LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC
THE WEDDING - SECTION 2
Svein, spotting this magnificent horse had been unable to restrain his admiring gaze, and so had lingered on the spot a moment or two longer than usual. However, prejudging that the horse of this breed and magnificent bearing would be far beyond his means, he then turned and prepared to pass it by when the burly (robust) steward Kurin rushed towards him and, grabbing hold of his sleeve and tugging at it, began steering Svein towards the horse, as he wagged his tongue in coercion.
“You look like an
intelligent and discerning young man, one that recognizes the worth of this
magnificent steed. All about here are
fools, pay no attention to them. Come,
come, and look. Take a good closer look;
see how spirited and strong he is. Look
at his strong body, his shining coat, his luxurious mane. Is he not superior to any others you’ve seen
in the market today? Why, you should
feel privileged just to be near such a magnificent stallion.”
Holding his awe in check,
Svein nodded his head approvingly. Truly
the horse was a superb specimen, a breed the like of which he had not seen
before- save for the pages of books.
Excitement filled his heart as he approached the animal.
“Listen, I can see that
you are an astute young lad. I mean to
do you a good turn,” Kurin continued ceaselessly, encouraged by Svein’s lack of
an outright refusal to take a closer look at the horse. “For you are not like this other beggarly
lots. No sir, you are indeed a most
worthy young man. You deserve to own
such a horse, and I mean to help you realize your goal. The horse should be ridden by one such as
yourself and no other. What do you
say? Are you interested? If you are, I’m willing to make further
concessions, and, just for you, I’ll even lower my asking price still another
notch. Well, what do you say? Now, don’t take too long to make up your
mind, or I may realize that I’m being too generous and therefore rescind my
offer. I mean I may change my mind about
letting it go for such a low price. As
it is, I’m already taking a big loss.”
Though he had kept
alluding to ‘lower price’, no specific figure had been cited, and, having
arrived late at the market, Svein had not the slightest idea as to what price
the steward was referring to. Still, it would not do to inform the seller of
this.
“Sir, you are most
generous with your offer of this horse to me, and I remain not without
gratitude for your consideration.
Indeed, I would feel it an honor to own such a magnificent steed.” Svein
declared with an appeasing smile. But
then he hesitated with his next words as he fingered the few remaining gold
pieces in his pocket. “However, I doubt
that I can meet your asking price, therefore I must ask you, sir, to allow me
to continue on my way.” So, saying, he
tried to take his leave, but the seller pretended not to have heard Svein’s
last words and hastened forward, leading the horse by the bridle, until he
again stood in solid stance before Svein.
Kurin’s forced smile made
the scar on his forehead and cheek even more seemingly, as he tried his best to
appear congenial. “Though the asking price is quite low, it can be further
negotiated to meet with your approval, sir.”
He then invited Svein to take another close look and mount the horse for
a good try if he so desired. When Svein
showed reluctance, Kurin quickly quoted his rock-bottom price. Svein, dumbfounded by the lowness of it, was
devoid of any response. Unfortunately,
it was still not low enough for Svein.
Just as Svein was about to explain to the steward that he was not
against making the deal, only that he had within his means, a slightly lesser
amount than even the last quoted price, when a do-gooder, keeping his distance,
extended his warning to Svein with a shout, not to make the purchase.
Persistent haranguer,
undeterred by Kurin’s murderous look as he ground his teeth, at safer distance,
continued with his barking his dire warnings and hurling at Kurin many vulgar,
slanderous words. As he did this his
animated gestures anew, drew (magnetized) more spectators to the scene. Others joined in; in safe distance as well,
they flung their abusive words at the steward Kurin for trying to sell a
dangerous animal to the unsuspecting youth; while still others directed their
voices at Svein, advising him not to be duped by this cheat.
The exchanged hostility,
the cacophony of hurled abuses, slanders and threats – this dangerous
precedence was unexpectedly thwarted however, upon the sudden appearance of an
armed regulator on the scene. Many took
to their heels; save for Svein and the Steward.
Kurin going forward, exchanged few words with the regulator some of it appearing to be a threat; but then he pressed the necessary bribe into the palm of the regulator, promised to conclude his business succinctly and about face, he retreated his steps back to Svein.
Encouraged by the fact
that this brave youth had not scattered like the rest and in fact, remained on
the scene, Kurin now did his best to finalize the deal. As an added incentive,
he even lowered the quoted price further.
In truth, from the start
Svein had recognized the horse’s fiery, untamed nature and had also been aware
of the superstition concerning the markings.
