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 eart
racing, legs aching, he reached the forest. Androclus knew no
other safe place. He could survive there—find roots and
berries, avoid wild animals. He had few choices. He would be
executed as a runaway slave if caught.
He wondered how it would be, living
in terror of discovery. Every pine cone that fell softly to
the mossy carpet beneath his feet was enough to make him jump,
jerking his head around so wide eyes could search for soldiers.
He needed shelter. Rain was in
the air, and it would soon be dark. Through the trees, he saw
an opening in the rocks. Thinking it might be big enough to
sleep in just for one night, Androclus veered toward it.
Suddenly he stopped. Lying to
the right of the opening was a lion. Instinct kicked in and
Androclus ran, praying that the creature had already eaten.
Hearing no sound of pursuit, he
slowed and then stopped. Looking back, he saw that the lion
had not chased. In fact, its only movement had been to roll
its head to look at him—rather sorrowfully, Androclus thought.
Slowly, he retraced his steps.
The lion was in pain. Androclus spoke softly, stroking the lion’s
mane and back gently as he searched for the injury. Finally,
he found it—a nasty gash on the lion’s hind leg that
had been bleeding for some time and showed no sign of stopping.
The man tore a piece of cloth from the hem of his tunic and
cleaned the wound. The lion shuddered and groaned. Finally,
it slept.
Just then the clouds let go of
their rain. Androclus crawled into the cave and fell asleep
immediately. It had been a long run from the city. Minutes later,
he awoke as the lion crawled into the cave next to him, dragging
its leg, and collapsed with a wheezing sigh.
The cave was large, and man and
beast lived together for several weeks. Androclus found a fresh
spring not too far away. The two hunted and gathered the food
each needed.
One day, while scooping water
from the stream, Androclus felt something sharp press into his
neck.
“Don’t move!” a
gruff voice ordered. “There is quite a reward for the life
of a runaway slave, you know. Now, stand up slowly.”
Forced back to the city, Androclus
thought of his friend the lion, knowing they would never meet
again. He was taken to stand before the Emperor in court, and
was there sentenced to death. Soldiers took him to a stone cell
in the halls under the arena until the time of execution.
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they led him into the arena. The crowd spat its hatred. But
they began a thunderous cheer when a lion was loosed—a
lion that had not been fed for several days, a lion poked and
prodded into fierce anger by the soldiers. It roared when it
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saw
the man, and bounded headlong toward its prey.
Androclus knew he didn’t
stand a chance. Still, his muscles tensed for the fight, readied
for pain. How different things had turned out when he had befriended
a lion in pain instead of one poked and prodded into anger.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the full weight of the animal,
steeling himself against the first slashing blows.
But then, instead of searing pain,
Androclus felt the lion’s tongue wash his face as it knocked
him to the ground.
Androclus opened his eyes—face to face with his friend
from the forest. Instead of pouncing to kill, even after days
of hunger and torment, the lion he had once so gently cared
for fawned over him like a friendly dog.
The crowd was instantly silent,
the Emperor stunned. He called Androclus to him, and Androclus
told his story.
“Both Androclus and his lion
are hereby freed,” the Emperor announced. “Such amazing
kindness and gratitude between fierce enemies should be greatly
rewarded.”
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