These damned people are afraid, Aljo kept coming to the same conclusion, afraid and therefore weak. Everyone in this town was, to a greater or lesser extent, afraid, but there were a hundred different ways in which people concealed their fear, or justified it to themselves and others. That was not how a man should be! He should be proud and and bold and make sure he never gave anyone cause so much as to glance at him accusingly. Because, were he just once to submit to even the slightest insult, without flaring up(and no one flare up, they had no fire in them), he would be finished, everyone would tread him underfoot, not just the Sultan or the Vizier but the Vizier’s servants, and the elephant and all the other animals, right down to the fleas!. Nothing would ever come of this Bosnia while Tchelaludin ruled in it, today Tchelaludin and tomorrow God knows who, worse and moire terrible than he was. No, you had to stand firm, straight, and not let anyone get the better of you. No one! But how? Was that really possible in a town where you could not get five people together to say one honest meaningful word to the Vizier’s face? Nothing, nothing could be done! That was how it had been for a long time here in this country: whoever hung his head and proud would quickly lose his livelihood and his freedom, his property and his life, whoever hung his head and gave in to fear, would lose so much of himself as well, that fear would gnaw until his life was worth nothing. Anyone who found himself living in this era of Tchelaludin had to chose one of those two. Those who could chose, that was.
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