The Collapse CLXXXI: After Judgment

15 October 20XX +1

My Dear Lucilius:

Cataline, his wife, and indeed all of the trailer park inhabitants are gone.

The day after the trial was, as you might imagine, a bit tense. I half expected some kind of event to occur. You know, the old “stone through the window” or “shot through the window” or even “shot through my head” scenario. None of that manifested, of course – partially, as it turns out, due to a watch set by Xerxes and The Colonel to make sure nothing of that nature occurred (and without my knowledge, of course).

I followed up by going to the trailer park. Here, too, a guard had been set, both by Young Xerxes and the inhabitants themselves. I passed through the guard without incident, receiving a series of head nods on the way. I saw neither Cataline nor his wife; another of the inhabitants brought me a bag with what I was assured were all the items remaining from Terentia’s husband. I did not bother to open the bag; likely any arguments at this point could neither be proven one way or the other nor could they results in anything good.

Armed with the bag in one hand and the wheat in a bucket – older wheat from my stores set aside long ago – and with guards yet again, I walked to the other side of town.

I was met far before the house by The Fashionable Woman and a group which I could only assume were relatives and friends of Terentia. The looks were hard – but not so hard that they did not take both the bag and the bucket and stalk off.

The rest of the day passed in relative obscurity and silence. Once again, Pompeia Paulina and I made calculations with the loss of the wheat. We were still fine, she assured me; there were still supplies at the house of Statiera and Young Xerxes which we could use. We would be tight, but fine – I had better increase my appreciation of gruel as it was going to become more common.

The next morning when I awoke and started to go out to check the greenhouse, a note fell out of the door where it had been thrust. It was simply addressed to “The Judge”.

The handwriting was of a quality that I had not seen in long years, the sort of thing that makes one long for the days when penmanship was an art and an indicator of an individual. It was written by Cataline’s wife, thanking me for a judgment that was as fair as it could have been.

They were leaving, the note said. Even with my admonition that the matter was “settled” they believed – probably rightly – that the matter was very much not settled. And so, that night, they were taking the last precious fuel they had saved and they – the entire encampment and even the owners – where heading six miles up the road to Kentucky City.

They had been extended an offer from The Colonel, it seemed. He did not particularly care about backgrounds; what he passionately cared about were live bodies to help with food gathering and with defense. He had places for all of them; they needed only come.

Out of curiosity, later that day I went to the RV park. Sure enough, there was no-one there, only a series of spaces where the RVs had been. Even the main building, with its bar and restaurant, looked darker and colder than usual. “Closed for Good” said the sign on the door. I did not bother to go in; I assumed that anything of value had gone with them.

On the one hand Lucilius, this indirectly solves a great many problems. There can be no feud where there is no-one to feud with. And while the aggrieved party of Terentia could be offended, they took the settlement without argument.

On the other hand, we are now down another 20% of the inhabitants of this small burg. And beyond that, the burg itself is slowly separating into two halves, with most people on one side and a few people – ourselves included – on the other. Kentucky City has grown at our expense.

It was Young Xerxes, later that day, that let me know from the little he had heard, the general opinion was that the judgment was the best that could be done, given the circumstances. And no-one he had heard from seemed to support any kind of movement against Cataline – or indeed, me. No-one could say I had not been willing to put my money where my judgment was.

Which, to be fair, was the whole point.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca