THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 32

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 32

02- DAG DIEZ

    

At some distance from Hecun’s contingent, Mouro and his two guards, traveling ahead on the major highway, by nightfall had already checked in to a long-established inn and were, indulging themselves in a fine feast and a good measure of the local wine. All during dinner Mouro had been staring at the young waiter, one of the groups that were tending their table.  His exceptional good looks, fine features and delicate mannerisms drew Mouro out to the point of infatuation; discretely at first, but after a flagon or two of wine, Mouro had flirted more openly (uninhibitedly) with the young man.

One of the guards, called Dag Diez, found this rather amusing, joined in the fun but the other, called Kade Luir, having some scruples, found the show most distasteful. Soon as he could, Kade Luir therefore asked to be excused and retired early to his room. After divesting himself from his travel garments, Kade Luir had just slipped under the covers when the other guard Dag Diez staggered in, curses and complaints on his breath.

Ranting and raving incoherently, Dag finally settled down, "That Mouro!  Just because he's in charge, where does he get off!  The gall he has, ordering me around in that manner!  I'll show him!"

 Dag Diez slammed his fist into the door, his face dark with anger.  "He's too much!  I'm not even tired."  He was striding to and for across the room now, rubbing his burning fist.  "Am I less deserving than he?  There's nothing amiable about his...eh?"  Dag sheepishly threw a glance at his companion, who had indifferently shifted and turned his back to him.

"Besides, why should I retire when I haven't even had my fill yet?  All because he wants to indulge himself in perverse pleasure.  Was I crowding him, or something?"  Huffing, he plumped himself into the chair.

After a moment's silence, his mood had changed, "Yeah, he always did like them that way best.  He toys with people’s lives; he likes to play games and moreover, always have be the alfa dog, the domineering one…"

Kade Luir, feigning to sleep with his face to the wall, ground his teeth in anger, or was it jealousy?  He was so incensed with Mouro, and this intoxicated fool that he had to struggle to contain his bursting rage.

"Did you see how annoyed the innkeeper was?  What a sight to see!  That old sourpuss squirmed like a pig back there."  Dag Diez slapped his knee drunkenly and roared.

"But he wouldn't dare openly say a word against it.  He didn’t have the guts!  Even if Mouro hadn't flaunted all that money around, the greedy wimp knows enough to keep his trap shut and his tail tucked between his legs.  He knows enough not to stick his bulbous nose into trouble.  How else would he have lasted so long and prospered so? Boy you are a sound sleeper.”

“Yes sirree… Not by being stupid, that's for sure!  Yes, he knows enough to keep out of trouble."  Dag Diez rose and went over to the other bed, shaking Kade Luir, who was feigning sleep.  "Hey, this is no time to be sleeping, I'm talking to you.  Open your eyes!  Are you making a mockery of me?"

Finally giving in, and checking his anger, Kade Luir pretended to being awakened. Then shaking his head and yawning, he exclaimed that he was still (groggy) tired and demanded that Dag be brief with whatever it is he had to say.

"Bah!  Who needs you?  Go back to your precious sleep if you like." the obnoxious Dag retorted in a gruff voice and waddled back to his chair.

Before long he was singing the same tune to himself.  "That's right; he knows enough to keep in line.  He knows that ones Like Mouro, rich wastrels that they are, are too dangerous to be trifled with and deadly to offend.  I'm not sure, but Magistrate what's his name is, he might even be a distant relative."

Kade, now exasperated, sat up and resorted to fine reasoning to persuade the other to get some sleep.

"Sleep… Sleep?  Why should I?" rowdy Dag snarled as he ignored the drooling down his mouth.

"Eh, your kind will never understand."  Dag idly fingered the copper water pitcher.

"Imagine him having all the fun and not me!  I… stranded here with the likes of you!"  In a burst of anger, he hurled the pitcher violently against the wall above Kade's head.  Luckily there was very little water to spill.

Wiping the spray from his face, Kade Luir clenched his fists, not obliging Dag with a fight.  Quietly reclining again, he turned his face to the wall and remained that way, unresponsive to the vile, disgusting slanders, muttering and provocation of Dag.

"Oh, what's the use?"  His anger spent, his energy consumed by his temper, Dag Diez had finally consented to sleep.  "I might as well get some rest.  Of course you wouldn't take me on!  You know you'd lose.  You just look competent, but you're soft!"

As he pulled up his covers, fully clothed still, he muttered to himself, "And tomorrow, tomorrow, we'll see.  Eh, let him enjoy it while he can…ha, ha, ha!"

Dag’s sinister laughter grated on Kade's nerves.  “Won't he ever shut up?”  But the obnoxious filth kept pouring from Dag’s mouth well into the night until; finally, after several loud belches and yawns, he drifted into a deep, snoring slumber.

Unable to get any sleep Kade Luir tossed and turned then, sitting bolt upright, fixed his brooding gaze on the door, contemplating going after Mouro.

 But what would be the point?  What could he do anyhow?

"He's always preening (grooming) himself like a prize goose," the drunkard Dag stirred in his sleep, "but we'll see.  We'll see how much longer he'll enjoy this privilege."   He snorted a couple more times then rolled onto his other side and began snoring even more thunderously than before.

                                                                             ~

Mouro, meanwhile, after changing his clothes, had patiently waited until all the activity had abated outside his room then, bolting to his feet and with the sealed drum of fine wine tucked under his arm, he headed for the door.

"Don't wait for me, now."  He half turned to address the young waiter, Ted. “I’ll be a while; best you try to get some sleep." Stealing across the deserted dining hall in the dark, he quietly slipped outside and entered the stables.

Leading his horse by the reins, he walked the beast some measure away to the edge of the forest.  At this safe distance, he then vaulted into the saddle and galloped through into woods, disappearing in the paths among the thick foliage.

 He continued to press his fine mare for speed over hedges and ditches as man and mount covered an incredible distance in but a short time.  Finally, he arrived at his destination, the deserted ruins of a temple, hidden among the towering cliffs and ancient cypresses.  Dismounting, he led the mare cautiously across a dilapidated stone bridge spanning a bottomless chasm.

The sentries on duty at the other side were relieved to see that they had accosted Mouro.

03- GUARDS ON DUTY

Hecun, after the formal greeting, asked, "I am indeed pleased to see you, sir, but I feel constrained to inquire what purpose brings you here at this hour.  Were we not supposed to meet at the Magistrate's offices?  And where are your guards Kade Luir and Dag Diez?  I hope nothing untoward has happened to them."

"The guards… Oh no, dear old friend, they are sound asleep and dreaming of the girls or man back at the inn, no doubt."  Mouro's informal greeting put the Head Bailiff at ease.

"I know you're a stickler for protocol, but out here?" he clapped Hecun on the shoulder as they walked to a more private corner of the compound.

 "Let us dispense with the formalities of office.  I'd rather address you as in the past, eh, Elder Brother, if it’s all right."

He waited for Hecun's nod of assent before resuming, "As for my reason for (stealthily, covertly) coming here, I've taken these great pains in hopes of delivering you from an anticipated dread predicament.  Why else?  Tell me, are your water rations not depleted?  That's what I thought; I would have been greatly surprised if they hadn't.  Let's see your map."

Mouro sketched a line of route on the parchment Hecun provided.  "Now, if you start tomorrow along this shortcut I've indicated and, upon reaching the fork, keep to the left for about a day and a half, you should without much difficulty reach the modest inn I'm thinking of.  There one can have their fill of drink and gorge on generous portions of deliciously prepared meals at a fraction of the normal cost which will, no doubt, also please the men.  The proprietor is a bit eccentric, however.  Advise the men not to stare or make any rude remarks about the ugly scar on his face.  No one knows to this day, I suspect, who inflicted it on him many years ago but, if you keep on his good side, he'll lavish you with hospitality, the like of which you have never before experienced.

"But tell me, Elder Brother," Mouro looked at the encampment about him, "surely you had more men than this when you embarked on this journey."

"Two hundred to be exact," Hecun nodded.  "Along the way we suffered several setbacks.  Some were killed and others tried to desert and were appropriately punished but it would take too long for me to go into that right now."  He hoped that Mouro would press him for the details.

"Quite right, we can discuss at length all that later.  We have more immediate concerns we need to address now." came Mouro's disappointing response.

"I'll say this, however," Hecun could not hold back, "along the way we even had a run-in with Zonar but, oddly enough, he opted not to engage us or attempt to free the prisoner."

Robbing the other (Hecun) once more, of a chance to boast, Mouro interrupted. "May I make a suggestion, then?  Since there is no real danger to speak of in this province, and since that cowardly assassin was obviously issuing only empty threats, why should you continue on these remote paths?  Why put yourself and your men through unnecessary hardships?  After a brief stay at the inn, I told you about you can keep to the highway and, in less than three days’ time, you can arrive with ease at Magistrate Rue's offices.  I'll be riding on ahead to inform His Honor of your arrival.  I really should be there now, if it weren't for this detour.”

“Hmm…  Micen Do will be furious about the delay and, no doubt, demand my head on a platter upon our return.  Don't worry, though.  He doesn't scare me one bit and, besides, I know how to deal with him.  As I see it, this was unavoidable.  I had to make amends when, a few days back, it suddenly dawned on me that I had neglected to mention the location of the only well at this temple which still contained water.  Yes, brother, there is another one located here other than the two obvious dry ones you have already discovered.  I stumbled across it quite by accident some years back when I was caught in a similar predicament.  Feeling responsible as I did, I took appropriate measures and raced here over some treacherous terrain in the hope of meeting up with you tonight."

"I'm indebted to you for your concern and trouble." Hecun thanked Mouro gratefully.  "Now, brother, if you'd be so kind as to direct me there."

"Wait, there will be time for it soon enough." Mouro held up a hand, smiling.  "First, I've brought a surprise with me.  I know how fond you are of good wine and had anticipated that you'd be craving a good cup just about now.  If, by some misfortune, I had not met up with you tonight I had planned to leave it hidden here along with the instructions on the whereabouts of the well.  Please allow me to have the drum fetched for you now."  Mouro called for the guard.

Mouths watered and neck craned to observe the unloading of the special drum from Mouro’s horse and its transport over to Mouro.  The guards looked on with hungry, yearning eyes as they waited with trepidation for their turn to partake of the sure to be a rare wine.  They hoped there would be plenty to go round once Hecun and Mouro had had their fill.

Mouro, after a sly grin, called for a cup as he, at the same time, unsealed the mouth of the small barrel.  Filling it to the brim, he ceremoniously presented it to Hecun who received it with appropriate thanks then, politely smiling, put the cup down and called for another cup to be brought.

Filling this one to the brim, Hecun reciprocated the courtesy to Mouro and proposed, "Let us drink together one more time for old times' sake, before we are joined by the others."

"You are too polite.  All right, brother, we'll drink to your good health and to a long, prosperous life."  Mouro grimaced as he obligingly received the cup.  Subsequently, as custom decreed, each deferred the honors of first toast to the other.

After a few turns, Hecun unable to resist any longer, congenially toasted, "To our lasting friendship," before he raised the cup to his lips and was about to gulp it down all in one go when, Mouro, suddenly assuming a stern visage, in a flash discarded his own cup to the side and violently knocked Hecun's cup from his hands, spilling entire contents of the wine all over the bailiff's face and garments.

 "What disgraceful conduct?  How dare you insult me in this manner?" Mouro stormed.

 "You may be my elder, but I'm still your superior and don't you forget it!"  He shook a threatening finger in Hecun's face.

"And you stay out of this!" Mouro turned to lash out at the sergeant Tubak who, (standing by at close proximity,) aimed to intercede on behalf of his commander.

 Mouro once more reverted his menacing gaze back to the Head bailiff and, with curses on his lips, he demanded, "How dare you be so presumptuous?  How dare you behave in this outrageous manner, just because I'm kind enough to treat you with courtesy?"

Aghast (shocked, appalled), Hecun's face flushed and, even though he did not know what he’d done to offend Mouro, finding his tongue, rushed to apologize, but there was no placating (mollifying) Mouro. 

Placed on the defensive, inwardly Hecun remained most resentful of Mouro's inconsistencies, “What kind of game are you playing at?  How dare you set me up, make me breach etiquette, then make me lose face in front of my men like this?”  

Head Bailiff Hecun just wanted to squash this upstart, ungrateful vermin like a bug, but knew only too well of Mouro's hot temper and obstinate nature; therefore, he wisely opted to suffer passively and with total restraint, this heaved, unending abuse, hoping that Mouro's anger would summarily be spent (pass).

Far from being appeased, Mouro was, in fact, further antagonized. He bellowed furiously, "Why in blazes did I take all this trouble…For the likes of you?  You're beneath my contempt!"  Scoffing, he sprung to his feet and stormed away into the darkness.

Alarmed, Hecun raced after Mouro, still apologizing. Eventually he caught up with him beyond the courtyard and, in a hot pursuit, dashed after him behind a half-collapsed tower. The moment he’d entered the full darkness, however, a hand extended from under the dilapidated flight of stairs and forcefully yanked (pulled) Hecun into the ink black crevice, where he was brought face to face with Mouro.

Hecun's fear soon abated when, in a passive voice, Mouro explained, "You can stop worrying now, brother.  I'm not at all offended.  It was a charade, enacted for their benefit."

"Whose benefit,” Dumbfounded Hecun strained to see more clearly.  "What madness is this?"

Moving out of the shadows, his hand still clasping Hecun's shoulder, Mouro smiled wryly.  "Rest assured, my faculties are intact…  I couldn't go through with it, anyhow.  Still, I had to stop you from drinking it, while casting suspicion, that the drink was spiked."

"The wine was spiked.  What are you talking about?" Hecun asked in exasperation.  "We have no enmity between us, why should you try to poison me?"

"You're not listening," Mouro snapped.  "The wine is perfectly fine; they only think it's laced with poison, and I had to play along with the pretense."

Now it was Hecun's turn to be temperamental, "Your inference to 'they"…  Just who are 'they'?  Why do you talk in riddles, or is this just another one of your underhanded ploys to make me look like the fool?  Are you purposefully trying to muddle me?"

"There are turncoats, you fool!  Renegades planted among your men."

"Are you sure?  How do you know this?  Who are they?  How many are there?  Tell me and I'll have their black hearts torn from their chest."  Hecun clenched his fist repetitively.

"I don't know who they are."  Mouro shrugged and walked away.  "I came to know of their existence myself only quite recently, but I didn't have the means to find out their numbers, but I surmise it must be over thirty.  In any case, it’s up to you to flush (hunt) them out."  Reading confusion and disbelief on Hecun's face, he continued, "You still need convincing, don't you?  Why must you always be so obstinate?  I should be furious with you for not trusting me but, oh, all right, I'll start at the beginning and clarify this situation for you, even though I'm pressed for time.”

"Listen, my coming here tonight was not accidental, nor was my failure to tell you about the functioning well. The purpose was obviously other than the one I expressed in front of the men."  He cleared his throat.  "Actually, I was instructed by Micen.  Yes, Micen Do.  Now, don't interrupt.  I was instructed by him to deliver some poisoned wine to you as part of a diabolical plot to bring about the demise of yourself and your men, saving the spies who were obviously warned not to drink the wine."

"But why would Micen want to kill me?" Hecun injected in surprise.  "I was never out of line with him.  I served him loyally for all those years and did nothing to incur his enmity.  What could he gain from my death?"

"You were only the instrument, the insignificant pawn, please forgive my saying so, who had to be sacrificed in the scheme of things.  It had nothing to do with you personally, or with your performance of your duty. “Mouro explained dismally.  "You think you mattered anything to him at all?  Your only fault was that you let yourself become expendable.  Added to that, your mission was doomed from the start, even if you had survived the ambush and other conceivable dangers on the road as you have done.  Yes, I'm well aware of the traps you've avoided all along the way in order to reach this point.  Never mind how I know."  He held up his hand to stay any questions from Hecun.  "Even the desertions you experienced earlier, I suspect, were the workings of the implanted spies, working within to assure your perilous end.

"It would have been their objective to reduce the numbers of those to be doomed way before now and, no doubt, you played right into their hands.  You would have done better, my friend, to have, just this once, acted contrary to your nature, to have made concessions and exceptions to the rules.  Your flaw, besides being too predictable, is that you're a stickler for rules and regulations.  Don't you see how much of an easy target that makes you, how much more vulnerable?  Never mind, it’s pointless to harp on that now."

"How deep is this conspiracy, anyway?" Hecun grumbled, gritting his teeth.

Mouro, agitated, turned away.  "Listen well and you'll learn the extent of it."

                                                                                ~

(END OF SECTION 32)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION - 18

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

01- YAGU DORKA

"How long is it going to take you to sharpen that Axe and machete, boy?  Hurry up, Yaggy, we haven't got all day." he urged the second son. Aguda was about to instruct Kenny to undress (disrobe, unclothe) the victim, when the excited barking noise of the caged canines(dogs) alerted him to his cousin’s early arrival.

“Blast; he’s back already?”  Too late, Aguda heard his cousin Yagu’s advancing unsteady footsteps.

 Where is everybody? The old man with curses on his lips, clung tightly onto the railing for security and, hauled his tired old body up as he, same time negotiated the soggy stone steps of the porch.

Aguda, having dropped his booty in the corner, had quickly rushed outside the kitchen door, passed through the hallway and now strove to block the old man's way with a barrage of questions.

"Yagu, what a fine time it is too, you finally got back!  You’ve been gone for so long that we were worried sick to death, thinking that something terrible might have happened to you on the way.  Next time you don't go alone, you'll take Zog with you.  Well, what did the doctor say?  Is your condition serious or not? How was the trip?"

"As if you care!" the old man interrupted Aguda's patter with a restraining hand gesture.  "Never mind about me, but you sure look guilty. And wipe that grin off your face and answer me quickly, what are you up to now?  I bet you, is it something sinister, disgusting or decidedly evil? “

Seeing the other’s hesitation, Yagu angrily snapped. “Don’t try denying it; I've already seen the horse in the stable."  Yagu shook an angry, accusatory finger before the innkeeper's face then pushed him aside to enter the kitchen.

 "And what's this, your latest victim?"  He intended to say more but his rage caught in his throat, and he collapsed into a violent fit of coughing.

"Now look at the state you've brought upon yourself!"  Aguda, showing concern, rushed to his side and helped him into a chair.  He slapped Yagu on the back several times, hard, to loosen the phlegm in his cousin's lungs.  After turning to address his son Kenny, “Stop what you’re about to do!” Aguda ordered him, “And go fetch Yagu a hot cup of tea at once.” 

Gradually, Yagu's purple coloring faded as his coughing fit subsided.

Outside, a kid's voice was heard; pleading to be allowed to join his grandpa in the kitchen but this was soon cut short by shout, “he doesn’t need you to bother him now,” and the sound of a hand smartly striking his cheek.  The sniffling youngster was then forcefully dragged away by the teenage boy Kenny who, despite his usual tepid (apathetic, indifferent) nature, was a cauldron of evil, an actual brute in his own right. 

The old man Yagu wished he had the strength to intervene, but abuse of this sort was all too common in this household.

Aguda snatched the steeping (infusing) hot teapot from Kenny’s hand and poured part of the infusion (tea) into Yagu’s cup to distract him from his grandson’s plight. 

"Here you go, have a bit more; it will warm you up.  You've given me terrible fright just now; you know you mustn't get so excited (worked-up) in your condition."  Seeing the old man had calmed a bit, he coaxed, "Look how you're still dripping wet.  Why don't you go change into some dry clothes and forget everything else.  I'll take care of things here."

His face growing red once more, the old man's temper flared anew.  Rasping in his dry, harsh voice, he pounded the table with his trembling hand and cursed, "You are going to get us all damned to Hell!  You want me to turn a blind eye to the murder of one of our guests; and this foul murder committed just under my very own roof? “Yagu shook his head and then somberly added: “Robbing them is one thing but butchering them in that hideous manner is inhuman!  I absolutely refuse to condone it!"  Again, he coughed, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Call it what you will." Aguda (already feeling a tinge of guilt) lost his temper; highly incensed at this reprimand, he then snarled: “You know very well that we must do this to be safe.  What makes you so high and mighty?”

But then regretting his outburst, in a gentler voice he reasoned. “Dear cousin, buying this cursed inn was your idea to begin with; I wanted to open up a wine shop in town but, no, you wanted a roof over our heads.  You wouldn't hear of it.  Still, it was a fine idea while the customers were steady."

Yagu’s stern expression had not altered in the least. Angered anew, Aguda sat down with a disgruntled huff and pounded the table with his fist.  "Things have changed now, so get used to it."

Aguda ground his teeth, then after a moment’s silence again warned as he, same time shook an irate finger at the old man.  "When things started to go bad, and I wanted to pack up and start a new business elsewhere you wouldn't hear of it.  Your procrastination has cost us what little money we could have gotten from the sale of the Dancing Bear.  Now it’s too late.  Yet we still have to pay taxes and extortion money to those vultures to keep them from feeding on our carcasses.  You know those bastards only care about lining their pockets.  What do they care about if we are barely able to carve out our subsistence?  The first time we fail to produce the money they'll beat us to a pulp and haul us all off, you and your precious grandson included, to debtor’s jail where we'll assuredly meet a miserable end.”

"So, I ask you, what would you have me do?  Well?"  The innkeeper paused just long enough to give emphasis, but not enough for Yagu to respond. 

"Robbing them is one thing, you say, but if we don't dispose of the corpse completely, would we not run an even greater risk of being discovered?  Do you know what the penalty for robbing unsuspecting customers is?  I'll tell you, it’s the same as committing murder. In jail, once under duress they have extracted your confession and promptly pronounced you guilty, without the benefit of trial, you’ll be beaten to death. The executioner would then cut off your head and post it on spike (spear) at the city gate, as a warning to others. And your headless corpse, well, I don’t need to remind you what happens to that."

Seeing the old man cringe and give an involuntary shudder, “That's right." Aguda reasserted.  "Remember, cousin, I once used to be a clerk at the Magistrate's Office before my unjust dismissal.  I know what goes on in those dark cells.”

“Oh, you can be certain I make no exaggerations here.  Far worse, far more appalling crimes against human dignity are practiced there on a daily basis than we could ever have committed here.  So don't talk to me about law or humanity, as far as I am concerned there is only one law, one rule for me and my family to follow, the law of survival.  I must do all I can to subsist, even if it means vending (selling) my soul to the demons, to do it.  So, don't think that you can deter my aim, with your sanctimonious air or nagging!”

"I toiled so hard; all those years of tough grind, all those years of hard work; where did it ever get me or you?  You're still pining away for your lost son.  Well, I've got three living ones and a wife here to think of.  Shall I leave them all to starve, or be tortured?

No… Absolutely not!   I'll be damned if I give them up without a fight!”

“And what about your precious grandson; are you willing to sacrifice him so easily to accommodate your principles?  You know that nothing will grow on this wretched, barren soil, and that we're too strapped now to move out. So don’t go on being so censorious! Besides, what makes you think it’s any different out there?  Maybe it’s worse."  Aguda, having had his say, at the end of this long tirade, rather smugly now, leaned back and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"You could talk around the devil himself!" Yagu snapped back, having got his second wind and now that his cousin had finally stopped his rant.

 His stern eyes scrutinized Aguda, then, stricken with sudden remorse, Yagu hung his head, and he softened. His next remark lacked fire.  "Yes.", he acquiesced, for he could no longer dispute the other's arguments.

 Though his conscience had greatly pained (hurt) him, had he not always, as he had now, given in to their inexorable predicament?

Yagu’s head hung lower in deep shame, for even though he did not engage in the brutal act, turning a blind eye to it, time and again, did it not make him an accessory (accomplice) to Aguda’s crimes?   Yagu shared just as much guilt.  And besides, when the matter of their survival hung in the balance, overriding any question of morality, what right did he have to exonerate himself and load all the blame on his cousin, marking him, shamelessly, in front of his sons as the sole villain when the end result benefited all of them?

Coughing violently, Yagu rose and drew near to the table, bending over to have a better look at the latest victim, meaning, perhaps, to silently beg this stranger's forgiveness.  His eyes examined the scholar’s features, pausing (his gaze) at length on the face.

Odd, he looks strangely familiar? Hmmm…. Yagu mused, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I feel as though I've seen him somewhere before, but perhaps with a short beard …”

“Oh, Heaven’ forgive me! Can he be… is he that most remarkable youth, of four years ago?”  Suddenly his eyes bulged and astonished, his mouth dropped open.

Still, he needed to be certain; so, he drew his face ever closer and burrowed his scrutinizing eyes (stare) on Nevetsecnuac.

 But how could that be?  He shrugged his shoulders, bit the corner of his lower lip and stamped his feet in vexation.

Yaggy, meanwhile, having just then finished honing the hatchet’s blade, excitedly brought the shiny cleaver (axe) over to his father.  He stood most eager to begin the carnage (butchery).

Aguda signaled his son to wait.  "Listen, cousin," he then approached Yagu, suspecting that the old man was still wavering, "you know it’s got to be done, so why don't you leave us, since you can't stomach the sight.  Rid yourself of those pesky wet clothes and lie down to rest, before you make your ailment worse.  I'll have Kenny to bring you some more hot tea."

"But I think I know this young man!" Disregarding Aguda's words, Yagu turning, looked up with a flushed face to exclaim excitedly.

 He held up a restraining hand to freeze Aguda's query or retort.  "Just give me a moment longer will you, just to make sure."

"Surely you aren't telling me that you, a peasant, know a rich scholar?" Aguda mocked Yagu, then frowning, shook a finger at the old man.  "If this is another one of your stalling tactics, I warn you..."

The old man was totally absorbed with Nevetsecnuac.  "Oh, by the Gods!"  Suddenly he uttered a cry as he jerked back, his hand now clasped to his mouth.

 "Yes, no doubt about it.  It’s him!  It’s definitely him!"  Yagu’s complexion turned ashen (ghostly pale) as the realization of what had almost happened dawned on (occurred to) him; horror gripped his heart, and the words congealed in his throat.

 "What is it, cousin?" Aguda clasped the old man on the shoulder, truly concerned.

"What's wrong with you...? What is it that ails you?”

“Answer me first, his name… what was the name he gave to you?”

“I don’t know… You expect me to remember his name? What difference does it make?

"You don't understand!" Yagu clutched at Aguda's collar, jerking him forward, almost choking him with an unusual strength.

 "This…. This is the very young person who, four years ago, delivered me and my grandson from those bandits.  It's with his money that we bought this place, fool!  He’s the one who……” His explanation was interrupted with another spell of violent coughing.  As he habitually massaged the pain in his chest, great beads of sweat (appeared) burst out on his forehead.

"I'm dam sure, most assuredly, it’s him!  He's the one who avenged my son Ake's death, restored my grandson Lerty to me, and gave me the funds to buy this inn." Yagu hoarsely reiterated; then rubbed his burning throat to bring some relief.

 "Haven't I always had a good memory for faces?  Once I hear him speak, I'll be more certain."

"So, this isn't definite after all?" Aguda caught the slip.

“Tell me, try to remember… Was his name … Svein, Svein…. something?"

“Come to think of it, it might have been…… But still, how can you be so positive it’s the very youth? You’d mentioned that your benefactor was a skilled fighter but said nothing about him being a scholar?" Aguda demanded with skepticism, not liking the idea of releasing prey already in his snare.

Yagu’s coughing subsided; the old man looked up to burrow his resentful gaze into Aguda's eyes and sternly dictate, "Read my lips. Killing this young man is now totally out of question, not until I've made certain, at least, that it isn't him. Do I make myself clear?  I may be guilty of many things, but I will not go to my grave, accused of ingratitude.  If I'm wrong, you can drug him again later.  Now, quick, get me the antidote!"

"This is insane!  Think of what you're asking me to do, cousin." Aguda stamped his foot.  "Why should I, on your mere suspicion, spare his life then waste more of the precious poison on him?  If we revived him and, he turned out not to be your savior, what then?  You may be willing to let this chance slip away, but I'm not.  Besides, you can see how formidable he looks, even when he's unconscious.  When he comes to, won't he know we've drugged him?  Won't he ask questions, that is, if he doesn't beat us to death first without waiting for any explanation?  Why should I place us all in jeopardy on a mere chance that this was your young man?"

"Listen to papa, Uncle." the three boys broke their silence in unison to give support to their father.

"If he is the young man I met, he would not harm us." Yagu was adamant. 

"I'd stake my life on it.  You're not going to change my mind one bit," he threw a fierce look at the boys, "even with this army of support.  You may all think me unreasonable but, on this, I will stick to my principles.  Besides, we could always talk our way out of it, what's so hard about that?  Leave the explanations to me.”

"Now, give me the antidote at once, before it’s too late!" he barked, his demand.

"And don't try to deceive me and say that it’s already too late, I can tell from his coloring that he can still be saved!” With those words he also put a quick end to Aguda’s poised counter arguments.

Seeing that it was pointless to deter his cousin, Aguda grumbled under his breath,

 "I suppose we could add poison to his meal later on."  Handing the keys of the victim’s room to Yagu, Aguda then rushed off to retrieve the antidote himself.

 Yagu, wasting no time, quickly took charge and had the two older boys Zog and Yaggy carry the still unconscious scholar (Nevetsecnuac) back to his room while the younger boy Kenny went to fetch the scholar’s possessions, that of which Aguda had just dropped in the hall.  The unconscious scholar was then gently placed on the bed.

Zog, the strongest boy, pried open Nevetsecnuac’s mouth just a crack to allow Yagu, who had just received the antidote from Aguda, to pour a generous portion of it down the scholar’s throat.

"Not so much!  A little works just as well, you know."  The infuriated Aguda spent his rage by slapping Zog hard on head, then returned to the kitchen, swiping at the youngest as he passed by.

"Now scarper (get lost, beat it); both of you clear out of here!"  Yagu taking charge, ordered Yaggy and Zog with a wave of his hand.  "He'll be coming around soon.  Close the door behind you; and Zog, do tell your father to keep it quiet out there!" Yagu yelled out specifically so that Aguda could hear, before he leaned back on the chair panting from all that exertion.

                                                                                        

(END OF SECTION 18)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 17

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 17

Traveling in the opposite direction and towards Channing, Nevetsecnuac found himself constrained to adapt to his inferior mount and the moderate life of a scholar.  At odds with his reasoning mind, however, was his impatient heart which longed constantly for his spirited stallion Fiery Comet, riding like the wind and covering great distances in a single day's gallop.  Finding his slow journey tedious and rather tiresome, his thoughts often sailed into a distant future or reverted back to those loved ones he had left in the mountain cabin.  By speculating on the exciting life experiences of the identical twins, growing up in the mountains under the careful supervision of Lord Asger and his beloved wife, he found some joy and solace in his travails.

 For three consecutive days it had rained incessantly; though no food had passed his lips, he had been soaked to the skin in the absence of shelter, and he had gotten little or no sleep, Nevetsecnuac remained quite inured (accustomed, acclimatized) to the discomforts.  His only concern presently, however, was for his mount (horse), whose hooves trod laboriously through the muddy rivulets, fearful lest the beast fall ill.

 A faint smile brushed his lips when the deluge finally began to taper off and, a short time later, altogether ceased but the elusive sun, refusing to bless them with its light, delineated the drenched area in a dismal miasma.  The musty smell of mildew rising from the fall's decaying debris littering the grounds spread over the lone rider and his horse like a spider's sticky web, oppressing, choking them in its silky strings.

"We'll soon be out of this.", soothingly Nevetsecnuac patted the horse's main, urging the animal to persevere, but the mounting storm clouds piling up even more thickly atop that glum, gray, lugubrious sky, countered the prince's hopeful prediction.  As if to bring the horse's nerves to extreme tautness, as if to surmount his despair, to increase his trying ordeal, demented winds suddenly arose to pierce both man and beast to the bone.

The next instant luminous veins slashed the sky, and in their wake the deafening thunder tore open the air, eradicating any hope of reprieve.

Pattering raindrops, picking up momentum as they fell, now began pounding, drumming on Nevetsecnuac's head, shoulders and back.  His already drenched garments, not having had the chance to dry in that brief spell of calm, clung uncomfortably to him once more.  Distractedly Nevetsecnuac gazed at the beaded strings of rain decorating the naked branches and the bobbing pearls on the rivulets ahead that had not yet been tainted by the horse's hooves.

A glimmer of hope suddenly sprung up in his heart when, in the distance, he spotted the indistinct, quivering, almost abstract outline of an inn. 

"Well, old boy, your troubles are almost at an end." he coaxed the horse's mane. 

"Now, if you'll be good enough to oblige us with some speed, we may arrive there at least before twilight (nightfall); so, how about it?"  But the horse complacently kept on with his painfully slow trod.  Refraining from flailing at the horse's rump, Nevetsecnuac bit his lip and grumbled.

“I could make better time than this on foot.  How could Fradel put up with such a hopeless, impractical beast?”  He jumped to the ground in a single bound, dismounting.  Taking the animal by the reins, he led him down the path at twice the pace; but in that miasmic (vaporous) atmosphere, he’d underestimated the distance, arriving there still at dusk.

As they approached the inn, the fierce barking of the dogs in back nearly spooked the horse to death.  Too tired to bolt, he responded favorably to soothing strokes of his neck and settled for merely stamping his hooves on the ground, dredging up more mud to stain Nevetsecnuac's fine boots and scholar's coat.

 At once, from behind the screen of rain falling off of the eaves three strong youths (in their teens) had rushed out, spurred on by the innkeeper to greet the traveler. As one, holding a thatched umbrella over the guest's head, ushered him inside, the other, unloading the luggage from the horse, followed on their heels.  The youngest, meanwhile, took the horse's reins to lead him around the side of the inn to the stable.

"Welcome, welcome distinguished sir!  The hospitality of the Dancing-Bear Inn is at your service.” The pockmarked-faced innkeeper smiled and introduced himself as Aguda.

 Flamboyantly bowing low, he greeted Nevetsecnuac at the door, uttering even more insincere felicitations as he showed Nevetsecnuac to a seat.  This fervent reception made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy, but he had expected as much from so obviously empty an establishment.  Undaunted, he donned a polite smile, cut short Aguda's wagging, glib tongue as it expressed empathy with Nevetsecnuac's hardships on the road, and briefly stated his requirements for that night.  At once the innkeeper moved with alacrity, dispensing the orders to his underlings, who looked strangely like kinfolk, then ushered Nevetsecnuac into a room at back, which Aguda professed to be quite comfortable.

"This is the best room we have, sir." Aguda assured Nevetsecnuac as he noticed the slight wrinkling of his guest's nose as it responded to the overpowering aroma of mildew and dust.  "It just needs a Little airing, that's all.  Under the circumstances, I think you'll agree that opening the shutters is hardly feasible on such a night, but if you should prefer another..."

"It will suffice." Nevetsecnuac demurred, holding out a restraining hand.  "I'll be fine here for the night.  Shall I pay you now?"

"That is not necessary, honorable sir.  You may settle all accounts when you take your leave tomorrow." the innkeeper replied.

He could plainly see the thick layer of dust shrouding everything by the flicker of the suddenly lit oil-lamp and the newly kindled fire in the mantle.  The proprietor, disregarding this obvious neglect, arranged a few chairs and, with fawning solicitude, proceeded to look after Nevetsecnuac's other requirements.  At once he reappeared with a basin of water and behind him, a procession of shuffling bodies carrying a warm quilt, some hot tea and victuals arranged on a tray.

I must remain on my guard tonight. Nevetsecnuac mused as the parade moved through the dust of the room.  The customs in these parts may be different, but I have yet to see an innkeeper trust a guest overnight for the room fee, most irregular.  If it were not for the poor condition of that beast, I would not have gone contrary to my better judgment and stopped here at all.  I can only hope that, by tomorrow, he'll be rested well enough for us to continue on our way.

"Will you be requiring anything else, sir?" the strong voice intruded sharply on Nevetsecnuac's thoughts.

"No, thank you.  You may leave."

The two remaining youths flashed each other a conspiratorial smile, then quickly spun on their heels and left the room.

You suppose you have ensnared me in this den of jackals, but you will not find me all that vulnerable a victim, to be bested. Nevetsecnuac smiled after them. Then, shucking off his wet outer layers of garb (clothing), he carefully spread them by the fire to dry.

After checking thoroughly for spy holes in the walls and ceiling, he found a secretive place in the room in which he concealed the waxed parchment containing Fradel's papers and his money pouch. 

This accomplished, he washed his hands and face then, finding a dry brown shirt, he put it on, wrapping himself in the quilt and sunk into the wicker chair by the crackling fire.

 No sooner had he settled down than rivulets of perspiration beaded his forehead and ran down his red-hot cheeks.  Casting aside the quilt, he walked over to the bed, throwing himself onto it.  He expected it to give a bit but not only was the thick pad harder than granite, but clouds of dust also rose up at this disturbance to choke and constrict his lungs.  His throat parched, the bedbugs already beginning their feast on his flesh, he angrily jumped back off the bed, scratching.

Oh well, this was to be expected.  He shrugged and wandered over to the table on which the tea and sweetmeats were placed.  Despite the pangs of hunger that now stabbed at his stomach, the oily, gray food did not look at all that appetizing. 

Fingering one or two pieces, he was about to pop a morsel into his mouth when he was distracted by the angry voice of the proprietor outside the door.

"How come he's not back yet?  You should have gone with him to the doctors.  What if he croaks on the road?"

The quivering voice of a child stubbornly interjected, "My grandpa's strong.  He'll be back soon, Uncle, you'll see."

"No one cares what you think!" another young voice snapped at the child.

"Stop bothering Paa (dad)!"  The sound of a hand smartly striking a cheek started the littlest one bawling and Nevetsecnuac heard the crying child being dragged away, soothed by a female's compassionate murmurs.

"Blasted bag of bones and skin's been gone all morning," the innkeeper was heard, to grumble next, "leaving all the work for me to do.  Zog, have you fed the dogs at least?"

"Yes, sir; I fed them a few hours ago."

"Then why are they still raising such a ruckus?  Go and see what's wrong, and quiet them down!  Blasted pests," Aguda shouted after the eldest boy, "always hungry. They'll eat us out of house and home.”

"You," Aguda shouted at one of the other boys, "what are you doing standing here loitering for?  Go to the kitchen and help your mother, your brothers can finish up the cleaning here.  Now, scram!"  The voices moved off down the hall and what was said afterwards was muffled by the whispers and the sounds of brooms shuffling the floor.

Returning his attention to the finger food and tea, Nevetsecnuac lifted the teapot, sniffed under the lid, and then returned it to the table.  If it's their intention to rob me tonight, this foul-smelling brew could easily hide any drug.  It’s impossible to tell.

Suddenly a tap came at the door and the innkeeper peered through the crack he'd opened up.  "Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?" he inquired as he let himself in without so much as an invitation from Nevetsecnuac. 

"Perhaps the tea is not to your liking.  It's the water, I'm afraid." Aguda smiled wryly when Nevetsecnuac objected to the innkeeper (unceremoniously) pouring him a cup.

 Darting a glance at the untouched tidbits, he added, "The meal will be ready soon, sir.  My wife is taking extra care tonight to make you a meat goulash, something that is sure to please your palate.  May I benefit from your company in the meanwhile?  We rarely get any visitors to these parts, especially ones as distinguished as you.  One can't help but wonder what circumstance has brought you to these parts."

Without a pause in his muttering, Aguda drew a chair up to the table and sat himself comfortably by Nevetsecnuac.

 "Ah, it was not always like this, I assure you.  This used to be the only route leading to Wincox City, and then we enjoyed good business.  That is where you are headed, is it not, sir?"  This time he waited to receive a nod from Nevetsecnuac before continuing.

 "Yes, things have assuredly changed, ever since they built that accursed, more direct route; for this road always had been plagued by mudslides. Of course, clearing away a major part of the forest didn't help.”

"And who's responsible, you ask?  Well, two mansions were not enough for His Excellency, Governor Borg; he had to use all the wood in these parts to make himself an even more grandiose one.  Of course, they moved in, plus his labor force to farm here for a time, but the rocky, infertile land made them go bust in less than two years and they all left, but not until their livestock had stripped away every bit of grass or shrub."  He shook his head and laughed coldly, then abruptly stilled his tongue, before he could land himself in serious trouble by his uttering of more incriminating words, about the despised official.

Aguda's narrow eyes regained their former composure before he added in resignation, "You're most fortunate, sir, to have gotten through.  The rains sometimes last for weeks and resulting floods make this section of the road utterly impassable."  He spread his hands despondently.

 "Either that, or the bridge gets washed out. But, of course, how stupid of me; you did not come that way."

From his next round of convoluted, nearly incomprehensible mutterings Nevetsecnuac learned that there were three roads diverging from a distant junction.  One would lead him to a small village; the middle would join the major highway and take him to Wincox City; while the third would land him at a dead end at the washed-out bridge, which had been left in disrepair.

This unusually inquisitive innkeeper, indecorously imposing himself upon Nevetsecnuac, began to, quite blatantly, pry Nevetsecnuac about his personal background, his destination, the intent of his travels, and whether there was anyone awaiting him in Wincox City.

 Satisfied with the fabrications (which as precautionary measure) Nevetsecnuac was obliged to provide, including the assumed name of Svein Therran, Aguda, relaxed his vigil. Having eventually ran out of things to say, he was looking to excuse himself when,

"Oh, bring it in, boy!" he suddenly sat upright, urging the youth, who had just made his timely appearance at the crack in the door, to bring in a tray of wine and cups.

 "I took the liberty of having some wine warmed up for you, sir.  I know that you have not expressed any wish to consume some, but on a day such as this you may perhaps benefit from its medicinal properties.  It will certainly warm up your bones. Please, please have some; it’s the finest vintage we have to offer. It’s on the house; a small token. It’s also my way of welcoming a distinguished guest like you, sir.  Perhaps, by speaking favorably of us to your traveling colleagues, you may steer some business in our direction."  Aguda filled two cups and presented one of them to Nevetsecnuac.

Before Nevetsecnuac had even raised the cup to his lips, the innkeeper, seeming to lack all manners or, perhaps, intent on proving the wine's harmlessness to his guest, quickly quaffed his portion, holding it in his mouth to savor the taste before gulping it down and noisily smacking his lips.

Pretending to partake some also, Nevetsecnuac discreetly poured all of it into a crack between the floorboards and then joined in the praise of this highly scented, coarse, rather unpalatable vintage.  Afterwards quickly putting his cup down, Nevetsecnuac reached for the jug to pour another cup for the proprietor, "Please, allow me."

"Oh no, sir, I must decline." Aguda pulled his nervous gaze from the door to hold his palm out over his cup.  "I've imposed on you long enough; I mustn't be remiss with my other duties.  I'll go at once and see what's keeping your meal.  Please don't let me interrupt your enjoyment of this wine, feel free to finish it in my absence.  If you wish, I'll join you later for another jug.  Please, please now, enjoy."  He rose to his feet just in time to be hailed by his wife outside about some other problem.

"You see how I can't even have one moment to myself without having something go awry.  I have to oversee everything, however trivial."  In this way he excused himself and, swiftly pivoting on his heel, darted out of the room.

Going for the antidote, I see. Nevetsecnuac gave a bemused smile as he drew a silver pin from the sleeve of his jacket.  Dipping the pin into the wine jug, he then drew it out and, quite unruffled, studied it for a time, all the while noting its particular discoloration.

 As I suspected, Nevetsecnuac nodded, whilst he put the pin back.

Instead of showing anger, Nevetsecnuac knit his brows in deep concern for the innkeeper and his family as he resumed his former seat.  Despite his coarse manner, apparent cruelty and deceit, he is still only a tragic victim of his circumstance.  Stroking the stubble on his chin, in deep despair, Nevetsecnuac absentmindedly reached for a morsel on the tray and popped it into his mouth.  Strangely enough, the taste was quite pleasant.

"Don't we have enough already?" the wife's complaining voice came from outside.  "The smell sticks to the pots and they're already well fed.  It's not proper.  What if they turn on us next?  I'm already beset with dreadful nightmares!" she cried as her quivering voice diminished.

"Stop being such a weak, cowardly woman!  They are chained, are they not?" Aguda erupted. “And remember, not a word of this to my cousin. You know how grumpy, sanctimonious and quite unreasonable that dictatorial old fool has gotten to be lately, always wanting things done his way."

"But it's not right, I tell you, “The woman's voice was almost a whimper, "I fear that Heaven will punish us…. It’s not right!"

The voices outside mingled with the heavy downpour drumming on the roof, then both swiftly muted.  A sudden tiredness enveloped Nevetsecnuac, weighing his head and body down like lead. 

Oh no!  Realizing that the tidbits had also been laced, he spat the last piece from his mouth and tried, in vain, to vomit.  By then it was too late, the chemical was in his bloodstream.  The room lights dimmed, and his head began to spin.  He struggled to his feet, holding on the table's edge to steady himself.  He tried to totter towards his luggage, where the range of antidotes were kept, but his legs gave out underneath him and the next instant he collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor.

The room was quickly filled by those who were waiting outside.

"Good, he's done for!"

"Usually one cup does it.", one laughed spitefully.

"Fool, it wasn't the wine that did-him-in!"

"Who are you calling a fool?" fuming, the younger boy shook a fist in his elder brother's face, ready to pounce on him right there.

"Stop all that bickering, help me pick him up and search through his garments.  Quick!" Aguda cut short their wrangling.

 "Why must you two always argue?" he glared at the boys.  "I don't understand where you get your tempers from.  Haven't I always preached tolerance and patience between blood relations?  Why can't you two be like Kenny?"  Turning, he asked the eldest, "I hope you didn't waste too much of that drug, Zog.  We're running low on it."

"I did as you instructed, Paa." Zog beamed in satisfaction. 

"I put equal measure, exactly the amount you said, into the tea and the wine, and the other kind, more potent potion onto the meaty morsels as well as veggie vittles.  That way we couldn't miss it."

"You’ve laced the veggie vittles too? How clever of you to think of that. “

“Paa, he sure was a sneaky one; he guessed at the wine…."

Aguda disregarded Yaggy and smiled at his favorite firstborn.  "Good boy, Zog.  Still, I wish there was someone else we could go to get it.  It's getting harder and harder to wrestle it from that old crow, who only knows how to raise his prices."

 He stone-faced, looked at the unconscious victim, the helpless Nevetsecnuac, ""A good specimen, in fact too fine a build for a scholar.  I wonder if he really is who he professes (claims) to be.  I rather liked him, too.  No matter, he'll end up in the same place as the rest."

"Yeah, in a dog's gut!"  Yaggy chuckled, rubbing his hands in gruesome relish of the scene to come.

"Have some respect, boy!" The innkeeper scolded.  This one's cruelty, his lack of human feelings and respect for human life had, in fact, become a serious concern for Aguda.  Cutting short yet another lecture, he ordered the two eldest boys to carry the unconscious victim Scholar (Nevetsecnuac) to the large, hardwood table in the kitchen.  As a practiced part of the process by now, the youngest, Kenny, was sent on ahead to warn the mother to clear away from the kitchen, sparing her from the grisly acts that was to follow.

Staying behind only long enough to scoop up Scholar’s (Nevetsecnuac's) precious belongings for himself, Aguda then followed his sons.

                                                                                           ~

(END OF SECTION 17)