THE RESCUE - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC 

THE RESCUE - SECTION 8

PRINCESS LUELING AND SHAO

Shutizan had never spoken with such vehement, passionate conviction before, though Teuquob had long ago had perceived, seen through the at times stern, restrained, rather reserved, deceptive exterior of her nanny and believed her to be a soft, caring person with gentle disposition, one who actually loved her charge as if she was her very own.

“I am now totally committed to the truth.  I made up my mind last night to give you a reason and a means to escape this terrible predicament.  Please child, do not hate me for keeping silent for so long; no, no, do not interrupt either, let me speak, before I lose my nerve.”

Then, straying in her thoughts, she interjected, “Oh, your mother was such a beautiful woman both inside and outside, as you, yourself, are growing up to be.  In fact, you are the very image of her, hence the reason for your father’s, His Majesty’s contempt.”

“Men’s vanity!” she spat on the floor, “Heaven may spare us from...” but then, getting a grip on herself, she smiled sheepishly and continued in a more even tone.  “Your mother’s name was Lueling.  She was the Fifth Princess of the Kingdom of Jenor, a peaceful, beautiful state about one-third the size of Kontu.

  It had the misfortune; however, of resting along the borders of our kingdom and possessing access to strategically important shipping ports… and for that reason, as so many others had, perished!  Of course, the existence of Jenor, by royal diktat (edict, decree), was entirely omitted from your studies, the reasons for it now, you may well comprehend.”

Then, Shutizan spoke of a turbulent time in history when the great armies under Lord Hedenko had waged incessant wars on all the neighboring countries, gaining Murong Di the territories he’d craved.  She succinctly narrated the key events and how some later campaigns, including the one against Jenor, were more directly overseen by His Majesty, who wished at the time to escape the tedious tranquility of his court.

“But what do I know of war strategies or politics...?” She smiled sheepishly then shook her head as if in self-admonition. “How I continue! Well anyhow, after the successful campaign against Jenor, His Majesty Murong Di entered the capital city leading the victorious armies and perched himself on your maternal grandfather’s conquered throne.  Then, as I have been told, he had the entire Royal family and anyone else of consequence brought before his presence, and, in front of your mother, who was made to bear witness, had them humiliated, debased then one by one slowly dismembered, sliced, eviscerated or other such, cruelly annihilated.  He had the same thirst for barbarism you see, not much different from Hedenko, he was.

“Only your poor mother Princess Lueling, was made the sole exception and so her life was spared.  Why, you ask? Because your father, our present sovereign, also had an eye for beauty, and your mother was the fairest maiden he had ever seen or possessed.  As for the other palace belles who were also spared, well, they were taken away to be abased and ravaged by the subordinates or profitably sold to brothels or into slavery.  What use did he have for them, when he had laid claim to the most enviable prize? The ensuing week, the soldiers, on orders from His Majesty, went on a rampage of murder, destruction and wanton mayhem, reducing a once-beautiful city to cinders, before the army’s final withdrawal.”

“Now child, what I’m about to tell you may cause you still greater distress.” Shutizan warned as she determinedly gazed at Teuquob’, “But I must be candid with you on all accounts.  You must be made aware of your father’s inherent cruelty.

“Imagine, if you can, how your poor, dear mother must have felt being made to watch her entire beloved family after unspeakable torment, being ruthlessly butchered, one by one, in front of her.  Yes, and when she lost consciousness, she was revived and unmercifully forced to witness still more atrocities. It was a sort of game for him you see, toying with the victims’ minds, first trampling on their integrity and their honor, then in the end, with their soul in shatters and when all speck of humanity was stripped away, to have them brutally subjugated and cut down. For simple decapitation or butchery, without the tantalizing debased spirit, would not suffice. Imagine if you can the depth of agony she must have endured.  The state she must have been reduced to after all that!  Now, I ask you, what need was there of such vile acts?”  She shook her head indignantly, “What had been the point of it all... The unequivocal display of his might? To mount further satisfaction as he drove her to the brink of insanity, meanwhile, sapping all resistance of her will…?” Shutizan absorbed herself in considering this for a moment then, turning her gaze back on Teuquob, heaved a deep sigh.  Teuquob’s head was lowered, and she was quietly shedding tears.  Biting her lip to constrain her own emotions, Shutizan continued, “At the time of her capture, Princess Lueling had been betrothed to a most handsome and virtuous aristocrat scholar, what was his name?  I should remember, for it was on her lips daily...Shao...that’s right, he was called Shao.  This most handsome young man, as I understood it, was a sensitive, most gentle soul who possessed great literary genius but, unfortunately, lacked martial skills.  As the youngest son of the Prime Minister of Jenor, and a distant cousin to Princess Lueling, your mother and he had been playmates since childhood, and, as they grew into young adulthood this childhood attraction and their innocent, carefree exchange had naturally blossomed into different kind of love.

