THE WEDDING - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 1

It was a beautiful summer’s morning, with light breeze swaying the brunches decked with lush green foliage, as fluffy clouds far above simply sailed on by. Nature’s perfume from countless blossoms filled the air as dancing butterflies spread their wings in choreographed dance here and there. Birds chirping in conjunction with the insects’ cacophony of music competed with the occasional roaring of the predatory beasts; the perfect orchestra completed the picture of an ideal summer’s day.

This flawless setting that set fairies hard at work, Stark, at the conclusion of their martial practice, first sounded out Svein on the idea of marriage to Teuquob.  After receiving Svein’s surprised and tongue-tied response, he then informed his nephew of his own agreeable disposition towards the proposal.  This sent Svein into a paroxysm of joy.

 Later still, when Teuquob was consulted about the idea by Stark and her blushing, favorable response was also obtained, the inevitability of their future nuptials was confirmed. That evening, before sleep, Stark had compiled in his mind, a meticulous list (of itinerary) for the upcoming event.

The very next day they set out to complete the first item on the agenda. Not sparing any effort or expense, they worked long and hard till Teuquob’s room, Svein’s old room was within weeks, duly transformed: enlarged and appropriately refurbished to suit the future newlywed’s needs.

In the intervening time, whenever a moment could be speared, Stark perused the sacred annals, historical chronicles and as well, taking into account cosmic calculations, doctrinal, present ceremonial rites and procedures- to eventually arrive at the most auspicious day. Promptly then, as per ritual, he registered it (inscribed it) on a specific, premier quality parchment and stored it away in his locked drawer.

Certain preliminaries done, subsequently, one fine morning at sunrise, the Deity of the mountain witnessed the gathering for the engagement ceremony- the first part of the nuptial ritual-officiated by Stark, at which point the prospective couple verbally committed their hearts and mind to each other. Forgoing regular day’s schedule, they then feasted that entire day and talked without abandon.

Countless plans were endorsed and laid down, amongst which was Svein’s immediate departure for the nearest town called Karene the subsequent morning, for the procurement of the necessary provisions for the initial ceremony: the offerings to ancestors and mountain God, appropriate congratulatory gifts for the bride, certain conventional treats and few atypical ingredients for the prescribed menu of the wedding feast and so on and so forth. 

The decision of Svein’s prompt departure was agreeably the most prudent course- for in accordance with the time-honored tradition, from that moment on until the night of the wedding the prospective groom had to reside elsewhere. The firm belief was held by all three; to do otherwise, to prematurely share the same roof (while sleeping) as that of the prospective bride, would affect certain misfortune and adversity on the likely couple. Svein thus was instructed by Stark, upon completion of the preparations for his journey and the celebratory dinner that, he would have to spend that night in the stable.

Now after the day’s exhaustive and exciting course of events, the future lengthy separation dominating their thoughts, the evening’s repast happened to be comparatively somber.

Svein seated across form Teuquob at the dinner table, kept his head low, as his eyes swept the floor. Teuquob was no better; she had hardly touched her food. Even Stark, despite his pretense, pondered on pressing concerns, which had been the case each time Svein undertook the journey to town.  Naturally, with all their minds so absorbed (engrossed), apart from the sparse, intermittent bouts of conversation, most of the meal was consumed in utter silence. 

After Svein and Teuquob had retired, Stark, on the pretext of seeing to something, stayed up to meticulously go over the (list) inventory of supplies to ensure himself that nothing significant or essential had been left out.  That put aside, still too restless to retire, he’d then lit his pipe and settled himself in his usual chair; under the trimmed lamplight his eyes then perused the contents of the ancient manuscript.

Try as he might however, his mind kept wondering on other more pertinent concerns, one of which was the reaffirmation of the reasons why Svein’s upcoming marriage had done little to change his earlier conviction- to delay telling of the secret to Svein till he reached the age of twenty-five. As for Teuquob’s true heritage (birthright), he had kept this from his nephew also, though he was not entirely sure of his motives for doing so.

The subsequent morning, after a restless night’s sleep rising at first daylight, Svein after breakfasting, bid his farewells to his uncle and Teuquob then, taking the horse by the reins, led him down the path, soon to be swallowed by the thick foliage. 

Teuquob, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, simply gazed (stared) after him till he’d vanished from view.  Stark anticipating her concerns and wishing to placate her, in an even tone first used some conciliatory words, summating it with positive assertion: “We should expect his safe return after three and one-half weeks.  Now it won’t do, will it, for you to worry till then?” To this Teuquob nodded her acquiescence and turning, followed Stark back into the house.

                                                                                     ~

 For nearing half a day now, Svein and horse had negotiated the rough terrain, descending all the while as they followed invisible goat’s paths that led them further and further from home. At noon with the sun’s burning rays beating down on him, baking his skin, Svein felt particularly uncomfortable and rubbing his hand over the itchy chin, he scrunched up his face in disdain. It was bad enough he had endured the entire trip to the Temple and back under this disguise…. Of course, he had a longer beard than, which he had shaved off the minute he sat foot at home. He could not help but grin thinking of his (far thinking) uncle’s slight annoyance; though Stark had said nothing, his face had revealed that tinge of color at being clearly peeved. This had been Svein’s first inkling, first inference of Stark’s yet undisclosed plan.  For each time that Svein had undertaken these trips to town or other such, he had donned a beard and mustache, which made him look older, all for the purposes added security. 

 In truth Svein had always preferred to be clean shaven, and presently would have welcomed that cooling effects of the slight breeze which periodically caressed his cheeks. His face insulated with all that stubble (short beard, thin moustache), a necessary precaution, it did little else now, other than to annoy him. Svein ran his fingers over his stubble, thinking that by the time he reaches his designation, his beard and moustache should be more substantial and more incommodious (bothersome), though, enable him more effective disguise (camouflage).

Just endure this little inconvenience, he inwardly admonished self, for soon as this task is completed, I’ll be back to normal.  He was sure Teuquob would prefer him …. hmmm.  Svein pensively looked away as crimson hue had just then invaded his cheeks (he flushed); thankful that no one was about to witness this, he bit the corner of his lower lip, trying same time to drive away the vivid image from his mind, the image of him interlocking lips with his beloved. 

On this lengthy, lonely trek, to relieve boredom, Svein would always try resolving past disquiets (trepidations). Svein had become aware of his uncle’s presence bit too late on that particular night at the Temple, and not wishing a confrontation had acted oblivious, and quickly returned to his room. His Uncle had broached the subject and gently admonished him on the fact, few days ago; but Svein did not have the heart to disprove him and hence, contritely promised to be more sentient (alert) and astute (incisive) in future.

I am fortunate to have such a mentor! Stirring the ground ahead with his staff, Svein led his horse down the narrow, quite precipitous path.  He had opted for this shortcut to gain valuable time and perhaps surprise Stark and Teuquob with his early return.

 Presently his thoughts reverting to his future marriage (nuptial), Svein, with a slight grin, contemplated on the timing of Stark’s altered decision. He was certain Stark had been all along (against) contrary to such possibility; when had his uncle had the change of heart?  Was it at the Temple, had the Deity answered his request?

 Svein suddenly recalled to mind, that meaningful exchange between Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn and Stark at the purification ceremony after Svein’s lapsed guard (check, restraint) on his senses. Then there was that unscheduled, subsequent day’s private meeting with the Abbot, after which on his return, Stark had stolen, once or twice undecipherable, yet furtively pensive look at Svein and Teuquob.

The stallion just then as if reading Svein’s thoughts, neighed (whinnied, whickered) and stomped his foot, which made Svein grin even more broadly.

Svein knew that the next leg of the trek would be far worse, intensely grueling and more precarious, but he was primed for the challenge. Reaching this segment short time later, with all his senses on the alert, he had advanced warily on foot, thankful for the exceptional steed that he had, since this part of the arduous trail with its meandering, spiraling course was too rugged and unforgiving with sheer drops of thousands of feet, to negotiate alone, never mind his leading a spirited stallion through it all.  But when they (man and mount) finally, after an arduous stretch, emerged intact on the other end of the (fissure) ridge in the mountain, then after further descent (downward gradient), came to a more level clearing, Svein, with one swift leap, mounted the bridled steed and, holding the reins, impatiently galloped into the distance towards the direction of the certain (human habitation) town.

In his exalted spirits Svein, none the worse for wear, subsequently had pushed on relentlessly, day after day, needing only a brief rest or sleep.  If it were not for his consideration of his horse, he would have sped incessantly like the wind or like an arrow coursing through the air in one fell swoop, until he reached his destination.  As it was, they traveled as though they both had a pair of wings, with his magnificent horse sharing his exuberance and responding accordingly.

They halted only when the earth was mantled in absolute darkness that made any sort of advance difficult.  Only then Svein would dismount at a suitable spot, preferably by a stream with a sparsely populated forest nearby and let his steed loose to graze on the lush green vegetation.  Opting for a good, sturdy tree, he would lean his back against it and help himself to some dry rations, before closing his eyes in brief respite, under the blanket of stars.  Since dangers were paramount during the nocturnal period, Svein’s scant sleep would frequently be interrupted by his vigilant, unfettered stallion that always remained nearby.  When danger struck, more often than not, they would jointly, in one fell swoop, dispose of the offender.  At crack of dawn, unhampered by all the night’s disturbances, man and horse would refresh at the nearby stream, have some sustenance, then Svein once more mounted, they would speed away into distance.

Svein genuinely loved this stallion that he had so rightly named Fiery Comet.  From the very first he had felt most fortunate, indeed, to have come by such an acquisition.

This had happened on a day in the not-too-distant past.  Svein had journeyed to a faraway town, called Tanza, a place where horse trading occurred with frequency, after their last horse had met a tragic, premature end at the fangs of a fierce predatory animal during a stormy winter’s night.  This, by no means, had been his first trip there.  Despite his youth, Svein had undertaken the journey at least three other times, once with his uncle and twice alone, necessitated each time, after a horse had succumbed to some natural disaster.  The other transactions were not out of the ordinary; however, the fourth trip had been quite memorable, to say the least.

                                                                                  ~

 Originally Fiery Comet had belonged to an official of considerable wealth and of good standing in society.  Yered, as he was called, prized his horses above all else and therefore spared no expense in procuring himself a sizable collection.  His stables contained several choice breeds, which he never failed to proudly show off to all his friends and associates, or whomever he wished to impress, at every opportunity.

 Yered had come by this horse while on an official call to his superior, and after difficult negotiations, had finally persuaded the owner to part with it for a considerable sum of money.  Now, despite his knowledge and his experienced eye for selecting superior breeds, this time he had been properly duped by this horse trader, masquerading as a nobleman, who, unbeknownst to Yered, was in cahoots with his superior.  Because of extenuating circumstances, Yered failed to ride his prize acquisition before he reached his home district.

Upon his return he was promptly warned by his secretary and good friend that horses bearing such markings were considered, since time immemorial, to be ill-omened; therefore, urged him to dispose of the horse at once if he wished to escape disaster.  Though Yered admonished his friend and subordinate for frightening him so, when still others chimed in with the same sentiments as his secretary, the horse’s value gradually diminished in Yered’s eyes.

 Even after receiving further confirmation from books, though his heart succumbed to fear, Yered still refused to acknowledge his mistake and remained reluctant to part with the horse.

Now, by some coincidence, when Yered suffered serious setbacks to his position and his wealth, by degrees, declined until he was stripped of power and influence, he ultimately gave validity to these superstitions and, therefore, sought eventually to rid himself of this cursed horse.  Compounding his grievance was the fact that he had never been able to ride the steed to his own satisfaction.

 The stallion possessed a wild and strong nature, and from the first try, he had shown his defiance to his master’s will, by repeatedly throwing him off of his back.  Though Yered prided himself on being a most accomplished rider, his persistent endeavors to ride this horse had all ended up in disastrous failure; with the resultant numerous injuries and bruises, to say nothing of the shame and humiliation, that he’d been forced to endure upon every attempt.

 By now the horse had gained some local notoriety as a most dangerous animal, and so it foiled Yered’s attempts to make a present of the steed to any of his furtively loathed, nemesis associates or despised relatives.  Having already spent a small fortune on the acquisition and upkeep (maintenance) of the horse, but fearing prosecution, he dared not discard the horse to any official, merchant (horse- dealer), neighbor, or prevail upon his servants to simply sell the horse to any unsuspecting, foolish gentry, within the perimeter of his home district.  Eventually he was compelled to commission one of his trusted underlings, to covertly make the transaction for him in another, far away district.

He soon discovered, to his great dismay and shame, that others were not as ignorant of the superstition as he had been, this fact meanwhile obliterating his agent’s bargaining strength and eliminating any chance for the sale.  He cursed himself endlessly in silence for his prior negligence, which now so ruthlessly and persistently robbed him of all his peace and repute.  He became wary and suspected his friends and close associates of mocking him behind his back.  The good-hearted conscientious ones advised him to rid himself of this pest at all costs and without further delay, seeing the drain (stress) on his nerves already.  But, since he had already squandered quite a sum on the beast, avaricious (rapacious) man that he was, he did not heed their advice and adamantly refused to simply slay (slaughter) the horse or let him loose in the wild.  He still hoped to recover some small margin of his expenses and, by doing so, preserve some semblance of dignity.

Time passed and, as his fortunes further declined, at last the exasperated Yered conceded to sell the now disguised horse at an even further away region and at greatly reduced sum- practically giving it away for free. Long at last the stallion was sold off to another unsuspecting, affluent purchaser; but before the congratulatory toast had warmed the new owner Rayex, he’d awakened to realization (same as Yered), that the horse he had procured was, in fact, no great bargain.  Once more hence, the horse was put up for sale by a dispirited owner.

                             

The burly steward called Kurin, carrying the instructions of his cruel and unfeeling master had been forbidden to return unless he secured the satisfactory sale of the horse.  Each day that the sale was delayed he was told to expect ten lashes plus other reprisals upon his return.  But the greatest threat had been made in reference to his sole kin on this Earth; his beloved daughter Yasmin, that would be turning eleven years of age in three months’ time. If he failed to return by then, his spiteful master promised to covertly sell her to some unknown brothel where she would be lost to him forever.

 Kurin knew this was no idle threat, for in his lifetime, since he had been in his master’s service from the age of two, he had seen unspeakable atrocities being committed by that fiend, that to date, he would shudder at the very thought of any such. The danger he’d faced on this trip minuscule in comparison to his daily ordeals in that estate. Meanwhile, the deep, ugly scar on his face and body was sufficient visual advertisement, that he was not one easily to be reckoned with.

 The resolute steward who excelled hand to hand combat and fighting with a staff, had spared no effort and, in a very short span of time, had journeyed great distances, going from town to town, until he had reached this furthest outlying district.  He had been led to believe that in this region, especially in this unruly town, there was a ready market for horses, therefore a good chance for the sale.  Callous officials, iniquitous merchants, nefarious artisans, seditious landlords all in cahoots with the vile bandits that thrived in great numbers in the surrounding countryside made travel by foot extremely hazardous; this, coupled with harsh climate, precarious topography and the distance between towns necessitated ownership of a horse or donkey for every household. In this never-ending cycle of violence, the unfortunate victims of these brigands or thugs, subsequently, without due were forced to make good their losses (time after time), if they wish the continuance of survival.

