A Tale

A man once picked a fight with a king, who handed him to his enemy and said: spill his blood. Trapped in the grip of that vengeful foe, he cried out every moment in grief and pain: If I hadn't turned my own friend against me, when would I ever have suffered at an enemy's hands? My dear, the enemy's cruelty flays the skin of the man who has driven his own friend away. If you have any sense, don't turn from your friend, for then the enemy won't dare even glance at you. Be of one heart and one word with your friend, and the enemy will be uprooted from the ground. I don't believe it can ever be right, this ugly deed: hurting a friend to please an enemy.