LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 37

The passenger official, Ceroz Agripe had tried his utmost to keep his beloved wife alive, but her injuries being so grave, she did not live long.  After her (hastily improvised) impromptu funeral where her corpse also ended up in the river, the official Ceroz Agripe had remained in deep mourning and mostly sequestered in his cabin. He was naturally devastated and from then on incessantly mourned her loss. In his bereavement he ceased all communication and activity, as well, frequently refused any intake of sustenance (provisions, nourishment).

 

01- TORMENTED CEROS AGRIPE

He did not appear idle, rather, seemed to be contemplating something dire; meanwhile, he’d remained always in bad temper and often lashed out at the crew members, or whoever called on him. Ceroz’s angst (dread) and mounting heartache, meanwhile, had raised no alarms, as there were ample other more pertinent concerns and great deal still to do on aboard.

The infant’s death was attributed to crib-death, a common occurrence at that time, which often befell (occurred), one in every four babies. 

The official Luvet, despite Zunrogo's assurances, had also chosen most of the time to remain isolated (quarantined) in his cabin.  He had never had any dealings with Ceroz Agripe, yet at his wife Disaidun Agripe’s funeral, his blatant (unconcealed) hostility towards him, his intense (penetrating), fiery (blazing) antagonistic gaze (eyes), had both mystified and greatly alarmed official Luvet.  He’d subtly questioned Captain Zunrogo’s Lieutenant Tzan about this matter, but Lieutenant’s response had been less than satisfactory; moreover, his not so subtle, cryptic words had thence (thereafter) hunted Luvet’s peace. He could not shake the feeling that he’d somewhat been set up (accused, blamed for something he didn’t do) and ominously, a cruel, ignominious fate had awaited him. But how could he escape this impending catastrophe when he was constrained as passenger in a fair size vessel (craft, boat) temporarily stymied (because of necessary repairs) in the center of the vast expansive river, with the shoreline barely visible. He was not a competent swimmer and there was no small dinghy (dory, rowboat) on this cursed ship.  

 

Last few nights, burdened with deep concerns, Luvet had hardly touched his supper but drunk heavily to ease his mounting trepidation (fear, anxiety). Pacing back and forth across the room, he stayed up most of the evenings contemplating a plausible plan to ward off this impending disaster.  He could not shake the terrible foreboding in the crux of his being, that if not now, in matter of days, even if he succeeded in evading (escaping) the grave, lurking peril (danger, hazard, risk), his life would still be forfeited.

 

02- LUVET

                                                                      

Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, meanwhile, from the very start, had refused to be sequestered in his cabin; not wishing to remain idle, he’d instead, had done his bit in expediting the mending of the ship.

Under Tizan's competent supervision, in no time at all the vessel had been made sail-worthy; hence, the fourth day at dawn, taking full advantage of the sudden rise of a north wind, they’d charted a course over the wide river that would bring them at a swift pace into the port city of Hanbrak, the river port immediately before the Capital city of Channing.

Once they had docked, Zunrogo and company were to precede post haste from then on, on horseback, to the Capital.

                                                                                  ~

 

Midway to reaching the port city of Hanbrak, no one other than Zunrogo, had anticipated the sudden and unexpected tragic turn of events.

In the dead of night, as all the other tired souls, including Fradel Rurik Korvald clutched their pillows in deep slumber; Ceroz Agripe suddenly snapping out of one of his catatonic (inert, withdrawn) states, had sat bolt upright and guardedly looked about him.

With wild gleam in his black pupils, he quietly rose from his bed and went over to pick up his sleeping baby. But the crib was empty, his precious Tait was not there, he’d gone missing!

Suddenly his memory served him a faint recollection, how in his anguished state, before the battle on board had started, trying to quieten the bawling (wailing) infant, he had pressed his precious boy to his chest and, tragically, smothered (suffocated) him.

“But when did they take him away? Where was Tait now?”