Last few weeks, having undergone his share of the dangerous escapades, the robust steward, on this day, at this far outpost marketplace of a Town Temagus, had done his best to sell the horse.  Arriving at dawn, he had stationed himself at a most favorable junction and had stayed there, keeping up hope the entire time, refusing to embrace yet another day’s defeat.  But the receding sun’s rays, the approaching hours of dusk, brazenly and cruelly confronted him and along with the diminishing light, his heart succumbed to sorrow and despair.  Raising his eyes to the distant sky, he inwardly asked; Why, why?

Kurin had done everything humanly possible, yet to date success avoided (shunned) him.  No sooner did any prospective buyer draw near or try to mount the horse for a trial run than he immediately was discouraged from making the purchase and, in fright, took to his heels.  Others were not as timid, walking away cursing with clenched fists and threatening reprisals at the top of their voices for the steward’s brazenness in trying to sell such a dangerous animal.  Word spread like wildfire throughout the marketplace, discouraging any other prospective buyers from giving the horse even the slightest bit of consideration.

 All day long, some ruffians from safe distance had intermittently voiced their taunting jeers, as local thugs echoed the same hateful words and threats at him.  Irate steward, wishing to escape the ramifications of his impending, volatile, violent nature, had instead, quietly moved his stand to a more isolated section. Looking askance at the bane of his troubles, he ground his teeth. 

 May Heaven preserve my poor darling daughter; this blasted horse will be the end of us all! If it were up to me, I would chop him up, perhaps make mincemeat out of him, then sell it all to those that would revel in horse meat. Meat is meat…. Few more days, I may do just that…Kurin nodded his head determinedly; knowing few more hours and another day would be spent; trying therefore, in his desperation to convince himself of this likely recourse.

Hey, it should bring a bit of money, enough perhaps to satisfy my master. Any fib should do; anything credible sounding enough. His anger turned to sudden dismay as his thoughts once more reverted to his daughter Yasmin.  Oh, my poor, poor baby, wonder what you are doing now?

 As it were, his daughter’s welfare being paramount on his mind; he gave scant thought to the impending cruel whipping he’d receive on his return, regardless, just for the heck of it, more than hundred merciless lashes that would incapacitate him for weeks if not months.

Hope you are keeping safe, my poor, precious darling!  Once more raising his eyes to the boundless sky, he uttered a silent prayer for her well-being… Then almost instantly, he shook his head in defiant thought: God’s were blind to the likes of them!

Soon as I’m back, a certain determination ceased him then. Yes, he and his daughter will make good their escape this time, and live the rest of their lives, if need be, in hiding but determinedly safe, safer than being subjected to the impending, unpredictable whims of his brutal, vicious master. If that monster harbored such a thought, an idle threat this time may be, of selling her to the brothel…. A beauty she is growing up to be, the swine may find other fabricated reasons to carry out his vile plan!

From the moment she’d been born, such a dreadful fear had lived in the steward’s heart, and he could not stand by and allow his worst fears, this worst nightmare, to be realized. Such an ill fate must not befall his innocent daughter Yasmin.

As dusk fell, gradually, many of the buyers and sellers began to trickle away, clearing the market, leaving behind the desperate, dispirited souls and empty stalls, only a dim reminder of the day’s noisy bustle.  Occasionally a gusting wind rose up and rolled tumbleweed in a trail of dust down the almost isolated dirt road.  The sky, once a pristine blue, now dressed up in its finery, carrying brilliant hues of purple, orange and red attempting to impress the few idle pedestrians on the way home to fill rumbling bellies.  It was at this point when the sharp eyes of the steward suddenly caught an unsuspecting, impressionable youth’s interested look from afar.

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

                            

                                                                                         ~

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY

SECTION 4

Before their visit to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple, neither Teuquob nor Svein had ever smoked a pipe, let alone this type of ceremonial long pipe. At the start of all the religious ceremonies, during the compulsory cleansing ritual, cleansing of mind, body and soul - in a special room a selected group, including Svein and Teuquiob, were on this day, gathered around a blazing fire.  The prayers duly invoked, the long pipe containing a very specific herbal concoction next was passed round. 

Smoke within and without, filling the contained, restricted airspace had an almost hypnotic effect on those present, ultimately reducing all inhibitions and releasing the constraints of heart and mind. Under these circumstances, a young man with fire in his veins, his innermost desires barely contained, Svein had once, momentarily losing his composure (natural reserve), had fervently gazed at Teuquob, to the exclusion of all else around him.  Sensing the intensity of his feelings, her eyes had been drawn to meet his; consequently, both had been terribly embarrassed and the wash of red visibly spread over (stained) their cheeks.  Stark was relieved to see that this slight infringement (seeming incest) had gone unnoticed in the hall that was dimly lit, save for Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, who gave Stark a knowing wink and a lenient smile (grin).

                                                                         ~

 Following three to five days Stark, Svein and Teuquob had spent much of their time diligently offering suitable prayers to deities, burning incense and making sacrifices to their (seemingly same but cleverly disguised, respective) ancestors. 

His Eminence Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, extending his courtesy, frequently made himself available to guide, direct or simply converse- extrapolating on various topics- with his alleged illustrious guests, chiefly Stark.  Now with all that hectic schedule of prayers, offerings and feasting, the (two weeks) time was simply stolen away.

Then came the paramount, most auspicious night of all-determined by the moon’s cycle, where which the principal prayers would be cited before the representation of the

“All mighty Deity Mahek” in the holiest of shrines. As a rule, in a fastidious (meticulous) religious ceremony that lasted till dawn, all three: Stark, Svein and Teuquob, were conjoined by countless trusted priests who assisted His Eminence Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn.

The thick smoke, rising from countless incense sticks, shrouded the chamber with sweet smelling, undulating clouds that entirely placated all the spirits of this world and the next, souls so emancipated, to drift in heavenly peace.  The monks’ harmonious chants, the chiming of bells and throbbing of drums, and the echoing notes of long, brass horns resounded all night long till cockcrow, reverberating throughout the holy grounds of Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple. 

Subsequent day’s prescribed ceremonies, as Svein, Teuquob and Stark prayed together they found themselves bonding closer still, as though of one heart, mind, soul and now, ancestry.

In view all these elaborate, costly ceremonies, Svein felt certain trepidation that they would not be able to meet all the expenses they were incurring. One night, sharing a private time with Stark hence, he subtly voiced this concern.  Deciding that this was neither the time or the place for appraising Svein of the longstanding, covert benefactor’s (and the elaborate network’s) feats (deeds), Stark had simply smiled and gave his assurance in a brief reply, that there were more than enough adequate funds to cover it.  Trusting Stark, Svein rested easier in mind from then on, as did monk Fayet, who had eavesdropped on the conversation.

                                                                                            ~                                                                                                                

Now that the date of their departure had been announced the monk Fayet had become even more obsequious than before in his attempt to secure a good tip from them.  This behavior irritated both Svein and Stark, to the point that they came to view Fayet as little more than a pest and tried their best to avoid having any dealings with him.  On their last night, after excusing themselves early from yet another vegetarian feast, they retired early, ostensibly to gain much needed rest for the subsequent day’s journey. 

 Instead of slumbering snug in their soft beds however, when all was quiet and all the priests, monks and novices, other than the skeleton staff required for overnight duties, were fast asleep, all three at varied intervals, one by one had snuck outside.

In the small hours, Svein unable to sleep, quietly (soundlessly) and resolutely rose from his bed and hurriedly dressed. Carrying stick of incense and paper money for the offerings, he stole through the hallways and made his way stealthily to the Amber Room which contained the shrine of the Deity of Fulfillment and Love.  Unknown to Svein, upon reaching the Amber Room, he had been spotted by Stark, who was quietly seated at the far bench.  Stark was about to accost him, when on second thought, somewhat curious, he opted to remain in the shadows. 

