this my fate? Selinuntius, forgive me. You always believed in me. I never deceived you. We were truly good friends. We never harbored dark clouds of suspicion in each other's hearts. You must be waiting for me, aren't you? Thank you, Selinuntius. You believed in me so much. Thinking of that is unbearable. Trust between friends is the most precious treasure. Selinuntius, I ran. I had no intention of deceiving you. Believe me! I hurried as much as I could. I overcame the torrent. I escaped the bandits and ran down the mountain. I could do it. Oh, don't ask anything more of me. Leave me alone. I don't care anymore. I've failed. I'm useless. Laugh at me. The king said, 'Come late.' He promised to spare me and kill my substitute. I hated the king's villainy, but now I am doing as he wishes. I will arrive late. The king will laugh and release me. If that happens, it will be worse than death. I will be a traitor forever, the most dishonorable man on earth. Selinuntius, I'll die too. Let me die with you. You'll believe in me, won't you? Or is this just my wishful thinking? Oh, I might as well live as a wicked man. I have a home in the village. I have sheep. My sister and her husband would not kick me out of the village. Justice, sincerity, love... thinking about it, it's all nonsense. Killing others to survive. Isn't that the rule of the human world? Oh, it's all absurd. I am a despicable traitor. Whatever. Oh, wretched fate!" He lay sprawled, drowsy and dozing.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of gently flowing water. He slowly raised his head, held his breath, and listened. Water seemed to be flowing nearby. He got up shakily and saw a small stream gurgling out of a crack in the rock. As if drawn in, Melos bent down to the spring. He cupped his hands and drank. A long sigh escaped, and he felt as if he had awakened from a dream. He could walk. He would go on. Along with the recovery of his physical strength, a faint hope was born. Hope of fulfilling his duty, of protecting his honor, even if it cost him his life. The setting sun cast a red glow on the leaves, making them blaze with light. There was still time before sunset. Someone was waiting for him. Someone was quietly expecting him, without a shadow of doubt. He was trusted. His own life was not the issue. He couldn't say such things as, "I'll apologize by dying." He must repay the trust placed in him. That was all that mattered now. Run, Melos!

I am trusted. I am trusted. The devil's whisper from earlier was a dream, a bad dream. Forget it. When one's body is tired, one has such bad dreams. It is not your shame, Melos. You are a true warrior. You can stand up and run again. Thank you! I can die as a righteous man. Ah, the sun is setting. It's sinking fast. Wait, Zeus! I have been an honest man since birth. Let me die as an honest man.

Pushing aside passersby, Melos ran like a black wind. He ran through a feast in a field, surprising the guests, kicking aside a dog, jumping over a stream, running ten times faster than the setting sun. As he passed a group of travelers, he overheard a sinister conversation. "That man is probably on the cross by now." Ah, that man, that man! It is for him that I am running. That man must not die. Hurry, Melos. Don't be late. Now is the time to show the power of love and sincerity. His appearance didn't matter. Melos was almost naked. He couldn't breathe, and blood spurted from his mouth twice or thrice. He could see it, in the distance, a small tower of the city of Syracuse, sparkling in the setting sun.

"Oh, Mr. Melos!" A moaning voice was carried on the wind.

"Who's there?" Melos asked as he ran.

"It is I, Philostratus, a disciple of your friend, Selinuntius." The young stonemason ran after Melos, shouting, "It's no use. It's futile. Stop running. You can't save him anymore."

"No, the sun hasn't set yet."

"He's being executed right now. Ah, you're too late. I'm sorry. If you had been even a little faster!"

"No, the sun hasn't set yet." Melos stared at the large red sun, his heart breaking. He had to run.

"Please stop. Don't run. Your life matters now. He believed in you. Even when he was taken to the execution ground, he was calm. When the king mocked him, he only replied, 'Melos will come,' showing his strong belief."

"That's why I run. I run because I'm trusted. Whether I make it or not is not the issue. Human life is not the issue either. I'm running for something far more significant. Come, Philostratus!"

"Ah, have you gone mad? Then run as hard as you can. Maybe you might still make it. Run!"

Needless to say, the sun had not set yet. With his last strength, Melos ran. His mind was blank. He was not thinking of anything. He was simply running, pulled by some inexplicable force. The sun sank below the horizon, and just as the last ray of light was about to disappear, Melos dashed into the execution ground. He had made it.

"Wait! You can't kill him! Melos has returned. He's returned as promised!" He intended to shout this to the crowd in the execution ground, but his voice was hoarse and barely audible. The crowd didn't notice his arrival. The cross had already been erected, and Selinuntius, bound with ropes, was slowly being hoisted up. Melos witnessed this and, with his final strength, pushed through the crowd as he had through the torrent.

"It's me, executioner! I'm to be killed. It's Melos. I'm the one who gave him as a hostage!" He shouted with his last breath, finally climbing onto the cross, and bit into the legs of his friend who was being hoisted up. The crowd murmured and shouted, "Bravo! Forgive him!" Selinuntius' ropes were untied.

"Selinuntius," Melos said with tears in his eyes. "Hit me. Slap my cheek with all your might. If you don't hit me, I don't deserve to embrace you. Hit me."

Selinuntius, seeming to understand, nodded and struck Melos' right cheek with a resounding blow. After hitting him, he smiled gently and said,

"Melos, hit me. Hit my cheek as hard as I hit yours. During these three days, I only doubted you once. I doubted you for the first time in my life. If you don't hit me, I can't embrace you."

Melos struck Selinuntius' cheek with all his might.

"Thank you, my friend." They both said this simultaneously, hugged tightly, and then wept openly with joy.

Sobbing could be heard from the crowd. Tyrant Dionysus watched them from behind the crowd, then slowly approached them, his face reddening, and said,

"Your desires have been fulfilled. You have conquered my heart. Truth was not an empty delusion after all. Please, will you not include me among your number? Please, grant my wish and make me one of your own."

A great cheer arose from the crowd.

"Ten thousand years! Long live the King!"

A young girl offered Melos her crimson cloak. Melos was bewildered. A kind friend quickly enlightened him.

"Melos, you're stark naked! Put on the cloak quickly. This sweet girl is terribly distressed at the thought of everyone seeing your naked body."

The hero blushed deeply.

(From ancient legends and the poetry of Silrel.)

Source text: "Dazai Osamu Zenshu 3," Chikuma Bunko, Chikuma Shobo

First edition published October 25, 1988 (Showa 63)

Second printing June 15, 1998 (Heisei 10)

Source text's original source: "Chikuma Zenshu Ruiju-ban Dazai Osamu Zenshu," Chikuma Shobo

June 1975 (Showa 50) - June 1976 (Showa 51)

Input: Kazuyuki Kanagawa

Proofreading: Minako Takahashi

Published December 4, 2000

Revised January 17, 2011

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