Only, possessing a clearer head and understanding the root of it, he had
remained quite undeterred in his aim.
The only obstruction to this transaction had been the shortfall
(insufficiency) of his funds.
When Svein had left home,
he had within his means more than enough in gold to cover any deal but, due to
circumstances encountered along the way, the sum had been greatly reduced,
leaving him now in this bind. Still, he
was not disheartened. Recognizing his
advantageous position he had simply bid his time and waited to hear the desired
sum.
Short time before the
appearance of the regulator on the scene, though it had been inconceivable,
Svein had thought, for a spell, he’d recognized a certain old man among the
jeering crowd; but after brief scrutiny, he’d heaved a sigh of relief knowing
his eyes had deceived him, that in fact, it had not been him. A curious
expression dawned (manifested) on his face just then, as the wagging tongues of
the crowd around him gradually grew muted and another reality set in - the
reality of the last two days.
~
Svein was back on the lone stretch of a dirt
road in the middle of nowhere, advancing with bold strides. Under the canopy of the smoldering midday
sun, he remained oblivious to the rivulets of perspiration that ran down his
forehead. Not a breath of air
stirred. All was eerily quiet. The dust kicked off by his feet leisurely
settled back once more behind him to create shallow, solitary impressions of
his feet. Tall grasses, partially
yellowed, drooped in a listless mood flanking the road. His feet subsequently
led him to even more desolate section, where large areas of earth were mantled
in misshapen mounts of black, at times sticky hard, charcoaled, amidst powdery
black shapes generating bizarre, surreal landscapes.
Shortly before dawn, in
another inhospitable segment that had cut through a rocky ridge (ravine), he
had had a brush with the group of bandits.
They had pegged him an easy prey since he was traveling alone on this isolated
route. But even though they were armed,
mounted and greatly outnumbered him, after several rounds of fighting, seeing
that Svein could not be bested, they had scurried off in defeat to the safety
of the hills.
At such a young age,
caution being an alien concept to the youthful enthusiasm, it had occurred to
Svein during the fight to unhorse one of the burly bandits and then gallop
after the fleeing bunch, to teach them a proper lesson they soon won’t forget.
But that same instant, unbidden had come to mind, his uncle’s stern face and
words that quickly curtailed this objective.
Dusting off his clothes,
he’d then with unfaltering energy, had continued on his way, in due course
covering a great distance and though it was now midday, he still had kept up
his speed without stopping for rest, food, water, shade or encountering another
sort of brigand band or group of thugs, hence, missing out on another exciting
opportunity to practice his prowess.
A while back he had felt certain spying eyes
tracking his advance, but after a time, they had shrewdly aborted the notion of
another, equally unproductive engagement.
The surrounding landscape
growing still more desolate with each step, he was on the verge of being
despondent (glum) by the insipid surroundings and the subsequent lackluster
(drab) trek that went on and on without end- when the tedious silence was broken
by the distant, barely audible sobs and groans.
His acute hearing homing into this disturbance, he advanced towards it
with renewed zeal- anything to break this monotony! The ejected sounds
gradually increased in volume with each step, a telltale sign that he was
headed in the right direction. And sure
enough, before long the obscure object on the side of the road, beside a ditch
up ahead, began to take form of that of an old man, a peasant in somewhat
tattered clothing. He was crouched in
the outline of a ball, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. At present he had his head buried between his
arms as he continued to emit sporadic groans punctuated by heart- rending
sobs. Svein hastened his steps towards
this unfortunate fellow and, nearing him, halted only a few inches away.
Reaching out and gently
placing a hand over the old man’s shoulder, he then accosted him, “What ails
you, elder? Can I be of any help?”
With a start the old man
ceased his loud sobs and looked up; so, consumed he’d been with his troubles
and sorrow that he’d remained oblivious up till then, to Svein’s presence. What greeted Svein was the weathered, dusty
face, scored with wrinkles and scars, evidently wiped clean with the tears that
had poured endlessly from his puffed, bloodshot eyes. In the absence of words latter gazed fixedly
at Svein’s face, surveying his features to see if he recognized him.
No, he did not know
of him at all; and he always prided himself on having a good memory for faces. A look of
anger and scorn replaced his surprise just then, as his mouth tightened in a
frown. So, what business of his, was
it anyway? Was he mocking him? Had he the intent to rob him also?