Disappointingly however, distracted or otherwise, Svein had failed to note Stark’s presence, a serious concern, that of which Stark would broach the subject with his nephew later. For the moment setting aside his annoyance, Stark assiduously observed Svein’s actions- as latter carefully placing the lighted incense in designated holder and then burning the paper money offerings, after his subsequent prostrations, knelt upright before the Deity and offered, blushing, his whispered request: May I be united with my beloved Teuquob in blissful matrimony in the not-too-distant future.

What Svein did not know, and could not have guessed, was that he was following directly in the footsteps of Teuquob, who had also just completed a somewhat similar request. 

During the night Stark, a naturally light sleeper, had heard her stirring outside her room and had risen and dressed, in ready anticipation of receiving her to offer usual solace.  Contrastingly however, he had heard her quietly exiting her room; charged with her safety, he’d therefore followed her to this destination.  Not wishing to cause her undue fright or embarrassment, he had though reluctantly, espied on her curious activity. After invisibly escorting her back to the safety of her room, he had then returned to the scene of event to ponder on the concern.

Long after Svein had taken his leave, Stark remained rooted at the spot, going over the night’s incident in his head. 

For a long time, he had resisted the notion of Svein and Teuquob’s union.  His Eminence had even toyed with this concept, during one of their surreptitious conferences, calling him inflexible, unyielding being, as Stark persisted on his reluctance, though in truth he was not altogether averse to the idea.

 Still, how could he in good conscience condone it, when Svein’s uncertain future discouraged any normal course of life’s events: marriage and offspring?   Presently, perhaps because he was softened by the conciliatory amber light or by this pacific, sacred place that’d encouraged the impossible or truer still, swayed by the wholesome atmosphere of chaste love and unsullied affection- that Stark (finding himself favorable disposed,) now contemplated the idea of risking the unfeasible and uniting the two in holy matrimony?

He must have subconsciously anticipated this outcome…. Stark absently nodded his head. Why else back at the mountain abode, would he have contemplated building added provisions to Svein’s quarters, heedful of Teuquob’s expressed wish to stay with them indefinitely?

Now that the decision had been finalized, Stark with lightened heart and spirit, retreated his steps back to his quarters long enough to fetch some incense and paper money. Returning to the Amber Room anew, he lighted the incense and burned the offerings before the same Deity; then going down on his knees, he put forth his frank, silent requests.

In the small hours, as Svein and Teuquob, each snug in their respective beds, with their fancies, imaginations and hopes and dreams merging into one, drifted into blissful sleep, the pernickety fate was made to yield to God’s will- and thus it come to pass that all their prayers were answered.

                                                                                    ~                                                                                

Subsequent morning Stark had another lengthy private conference with Abbot Boqast Tzaneen where which he addressed (tackled) the probability of his charge’s future union, asked for His Holiness’s advice, his blessings and his instructions regarding the (nuptial) ceremony and so forth. 

Late afternoon, Stark concluded all other unfinished business, including donating enough funds (by way of most rare, highly sought after precious metal and gemstones, fortuitously discovered within specific caverns at the mountain) to the temple to cover all incurred expenses and provide a generous gratuity to be shared among the monks.  Lastly at dusk, as he thanked monk Fayet for his trouble, he additionally pressed a very generous sum (gold ingot) into the other’s hand. 

Fayet was beside himself with delight, and his hence unceasing flattery and well-wishes, flooded their ears, exasperating Stark, but at the same time, amusing Svein and Teuquob. 

On their final day, after the lengthy farewells from Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, and then the assembled many well-wishers, Stark, Svein and Teuquob, their hearts weighed with melancholy, embarked on the long journey back to home.

As the distance was spread between them and the Heaven’s Gate Monastery, with each step, carrying contented hearts and lightened spirits, the return journey, though lengthier, (for as precautionary measure they’d adapted more circumlocutory route), it had felt much shorter, far less strenuous and dangerous.

 Before long they had reached the threshold of their home, and subsequently, returned to the happy, normal routines of secluded (remote) life.

                                                                                      ~

 (This concludes “The Trip to the Monastery”.  New adventures are unveiled in the next post, Legend of Nevetsecnuac - The Wedding.)

 

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 1

 Time passed quickly and, before long, the bitter months of winter gave way to a blossoming, soul-reviving spring. The sun now shone with new brilliance, bathing Earth’s myriad creatures with endearing warmth. Birds and animals frolicked in the woods with many competing to win favor with their chosen mates.

 Shoots only just awakened, bashfully poked their heads here and there, as other such contending vegetation indiscriminately raced to claim new ground. Once more the floor of Mother Nature was adorned with vibrant colors other than white or gray, and the fragrance of flowers and budding trees delightfully filled the air.

Along with spring’s magnificence, the renewal, unfortunately, came at an onerous cost.  Before long, the elevated heights would be drenched/ saturated by the incessant downpours, and there would be dangers from lightning strikes as well as persistent fog. Rain soaked, uneven, treacherous topography with slippery grounds, moss ridden often washed-out paths, mudslides, rockslides, dislodged trees and so forth, would bring about many hazards.

These affirmed   deterrents, saying nothing of the dangers from now awakened hibernators, ravenous carnivores, discouraged any would-be impetuous hunters or travelers. That is also why, the mainstream (conventional) pious devotees made the usual pilgrimage in summer months instead, at which point (whereupon) the mountains also offered additional reprieve from the searing heat of the lowlands. 

Heedful of his charges’ security however, Stark had deemed (selected) this less likely period, spring, being the most appropriate time for their trek.

On the appointed day, they therefore rose at crack of dawn and, after completing their last-minute preparations, Stark, Svein and Teuquob (with her hiding but not succeeding entirely her bursting enthusiasm), quietly embarked on the long journey to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple.

                                                                                   ~

Primarily, they would have to go through the treacherous subterranean tunnel that separated and kept their part of the mountain region well hidden from the world.

When they reached the yawning cavernous entrance, as before, Svein gave Teuquob the special root to chew. This time she was well informed of its properties and the reason for its use; so, she took it willingly and likewise it altered her state of mind and cast it in fearless euphoria.

Stark, as an added precautionary measure, shielded the horse’s eyes; then, once Teuquob was in saddle, Svein covering their back and Stark leading the steed by the reins (bridles, straps), the entire group entered the yawning chasm. As they advanced and penetrated further (deeper) into the cavern’s depths, gradually the pitch darkness swallowed them whole. They, however, with sure footing, braved and oftentimes fended off the dire peril (onslaught from unseen, feral entities, creatures), in that endless arena of black until finally, unharmed, they had once more emerged into the light.

The most dangerous part of the trek now safely behind them, after a brief respite, in high spirits they followed snaking, at times treacherous paths with on one side sheer drop carved into the mountain’s ledge.

They ascended and ascended to reach different, more accessible parts. In all that time they had endured well enough, being frequently drizzled upon or drenched by the sudden, capricious downpours that more often than not, impeded their progress.  And they persevered through sudden, violent gusts or unwavering winds that took their toll on the vast perimeter.

 Opting for the most isolated route, they consequently traversed, seeming ceaselessly, over the most dangerous and repetitively treacherous ground. They seldom rested and only infrequently took in sustenance.

Stark and Svein had the fortitude to withstand far more arduous conditions. Their strong stamina would normally enable them to travel interminably for weeks on end and ordinarily, they would thrive on the rigorous challenges; but mindful of Teuquob’s welfare, they took care to safeguard her from any undue strain and to allow her a brief repose now and then, typically when it grew too dark to advance- and so  made frequent unscheduled stopovers in certain caves or some protected cranny in the rock face,  promptly resuming their journey at the first light of the subsequent day.