His mind once more becoming unhinged, his memory fogged, and he felt suddenly confused. He looked down at the empty crib, “There you are,” this time he clearly saw his precious boy Tait fast asleep.

03- BABY IN CRIB

Smiling, he gingerly picked up the small pillow, which he’d often used to protect the baby from the edge, his arms swaddling (enveloping) it, he held the precious cargo close to his chest.  Suddenly the baby was awakened and began to squeal.

“There, don’t cry Tait… Mommy will be here soon.” He gently rocked the bundle in his arms till the baby was quiet.

Bending his head, he gently kissed Tait’s forehead. His beautiful son seemed to be smiling at him. “Oh, you are such a good boy” He blew him another string of kisses.

Again, confusion set in, but just as quickly it went away; his mind was much clearer now, suddenly he knew what he must do.  Going over, he edged out the door of the cabin and locked it behind him.

 

Once in the dimly lit corridor, hugging the walls, he inaudibly crept two doors down to Luvet's cabin and quietly slipped inside.  Three paces into the room he stopped.  With the mad fire burning in his eyes, he quickly surveyed the immediate surroundings: his eyes momentarily rested on the table which was cluttered with dishes, food left uneaten, but there was the  discarded  wine stained cup, the empty wine jar tipped on its side; then he observed the stack of documents on the night table and the flickering oil lamp teetering dangerously over the edge; finally,  his gaze came to rest on the sleeping official.

Ceroz Agripe’s pulse again raced as the shiver of fuming rage and seething contempt rippled through him.

 

05- CEROS AGRIPE -GONE MAD

Gingerly, as if wary of waking his infant son from sleep, Ceroz put the precious bundle down in the plush, oversize chair in corner and, reaching into his left pocket, retrieved a long, red, silk cord.

 This crimson silk cord had been his former wife's favorite fashion accessory.  He took a shuddering breath as his gaze rested on it, recalling the multitude of purposes she had put it to.  Now it would serve a new purpose.

 He caressed it lovingly, touching it to his cheek, then to his pallid lips.  The lingering perfume it held misted his eyes with the memories it evoked, and he moaned softly in pain and dropped his head.

Abruptly anew the ire erupted in his chest, and he clenched the cord taut with indignation and bile until his knuckles whitened and cracked.

Just then Luvet stirred in his deep slumber, uttered some incomprehensible phrase, and then turned onto his side.  Ceroz was rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he considered his recourse should be the cursed official awake now and catch on to his presence in the room! 

Then, however, a lugubrious, loud snoring resounded in the air.

“Vile cur; how dare you sleep without a care…  Death is too good for the likes of you!”

 A wave of sickness, disgust and anger washed over Ceroz Agripe as he gritted his teeth.

“Your flesh should be ripped (torn) into minute pieces and fed to the wild dogs!  I swear, even if it is the last thing I do, I will gauge-out your eyes and stuff them up to …. where they belong.  Your manhood and your black heart I shall trample underfoot.  I will make certain that you will never be born again in any condition to defile a good, virtuous woman!”  He spat; his anger barely contained as he shivered once more.

His body was rocked with an all-consuming-wrath, and he clenched his fists to steady his steps as he determinedly approached Luvet.

 He stopped at hairsbreadth away from the edge of the bed.  His nostrils dilated as he glowered at the official; before him lay an ordinary official with plain nose, ordinary beard and mustache and typical lips, nothing special at all.  In the dim light, Ceroz noted how his reddish hair was scraggly (disheveled) and few strands hung loose at the sides.  There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that would betray to an onlooker in the least his vile, contemptible nature.  There was no trace of inhumanity which Ceroz could detect in that oblong, rather impassive (blank) face, yet this mangy dog Luvet was assuredly the lowest of the lowest.

Surging contempt consumed Ceroz as he felt the bile rise in him once more.

06- TZAN JP

In the next instant the cord looped around Luvet's neck and tightened with such unusual force that it bit two inches into his neck.  The convulsions of the struggling body were kept under control only by the application of Ceroz's total weight upon the dying man.