But Svein’s gentle caring
face, the sincerity in his eyes quickly (muted all suspicion) melted away his
frown and froze the subsequent words of retort on this tongue. Instead, in a muffled voice he gave this
reply, “It’s good of you to ask, stranger, there is really nothing you or
anyone else can do to ease my pain. So be off with you lad. My troubles are unsolvable; leave me alone
with my misery. Ah, if only I’d never
been born!” Having said this, he once
more cupped his face in his hands and burst into loud sobs. When he next raised his head, feeling spent,
drained of all energy from all that grief, he abruptly ceased his crying; his
curiosity piqued, he looked askance at the youth, interested in knowing why he still
loitered about and not skedaddled like he should have. (Why hadn’t he taken his
leave?)
“Are you still here? Why don’t you go away? Scram. Go on, leave me alone. Let me die in peace.” Finding his courage then, he shouted at Svein angrily as if to unburden his stored-up hostility and grief that so heavily oppressed his chest. Then within his erratic outbursts, his rage succumbing to his grief once more, he began to wail, “What, oh what have I got to live for, anyway? They are all gone. Now he will be lost to me, as well. I will never see him again. Why, oh why did I toil all these years? To what purpose was my youth spent? What retribution am I paying for?” With crazed emotion then, he pulled hard at his disheveled, matted hair till small clumps of it came loose in his palms. He stared at them as if in surprised disbelief, with eyes unfocused. He was clearly in shock, his brain atrophied; his senses, his strength began to ebb and, by degrees, emaciated with grief- this presupposed great tragedy had clearly proven too much for him to manage.
Svein’s heart ached for
the devastated old man and so again he persisted in his offering of help,
“Respected elder, please tell me of your troubles. Maybe I can be of some
help. No man is alone in this world. It
was fate that set me on your path. Please allow me this chance to offer you
some slight solace.”
“Why should you help me?
Why should you want to, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, do I?” he
irately asked, not expecting an answer.
“No sir, we have never
met, but that should not prevent fellow travelers alone on the road from giving
aid to one another. My wish is most sincere.
Please accept my help.”
Still unconvinced the
stubborn old man shook his head. “This
is a common road. It was not fate that brought you here. I know the God’s have
forsaken me. I am done for,
finished. No one can lessen my
misery!” Though he had said this
punctuated by sighs, the note of tragedy in his voice nevertheless had lessened.
He was, in fact, partially soothed by the stranger’s concern. Inwardly he was grateful that at any rate he
had received a sympathetic ear to his troubles, even though he expected little
else to come of this.
As Svein dispensed further kind words, little
by little he won the old man’s confidence, grief gave way to reason and, by
degrees, he became more disposed to divulging his troubles and receiving
Svein’s help.
It was quite apparent from
the old man’s earlier reluctance that he had never seen such kindness from
others, let alone from a stranger. After
their brief introduction, in which Svein learned that the old man’s name was
Yagu Dorka, the old man began, in a rather incoherent way at first, to relay
the cause of his grief.
Yagu Dorka told this sympathetic youth, how
he once not too badly off, had bought a girl slave, Misa, with the intent of
making her, after she grew up, his son’s wife.
“They are cheaper if you purchase them young
and rear them yourself. On top of it, it
would spare you the expense of a dowry.
Tell me, I know you are still young, but has your marriage been arranged
yet?”
Svein’s reddened face
brought a faint smile of amusement to the old man’s lips.
“But it won’t be long, eh? Your parents should think ahead. It won’t be a joke if you were to come of age
without the benefit of marriage.”
Svein felt extremely
uncomfortable with this kind of talk. As
it was, until that very moment he had given girls no thought at all, let alone
contemplating marriage. He shifted his
body with some discomfort.
“All right, I’ll say no
more.” Yagu Dorka consented with a mischievous grin. He was satisfied at having dispensed this
piece of advice and was now eager to continue with the rest of his story. “When she reached marriageable age, she was
promptly wed, without too much fuss, to my only son. Oh, I forgot to tell you
his name, Ake, it means to forbear. Yes,
Ake was my one and only precious boy, for his mother had borne me no other
living children. Ah, never mind. As I was saying, Ake was truly handsome, and
Misa had grown up to be quite a pretty girl, so it was a good match. On top of that she was a good worker, a good,
sturdy girl. Never a day was she sick.”
Though, at the time of this marriage, Yagu Dorka’s wife had been deceased for some three years it still had not prevented the occasion from being a festive one. When, ten months later, Misa bore a beautiful, healthy grandson, Yagu Dorka’s happiness had been boundless, and his future assured.