Subsequently, the said young adults were no longer permitted to freely see each and certain restrictions for the proper decorum now had to be adhered to; however, overriding these complexities, they’d still maintained written correspondence and with it the deepest affection for each other.  Once, taking a grave chance, they had even rendezvoused secretly by the garden’s lotus pond to profess their devotion and eternal love for each other.  Within the palace walls, however, few secrets could be kept. When the princess’s father, a kindly, perceptive King, considering info, announced (pronounced in Court) his desired wish for their ‘future union in matrimony’, the two could not have been happier.

 But, alas, just a month before the Royal wedding ceremony was to take place, their country was plunged into war with Kontu, and only a brief time later their capital was besieged by Hedenko’s invading army.

“Now at the time of your mother’s capture this fact about her prior engagement was also disclosed to His Majesty Murong Di; your father had Shao therefore captured alive and had him brought before his presence.  Then, as ordered, Hedenko had Shao’s chest cruelly ripped open while the unfortunate was still alive.  Plucking the beating heart right out of the body, Hedenko (then just a field-marshal) presented it to Our Sovereign, in full view of your mother.”  At this point Shutizan cringed noticeably and her body gave an involuntary shudder.  Teuquob was too horrified to utter a sound and remained mortified, though curious, to hear the rest.

After taking a deep breath, the old nurse pushed on, “Your father looked at the bloody organ with scorn, and then remarked, “Ha, it’s but an ordinary heart!  Cast it to the dogs!”  Those were his exact words, I swear, as your mother told me.  I’m telling you all this, distasteful as it is, only because your mother once asked me to.  The night of her unfortunate demise, in fact, she made me swear an oath to only reveal this truth to you when the need arose, and not until then.  She had hoped you would be spared Murong Di’s wrath, but I think, deep down, she knew otherwise.  Now being such a time, I am bound by my oath to your mother, overriding His Majesty’s, to reveal all.  Yes, I have long since detested His Majesty, my liege, for his despicable acts.  It took me weeks to wipe away those horrible images from my mind, but I had to mask my indignation for your sake.”

Warily she looked at the door, and then moaned, “Your poor mother!  Already spent both emotionally and physically, this added atrocity proved too much for her to bear and so once more she’d collapsed, quite unconscious to the floor.  This time, however, despite their attempts, they failed to revive her.  The Imperial Physician diagnosed her state as, “Barely alive and in state of near comatose shock,” and then urged our Sovereign to have her taken to a quieter place where she could be properly tended to.  Begrudgingly, he must have agreed to it, for Princess Lueling regained consciousness several days later in his bed.

“Forgive me if this may sound cruel, but it may, perhaps, have been better had she never recovered.  For that night and nights after that Murong Di had his way with her and repeatedly violated her near senseless, limp body.  She later pleaded again and again with him to allow her to die, but he would grant her no such wish.  On the contrary, he took every precautionary measure and had her under constant surveillance to prevent any suicide attempts.”

Teuquob could not bear to hear anymore.  Her hands cupped over her face, she collapsed on the bed and sobbed uncontrollably.  Alarmed, the nurse rushed to console her, urging her to be strong.  Drying the girl’s eyes, Shutizan urged Teuquob to help her finish what she had started.

“It’s as hard for me to tell you this, as it is for you to hear.” She reasoned, “So, child, you must be stronger.  Old as I am, I’m tired already.  Now, you don’t want me worrying about your health on top of everything else too, do you?”  Teuquob pulled herself together and nodded her head.  “That’s my girl.”  The old nurse affectionately hugged her.  Then she told of how Princess Lueling was kept more like a prisoner in a high tower, under scrutiny in order to prevent her from killing herself.

“Favoring Princess Lueling, the most, your father visited her frequently.”  Scorn entered her voice, “Because your mother was the only one who had rejected his advances, remaining the only one he could not conquer, he became like a man possessed. All his other wives lost favor and his mounting infatuation, rather lust, drove him to the brink of madness. He incessantly fixated day and night on seizing (attaining) Princess Lueling’s true affections.  Despite all his efforts, however, he could never win her love; never make her forget her murdered fiancée!

“Since everything is according to the will of Heaven, not of man, you were meant to be conceived.  Pregnancy brought a definite change in your mother, and gave His Majesty renewed hope.  Thinking that, at last, he had won her over he relaxed the watch on her and looked forward to a time when he could resume his pleasures with her.

“Men!” Shutizan spat on the floor in disgust, “whether king or pauper, they are all cast from the same mold.  I’m glad I was never tainted by their filth.  I’m glad I was spared such contemptible...”  Checking her tongue, Shutizan smiled wryly and coughed.  “How I stray.  You don’t suppose I’m going senile already, do you?” she questioned the air as she walked around the room.  Then, sitting herself down once more; she resumed her say (continued), however, in a sadder tone.

“Don’t take what I say to heart dearest; not all men are the same, some are noble and good.... My hope is that you will meet one such person in future and fall in love and have the happiness that had been so cruelly denied to your poor mother….  Now, where was I?... “She closed her eyes to pick up the train of thought she’d veered from.  “Because your mother was against taking an innocent life and felt an obligation to the fetus (child) in her womb, she had resolved herself to endure her torment (to carry-it to full-term at least) until after you were born.  As for that contemptible father of yours, he looked forward to the day of your birth as well, not because he wanted or valued a child but...” Shutizan shook her head and murmured: “He craved your mother more than his kingdom, more than all the power he held.”  Once more she paused to catch her breath.  All this emotion had worn her out.

“It was after you were born,”, she finally, looked up to say, “at the time when you were no more than two weeks old, when your beautiful mother, on one peaceful fall afternoon, so tragically ended her life by throwing herself from the window of the high tower.  Ayy...”  The terrible picture just being evoked in Shutizan’s mind made her unable to continue.

 She rose hastily and walked away to stare out the window.  Tears flowed down her cheeks in defiance of her best efforts to stifle them.  “How I carry on.  I’m but an old fool, an old weakling.”  She bit her upper lip and angrily stamped her foot to constrain her emotions.  Then, quickly wiping away all evidence of tears, she sat herself down as before by bedside and added indignantly,

 “The King, your father, was outraged.  Far from admiring your mother for her virtue, he scorned her as a contemptible woman, deeming her act as most despicable and, most of all, unfair to him.

 First, he claimed, she had enslaved his emotions, then cast them aside as thought they were worthless dirt.  How dare she uphold the memory of a dead man over him, forsaking and rejecting all his boundless devotion and love? 

His disappointment soon unhinged his tumultuous rage, and he acted with unheard of ferocity.  Many suffered at his hand! Blood flowed like rivers as thousands, mostly civilians, lost their lives most brutally!

“Cruel, such cruel acts many more months, ensued this mad savagery!” Shutizan shaking her head bit the corner of her lip.

“Meanwhile, on his decree your poor mother had been unceremoniously buried in an unmarked, pauper’s grave, no prayers, no sacrifices, nothing! She’d been hence forever denied the peace she’d deserved in the afterlife.  Ahh...”, again Shutizan sighed. 

“Such was her tragic end, and your mother’s cruel, most cruel fate.  To this day no ne, save for the Sovereign, knows where your mother is buried.”   

“Riled by this injustice, long ago I did make some discreet inquiries, but these yielded no result.  Your poor, dear mother!  Then, as if that was not enough, with the same stone heart he had you, a two-week-old baby, disowned, put under house arrest. The man you’ve known to date as your father was your paternal uncle-in-law. I suppose that’s right… For he’s the husband of our Sovereign’s younger sister…He took pity on you, and securing permission from the King, on condition that you’ll still be kept in similar form of confinement, formally adapted you. In this way he’d hoped to shield you from future ramifications, as well as provide you with a personal name and acceptable surname. In time however, even this became too much for the wrathful king to bear. I don’t believe it was a hunting accident that caused the early demise of your foster father…But again, my suspicions have never been proven …so I must keep my tongue.”

Then, after a thoughtful silence, the old nurse muttered, reflecting on how, with the advancing of the years the king had only become worse, on how he had only nursed his anger and hatred, and how, in punishing Teuquob in this manner, he was still seeking revenge (vengeance) on his long-dead wife, Princess Lueling.

Just then a sharp knock on the door startled them both.  The concerned Chief attendant (head chambermaid) was at once abruptly dismissed by an incensed Shutizan.  But then, on second thought, Shutizan called her back and ordered her, even though it was beneath her station, to fetch them the no:5 herb tea.  The old nurse’s throat was parched and Teuquob looked too pale.  When the tray was produced Shutizan sternly gave the order to her rival, “The young mistress needs her rest.  See to it that no one disturbs us.”

“Yes ma’am.” She begrudgingly assented; but as she was leaving, she snuck another look at Teuquob.  Observing the girl’s condition, she halted her step, contemplating suggesting that perhaps a physician be fetched to examine Teuquob.

“What are you waiting for?” Shutizan’s curt, angry voice however deterred the other; for an open confrontation with latter when she was in such a foul mood would not be advisable.

“Sorry, ma’am,” she meekly ejected and quickly left the room.  Shutizan was an old shrew that no one dared cross or disobey.

This special brand of herb tea was appropriate for times like this, for it soothed the nerves and rushed blood to their cheeks.  Placing the empty cup down the nurse now spoke with and even tone, “Dear child, I have told you all this, painful as it was, to make you understand.  Now you must set aside all propriety, I mean your filial piety towards this one who do not deserve it.  Since the King has long ago forsaken you and spared you not one ounce of parental affection or care, you do not owe him any homage, least of all obedience.  You owe it to your mother and yourself, however, to survive and not perish in this vile net of fate he has cast to ensnare you.

“Your mother’s life was tragically spent before its time, but this need not be your destiny.  You must disobey the King and get away to safety without fail.  Only then, once you are safe in another state, may you offer the prayers and proper sacrifices to her soul.  Only then may she find peace in the afterlife.  Her spirit must be released from its internment in this world and be able to find entry to the heavens above.  Her long-tormented soul must be spared from further anguish.  Only you, my child, the last surviving member of your mother’s family, can offer this solace to her.  Since the Gods are merciful, they will hear the prayers you offer, as long as it’s done through a proper religious order, regardless of creed or sect.

“Take counsel, Teuquob.  I have thought long and hard on this and have finally devised a plausible course of action whereby we may be able to free you from this entrapment.  Listen with care, therefore, to my instructions.  Tonight, we will pretend to have retired early, only...”

“You don’t look well, my dear, perhaps we should go back.”

“Go back?  No!  I can’t!”  Trembling, her throat constricting, Teuquob protested.  Then, realizing where she was, she smiled bashfully, steadied her heart and apologized.

“I quite understand.  There’s no need for explanations.” Stark with a compassionate response, withdrew his hand.  “Still, perhaps you would like to rest here a bit before our return.  We needn’t proceed to the next point.”

                                                                                       ~

 

(Stay tuned for the next exciting post, the conclusion of “The Rescue”, Section 9)

 

THE ORDEAL - SECTION 1

 THE ORDEAL 

 SECTION 1

 

Jiense, rather Teuquob (her actual name), had been directed to a much safer Reaog town by Ensa. Things might have turned out quite different and perhaps a bit mundane if the quirks of fate hadn’t interfered and altered her intended course.

As fantastic as it may seem when she’d reached the key juncture on the road a stray fox suddenly appearing on the spot out of thin air spooked the horse.

The terrified steed bolted, neighing, reared its front legs up high in the air, then after fiercely stomping them on the ground, shod like a projectile in full gallop in an entirely different direction. All during this most grueling, catapulting ride, though violently rocked and tossed about, as mark of her horsemanship, she’d stayed in the saddle by stubbornly clinging onto the horse’s bridle (mane).  The steed completely drenched in sweat had finally tempered his stride to a canter but by then Teuquob had lost all sense of direction and hadn’t a clue as to her whereabouts. Halting the beast on a hilltop and craning her neck, her eager gaze meticulously surveyed the open perimeter far and wide as her eyes sought to decipher or to mark a single identifiable landscape, an outlet perhaps that might correctly steer them back to their original course (destination). But after a disappointing period (spell), she had to concede to her present dire predicament: that she was utterly, hopelessly lost! Her heart laden with despair then, she lowered her head and shrugged. “So be it.”

Dismounting, she allowed the steed a brief respite wherewith to graze on the available grass; then overriding any persistent trepidation, back in saddle, she intrepidly embarked on the unpremeditated, variant direction.

She would have had a serious cause for concern however, had she known that this elected course was the very one that she’d been gravely warned against, and that come what may, from hereon, her fate fraught with danger, would be hanging in the balance with every leg of the advance.  The serpentine (meandering) route after a treacherous descent, traversed through the most perilous, immense wetland (marsh) to eventually terminate at the base of the towering foothills. Even if she were to be extremely fortunate enough to have survived the quagmire, she would then be faced with the ordeal of the dreaded foothills skirting the massive ridges of a gargantuan mountain.

It’s hard to say which projected the greatest risk: the grave topography or the carnivorous, feral beasts that were said to have inhabited the foothills and the subsequent mountain range?

The “Five Brothers” as these vast hills were called: rested at the outskirts of an ascending most treacherous, most precipitous mountain.  The monumental mountain with its sheer ridges, sharper than sharpest blades had its four peaks perpetually crowned with the white incandescent clouds; while its invisible summit reached so high that it penetrated the lower reaches of the azure heavens; hence, the name Tejunar, meaning “the eyes of Heaven”. Tejunar was so densely forested with centuries old ancient trees that in parts the sun’s rays were completely blotted out. The entire mountain range, meanwhile, was claimed “to have been inhabited” by many guardian mountain spirits that to date discouraged all or any trespassers. The staunch belief had come about over the span of years, as far too many hardy souls, hunters with mettle, gallant man and adventurers, mercenaries or diehards had lost their lives and in a terrible way too, during their bold undertaking (enterprise). The resulting colorful folktales embellished with supernatural accounts and phantasmal exploits of apparitions, goblins or evil entities had increasingly (further) fed the imagination. And so, for a decade now, despite the apparent abundance of game on this mountain range, no sane man had ever dared to violate the foreboding, deemed sacred ground, leaving the cohabitant wild beasts to roam at will and (to multiply into still greater numbers.) flourish in natural abundance.

                                                                                       ~

This be opined unfortunate or not, fate determining the way, at dusk she’d inadvertently bypassed the ‘last chance’ alternate route, to find herself (facing) encountering an increasingly inhospitable territory, that no one would ever dare venture into. Be that as it may, and this being no small feat- day after day she’d forged on- ridden, galloped or trudged on foot as they both- she and the beast, negotiated the difficult, oftentimes treacherous terrain, to cover a great distance. Only at the conclusion of each grueling day’s ride, as the darkness encroached to blanket (veil) the Earth, the bone chilling air compounded by the thrashing winds, would compel her to seek some semblance of shelter. But mindful of the din of howling, roaring beasts’ outside, in that opportune cove or an abandoned cave, she would oftentimes lie there in fetal position nestled to the small campfire, clutching the long knife- a generous gift of Ensa’s, hardly getting a wink. Cold and weary, her head riddled with cobwebs at the crack of dawn, while the horse satisfied his hunger on the abundant tall (lush) grass, she would quickly nibble on the portion of her scant rations; then once again rising to the challenge, she would hop back in saddle and take on the next plausible course.

On this day, after a long spell of riding, this is strange! Umm… the queerest thing! Just then becoming aware, she abruptly halted the nervous steed’s advance. Leaning forward she gently stroked his mane to steady him, then sitting upright once more; she cocked her head to one side and listened… She listened long and hard.

Hmm, still nothing!

To her growing unease, as she looked around, she further became cognizant of the stark, deathly silence surrounding her. Not a single leaf stirred, no insect buzzed, no birds chirped, there was no roar or a howl of any kind, no semblance (apparent) of animal life at all. No natural hum, thud or echo or pitch except that of her own breathing and the steady sounds of her mount as his hoofs nervously trod (trampled) on the reverberating ground akin to a (much like a) rhythmic drumbeat. Cast in this surreal, all pervasive, eerie atmosphere, she moreover could not shake the sensation of being espied upon.

“But by whom, by what?” She could not rightly, guess; nor did the subsequently traversed distance in the wake (aftermath) of the treacherous descent had in any way altered the persistent reality or diminish in the least the ongoing strong sensation of being avidly observed and studied perhaps by an omnipresent, intensely intrusive pair of unseen eyes.

The curious impression eventually did abate (ceased) when, after a long, grueling stretch, both the rider and the horse had suddenly and completely become gobbled-up by the dense thicket- for they had then unwittingly entered the dreaded quagmire! From hence the meandering path overgrown with weeds and brambles with many undulating pitfalls made their slow advance more laborious. Meanwhile the moisture laden air, restrictive and foul smelling, increasingly oppressed her bronchial passages. Gasping, straining for that precious breath, she led the reluctant horse by the bridle, treading wearily on the seemingly endless, soggy, slimy, uneven ground. Guided only by intuition, they had more than once barely avoided several well-disguised pitfalls, camouflaged quicksand and cloaked abysmal pools; meanwhile on the solid patches, the entwining shrubs or the ground runners unfailingly raced at every leg of the advance to maliciously mar or hinder their dauntless progress.

Her heart had oftentimes leaped to her mouth when she encountered creepy, crawly, scaly, slithering, long tapering cylindrical forms that just as quickly disappeared into the pools of stagnant water, underbrush, or simply vanished in the cavities of the earth or rock.

 In this nightmarish labyrinth with innumerable days blending with infinite nights, her sanity riding on the precipice, she’d been further burdened with the exertion of trying to handle the frightened, wayward steed that oftentimes strove to just run away from it all. Mercifully however, thus far they’d been spared from the most prevalent danger:  of being bitten by any number of the four indigenous poisonous reptiles- for one bite would have been sufficient to render any being or a beast in an instantaneous comatose state that eventually resulted in a most painful, lingering death. As it were, she only had a comparable herb, a sort of antidote in that bundle of hers, capable of averting catastrophes from insects or amphibians. And so, too fearful to stop, they’d for many a day endlessly ploughed on in this incubus maze. But anxiety had not been the sole driving force behind it all; in fact, advance had been partly made possible because of a very useful herb also fortuitously included in that medicinal pouch of hers. When chewed, the specific plant-leaves (seeds) had endowed (furnished) Teuquob with a strong stamina, keen reflexes and heightened threshold for the pain- enabling her hence, to go far beyond her limits. But at the intermittent times when the effects of the drug waned or altogether wore off (especially at the end when there were no more to be had): the mental and physical downturn, the withdrawal symptoms took a terrible physical and mental toll on her. In anticipation of a worst scenario, to prevent her falling off the mount, she’d already, by way of ropes, (fastened) secured (lower part of) her body at the waist to the saddle. But as the time wore on, even with the compliment of likewise ingested herbs, her endurance notwithstanding, she’d subsequently suffered the partial loss of feeling and sensation in her limbs, arms and legs. Meanwhile numbed to the core, her mind had often wondered wildly, reeling through picturesque, fantastic imagery in the atmospheric surreal dream-state.

It was no small miracle indeed, when unexpectedly one day, nearing dusk, both rider and the mount had suddenly found themselves at the periphery, and so somewhat unscathed, emerged from this dangerous trammel and deadly snare. With resurgent zeal the mount had pushed forward then, till he’d reached a safer clearing. Coming to, she’d barely managed to untie the knots and letting go, slid off the horse plump collapsing on the hard ground. After an undetermined time, she’d regained full consciousness; delighted by the refreshing change from the traversed slimy, soggy base- arms outstretched, eyes closed shut, she’d nevertheless lain there perfectly still, with only her chest cavity slightly rising and falling, as she took in a more well-earned, elongated rest under the blanket of stars. Fortunately, in all that time the noble mount (horse) had never strayed too far, grazing quietly while dutifully watching over her.

Daylight anew had brought its own variable challenges; still, nothing comparable to the ordeals just endured.

 

                                                                   ~

 

Once more back on course, with the strange sense of urgency fueling, egging them on, with the incessant riding at times in full gallop, they’d inexorably covered the inhospitable, sparsely forested and undulated steppe that seemingly had no end in sight. A mere speck on this vast landscape, this sporadically forested expanse with its intermittent gorges and valleys rising and dipping- after going over the last hump, one day she’d looked on ahead to behold the rank, forebodingly magnificent foothills. The very ones she’d been warned against! She recollected well then, Ensa’s imparted knowledge, relayed mostly by way of diagrams: How the wide band of infamous foothills skirted the eastern side of the mountain range… beyond which lay a far steeper climb.

06

She sighed, anticipating grater hardships still but fought the feeling of trepidation like a talon that had anew gripped her heart.  For what other choice did she have? After a dismissive shrug, she exhaled a deep expunging breath. Oh well, with ‘Heaven’s’ help she’d survived thus far; if it’s so ordained, notwithstanding prevalent dangers, she’ll yet again persevere!

“There’s no turning back now, hope you’re up to it old-boy!” She leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear as she affectionately patted the side of his neck. Besides, she’d been drawn to the majestic mountain range for an added reason:

For a long time hence, even before she’d parted from Ensa’s care, she’d nurtured an inner desire, born out of her desperate circumstance- to encounter, to chance upon a place of worship, a monastery or a lonely recluse’s hut. The dizzying heights of the summits with their proximity to the Heavens would be an ideal setting for such.  She anticipated that, there, as in her country, the mountain range would be a beacon of sorts, propelling, attracting pious beings of various religious sects or hermits, all irrespectively seeking sublime sanctuary.  Indeed, this had been at the root of her tenacity, the driving force for overcoming such incredible odds.

                                                                ~

Succeeding days, with renewed zeal, she’d relentlessly forged on through the foothills towards the gargantuan mountain range, even though the precariously hung, meandering, scantily viable (feasible) path overgrown with climbers, brambles, thorns and loose boulders, with swift flowing streams presented a daunting challenge, at times quite impossible to traverse. Meanwhile her concentration was so intently focused on the task at hand that she’d in the interim had remained deliberately oblivious to the resurgent eerie atmosphere that had for quite some time now, for lack of a better word, dogged (plagued) her.

The all-encompassing silence had of course re-surfaced (revived) shortly after she’d emerged from the quagmire, and well before she’d found herself at the periphery of the foothills. Brushing this distraction aside, she’d intentionally abstained from questioning this bizarre happenstance; for inwardly she’d deemed it a blessing from “Heaven”, especially since enveloped rather cocooned, in this somewhat protective supernatural milieu- and so spared from the worldly concerns of danger from predatory beasts- she’d been able to better advance, and be at liberty to collect water from the occasional stream, gather berries, nuts, roots and other such edible foods for sustenance.

Leaving it to the caprice of “Nature”, the only manifest difficulty meanwhile, stemmed from the tempestuous weather. For even on a relatively good day, she could suddenly become drenched with an unexpected downpour or be engulfed in precipitate murk, mist or haze; or enshrouded in dust-clouds (dust particulate matter) by the ever vigilant, gusting, thrashing winds that completely obscured all visibility. As it were the bone chilling frigid temperatures of the evenings contrasted greatly with the dampness of the morning dews and the stifling heat of the noontime- this being still the summer season. To survive the frigid temperatures of the nights she would don over her man’s attire the so-called waterproofed (waxed) jacket that Ensa had provided. But periodically when even this seemed inadequate, she would further cover herself with branches laden with leaves or moss as she huddled her body in protective corners of abandoned caves or coves. And when her footwear overtime became too threadbare, adept in ways of surviving, she’d resourcefully used strips cut from her generous portions of clothing to reinforce the soles for an added protection.  Nevertheless, in this harsh environment the cruel elements still taking their toll, her lovely hands in due course had become painfully chaffed, as did her arms and legs that now bore countless scratches and cuts. Added to this asperity was the resurgent odd feeling (a hunch) of again being watched (observed) by a pair of unseen eyes that were neither human nor beast!

Periodically, she would even perceive an acute sense of being threatened by it; but in the absence of manifest danger, gradually she’d become more curious and less fearful of the entity that of which never straying too far persistently stalked her. And so, when darkness blanketed the earth, she took solace by dwelling on this unseen constant companion and even at times outwardly conversed with it before falling asleep.

Once at midday after consuming her meager rations of food she’d been resting quietly with her back leaned against an ancient tree when just then she spotted a strange, bizarre creature crouched on an overhead rock up ahead. As she’d blinked and stirred, it’d instantaneously disappeared into thin air. Nor had this been the only such sighting of the mysterious, clearly supernatural entity… She could not rightly say whether it’d happened in a dream state or not, but on another occasion, late in the evening she’d suddenly been startled awake by a sensation of being touched or groped.  Bent on confronting this intrusive, phantom companion, on the subsequent nights she’d feigned being asleep and duly waited; and sure enough, on the fourth or fifth turn, well into the night as she’d remained dormant, something resembling a fox, a furry creature of sorts, had warily (guardedly) drawn quite near to sniff then prod her. Assuming that this was not a dangerous apparition, she was about to spring forth to grab hold, when unfortunately, just then, the ever-vigilant steed raising quite a ruckus, thwarted her aim. Nor did she ever gain another such chance, as each night thence; the moment she’d laid her head down, an unnatural (unholy) deep slumber at once overtook her.

                                                                                                     ~

 (End of Section 1)

(MORE EXCITING EVENTS WILL UNFOLD IN THE NEXT POST OF THE ORDEAL -SECTION 2)

The Old Man Loses His Mare

Retelling of Old Legends:

The Old Man Loses His Mare

Click to Hear a Reading of This Story

(You can scroll down to read along.)

(When events occur, who can rightly predict the outcome? Who can tell whether it happened for good or for bad, for fortune or for misfortune?)



Once upon a time an old frontiersman lived in a ramshackle hut. He lived modestly with his wife and son tending their small plot of land from sunrise to sunset. With never a cross word to anyone, always ready to land a helping hand, he was well liked by all his neighbours.

One spring day his untethered mare inexplicably ran off into the territory of a hostile tribe. On learning this, all his neighbours hastened to console him but the old man was not perturbed in the least. He simply shrugged and quietly said, “Who’s to say this is not a blessing?”

Some months later, the mare returned accompanied by a fine stallion. His neighbours this time rushed to congratulate him on his good fortune.

“Who’s to say this is not a misfortune?” His puzzling response sends the callers back home, shaking their heads.

Now it so happened that his spirited teenage son was fond of riding. At dusk after his chores were completed he yielded to temptation and, without a word to anyone, he simply mounted the stallion and galloped into the distance. They flew over the rough terrain jumping hedges, boulders and streams to test his as well as the horse’s mettle. At one ill-fated juncture, unable to clear a deep gully, the horse reared, throwing the boy to the ground and breaking his leg.

Again the worried neighbours rushed to offer their deep sympathy.

The old man once more shrugged it off. “Who’s to say this is not a blessing in disguise?”

That autumn the hostile border tribe having gathered up momentum, unleashed a wave of murderous raids to rape and plunder. All able bodied men were naturally called upon to mount a defence but by the time the reinforcements eventually arrived countless volunteers in this ragtag militia had lost their lives.

The son of the old man, being crippled, was spared from the fighting and so survived.

The old man said to his son, “Look how a misfortune may turn out to be a blessing and a blessing may be actually be a misfortune. It is impossible to predict what capricious fate has in store.”

The End