  As for frequently encountering wild beasts like tigers, mountain cats, wolves, bears and pythons- suffice it to say, it was a marvel to behold their phenomenal abilities to ward off danger, adroit means with which they coerced the deadly aims of the voracious beasts, and rarely, only rarely, as a last resort, did they take a life.  To remedy this infraction, they would then undergo an elaborate purification ceremony. The prescribed moral and spiritual conduct had dictated that they as well abstained from any consumption of meat; hence, their dry rations had consisted of several kinds of beans, rice, and other such grains alongside varied vegetables that made up the bulk of their usual repast on route. But not all leg of the journey was arduous; for instance, the brilliant, azure skies, delightful tapestry of emerald venue meanwhile serving as a backdrop to some of the most magnificent panoramic views, oftentimes took their breath away, invoking and nourishing in all the poetic prose, to be registered once back at their abode, as means of happy pastime, then read aloud or extrapolated upon, on those icy-cold wintery nights.

They had travelled enormous distance, each day being different, yet all the same, every experience blending into that miasmic recipe, till Teuquob had lost all track of time.  What was the most predominant sensation however was that endemic fatigue, with every limb aching, sore, throbbing, and every fiber of her being weary. She had eventually stopped pestering Stark about the approximate distance, the length of time of their destination, zeal having long since being extinguished; she was resigned to simply enduring, however long, this endless trek.

Subsequently, when the expedition rounding the side of the mountain was confronted with yet another range of by then monotonously magnificent peaks, each competing for the brilliant heights with their summits buried in the clouds, she had simply smiled with placid expression on her face and nodded in response with lackluster enthusiasm, to Stark’s assurance, that this was indeed the last leg of the journey.

Mercifully, this part was not as long, and after ascending the invisible, winding goat’s path then the countless stone steps carved into the mountain, they’d arrived before the huge iron gates that fronted the most impressive temple grounds.

Promptly putting their gear down, the younger two (Teuquob and Svein) had held back, while Stark advancing forward had announced their presence to the novice gatekeeper and parted to his palm a seemingly insignificant item, to be delivered to His Esteemed Holiness.  The novice in thoughtful silence, nodded, and turning promptly on his heels, disappeared behind the barred Iron Gate.

This curious exchange had not escaped the notice of Svein, but as it were, soon other matters took his attention away. Teuquob meanwhile, with her fervor renewed, had cast her gaze unafraid on the mammoth guardian spirit statues that flanked the iron gates, then, craning her neck upward she had observed the towering walls encircling the temple grounds. Beyond it she could detect scores of buildings with roofs of purple glazed tiles over high roof beams, and then her eyes trailed to the tip of the magnificent tower, its summit disappearing into the mystic miasma of clouds.

“Why would they build a house of prayer akin to a fortress?” She could not help, but exclaimed with an involuntary shudder, her eyes perusing the foreboding structures and solidly interwoven temple walls, with intermittent watchtowers.

 “Hah?” Svein turned his attention back on Teuquob, for prior his interest had been drawn by that overwhelming sense of being scrutinized by scores of invisible well-armed sentry-guards glaring down on them with distrustful, near hostile antagonistic eyes.

 Stark after his eye contact with Svein and reassuring nod, approached Teuquob (came over) to briefly explain the reasons for this strong fortification.                                                                         

                                                                                                 ~

 (END OF SECTION ONE)

 (Exciting developments, the mystery and facts, regarding the heavily fortified “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple, will be elucidated (expounded) in the next post of - The Trip to the Monastery- Section 2)

 

THE RESCUE - SECTION 9

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE RESCUE - SECTION 9 

(CONCLUSION OF THE RESCUE)

Silently, Teuquob sat in the place Stark had indicated to catch her breath. Before her, like a magnificent painting, stretched out as far as the eye could see, the vast expanse of undulating peaks, the tallest of which had their crowns haloed with white, floating clouds. Serpentine rivers etched their paths down into deep valleys, disappearing at times under the veil of mist that shrouded them in deep mystery.  Flocks of birds flying in their designated direction decorated the azure sky.

“How peaceful it is here.”  Teuquob, despite herself, heaved a deep sigh.

Stark gazed at her for a moment without replying, “Everything will be all right,” in the end he said, reassuringly.

But in an unexpected turn this brought renewed grief to Teuquob. Unable to contain her emotions, the furrows on her forehead deepened and she burst into tears. Alarmed, Stark moved at once to comfort her, offering his handkerchief. “Females cry so easily;” With a melancholy smile he said, “surely it can’t be as bad as all that?”

“I’m sorry.”  She dried her eyes. “Here, with you, I shouldn’t cry.”  She forced a faint smile to her lips then dropped her head and murmured, “I wish nothing more than to unburden myself to you; but how can I be sure after you hear the facts, you won’t hate me.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear? Oh, child say what you will, I promise I will not hate you, not ever.”  Teuquob was touched by Stark’s soft gaze and empathetic words, giving her the courage to long at last voice what was oppressing (harrying) her heart.

“Oh, sir, I can no longer endure with such uncertainty and such falsehood.”  She had too much respect for Stark to allow this deception to continue any longer and she looked up, resolved now to confess, to tell him everything. “You have been kinder to me than my own kin. Fearful, though, as I am of losing your affection and respect, still I must dare profess that I am not what I earlier claimed to be. In truth, I am but an unworthy, disobedient daughter of His Highness Murong Di of Kontu. Only, born under an unlucky star, I have never basked in the warm, protective grace of His Majesty. Subjected to scorn, I was forced to endure habitual, contemptuous, and disdainful….”  Her voice had shaken with emotion before dropping off, as tears once more glistened in her eyes; for anew, she was torn by conflicting feelings (sentiments).

Repressing the urge to intervene, Stark sat motionless and gazed at Teuquob in thoughtful silence.

After a time, her composure regained, she then professed to Stark the summary of how she was raised (educated); but temporarily withheld (omitted) the circumstance of her birth, as it was too painful for her to recollect (call to mind). “On my fifteenth birthday, when His Majesty decreed that I’d be wed to Lord Hedenko...”

“Not the Overlord Deng Hedenko?” Stark interrupted Tequob in surprise.

“You know of him, sir?”

“I most certainly do.”  How could your father, how could His Majesty, in all good conscience condemn you to such an odious fate? Stark wanted to inquire, but restrained himself, instead giving her a brief explanation of how, when he visited Kontu in his teens, he had come to learn of the Overlord’s exploits from his esteemed teacher and host. The surname of which, when disclosed, resolved an earlier dilemma for Teuquob. Clearly fate had played a big part in bringing Stark and her to this present circumstance. With this notion, hope sprung anew in her heart.

“Perhaps, then, you do understand my plight,” she smiled, reassured, “for long since my heart has been ill at ease as to how I may best explain this to you. But sir, my own life is of little consequence to me, and this was not the reason for my flight. My action was (determined) born out of necessity, a daughter’s duty to her mother’s soul.”  Then, by degrees, Teuquob unfolded the entire truth: the story of her mother’s life, beginning with her mother Princess Lueling’s tragic tale, as it was told to her by her nanny Shutizan; next, she divulged  Hedenko’s notorious, more recent exploits, and the actual reason for her escape.

“You were quite correct in acquiescing with the wishes of your respected nurse.” Stark nodded in approval when Teuquob had reached that point of her story (narrative). “Shutizan is to be commended for her loyalty, farsightedness and clear thinking.”  Stark was also fatalistic in his philosophy of life and believed that much of everything was pre-ordained at one’s birth. Hence, he stressed further that all Teuquob had done was to follow her destiny.