“Ahhh,” again he heaved a
deep sigh, “little did I know that my happiness would be short lived. Five years, five years was all that my
happiness lasted. I tell you; fate has
been very cruel to me. I am a hardworking,
poor farmer with no vices. I have only a
few acres of infertile land to my name, and though my son and daughter-in-law
toiled over that land from sunrise to sunset, just as I and my wife had done in
our youth, we barely scratched out enough of a crop to sustain our meager
existence. Still, I was content for at
least here, in this desolate corner, we did not have to pay heavy taxes or
kickbacks, like so many, in other parts of the country.
“Last year we finally had
a copious (bountiful) harvest, and we had enough spare after expenses, to buy
us a mule. My foolish son argued with me
endlessly that if we had a mule pulling the plow, we would get double the work
done and thus, land might yield us bit more harvest. Why should we put the money away for a rainy
day? Little did I know that owning a
mule would bring us such trouble?”
Then, as if reminded, he looked Svein straight
in the eye and cautioned, “Son, be careful, since you are headed for the town,
for there are many disguised brigands that are there at the market, to pick out
the potential victims, see what they are buying, and then follow them out onto
the road… Meanwhile word has been sent
ahead for an ambush. Sometimes they will
follow you right to your home, learn your whereabouts, and then later return in
numbers to raid your place for even greater gain. Ahhh...”
The old man paused as he reflected.
This left no doubt in Svein’s mind that was what had happened to Yagu
Dorka’s family.
“Though the mule is not
that highly prized, wonder what was on that ruffian’s mind that he should have
stalked my son all the way home?”, he loudly queried to himself, startling
Svein from his rumination. “But it must
have been fate, for the villain from his hiding place caught sight of my
daughter-in-law, who had rushed out to greet her husband, and being quite taken
by her good looks- for I admit, she was rather blessed with feminine
attributes- lusted after her. Returning
to his lair he then must have told enough convincing lies to lure some of his
friends to accompany him, with the promise of good plunder. This I concluded from all their bickering and
swearing when they found so little to rob in our place and realized they had
been properly duped on this supposed heist.
The coward had needed assistance you see, to carry out his evil intent.”
Yagu Dorka ground his
teeth in contempt then impatiently wiped away a trickle of tears that had
escaped his eyes. “Our place, set out of
the way, was built to guard against nature’s calamities and occasional, wondering
wild animals, not against dangers from bandits.
I told my son, I pleaded with him, ‘Let them take all, let him have
her. Why resist?’ Though he was young and strong, what did he
know about fighting? Besides, he was one
against many. But no, foolish, foolish
boy! Ahhh! Still, it was going to happen, what can I
say? I threw myself at the burly lout’s
feet and begged him to spare my son’s life when he’d pinned him to the ground
under his sword. But he only laughed at
me then, baring a fiendish grin, as he cruelly slit my son’s throat. At that moment my whole body went numb, and
the world darkened (diminished) before my eyes.
Meanwhile at the far end of the room the culprit ruffian had cornered
Misa. Her eerie screams just then as he began
having his way with her, curdled my blood that had already gone cold and
snapped me from my trance. Before I
could say or do anything, however, the swine, having had enough of her screams,
landed her a powerful punch, which proved fatal and silenced her forever. The brute, even after she was gone, he
continued to...” Yagu Dorka could not go
on and turned his head away in silence.
It was some time before he could resume his story.
When he began anew, Svein
rushed to stop him from telling further, seeing the pain it caused him, but the
old man insisted. “No, let me finish…The
other goons, those disgruntled hoodlums ransacked my place, then they pried my
grandson from my arms, the child screaming and kicking with all his might, and
warned me that, unless I came up with some ransom money within a week, I would
never see him alive again. But where can
I get this supposed money? They have
already cleaned me out, took everything I had of any value, carted away all my
stored grain and seeds. All I had been
left with was that few acres of land out back and few lesser crops planted late
and not yet ready for harvesting. But
all my pleas and cries for mercy went unheeded and I was left alone with the
corpses. Taking a grip on myself, I
first buried them. Then, taking the
deeds to my land with me I headed to town.
After an extended try, I finally sold them, even then, for half of what
they were worth. But it was still not
enough. Since then, I’ve wrecked my brain, trying countless ways to come up
with the rest, all to no avail. Now what
am I to do? Tomorrow is the day of their
vowed return, and I have zip, zero, and zilch, nothing further left to sell.”
“Why didn’t you complain
to the magistrate when you were in town?” Svein naively asked. “Surely you could have gotten some help from
them. It is not right that you should
give in to kidnappers’ extortion.”
“Are you not from these
parts?” Yagu Dorka angrily snapped, but before Svein could give his reply, “Of
course not,” came his own conclusion.
With a nod of his head, “Son, in this district the magistrate, the
so-called law enforcement is but a farce.