When Luvet finally expired, Ceroz drew from his other pocket the knife his wife had given him as her instrument of revenge.

 In the next few minutes, he set off to work, fulfilling his promises of defacement to the letter.  When he was done, he discarded the knife onto the table and stepped back.

As if now reconciled with the dead official, Ceroz smiled and calmly walked over to the corner to pick up the baby once more.  Going above deck, he moved slowly and serenely, looking as if he was merely taking the infant out for some air.

 Before any of the watch could realize his intention and stop him, he simply stepped over the edge of the boat and disappeared instantly in the foam of the wake.

 

“Man overboard…Man overboard!” In dead of night, the warning sounded.

 

But the vessel, as ordered, kept on (with its speed) going.  They could not have rescued him anyhow, even if they were any such order.  Driven by the strong northern wind, the vessel was moving way too fast to stop or try turning back, without grave risk to all.

The gruesome sight of Luvet's mutilated corpse was discovered soon after.  Without exception, every member of this rugged crew was chilled to the bone.  Enough incrimination evidence was left behind to leave no question as to the murderer's identity.

The motive was framed variously in everyone's mind but most chalked it up to simple insanity induced by the tragic loss of his beloved wife Disaidun Agripe, his infant boy Tait and the recent events, such as the terror and violence of the battle.

 It was generally determined that, being weak in nature already, Official Ceroz Agripe had simply cracked under pressure.  A few, however, speculated that the mutilation stemmed from the settling of an old grudge (score).  Some guessed that it was a crime of passion, and that the wife must have had an illicit affair with the bureaucrat Luvet.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) suspected that Zunrogo was somehow at the root of it all and despised him even more for it.  However, he had nothing solid on which to base his suspicions (allegations), therefore he buried his resentment and concentrated on the serious concerns that lay ahead of him once they reached the Capital.

06

 Tzan, by piecing together the snippets of information and what he’d astutely observed, in the end discerned the true probable cause.   Tizan absently nodded as he wrapped up the pieces of the official's corpse; then with a sinister grin, he covertly eyed Zunrogo, telling himself to never ever for an instant let his guard down, to never underestimate (take too lightly) the captain’s capacity for ruthlessness, or misjudge in future Zunrogo’s devious powers of manipulation.

                                                                                        ~

 

               (END OF SECTION 37- END OF BOOK 8 – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL)

 

 (LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC EPIC STORY CONTINUES IN BOOK 9- THE CAPITAL CHANNING)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 34

It had been quite a row, a real humdinger of a fight, all right!  He couldn't have been much more than nine or ten, but Tizan was well enough developed for his age to, at long last, hold his own against that brute.  “He had rebelled soon enough, though, hadn't he?”

From the age of seven he had relentlessly fought back each time his stepfather had taken to drink and viciously turned on him. Had his father not died or that his mother did not re-marry, he had always wondered, perhaps things might have been different. 

Tzan had suffered greatly; as far back as he could remember, all through his childhood in fact, with many beatings, constant verbal abuse and endless torment at the hands of his stepfather Zianko. (First mentioned in Book 1 - Fisherman’s Prize- Section 3)

 

01-  ZIANKO

No man could be more vicious to a child.   The vile brute Zianko was a heartless, greedy, selfish dog! Then came the day on which Tzan’d been an eyewitness to Zianko’s murdering his mother. Perhaps the only time she’d stood up to him, fighting desperately to uphold her son’s right to inherit her former husband’s estate. But no one took any notice of Tizan’s claims or accusations, for Zianko had already arranged to make it look like a perfect, irrefutable accident. Shortly after, Tizan had suddenly fallen deadly ill, and very nearly died, but he had recovered, in time to learn, that his stepfather Zianko had been cleared of all charges. Meanwhile secretly from then on, the brute had conspired to murder him (Tizan) before he reached the age of twelve.