His understanding words dispelled at once the gloomy, oppressive clouds that had so long stifled her soul, and instead, ushered in the fresh spring rain. Tears of gratitude now flowed ceaselessly from her eyes. Stark, his heart pained by compassion, embraced Teuquob as a father would a daughter, offering her solace. As she burrowed her face into his vest her tears rolled like pearls down the front of the garment.

 How difficult it is to console young girls, Stark reflected in exasperation. They are so frail, so emotional. I feel so inadequate at dealing with this. My wife was always better at this than I. His forehead creased, he shut his eyes tight, as the hapless girl’s grief reached the very depths of his soul. Despite his natural reserve, he found himself stroking her hair soothingly.

Darkness had begun to encroach on them as the sun followed its usual path to the western horizon. This provided Stark the opportunity of break and he said, as delicately as he could, “Please try to constrain yourself; besides, we really should be getting back before the sun sets.”

Teuquob, a sensible girl, responded immediately and pulled her head away. Drying her eyes she bashfully asked his forgiveness for her imposition on him in such an informal manner.

“Please, do not be concerned,” he smiled compassionately, “that was no imposition. We are all allowed our moments of frailty now and then. I am only glad that I could afford you some measure of solace.” With the outstretched hand, he then helped her to her feet and together they began their descent of the slope.

As they neared home, Stark suddenly halting, voiced his opinion, “It’s too late in the season now, but perhaps at the start of spring we could undertake the journey to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple.”

This precipitated fresh tears of gratitude in her eyes. How kind, how sparing Stark was, to be considering such a move in anticipation of her wishes!

“What is this?  Still more tears? My dear child, please stop crying or you will make yourself ill.”

“It’s all my fault, I should have waited,” he ruefully muttered in self-reproach, turning his head away.

“Oh no,” she rushed to counter, “I’m most grateful to you, sir.”  Then, in a most unexpected move, she fell on her knees in front of him and proceeded to thank him most humbly for his kindness and consideration. She had long wished to ask him about the existence and location of just such a place but, feeling that he had done so much for her already, had refrained from doing so.

Overcoming his own surprise, Stark hastily raised her to her feet and stressed that he had long nurtured the idea of visiting “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple” himself to offer prayers and burn incense to his late Sovereign and ancestors. 

“Your gratitude is unwarranted, my dear since I would have done this anyway for my own sake.  My objective, it seems, fell into accord with yours out of pure coincidence.” 

After a moment’s pause, he sadly added, “I, too, am guilty of neglect,” and his heart over again, flooded with grief.

 Of course, inwardly she had rightly guessed the true reason for his so-called procrastination; it had to do with protecting Svein. She could note that even now after having committed himself to helping her, inwardly he was torn with disquieting reticence, reluctant as he was to chance their security, by his leaving their well-guarded secret retreat and immersing (personally, physically) with the outside world.

Inwardly in fact, his reasoning was waging war with his sensibilities: Could it be that he had become unduly overly cautious. Surely, after all this time, almost nineteen years, there could be no real danger of spies or henchmen still in pursuit. Even he, the ardent nemesis, in absence of proof, would not be that persistent!

His mood lightened, his voice filled with the renewed vitality of youth, he firmly proclaimed, “Most definitely we will undertake this journey come spring!”  But the words were no sooner out of his mouth, when his face clouded over with concern, “I may have been rush in raising your hopes however, for you may not be up to such an arduous journey.”

“I beg to differ with you, sir. I am strong in physique and even stronger in will.  No journey, however odious, shall deter me from my aim.”

Despite his disagreement, Stark kindly refrained from airing his sound judgment and the projected difficulties they, not just her, needed to master. “All right, we will see what we can do to make the transition and the trek more plausible.  I’m sure that between the two of us we could afford you the necessary measure of security and means of comfort.  However, I feel I must warn you, well in advance, that the proposed journey will be most perilous and taxing an undertaking.”

“Yes sir, I stand warned.” She, suppressing her hopeful exuberance, responded in a mocked, serious tone. Then, with her heart bursting with joy, she quickened her pace to match Stark’s speed.

The vegetation skirting this meandering path was already being draped by the twilight mists. Meanwhile, back at the cabin, Svein was growing increasingly apprehensive over their late return.

Something unforeseen must have happened to offset Stark’s stance of punctuality!

Unable to concentrate hence, he had long since abandoned his studies and restlessly paced (to and from,) the length and breadth of the room, all the while deliberating whether to stay and wait, or simply risk provoking Stark’s scorn by going out in search of them. His rich imagination now an antagonist, most terrible sequential scenes, each more frightening than the next, began to (serially manifest,) unfold in his mind’s eye. In the semi-darkness of the room (with only the fireplace lit), heads bearing the razor-sharp fangs of known predators lunged at him out of the shadows, and then disappeared.

 Oh, I do hope they are all right.  He moaned irritably when the lone wolf’s howl from a distance pierced the still air of the room. He impatiently stamped his foot and turned to face the door. He was about to head out (the door) regardless of consequence, when to his great relief, he heard their approaching footsteps. Exhaling, he quickly rushed over to sit at his desk and pretended to be reading, feigning distraction, when they just then entered the room.

“Such diligence,” came Stark’s bemused remark. “My dear boy, you must have acquired extraordinary night vision, to be able to study so well in the dimly lit room.”

Teuquob hurried to light the lamp at the same time as Svein, sheepishly, also hastened to correct his error. Silently their hands collided, and both jerked it back, blushing.

That night, after Teuquob had retired and Svein had concluded his studies, when both men were relaxing by the fire before going to bed, Stark recounted the afternoon’s events to Svein.  In telling her story (but leaving out the fact she is of royal blood), Stark made specific reference to Lord Hedenko, the man to whom she had been betrothed.

“Since there is political significance in how Deng Hedenko rose to power, I will hence, take pains to extrapolate in detail everything I know of this Lord.”

“When I was residing as a guest at my teacher’s home in Kontu, I heard allusions being made daily to this notorious Lord, but it was not until my tutor filled me in on the details that I fully comprehended the extent of the fear his name generated.

As a young man in his teens, sixteen years old to be exact, Deng Hedenko already towered over seven feet in height. With his massive build, prominent nose, large predatory eyes, and bushy auburn hair of fiery red to match his temper, he already resembled more a demon than a mortal man. Yet, only once from afar I bore witness to his imposing bearing as he rode his black stallion at the fore of his equally impressive military entourage through the main gates on his way to seek audience with King Murong Di.”

Stark thoughtfully leaned back in his chair and took in a few more puffs from his pipe before continuing, “Overlord Deng Hedenko, as he was more appropriately referred to then, was born second in line to an immensely powerful and well-established family in the fifth year of Murong Di’s reign. Deng’s cruelty showed first when he was barely seven years of age. Even at that early age he was contending for power and aspired to his elder brother’s title. He dared his brother to a swimming match in the icy river. It was a very frigid day in mid-winter and the temperature had already dipped below freezing. When the elder boy succumbed to the cold and stood on the brink of death, Deng cruelly let him expire, and only then made a feeble pretense of affecting a rescue. Hedenko himself was known for boasting of this, which is why it had reached my teacher’s ears.

“With one obstacle eliminated, there remained a more difficult one for Deng to overcome. Fortunately for Hedenko, however, his father Lord Dazong Hedenko had wizened too late to his son’s insatiable thirst for power. With due consequence, the old Lord’s attempts to subdue Deng and bring him under the control of his authority resulted in failure. By withstanding the cruel measures and punishments inflicted on him under the guise of discipline, Deng was able to increase his will power and stamina by degrees until even the father had cause to fear his own son. Deng Hedenko’s popularity, cultivated with other members of the family and influential friends, and his growing skill in military strategy and martial combat was met by the father with due apprehension.

