Malthace (Thacia) Character Analysis

“God is my strong refuge,
and has made my way safe.
He made my feet like hinds’ feet,
and set me secure on the heights.
He trains my hands for war,
so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.”

“It couldn't really be bronze,” said Daniel, puzzled. “The strongest man could not bend a bow of bronze.”

“No,” Thacia spoke. “I think it was really bronze. I think David meant a bow that a man couldn't bend—that when God strengthens us we can do something that seems impossible.”

For Daniel nothing could ever be the same. He had never admitted to himself that he was lonely here on the mountain. He had worshiped and feared Rosh. He had fought and eaten and slept side by side with the hard-eyed men who made up Rosh’s band. But the few days in Joel’s passageway had shown him a new world. He had found someone to talk to, someone who had shared his own thoughts, and who had instantly taken Daniel’s burden as his own.

“Daniel, what makes you and Joel so sure that Jesus means to make war?”

“He says that the kingdom is at hand. What else can he mean?”

“Did you ever think he might mean that the kingdom will come some other way? Without any fighting? […] You see, Jesus has made me see that we don’t need to wait for God to care for us. He does that now. […] If everyone understood that—every man and woman […] Suppose—the Romans too could understand?”

He stopped in the road and stared at her. “Romans? You think God loves the Romans?”

Thacia sighed. “That’s impossible, I suppose.”

With a snap of his finger he indicated the two packs. […]

Black anger rose in Daniel. He knew well enough the law that allowed a Roman to command that a Jew carry his burden for one mile. But the man didn’t live who could make him shoulder a Roman pack! He looked squarely at the soldier. Then he spat, deliberately. The blow across his mouth came instantly and staggeringly, but he did not lower his head. […]

There was a stifled gasp. Then Thacia very quietly stepped forward and lifted one of the packs.

“Haven’t you ever wondered,” he attempted, “what good it is for them to be healed, those people that Jesus cures? They’re happy at first. But what happens to them after that? What does a blind man think, when he has wanted for years to see, and then looks at his wife in rags and his children covered with sores? That lame man you saw—is he grateful now? Is it worth it to get on his feet and spend the rest of his life dragging burdens like a mule?”

“God is my strong refuge,
and has made my way safe.
He made my feet like hinds’ feet,
and set me secure on the heights.
He trains my hands for war,
so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.”

“It couldn't really be bronze,” said Daniel, puzzled. “The strongest man could not bend a bow of bronze.”

“No,” Thacia spoke. “I think it was really bronze. I think David meant a bow that a man couldn't bend—that when God strengthens us we can do something that seems impossible.”

For Daniel nothing could ever be the same. He had never admitted to himself that he was lonely here on the mountain. He had worshiped and feared Rosh. He had fought and eaten and slept side by side with the hard-eyed men who made up Rosh’s band. But the few days in Joel’s passageway had shown him a new world. He had found someone to talk to, someone who had shared his own thoughts, and who had instantly taken Daniel’s burden as his own.

“Daniel, what makes you and Joel so sure that Jesus means to make war?”

“He says that the kingdom is at hand. What else can he mean?”

“Did you ever think he might mean that the kingdom will come some other way? Without any fighting? […] You see, Jesus has made me see that we don’t need to wait for God to care for us. He does that now. […] If everyone understood that—every man and woman […] Suppose—the Romans too could understand?”

He stopped in the road and stared at her. “Romans? You think God loves the Romans?”

Thacia sighed. “That’s impossible, I suppose.”

With a snap of his finger he indicated the two packs. […]

Black anger rose in Daniel. He knew well enough the law that allowed a Roman to command that a Jew carry his burden for one mile. But the man didn’t live who could make him shoulder a Roman pack! He looked squarely at the soldier. Then he spat, deliberately. The blow across his mouth came instantly and staggeringly, but he did not lower his head. […]

There was a stifled gasp. Then Thacia very quietly stepped forward and lifted one of the packs.

“Haven’t you ever wondered,” he attempted, “what good it is for them to be healed, those people that Jesus cures? They’re happy at first. But what happens to them after that? What does a blind man think, when he has wanted for years to see, and then looks at his wife in rags and his children covered with sores? That lame man you saw—is he grateful now? Is it worth it to get on his feet and spend the rest of his life dragging burdens like a mule?”