On that night, two months before he was to turn twelve, their brawling had reached a peak when that beast Zianko, unable to gain advantage with his hands alone, had taken up an oar and struck a hard, brutal blow at Tizan’s temple, knocking him out cold.  When Tizan regained consciousness in small hours of the night, he'd at once secretly taken off, preferring the unknown dangers of the mountainous forest to certain, slow death at his stepfather Zianko’s hands. Just before he left, he, looking back on the fishing village, had inwardly vowed to someday kill Zianko if he ever came across him again.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

Tizan now looked back out at the spot where the boat had been short time before, his eye catching the first of the mangled wreckage bob up to the surface.  For a moment he imagined that it was his stepfather’s boat and each of the bodies it took to the bottom with it was Zianko, killed repeatedly.  The image gave him little satisfaction, but it was the best he could muster at present. Even after many years of intense loathing, same seething, all-consuming abhorrence of Zianko still coursed through his veins.

“Odd that I'd remember Zianko now,” Tizan turned his attention back to the pitched battle still raging between captain Zunrogo Tugo and Lance Diostin.

“Devils take me!  How could I have frittered away (waste) all that time, with just reminiscing… where’s my good sense?”  His guts were gnawed by self-reproach. 

 

02--TZAN JP

In truth, the squandered time had only been no more than a heartbeat.

Snatching a sword from the nearest corpse and carving a deliberate course, Tizan rushed into the fray, wanting to fight alongside Zunrogo; but the dizzying and intense speed (never once dwindling), skill and agility with which Zunrogo and Lance Diostin fought, interlocked as they were in that kind of a continuous, sound combat, did not afford Tizan least opportunity (opening) to intercede.

Unrelenting, Tizan kept mental notes on Lance Diostin’s unique fighting style and any potential weakness in his offensives as he combatted other foes; all the while, he sought an opportunity to intervene with a well-placed strike at Lance Diostin.

He gradually lost heart when he observed how flawlessly Lance executed his offensives without giving up an inch of his defensive position.  Lance had no failings of any kind.  Though captain Zunrogo was the most competent fighter Tizan had known, Zunrogo was dwarfed in martial skills by his invincible opponent and even was forced into maintaining only a defensive course for much of the time.

Tizan, meanwhile, had soon run out of opponents to fight, and he stood looking about, surrounded by heaps of corpses, for least sign of life for which to extinguish. Disappointed he turned his attention back to the only ongoing action (contesting duo).

“Strange,” Tizan mused, observing how there’d been few instances during which a flaw in Zunrogo's defenses had left an opening, a perfect opportunity for a strike, yet his opponent Lance Diostin had ignored these obvious advantages.

“Oh, he’s so shrewd; adroit that he is, is he just toying with the captain?”

 Tizan inwardly questioned Lance Diostin’s motive, while at the same time with a sinking feeling, grew (became) skeptical of Zunrogo’s ability for the first time ever.  “He’s not invincible after all, is this the mentor I've sworn an unconditional allegiance to?”

Before he could follow up on his doleful, glum (gloomy, woeful) thoughts, the rarest opportunity just then had presented itself.  Lance had for a split second let his guard down, allowing slight vulnerability in his rear.  Fearlessly, Tizan jumped into the fray, recklessly not giving his brain (his senses) apt time to grasp (comprehend, gather) that Lance Diostin might have deliberately and with specific design, slackened off just enough to afford him (Tizan) this rare chance.

"The more the merrier!" warding off both sets of blows, Lance Diostin threw his head back and laughed; he then set to with equal equanimity and deadly precision, simultaneously attacking both Zunrogo and Tizan. 

"For a moment there, I thought that you would turn tail and run, Lieutenant.  Now, at least, I have a more even match.  I wouldn't want to be accused of taking unfair advantage of Captain Zunrogo here.  Oh, let me thank you, sir, for your invaluable service in ridding me of that excess baggage back there…. ha, ha!"

Lance talked and fought with equal ease; meanwhile, Lance Diostin’s fluid, swift maneuvers strained both his opponents’ defensives, their ability to the brink and, at the same time, restricted their corresponding strikes. By all accounts, Lance Diostin wasn't even trying all that hard.