“Fearing his own early demise, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko now contemplated conferring the hereditary title to his third son, overstepping Deng’s right of succession. But, before this could be affected (achieved), the younger brother succumbed to a fatal accident. Worse, the father could find no proof to substantiate his suspicion of Deng. Feeling his life was now in mortal danger, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko named his own younger brother Teron Hedenko as heir apparent and conspired with him to attain (beget) Deng’s demise; but the old Lord’s favorite wife, (for polygamy was an accepted norm there), who had special affections (fondness) for Deng Hedenko, betrayed her husband and warned Deng of the impending danger.”

“Sprung from the trap, Deng fled to the capital, and to safety. His first act was to seek an audience with Prime Minister Kwonsu Non, who bore Lord Dazong Hedenko an old grudge. Via circumspect bribery, Deng managed to ingratiate himself with the Prime Minister. Then, through P. M’s patronage, he was favorably presented at court to His Majesty Murong Di.  Deng’s striking bearing and his outstanding ability quickly won him the favor of the court. Despite his youthful age of seventeen, he was appointed as the commander of an Imperial force of battalion and, promptly dispatched to settle the border skirmish at Sikumu.   With deadly precision, in no time at all he annihilated the overwhelming forces of the enemy, recovered the lost territory, and returned victorious to the capital.

 For this stroke of military genius, he was awarded the rank of General. In addition, he was presented with a fine, black steed from the Imperial stables and, as a special mark of favor from His Majesty, a luxurious court garment.

“In subsequent years, Deng Hedenko, gaining command of larger and larger armies, won countless unparalleled victories. He was strict with his officers and fighting men and, quite unbending in his insistence on rigorous discipline as well as, absolute adherence to military rules and regulations. However, he was also fair in his treatment of good men and most generous in his rewards to those that deserved his recognition. With his fair distribution of the wealth won during his conquests, he won the unquestioning loyalty of his men. His words became law throughout the whole army and overrode the instructions from the Minister of War and the Prime Minister. There was an unspoken, unwritten conviction (belief, opinion) that the army’s loyalty to Deng Hedenko even superseded an allegiance to Sovereign Murong Di.

“As General Deng Hedenko’s fame spread everywhere, his father’s earnest warnings to His Majesty about Deng’s ambitious and treasonous nature (fell on deaf ears) were never heard.

“Most faithful, stanch subject, Lord Dazong Hedenko’s subsequent entreaties, for the king to curtail Deng’s power before it was too late or, more aptly, put Deng to death, were also effectively intercepted by the Prime Minister and his powerful clique at court.”

“In the end the old Lord personally undertook the long and arduous journey to the Capital and put the matter before the king.  Through persistence, and the help of the few faithful friends he had remaining, Lord Dazong Hedenko eventually succeeded in gaining a private audience, and presented his admonitions with great zeal. But, far from being commended for his loyalty, he was rebuked by the Sovereign for harboring unwarranted suspicions and for promoting baseless slanders against his own son.  The old Lord left the capital a broken man.

“Growing in influence and power, Deng eventually reached the limits of insolence when he dared to openly insult the Crown Prince. But, since Deng was the most valued Field Marshal of the Imperial forces, and his talents most sorely needed at that time, the Monarch overlooked this sleight, as well as his other numerous crimes.

“Through Deng’s victories, King Murong Di had gained those territories he had always craved, and, in a noticeably short time, all the borders of Kontu were, for the first time ever, secured.  With the antagonistic kingdoms that had previously posed a serious threat to his realm all, without exception, vanquished and their strongholds burnt to the ground, Kontu’s Sovereign Murong Di’s absolute dominion (and lasting reign) was affirmed.

“In time however, with no more wars to wage, conflicting principles and varied internal politics, despite cloaked ambitions, nevertheless, ignited serious disagreements between liege and vassal. As the dissention between the two worsened (intensified), the king now began to distrust Deng’s increasing political power and to question his professed loyalty. Moreover, Murong Di, now regretful of his past oversight, perfunctorily dismissed the Prime Minister’s ordinarily compelling lexis and opinions and heeded instead Deng’s enemies and Lord Dazong Hedenko’s forewarnings.

“Understanding that, with the nation at peace, the Field Marshall was therefore expendable, Deng sought a way out of this decidedly perilous predicament (situation).

 As the saying goes, ‘When the game is caught, the good bow is put away.’”

 “Moving swiftly, before the likely rival faction mustered (mobilized) an offensive against him; Deng Hedenko resigned his commission and asked leave from His Majesty to return to his home state. 

“The Sovereign could not afford to appear openly ungrateful to this national hero, and so, Deng’s request was promptly granted. Secretly, Murong Di had hoped that the old Lord would do the deed (finish the job) for him and dispose of Deng once and for all.

“Lord Dazong Hedenko’s ardent foe, Prime Minister Kwonsu Non meanwhile, harboring his own sinister designs, keenly supported the monarch’s decision, whilst, adroitly silencing those who planned to enunciate a warning against letting such a rapacious fiend loose in the countryside.

True to form, just as Prime Minister had anticipated, shortly after Deng’s arrival at the estate of Quinan, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko was swiftly, ruthlessly killed (cut down) and the blame put onto unknown assassins. Subsequently, two culprits were captured and, under torture supervised by Deng himself, confessed to the crime. Both were promptly, brutally (horribly) executed immediately after the trial. The case, thus quickly settled, gave the Chief Justice (of the High Court) no opportunity to call an investigation.

The first part of reprisals (retaliation, revenge) now over, Deng moved against, his once beloved uncle, Teron Hedenko.

As it were, the very moment the news of Deng’s impending return to Quinan had reached his uncle, out of fear and, to allay Deng’s suspicions, (or ire,) Teron had officially (formally) relinquished his claim to the succession and furthermore, staged a falling-out with his elder brother Dazong Hedenko. Underestimating Deng’s vindictive and brutal nature, upon Deng’s arrival, Teron then, reminiscing about past joyful family events and his lone, doting treatment of Deng- proceeded to curry as much favor as possible with his nephew.

Despite the assassination of Lord Dazong, Deng’s sustained amicable, respectful conduct towards his uncle, seduced (lulled) Teron into a false sense of security and he, albeit erroneously, further lowered his shields (safeguards).”

“Teron was elated when after the required period of bereavement, Deng, concealing his contempt, courteously invited his uncle to a lavish reconciliation banquet.

“Deng wined and dined his uncle with a cold smile on his lips throughout the ceaseless servings of alcoholic-beverages, rare exotic fruits, steamed edible plants, huge portions of venison and scrumptious (delectable) variety of outlandish victuals.

“The after-dinner nerve-racking, bellicose martial entertainment, however, was ensued by unexpected, dire revelations from Deng’s paid witnesses, who brought forth false proof and a trumped-up charge of treason against Teron Hedenko.  The Uncle had not even digested his food before he was brutally hauled in chains to a damp dungeon, tortured, then summarily executed for his crime.  Once more, the case was so clean-cut that the High court was rendered powerless to indict Deng; as the witnesses themselves, had disappeared with as much rapidity as the accused.

“Quinan, which encompasses a remote, mountainous region was the farthest state from Capital. Burdened with prevalent, severe weather and harsh topography, the hardened citizens, herders, woodsmen or hunters, had always been difficult to rule. On the plus side, the region landed itself to producing the finest warriors in the land.

After the consolidation of his power in Quinan, Deng engineered some border troubles on his land and, using this reason, proceeded to create a new, invincible army in his state.

“When this new development became known in the Capital, the king sent a secret envoy into Quinan to keep surveillance (watch) on Deng and return with his findings. Expecting such a move, Deng hid most of his force in the mountains and provided numerous false reports for the envoy. Favorably impressed, the envoy returned to court and cleared Deng of all charges.”

