Heinrich glared at the soldier. “You killed a good man.” The soldier looked at him. “Have mercy, sir. I’m so thirsty.” “Is this what you want?” Heinrich asked, holding up his cider skin. The soldier’s face lit up. “Aye. Bless you for it.” Heinrich spat. “Not even a drop. Here’s your mercy.” He turned the skin upside-down and squeezed every last drop of cider onto the ground. Heinrich walked away from the wounded soldier, but he could not get away from the wretchedness he felt in his heart. How could God show him mercy when he had been so ruthless?