 

03-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 12

Bristling at his arrogance, both Zunrogo and Tizan intensified their efforts and succeeded in, for an instant, turning the battle to the offensive.  Yet, despite their perfectly orchestrated, deadly onslaught, they still could not weaken or best Lance Diostin.

Lance Diostin’s amusement faltered after a while and he picked up momentum, wielding his sword with lightning speed and deadly effect.  He redoubled his offensive strikes with unyielding power, strength and unsurpassed cunning and agility, striking at places where there seemed to be no opening, piercing defenses that appeared flawless.  This intense, pitched fighting continued for a short spell though for Zunrogo and Tizan it seemed to be an eternity.

The two, finding themselves in dire straits, fought on with all their might but were unable to keep their adversary at bay.  They were hanging on only by the skin of their teeth.  Then, while fending off a deadly thrust by Zunrogo, Lance Diostin swiftly twirled and landed a good, swift kick squarely on Tizan's chest.  It was fortunate that Tizan had not discarded his armor, otherwise his ribs, which took the brunt of this attack, would have been instantly pulverized.  Still, the force of the blow was enough to hurl him right across the deck and into the mast, where he slumped down, unconscious.  Tizan was still not out of danger, for Lance had raced to follow his flying body and was at the point of decapitating his helpless form in the next heartbeat.

Zunrogo, putting on an all-out effort, had leapt over to the mast and, in the nick of time, intervened with deadly force to block Lance Diostin’s strike.

 Taking a stance between Lance and the Lieutenant Tzan, Zunrogo hurled curses, dares and taunting assaults while strategically retreating, (to lure) to draw Lance Diostin away from Tizan towards an un-sprung trap further down the deck.  This, Zunrogo perceived, would be his best hope of besting his nemesis.

However, it proved ineffectual.  Lance Diostin was too insightful, too clever to be caught unawares by the deadly snare.  In fact, with an agile maneuver, Lance forced Zunrogo to spring the trap.  Zunrogo escaped, only with a hairsbreadth, as the hurtling blade flew past the side of his neck to land in the river.  Zunrogo had trained himself to never ever consider defeat during a battle and so, he continued to fight in a desperate all-out struggle.

Lance Diostin clearly could have annihilated the captain at any time but, again, he slackened off on his assaults, clearly deriving a particular pleasure from toying with his eventual victim.  "Well, my friend", Lance hissed, "I must thank you for affording me this wonderful practice session.  It is only rarely that I get to use my full skills these days.  You see, once I reach my full potential (ability), my opponents invariably end up dead and, of course, it would be unwise of me to leave any witnesses to circulate reports of my true skill.  Good sparring partners are hard to find, you know.  So, you, sir, may go to your death knowing that your worthless life has, indeed, served some small purpose.”

Zunrogo realized too late how he had been led to mortally (fatally) underestimating Lance Diostin's true prowess.  Had he but known, he could have deployed more powerful reinforcements, adopted more effective means, engaged in diversionary tactics, or considered retreat, to just live to fight another day.

 

04- ZUNROGO AND lANCE DIOSTIN CLOSE COMBAT

As it stood, he was failing miserably.  He knew he had only himself to blame for this grave oversight.  He had been well versed in military strategy and should have perceived the possibility of this deception by Lance Diostin and taken measures to guard against it.  Lance Diostin’s adaptation of the age-old ruse had been flawless and Zunrogo, like the many others who preceded him, had been properly duped, lulled into a false sense of security right up to the very end before being totally, and irrevocably vanquished.

There was no time for self-reproach or remorse.  Just as Zunrogo was about to modify his strategy to one of escape at any cost, Lance launched a whirlwind assault that instantly incapacitated him.  He could feel the world going black as he fought to strike back.

