Enemy

The prisoner was tied up and half-dragged behind a horse when he arrived to the Armstrong village. Kids threw stones at him and old women spat at his feet. A scouting party had found him in the forests around the village and had quickly recognized him as a member of a rival clan, the Keens. The Armstrongs considered to be barbarians who only lived for rape and pillaging, and their kids were taught to hate their enemies from a tender age. The Armstrong warriors had led several incursioms to stop the Keen raids, only to be attacked again. 

Joseph Keen didn't look fierce or dangerous, his hands tied up with a rope that forced him to follow the pace of the horse, his hair caked with fire, and his clothes a little more than rags. He looked down to his feet, doing nothing to avoid the stones and the spit. They took him to the chief house were he was put on manacles and left to the elements. He spent two days tied there, without food, water or shelter, until the Armstrong chief decided to talk to him. He was dragged to the town square, where the whole clan was waiting for his appearance. They all booed, however no one threw anything at him, and he felt grateful for it. The chief was sitting in the middle of the square and he was made to kneel im front of him. 

-Are you Joseph Keen from the Keen clan?- the voice of the chief boomed through the square. 

-I am.- Joseph's voice was coarse from the lack of water and no one could hear him. 

-Louder.- the order was like a whip, and Joseph feared they would use a real one if he didn't managed to speak up. 

-Yes, I am Joseph Keen from the Keen clan. 

-Do you admit being member of a clan of muderers, rapists, and pillagers? Do you admit being the worst class of barbarian? 

Joseph realized that he wasn't getting a trial, he had already been ruled guilty, that was just public humiliation for the sake of it, to give the townsfolk something to talk about, a show of sorts. He was as good as dead. And with that realization, bravery bloomed. 

-I do, my clan is all that as much as yours is. Around the Keen's fireplaces tales of the terrible Armstrongs are told to the children to scare them off, and every time your banners are seen near our village families tremble wondering who's going to be alive by the end of the day. Women cry and protect each other, parents hide their young daughters inside cellars to keep them safe, older men sacrifice themselves. You are as bad as we are. We are only defending ourselves from your attacks, we are only taking revenge, an eye for an eye. You call us cruel, you say we butcher your people, but you do exactly the same and still think you are the good ones. 

-Liar!- the crowd roared. They were angry, Joseph had made them angry. 

-You've treated me like a dog.- Joseph turned around to face them.-Worse than that, you've treated me like a hunting trophy. And you dare to call me liar? You've treated me with utmost cruelty, and yet we are the barvarians. Look at yourselves! 

-Enough!- the chief forced everyone into silence.-You are accused of murder and rape in the name of your clan. If it hadn't been for your defiance, you'd have received a merciful death, but the accusations you've made to the good name of our clan can't escape punishment and you'll be tortured to death. 

Joseph cursed himself, he had expected them to simply cut off his head, he wouldn't be able to endure torture, he wasn't a warrior, only a poor farmer. Tears rolled down his face realizing he would never see his wife or his little daughter again. Yet, no one took pity of him, they all saw him as a beast, when they were the ones who lacked humanity.