In some ways he and his deputies are far worse than they are. Some even claim that he is in cahoots with
the bandits, just like the prior corrupt official he’d replaced. Why do you suppose there are so many
innkeepers, other such businesses that are thriving in town? There really is no one, no honest citizen, or
higher official you can trust to take on your case. If I was not to heed their warning and go on
complaining to the magistrate or anyone else and the word reached them, I would
be in far worse fix… There is no limit
to their cruelty, I tell you, and I shudder to think what will befall my
grandson then!” An involuntary quiver passed through him just then. After a
momentary pause, he again, abruptly cried out in dismay, “Oh, I am getting too
old for such trouble. All this worrying has taken years off my life and made me
more muddle headed. And to think, all this happened because that son of mine
wanted to better our lot… If only he had
remained content! But what is the use of
complaining about it now? They are all gone. All I have left is my grandson, which
is why I must do all I can to save him.”
Then he mumbled to himself, “But how can I redeem him?” Again, he fell into deep despair and,
ignoring Svein, stared to sob as before.
“Please elder, stop crying.
I meant what I had said before. And, since I am in a position, I will gladly
cover the sum necessary to meet their demands.”
Had Yagu Dorka heard the
stranger right? Were his ears deceiving him? “You would do that for me, someone
you’d just met?” the old man asked in great surprise as he, same time
scrutinized this youth’s attire now more closely. He was no pauper, that’s
for sure.
Svein nodded his head,
sporting a broad, supportive smile on his lips.
“Oh, son, you are too good
to believe. Truly you must be a saint or an immortal, descended from Heaven. Well,
I’ll be...There is justice on this black earth after all!”
So, saying, Yagu Dorka
began shedding, but this time, tears of joy.
“As there is no honor
among thieves, my only concern is that they might not return the boy,” Svein
voiced his private misgivings, withholding the words “in safety.”
“That’s a chance I have to
take.” Yagu Dorka now with renewed spirits
bounced back with his swift response. “Besides, he is only five years in age
and a rather meek boy in physique. More
likely they will return him to me for another five years before trying to
abduct him again, only I will not be here.
Even if I must beg my way, I will get away, far, far away from this
place. Come to think of it, I do have a
distant, distant relative, a cousin of sorts from my father’s side that perhaps
I could seek out.” But wait a minute; he
quickly checked his enthusiasm; he had not seen any money yet. “Son, are you sure you want to give me this
sum?” So, saying, he now quoted a figure.
“It is a bit much.” Then quickly swallowed the words and I am not sure when
I can pay you back. He did not dare profess this outwardly, fearful of
deterring him; nevertheless, his conscience forced him to add, “Are you sure
you can spare it?”
“Of course I can, elder,
and please do not concern yourself with how you can pay me back, for I am
giving this sum to you as a gift.” As he
said this, Svein produced from his pocket a leather money purse. After placing a smaller some from it into his
pocket, he handed the pouch to the old man.
“I’m sorry I’m unable to give you still more. Please keep the purse as a token of our
meeting.”
When the old man opened
the pouch and saw the amount, disbelieving the weight of it, his face at once
flushed. “Oh, but this is entirely too
much! You’ve made a mistake, son, you
have given me far, far more than I needed.”
“No, elder,” Svein replied
with a smile as he refused to take back the difference, “The rest is for your
traveling expenses. Now please put it away in your safekeeping. I have more
than enough to cover my expenses.” So,
saying, Svein patted his pocket on the outside for emphasis. In truth, he had
kept only the bare minimum for the purchase of a moderate horse. He, in his
generosity, had denied himself a place of sleep and food once in town. But he was not concerned.
Meanwhile, the old man was
beside himself with joy. Never in his life had he seen so much money all at
once. Countless years of lucky, bountiful harvest and frugal living would not
have produced this accumulated sum, which he now held in his hands. Fearful
lest it should vanish into thin air, or that he would wake up and find himself
deluded by a fanciful dream, he tightened his grip on the purse and then gave
himself a pinch. The pain convinced him
of its reality.
Now beaming in face, his heart filled with hope, he thanked Svein endlessly and insisted that Svein accompany him to his humble dwelling to pass this night as his honored guest.
He reasoned with Svein that it was the least
he could do to repay such kindness.
“Besides,” he reasserted, “the town is still two day’s journeys from
this spot, while my home is but only a few hours’ travel in distance.”
Since Svein had committed
himself to helping this old man, he accepted Yagu Dorka’s invitation with
gracious words.
(END OF SECTION 2)