Grinning cruelly, Lance Diostin lifted his magnificent sword high above his head, setting up the one powerful, lightning stroke that would slice through Zunrogo's neck like a harpoon through a jellyfish.  He let go of the stroke, the sword arched through the air in firm descending course, backing it up with all his force.

The blade’s course midway was stopped cold however, never reaching Zunrogo's neck as if it had hit a solid rock; furthermore, the shock wave traveled back up the sword and through Lance Diostin’s whole body.

"What the hell?" glowering, Lance Diostin jumped back and turned to assess the opponent still brandishing the sword that had blocked his fierce, deadly aim (blow).

                                                                                           ~

 

 (END OF SECTION 34)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL – SECTION 32

 

 With nothing else left to do, Tizan donned (wore, put on) Captain Duko's attire over the light armor he kept on underneath to protect him from arrows then, as ordered, went back below decks to retrieve (fetch) Disaidun Agripe.

This time quite unexpectedly, Disaidun’s spineless husband, having mustered all his courage, charged at Tizan just as they were headed out the door. 

 

01- CEROS AGRIPE STRIKES BACK

Though Ceroz Agripe was half-crazed, filled with remorse and rage, he was still no match for the Lieutenant of Imperial guards and so, with just one blow from the back of his fist, hardly any effort at all on Tizan's part, Ceroz was hurled right across the room, bloodied and almost cataleptic (almost out cold), to crash onto the floor of the cabin.

 "You dare oppose me, wretch!" Tizan’s rage not assuaged, growling he went over to deliver a couple of vicious kicks to the Ceroz's side; the force of the second kick was such, it lifted the massive body up and slammed (smashed, crashed) it against the far wall of the cabin.

 

02- CEROS AGRIPE KICKED TO FAR END

 Tizan turned his fiery gaze back to the woman Disaidun Agripe and bellowed.  "What have you done to him to bring him to such a state?"

Not condescending to answer, Disaidun Agripe simply shrugged and walked on ahead.

“Quite the vixen, aren't you?” Tizan smirked as he locked and barred the door behind them.  In truth he liked a woman with such spunk but, since Captain Zunrogo had taken special interest in her, she was off-limits to him.  Such was the rule he had always lived by and continued to follow. 

Grabbing Disaidun Agripe’s arm forcefully next, and ignoring her volley of threats, he lugged (toted) her to the barricade.  "This is your post.  The captain forbids you to stray an inch from this point…  Understand?"  Only then Tizan let go of her arm. He was inwardly thrilled at her repressed seething contempt for him, and could not help but provoke her further, "We have only a few hours now before the fog lifts.  If you want to pray for your salvation, go ahead; now may be your only chance."  He smirked.

 

Her retort froze on her lips when her eye just then caught the exceptionally crafted crossbow leaning in the far corner.  Walking over, Disaidun Agripe picked it up, examined it carefully and said, “Where did you find this?  It’s magnificent."

Then, she sedately withdrew an arrow from its quiver.

 

“Show off, as if you can discern a good weapon from a bad one.  Some maven (expert, professional, doyen) you are.” He’d inwardly scoffed, fixing his cold gaze at her; Tzan once more could not resist goading (inciting) her, "You do know how to use it, I trust?".

 

Disaidun Agripe did not answer him but, instead, loaded the arrow in the blink of an eye then aimed it directly at Tizan's heart and asked. “Do you want a demonstration?"

This was too much!  Throwing his head back and trusting his hidden armor, Tizan laughed heartily, "Go ahead, I dare you to."

 

03-TZAN JP

Just then Zunrogo appeared on the scene, his stern looks at once sending Tizan without another word, scurrying off to above deck, to take up his assigned post.

Disaidun Agripe’s (Jepipi's) alluring approach was met with the same icy rebuke.

Not taking it to heart, she behaved as if he bade her, sizing up Zunrogo from the corner of her eye and admiring his heroic countenance.

 

“By the Gods, he is magnificent! “Gearing up for this single, bitter battle, she was positive he would triumph over any foe, however invincible, before the end of the day.

                                                                                         ~

 

For seemingly endless hours now, Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi) had fidgeted at her post.  These times preceding an engagement (battle) had always seemed to drag on forever; furthermore, the angry rants and ravings of her half-crazed husband Ceroz, only two doors down aggravated her soul and ignited her ire, making things far worse.

“Oh, why won't he shut up?” Disaidun Agripe groaned, for her conscience bothered her a little now; after all, it was she who had brought him to this state.

“But it was necessary,” she told herself to ease the guilt.  “I had to do what I did to survive.  Why couldn't he be a bit more like his half-brother?  Insipid fool brought this misfortune down upon himself because he's less of a man, he’s so weak! “Her face contorted in disgust.

 

                                                                             ~

 

Yesterday, upon her return from her blissful experience with Zunrogo, she had hesitated for a few moments outside the cabin door, just long enough to dishevel her hair, loosen her belt, scratch her shoulders, and rip her bodice slightly, altering her appearance and assuming a tragic countenance.

 Let inside and, finally free (away) from Tizan's prying eyes, Disaidun had then given an incredible performance of a woman who had been both physically and mentally abused.

 

Ceroz Agripe already looked haggard, his face unusually gaunt and pale, and his eyes sunken and bloodshot.  It tore at his heart and ripped his bowels to shreds, nearly driving him to the brink of insanity to hear Disaidun’s embellished accounts of the shameful mauling (pawing, battering) that she had supposedly endured at the hands of that vile, lecherous old official, Luvet. That’s right; not Zunrogo but Luvet, her husband was led to believe, was the supposed sole perpetrator of this grievous sexual assault on his beloved wife Disaidun.

 

04- LUVET

Luvet’d spared her face but not her body, under her garments, she’d claimed, was all black and blue as testament of his ill treatment. She had brazenly offered to show it to him but Ceroz, the fool, trusting in her implicitly, simply taken her at her word.

Ceroz Agripe was further led to believe that, behind Luvet's seemingly benign, quiet disposition lay a calculating, sinister, greedy, licentious, and vindictive villain who had, from the moment he’d laid eyes on Disaidun, lusted after her and from then on shamelessly had striven (endeavored) to possess her.

The convincing story Disaidun fed her husband was wretched enough in itself but her quiet tears, her unspoken insinuations just compounded Ceroz’s already intolerable existence, his unbearable misery. Highly incensed, Ceroz Agripe’d gnashed his teeth, shaken his fist in the air and vowed to exact vengeance on that dog's spawn. 

“He'd make him pay dearly for his vile deeds, enlist the help of his half-brother, Zohuj Kez and his influential friends, if needs be.”

"And how do you propose to survive this present danger?  You know you're powerless to stop him or them."  Disaidun had rebuked him, then relayed to him the information she’d overheard, when they thought she’d passed out, in Luvet’s cabin.

Luvet the mastermind, Ceroz Agripe came to believe, had conspired from the start with Captain Doku, the two assassins, the Imperial guard Tizan and Captain Zunrogo, and the seemingly upright scholar, to intercept in mid-stream a tribute vessel bound for the Capital with its cargo of gold bullion.

The details of this grand larceny had been worked out months in advance, down to the minutest point and, the specific measures needed for smooth transition and the eventual execution, now had been finalized.  Many more were involved in a scheme of this magnitude, including some subversives planted on the targeted vessel. The few expendable passengers/witnesses, like them, were all imprisoned in their cabins, to be dealt with later; their predictable demise, however, would eliminate (eradicate) any possibility of trouble later-on.

Then she reminded her husband how she had wanted to disembark along with the other, lucky passengers when the opportunity had availed itself, when there was still time.

She blamed him, on his short-sightedness, his eagerness to reach his new post, and consequently, for this terrible predicament.

Her ill luck had also been the contributor. She then softening, had exclaimed, looking as though she desperately sought to exonerate at least in part, his guilt, which further endeared her to him, “How wonderful she was; how so very naïve to believe in nonsensical superstition.” Fool that he was, she could read him like a book.

