LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 13
It was Nevetsecnuac's intention to ensure Fradel's safety by trailing him from afar until Fradel had reached Toren. Only when, at dusk, the city walls had come into view had Nevetsecnuac spurred Fradel's horse towards the hills where he embarked on a shorter route to Channing.
At first Nevetsecnuac,
forgetting that his mount was not Fiery Comet, pressed on with speed through
the night, taxing the horse's strength.
When he realized his folly, however, he showed more restraint and took
more frequent rests.
Fradel, entering the city gates, his first task had been to accost a respectable-looking citizen, to gain directions to the Magistrate's Office; but being pegged a defenseless stranger who, by some good fortune, had dodged (evaded) the habitual attacks of the bandits that had incessantly plagued the region, unwittingly instead, drew a large crowd around Fradel.
Many of the curious onlookers,
approaching him now, probed him incessantly for information while others,
seeing Fradel was uncooperative, spread their own wild suppositions at the back
of the throng. As the milling crowd
became more restless, officers of the law suddenly appeared on site, to
disperse the unruly public and pushed their way to the center to seize the presumed
instigator (troublemaker).
They allowed Fradel no
chance to air his grievance or tender his request, they instead, forcefully hustled
him straight to the Magistrate's Offices.
Since the Magistrate had by then retired, they incarcerated the scholar
for the night under lock and key, despite all his protests.
As the more sensible officer
had explained the next morning, the mysterious disappearance of other
plaintiffs in the past had necessitated these kinds of drastic measures.
After being given a basin
of water with which to wash up, Fradel was brought before the presiding
Magistrate, Yakove Zewe, in order to lodge his complaint.
The Magistrate gave a
start when he read the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald as the plaintiff standing
before him, then raised his eyes to scrutinize Fradel. He knitted his brows in skepticism then
ordered him to approach the bench for questioning.
Forced to remain on his knees for the entire
time, Fradel was most thoroughly and rigidly interrogated by the long-faced
Magistrate as the facts were duly recorded by the Judicial Secretary.
In the telling of his
ordeal, Fradel vehemently poured out his indignation at the cruelty and
barbarism of the bandits and their leader who had nearly succeeded in killing
him. Embellishing the details of the
fight that had ensued between the bandits and the stranger who had suddenly
appeared out of nowhere, Fradel told of how the masked stranger, with
remarkable bearing and superior skill, had vanquished the bandit's leader and
many of the felons, forcing the rest to flee for their very lives. Then, having delivered Fradel from this dire,
desperate predicament the stranger had, in turn, robbed Fradel of his baggage
and valuables, including his identity papers and summons, and had left him
destitute, stranded in the middle of nowhere. Of course, Fradel took credit for
his servant's full, and the bandit's partial burials in order to explain his
delay in presenting his accusations to the Judiciary.
"You’re Honor,
without my papers how can I dare show my face at the Capital?"
Fradel, in a convincing ploy, broke down and
wept. He then implored the magistrate to
apprehend all the felons and bring them to justice in the shortest time
possible. He also asked for the
Magistrate's assistance in furnishing him the means to send words to Prime
Minister Lamont Gudaren in order to explain his current circumstances and beg
forgiveness for his unavoidable delay while he returned to his home province of
Birgershing to obtain new documents.
“Who does he think he is? The nerve of him; expecting my help, when even the question of his identity has not yet been confirmed. The Magistrate was incensed. Still, this is most serious. If these allegations prove to be correct and he is who he claims to be, I'll be in a terrible fix. I would then be forced to assist him in forwarding his report about this lawlessness in my domain, being the reason for his delay. His Honor, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, is most powerful, I dare not be remiss!” Magistrate, Yakove Zewe at this point vacillated.
“Yet, the letter
would still land me in terrible trouble.
The personal consequences would be immeasurable. According to this
so-called Scholar’s testimony, the other robbers were all bested and then
buried. Am I supposed to take him on his word that this arrogant, pampered
Scholar took the pains after being robbed to do the honorable thing, like bury
those culprits, albeit shallow graves?
I’ll surely be laughed at, may even be dismissed from my post and struck
from the official list for incompetence, for believing in such a ludicrous
story or, for failing to do my duty and not bringing bandits and this outlaw
(one who has robbed him of his ID papers) to justice. I am sunk either way! Any
investigation would reveal how outlaws had run amok for two years, robbing and
injuring good citizens in this region.
Heaven knows how I've tried every means to annihilate them, but those
cursed bandits seem so well organized, so prescient that all measures were
ineffective. I've already lost too many
good men in the process. His Excellency,
Rexi, has so far been most tolerant of my circumstances and lenient with my
shortcomings, but they would not see it that way at the Capital. I've striven so hard and for so long just
to get this post, I'll be damned if I lose it now. Now why couldn't I have someone like that
powerful stranger, if he truly exists, on my staff?”
Yakove Zewe heaved a sigh,
"No one is going anywhere until we have ascertained all the
facts." He sternly raised his hand
to cut short Fradel's protests then proceeded with more questions.
When asked why the
stranger had also not taken his horse when he took everything else, Fradel
claimed that, at the time the horse had spooked and ran away, returning on his
own accord further down the road. When
(lone surviving) Fradel had finished relaying all of the purported facts,
Magistrate Yakove Zewe then dispatched six deputies to the scene of the alleged
robbery to investigate further and verify the facts.
Next, another warrant was
signed, and a large force was dispatched to scour the surrounding countryside
for the bandits. The order was also
given to draw up pictures and notices about the robbers, according to Fradel's
description of them, and to post these notices at all the major intersections
of the city and junctions of the outlying roads.
A hefty reward was offered for any information
leading to their capture and threats of a heavier penalty were issued for
anyone caught shielding them or withholding any information that would in any
way hinder their apprehension.
Though skeptical of
Fradel's identity, the Magistrate still ordered the detainment of Fradel at the
government Hostel rather than the jail.
There Fradel would be furnished with writing implements and be permitted
to write his letter to the Minister of Culture.
Guards would be posted, not so much as to prevent Fradel's escape but to
afford him protection from any reprisals from the bandits.
The court, after an
unusually long session, which took meticulous care to ascertain all these
matters were lawfully handled, was then promptly adjourned to await the return
of the deputies.
When the partially
decomposed corpses of Fradel's servants and the bandits were dug up and brought
into court a couple of days later, Magistrate Yakove Zewe, amid the
intimidating shouts of the bailiffs and flanked by his clerks, reconvened the
court.
The stench from the bodies speeded up the
proceedings as the corpses were briefly examined by the court's Medical Officer
then identified by Fradel before they were hastily (taken away) removed.
The preliminary search of
the servants ‘bodies had produced, in accordance with Fradel's disposition, two
sets of identity papers stating they were servants indentured to the
illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.
The subsequent day, by
some good fortune, one of the robbers was turned in by the physician when he
had sought medical aid for his festering wounds. Magistrate Yakove was highly pleased with
this recent development and, ordered the man brought into the presence of the
court at once.
The heavily guarded
bandit, wearing a neck brace and chains attached to his ankles, waist and
wrists was duly (fetched) retrieved.
The tense atmosphere at
his entrance in court was shattered and replaced by a surge of laughter, when
the once feared outlaw, pathetically just then, was tripped to the floor.
Order quickly restored;
Fradel was brought forth to identify the accused. This concluded, Fradel was
ordered to wait outside while the prisoner was then further tortured and
interrogated.
Despite the severe
beatings, cuts, burns and numerous blows to the head, the defiant bandits had
proven most difficult to break. He not
only adamantly refused to reveal his name or betray the identities and whereabouts
of his colleagues, but with unusual strength and courage, his eyes ablaze with
anger, he cursed and spat at them, hurling vile insults and threats at the
Magistrate, those present in the court and at Fradel outside.
Some of the observers
cowed in their places attempting to retreat into obscurity. In response to Yakove's order to silence the
prisoner the deputies rained more blows on the bandit and, when order was again
restored, the Magistrate, now in a towering rage, ordered the ankle screws to
be brought in. Plenty of fighting spirit
was still left in the sputtering prisoner as four large bailiffs held him while
two deputies fitted on the ankle bracelets.
His sliced open leg made it all the more agonizing for him when they
started to apply the pressure with the screws.
"Increase the
pressure." Magistrate Yakove Zewe ordered with a sinister sneer to the
men. The bandit howled in agony yet
still defiantly resisted capitulating.
His anguished cries
permeating the air grated on Fradel's ears.
He rose and agitatedly paced the crimson floor of the hall in bold
strides. What further need was there to detain him in this way? Why must he bear witness to such inhumanity?
He grew even more
disgusted when he observed the pleasure the grinning guards derived from the
hollering bandit's pain and their indifference to the other plaintiffs waiting
as they boisterously exchanged stories, trying to outdo each other with tales
of other tortures they had witnessed.
The torture went on for
some time until the ankle screws finally broke into six pieces and the prisoner
had lost consciousness. The bandit did
not respond to the attempts to revive him or even to the pain of added torture. The court had failed to extract even the
least bit of information from him.
"Put him on the rack, then." the fuming Magistrate Yakove Zewe
thundered.
"Break all his bones
until you break his will, but on no account let him die until he tells me what
I want to know." Shouting their
assent, the bailiffs dragged the broken, bloodied body back outside the court,
pulling him by his feet past the waiting Fradel Rurik Korvald.
A trusted clerk now
approached the bench and submitting his findings in a whisper to the
magistrate, handed him the confiscated, still sealed, letter written by
Fradel. Alarmed, the Magistrate Yakove
Zewe flushed, and perspiration beaded on his forehead. Abruptly he recessed the court and ordered
Fradel Rurik Korvald to be brought at once to his private chambers in back.
There, greeting Fradel
with broad smiles, he took the scholar by the hand and, apologizing for the
inconvenience he'd caused him, showed him to a comfortable seat. With affected gentility he offered Fradel
some tea and invited him to be his honored guest in his own humble home where
he could show him his collection of the scholar's published works. He expressed great admiration for Fradel's
writings, saying that he read them often.
In truth, he found the work too intense for his own shallow and
superficial nature and had only collected these writings in order to curry
favor with his more refined superiors.
In private he showed his discordant nature to his confidants, calling
Fradel's work overrated and not deserving of the recognition it enjoyed.
A muddleheaded simpleton
of sorts, Yakove Zewe would have been totally befuddled with Fradel's recent
work in progress. Initiated after he had
started on his way to the capital and existing at present only as an outline in
Fradel's thoughts, this intense, politically based work was in stark contrast
to the earlier flowery, but only moderately complex, tributes to nature and
beauty that formed the bulk of Yakove 's, and the nobility's, collections. Despite the danger Fradel presented, Yakove
was opportunistic enough to jump at the chance to ingratiate himself with the
famous scholar, always mindful of the windfall of prestige and privilege that
this would bring. If only, if he could secure one original poem from his
grateful guest!
Very much pressed, Fradel
reluctantly acquiesced to the Magistrate's wishes to stay as his honored guest
until, as Yakove put it, “his strength and good health returned, and his wounds
healed well enough to stand the arduous journey home”. Fradel was also assured that the letter he
had written in the Hostel had already been forwarded by a special courier to
Channing.
Soon after Fradel was
settled into his new quarters and his immediate needs were seen to, he was
again imposed upon by his very courteous and obliging host to attend a private
feast given in the scholar's honor.
Magistrate Yakove Zewe, having plied Fradel
with lavish food, fine spirits and good entertainment, rose to make his fifth
toast to his guest. Extolling Fradel's
virtues and accomplishments, he then cajoled his other guests who then
responded on cue and importuned Fradel to favor them with a verse to
commemorate this fine evening and this festive gathering.
"Please do not
begrudge us, few of your precious words." they all chimed in chorus.
Suppressing his
indignation and outrage at this obvious coaching, Fradel demurred, claiming
intoxication and fatigue. He then asked
to be excused and hastily retired from the feast, leaving the flustered Yakove
to stew in his own chagrin.
The other guests, sensing
their host's antagonistic mood, one by one took their leave under various
guises and brought the assembly to a quick end.
Alone in the dining hall, the Magistrate continued on with his drinking,
shifting his indignation and hatred away from the real source onto his wife. He
cursed and belittled her unmercifully.
Finally, growing hoarse in voice and dizzy in the head, he fell into a
deep stupor and was carried off to his bed.
The following morning, as
soon as Magistrate Yakove was able to get away, he took the letter Fradel had
supposedly already sent to the Capital and a copy of the court case and,
traveling by palanquin, set off for the office of the Provincial Commissioner
of Justice, Birgergu Gunt, to seek his advice on how best to extricate himself
from this dilemma, short of capturing all the bandits, as well as to boast
about his competent handling of the case thus far.
Once Magistrate Yakove Zewe had been announced, Birgergu, quickly concluding or putting aside all his other business, came out in person to welcome and usher his childhood friend into his private study. After his careful perusal of the report, however, the red-faced Commissioner frowned, alarming Yakove anew.
"This is most
unfortunate. Brother-in-law, I warned
you long ago to give priority to apprehending these bandits. You should have
allocated most of your constables to dealing with this matter. Now that things have come to such a pass, I
fear I may not be able to shield you from the repercussions. As it is, his Excellency Rexi is already furious
with you over the indelicate way you handled the Courtesan Yule Reidun."
"But, sir, how could
I have known she was His Excellency's favorite?"
"Never mind
that," Birgergu curtly waved his objection away.
"This business with
the scholar is most serious. I'm afraid
that, this time, you're on your own. I will certainly not perjure myself before
the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren to cover up your incompetence."
“Then I’m as good as
destroyed. “Magistrate Yakove Zewe’s distress became even more acute.
“You can be so
melodramatic!” Brigergu frowned.
"I implore you, sir, please do not
forsake me." Yakove, trembling,
dropped to his knees and, clasping his hands together obsequiously, cried
despondently.
Crouching before Birgergu in wailing
supplication, he further pleaded, "You know of my situation! You know very well how I've tried my utmost,
how I've utilized everything within my power to alleviate this problem. Besides, now we've caught one of them it will
only be a matter of time before we make him talk. Can't you cover up for me for just a while,
just long enough for my objective to be reached? I will make it worth your while. Haven't I always been most generous with my
appreciation of your past favors?”
"All right, all
right… Do not distress
yourself." Birgergu, assuming a
condescending air, raised the Magistrate to his feet.
"But, owing to this matter's importance,
I'm bound by my duty to report this to the Governor at once. However," Birgergu stalled to prolong
Yakove's misery as he stroked his well-groomed beard, "very well, for my sister’s
sake I will again speak kindly of you in my report and assure him that
everything is under control. Perhaps
he'll show leniency. Take my council,
however, and dispatch this letter this very day to its proper destination.
It's far too dangerous for you to be
withholding such information from the Capital.
And do not detain this distinguished scholar, either, but provide him
with adequate means and a measure of security on his speedy return journey.”
"Hmm… For obvious
reasons I cannot be seen to be involved in this case. When I do see the Governor, I will assure His
Excellency that the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald is properly taken care of and
has already departed our province.
Perhaps you'll be spared an investigation by the Capital and His
Excellency's wrath."
Taking off his gauze cap,
the Magistrate Yakove Zewe fell to his knees bowing repeatedly, pouring out his
gratitude to his brother-in-law, promising to invite him soon to a grand feast,
then left to expedite Fradel's departure.
……
Yakove was halfway home
when he sighted on the horizon the dark, billowing smoke pouring up from the
direction of his offices, the offices containing the court documents, criminal
records, and the jail containing the unfortunate prisoner.
A short time later, a view
of the grisly scene confirmed Yakove’s worst fears. An arsonist had set off a huge fire that had
already devoured most of the building and, fueled by the winds; it was now
spreading down the street, turning the homes, tea houses and shops in its wake
into piles of smoldering cinders.
It was dusk before the fire was carried under
control and the exhausted Magistrate Yakove Zewe was able to return to his
home.
“Oh, how true it is!”
Magistrate Yakove bemoaned soon as he crossed the threshold of his opulent
abode. “Troubles never afflict men singly, but at least the letter is
dispatched to the Capital.”
When he called on Fradel
Rurik Korvald that night the distinguished scholar again expressed his strong
desire, not to delay unnecessarily, his departure for his home province. To
Fradel’s relief, this time Magistrate Yakove Zewe did not insist on keeping
him, nor did Yakove offer contrary arguments.
"Because of my high regard for your
person, sir," came instead, the Magistrate's obliging reply, "I can
no longer, in good conscience detain you any further. I have erred in keeping you from your duty
and I wish to assure you that I have already taken measures to ensure your
safe, comfortable and speedy return."
With a wave of a hand
dismissing Fradel’s expression of gratitude, Yakove, declared in most sincere
words he could master, that it was his privilege to be of some small service to
the distinguished Fradel Rurik Korvald.
The honeyed words on his tongue simply rolled on; while stressing that
he was not deserving of any thanks, still the undertone of his argot hinted at
his wish to be repaid in full, suggesting it be with an idiom (axiom) or two if
not a poem. But with a grace that far
surpassed his host's, Fradel ignored their implicit meaning.
~
(END OF SECTION 13)
~