 “With time, Deng grew ever more savage in nature and many of his enemies equated him to the fierce carnivores that plagued his mountainous state.

This predatory Lord had remained fond of wars and bloodshed all his life.

“It was said that, when he could not conduct a war, he would butcher men just for the sheer pleasure of it. He, true to his innate nature, remained just as fanatical about regulations as when he had commanded the Imperial army.

He enforced his unvarying, harsh edicts, with equivalent rigidity, regardless of stature or age- on the military, close kin and, on the entire civilian population.”

“All this while, many of the ablest soldiers who had served under Deng had, intermittently defected from Imperial force and re-enlisted in Quinan. With such an impressive force under his command, Deng Hedenko next embarked on a campaign of bloodshed to make Quinan the biggest and strongest state within Kontu.

“The first set of wars was waged on the neighboring kingdoms, Kwan and Ezaks, extending Deng’s holdings further to the north and north-west. After his power in these border regions was consolidated, Deng then looked to the neighboring states in Kontu, which stood between him and the Capital.

His ruthless exploits by then were so well known that just by seeing his invincible army poised at the gate, was sufficient cause to frighten these lords to capitulate (surrender) or, to strive for an alliance with the Overlord.

 “In this way, by degrees, Deng Hedenko succeeded in usurping good portion of the country from right under the very nose of Murong Di. In fact, by the time he was thirty-one, Overlord Deng had directly controlled over one-third of the Kingdom of Kontu and had secretly annexed another quarter.

 “This dominance was attained, via effective manipulation of many of the influential ministers at the Imperial court who had the King’s ear; and, by maintaining rigidly enforced control over engorged state of Quinan; which was ruled by the harshest administrative governing body, under sole authority (command, rule) of Overlord Deng Hedenko.”

 

“While all these factors were adding up, Sovereign Murong Di’s attention was instead, directed to the more urgent threat (pressing matter) from Ircon, on the eastern border region, one of the first states formerly subdued by Hedenko, which at present had again risen in power to war against Kontu.

“Hedenko had earlier warned Murong Di of the strength of the conquered country and had counseled the annihilation of the entire Royal Family.  The king, however, had coveted the Third Princess of Ircon, and later made her his fifth wife, leaving the Royal Family in power and registering Ircon as an independent tributary state.

“Too late, His Majesty Murong Di regretted his ignoring Hedenko’s warning of just this possibility. He would have been surely lost had he not still had the backing of Imperial army and some powerful and staunch loyal ministers in Court.

Compounding this mistake with another one still later however, he, gave the danger from Ircon a far greater precedence over looming (imminent) one from Quinan, and refused to recall Hedenko to court to give account for his, by now well-documented, treasonous activities. This slight chance, sole window of opportunity closed, by the time the injudicious monarch wizened to be concerned over Deng’s invincible power, the internal strife, and corruption at court had permanently eroded his ability to effectively deal with Deng.

“No doubt, numerous assassins were covertly dispatched to Quinan, but their attempts were all rendered ineffectual in that tightly controlled military state.

“Deng Hedenko, for the three years prior to Teuquob’s escape, had permanently absented himself from court. His emissaries still assured the muddle-headed king of his loyalty to the throne and provided sound reasons for Deng’s accumulation of arsenals. Nevertheless, with Deng Hedenko a permanent thorn in his flesh, it appears Murong Di had finally resorted to his last recourse, that of allying himself with Overlord Hedenko. Informed covertly of licentious Hedenko’s not so secret desire to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the entire kingdom, The Sovereign had issued an edict, along with the invitation, to appease Lord Deng Hedenko.  Although, I suspect, this was but a ruse (ploy) to lure Hedenko to the capital and there to arrest him and execute him for treason.  Teuquob was the bait to lure this fierce Overlord into the snare.”

“Judging from Overlord Deng’s abilities, however, he would have accepted this proposal only to have sprung some sort of trap of his own, allowing him to usurp the throne.”

Stark finally concluded his narrative with this most plausible prediction. Much of what he had said about the situation (state of affairs) in Kontu reminded both about the current history of their own country, and both Stark and Svein lapsed into silence, their thoughts converging on one unspoken name: Zakhertan Yozdek.

                                                                            ~

Winter soon showed its bitter face, with unending storms and bone-chilling cold temperatures. Added to this was the danger from ferocious predators, those that did not hibernate, now contended for the scarce food still left on the mountain. So, all unnecessary activities, like Stark and Teuquob’s excursions into the woods, were postponed, while the daily martial exercises continued as before in the clearing.

On this night, like so many other frigid winter nights, nestled in the warm comfort of their living room, Svein poured over his books, while Teuquob engaged herself with needlework and Stark, seated in his chair, quietly read a favorite passage from a book.  Only the howl of the winds outside, in harmony with the roar of the wild beasts, intruded thoughtlessly on the silence of the room. When Stark distractedly looked up from his book Teuquob, misconstruing his pondering (considering carefully) as break in concentration, impetuously voiced her request, “May I trouble you, sir, with, perhaps, my unreasonable hope?”  Stark nodded his assent.

 “Sir, I would be most honored if you would consent to impart to me the (teachings) requisite mastery of the “Literate” calligraphy, so that I may be able to decipher the ancient scrolls and benefit from the antiquated poetry and prose that are in your keeping. Since it is my wish to remain in your honorable country indefinitely, may I, therefore, trouble you with this supplication?”

What purpose would it serve other than to confuse your mind? Stark reflected before finally giving his reticent response.

 “Since only certain times are allocated to education, are you certain you can spare the time from your present linguistic studies? The future would be a more apt time (perhaps) for such additional explorations.”

“I can achieve both. In this way also, curious as I am of the beautiful, exceptional works, I shall not repeatedly trouble you for the translations.” she pressed in her eagerness.

“Perhaps it can be done.” Stark teased “But first, we must ask Svein if he would not object to you sharing additional paper, ink and writing utensils.”

Svein, delighted at this opportunity of spending more time with her, raised his head from his books and meeting his uncle’s eyes, nodded to him in the affirmative.

Of course, you would, foolish boy. Stark looked away to ponder on the concern.

 For a time, he remained reticent, worried about the unnecessary distraction, but instead, reverting his gaze back on Svein, he voiced this query, “Are you sure that it would not be an imposition?”

Svein could hardly contain his bursting delight; so, you are not entirely opposed to it, and once more gave his ready consent.

From that time onwards, each night sharing the same lamplight, Teuquob sat opposite to Svein and, with due diligence, followed Stark’s instructions in reading and writing in the ancient dialects. These times spent in such proximity were not however without their measure of restraint and discomfort for Teuquob and Svein. Feeling the way, they did for each other; it took great deal of effort and willpower from each to direct and maintain their concentration on their studies. Ultimately, (at the right time) Teuquob was encouraged by Stark to only speak in the Wenjenkun’s language.  Her persistence in using the unfamiliar tongue, despite her inadequacies of speech and discernible frustrations (such as flushed cheeks) when she could not readily recall the words she wished to use endeared her still more to them.

Over time, despite their reserve and propriety of conduct, Svein and Teuquob were now growing more familiar with each other. Svein could not resist teasing her from time to time, making her more flustered or flushed with fury. This innocent interplay, when done in times other than the study period, was overlooked, and even silently condoned by Stark.

 In a noticeably brief time Teuquob marshaled enough of the old language that enabled her to read a line or two of their most treasured poems or prose.  Thirsting for more, she continued to pour over her studies with unending enthusiasm and delight.

                                                                                    ~

 (Epic story of “Legend of Nevetsecnuac” resumes in the next post, “The trip to the Monastery”- Section 1)