 

05-CEROS AND DISAIDUN AGRIPE

 “Oh, darling husband, what can we do, what can you do to save me?” Once more she had wept unconsolably, heart wrenchingly.  After which, when she, feeling terribly parched, dried her eyes, and asked her husband to fetch her some water from the jug.

Her husband eager to please and to console her had rushed to do her bidding.

 It was at that point in time, when she looking even more dismal (gloomy), robbed him of least hope, by telling him that before she was sent back, she had been told, but was afraid to tell him till then, how the villain Luvet intended to murder Ceroz and the baby and if she did not agree to be his concubine in future, he threatened to sell her into slavery (bondage).

As for the reasons why, she had been sent back, it was simply to allow her to say her final farewells, while they finalized their plan and corrected prior overlooked areas of incongruity (conflict ).

"Oh, dear husband our bliss has been so cruelly cut short; as doomed individuals we are, robbed of ecstasy of growing old together. You’ll never see your son grow up. He’ll never grow up! “Disaidun Agripe had looked at him with hurtful, resigned eyes then burst into loud sobs to once more, wrench his heart.

She’d watched (seen) from the corner of her eye how self-loathing and reproach gnawed at his entrails, how flustered, how sickened at heart he’d suddenly felt, in his dire predicament.

For a brief second, seeing how she had broken him with her words, she had felt the stirring of remorse tugging at her conscience; but she had already resolved in Zunrogo's cabin to carry this ploy through to the bitter end.

"Don't worry, husband," her heart again hardened, she had seized this opportunity to add salt to his open wounds.

 "I will not blame you for what will happen to me in future. As I said earlier, I was born under an unlucky star; it has been my curse my entire life.  I don't see why it should change now.  I'm grateful for this one brief period of happiness you have given me.  It will be one fond memory I will carry with me to my grave."

Then once again Disaidun Agripe had recounted in detail, the shameful episodes with Luvet; at the end of which, she’d thrown herself at her husband’s feet, imploring him to have mercy and, by killing her right there and then, put an end to her torment.

 Of course, Disaidun knew Ceroz was totally incapable of such an act.  It was just one more pummel of guilt, another whack of disgrace, all, fostering chagrin, to further constrict the loop (strap, noose, snare, rope) around her husband’s neck, to sap his honor, his manhood and ultimately, push him over the edge.

Egged on by her pleading the fool had tried, given it his best shot too; to predictably in the end, when, she had started to turn ashen, when her eyes had bulged out only a little and, she had started to emit slight gurgling sounds, he had suddenly broken off his grip on her neck and then, with a horrified look on his face, fallen back.

"I can't go through with it! I'm no murderer." He’d cried out.

 “What did I almost do?” Traumatized Ceroz Agripe had glared hatefully at those still partially clenched, despicable hands that had almost taken the life of his beloved wife.

He had next, burying his face and fallen on his knees, had sobbed hysterically, uncontrollably, like a child.

 

06- DISRAUGHT CEROS AGRIPE

Disaidun Agripe, her senses restored to norm, though inwardly sullen, going over, had murmured her encouragement. "It’s all right, dear.  You did nothing wrong. I asked you to; I made you do it. You are not to be blamed. You are a good man; you always were.  We’ll be all right."  She'd then sobbed inconsolably as she cradled him and rocked his head soothingly in her arms.  "Please don't cry.”

 Drying her tears, she’d then to further shame him, promised resolutely, “You need not try, dear; I’ll find the strength somehow for us both and, avenge this wrong. This time I'll find it in myself too..."  She did not have to complete her sentence, for he had understood (grasped) her meaning. 

Disaidun would rather end her own life by throwing herself into the cold river and perishing in the watery grave, than suffer further shame. 

Her strong determination only belittled him further, robbing what little bit of humanity was left within him.  He felt smaller than a maggot, slime, a piece of offal.

 

 

                                                                              ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 32)