From his first introduction, Crispin is depicted as deep within the throes of grief, depression, and survivor’s guilt. After the loss of his wife and daughters, he blames himself for their deaths and wishes he had joined them. This guilt is crippling to the point where his business partner accuses him of being too afraid to accept that he has survived to do anything with his second chance. Crispin even admits this to himself: “His life. He had a life. The hardest thing was to accept that, it sometimes seemed. To move out from the rooms where a woman and two children had died in ugly pain, stripped of all inherent dignity or grace; to allow brightness to touch him again, like this gift of the morning sun” (81). For all the political maneuvering, religious and philosophical debates, and near-death experiences, Crispin’s true struggle is with his own guilt and depression. It is only when he comes face-to-face with death that he finally realizes—and accepts—that he wants to live.

Repeatedly, various characters suffer but choose to continue to move forward. Examples of this include Kyros, the club-footed cook who accepts that he will never be a charioteer, animal trainer, or soldier, but acknowledges that “there was a life to be lived, nonetheless.