11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 15

The newly decoded message unfortunately, had also confirmed that, Lord Shouzi Yozdek had failed to acquire (obtain) and destroy the letter, referred to as the 'prize', since he was still interested in its whereabouts. This latest bit hampered developments and, made Qarzten’s job of persecuting key culprits even more arduous: for without the incriminating object as evidence Lord Shouzi Yozdek could not be indicted and, since the letter was no longer in Egil Viggoaries's grasp, the Dark Eunuch escaped denunciation (condemnation) and charge of extortion and worse, treason, for his withholding vital information essential to National Security. 

01-SHOUZI YOZDEK - JP  11

   

Of course, Qarzten Caimund had typically guessed months ago the contents of, Shouzi Yozdek’s bane, cursed extortion letter. He was mildly amused pondering on the advantages, which could still be reaped by routing (fueling) these heightened animosities into damaging, outright altercations. All the same, Qarzten knew that it would not be an easy task, as each adversary's offenses were equally grave and, with their fates so intertwined, each would rather shield the ardent foe (rival) than expose him.

Qarzten Caimund’s thoughts reverting to Nijel Pinng, Qarzten inwardly queried:  How on earth could she have attained these facts? Just what kind of organization was she a part of? Qarzten was peeved and same time amazed, at the extent of Nijel's resourcefulness. Best not to underestimate this young filly in future. Still, the gleaned information from her smitten stool pigeon was, surely erroneous. Qarzten had of course in mind, the very Eunuch in Egil Viggoaries's employ, that she had been seen cavorting under questionable circumstances; unfortunately, this lead had also gone cold, as eunuch Kanbi, had since then, mysteriously, without a trace disappeared.   

For months now, no news of him could be had anywhere in the entire Kingdom. By the time the covert search had been called off by Qarzten, it had become evident that infatuated 'Kanbi' had been a stooge (exploited)spy, planted to deceive Nijel quite unwittingly, by yet unidentified, quiet proficient faction, that zealously opposed the Dark Eunuch Egil Viggoaries.

If only they had attained any lead on that courier before he too unfortunately, had disappeared without a trace. This was quite unacceptable; their elite trackers, hence, should be reassigned to manage this job. Having made a mental note, Qarzten Caimund turned his attention back to the decoded version of the second message which read: Plan A executed successfully. Desired results with Hare achieved. Plan B will commence after elimination of unforeseen danger from Crane. This time the use of mammal and bird names, for Prince Herleif and the respected Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, deemed impertinent, put a bad taste to Qarzten’s mouth. His sharp mind had grasped at once that this farcical attempt at a clumsy assassination had all along far deeper connotations for Shouzi Yozdek than anyone else had imagined.

Qarzten still had the means to run interference against Lord Shouzi’s plan, but he could conceive of no urgent reason for a hasty attempt; meanwhile, it had become patently obvious that it was not just Worren Youkup’s reputation but his very existence (life) that was deemed expendable (a sure forfeit, a sacrifice), in this dastardly scheme.

02 QARZTEN CAMUND (9)D jp 2

The implicit threat from Lord Shouzi Yozdek bent on vengeance, with the help of his strong affiliates firmly planted within the Court and throughout Capital however, warranted a more serious concern: The balance of power Qarzten had worked so hard to maintain, the stable nucleus of Government could be permanently offset (disrupted) if the corrective addendums to initial (preliminary) measures were not implemented at once.  It would require certain sacrifices, certain unorthodox measures but it had to be done. Qarzten Caimund took small comfort in knowing that as long as it was within the bounds of lawful activity the unavoidable repercussions could be kept to a minimum.

Dipping his brush to the ink, Qarzten summarily drafted demarcated (fixed) coded orders to be transferred via his assistant to the special branch later. He turned and nodded to his assistant; his adrenaline still pumping, then stood up and quickly went outside.    

Qarzten subsequently, had hastened (rushed his steps) to take care of one or two urgent matters that needed his delicate touch before his usual mid-morning audience with the Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek. Qarzten had hoped to broach the subject yet again this day with his Highness, after he took a detour to his private quarters first, where he could attain few hours of repose, bathe and then don a change of clothing. Since he rarely slept, he found he could get by on only two hours sleep, before waking (refreshed) revitalized and eager to go. And he never, ever, remembered his dreams.

                                                                                                 ~

Egil Viggoaries had at first been irate at the deemed trivial assignment (for he’d already had his hands full with other more pressing concerns); however, as he, in his discerning mind promptly deduced the culprit and her co-conspirators, he had quickly recognized the hidden potential of this case and the multitude of benefits that could be reaped from it.  Moreover, Viggoaries had always detested the sanctimonious Royal Tutor Worren Youkup and he was of course elated to learn the true extent of Tutor’s involvement in this debasing scheme.

A sinister smile enveloped his lips as he imagined the subsequent degradation of the Royal Tutor, when his being so artfully manipulated by nefarious Lady Sejon, would be made public. When Lady Sejon expectedly fell ill with an unknown malady so shortly after the unpleasantness with Worren Youkup and required the ministrations of a Royal Physician, Egil Viggoaries seized (grabbed) this opportunity to discreetly arrange for the special recruit young Enqui Rimeng, who was yet to undergo a surgery that would make him a eunuch, to be the only one available to attend to her needs.  Once this part of the ploy was implemented, he had only to leave the key players alone long enough for the predictable developments to take root.  

   

                                                                                ~   

   

During Lady Sejon's examination, when asked to bring forth Physician Rimeng's bag, Nijel harboring a sly aim of her own, had laid open the bag with the two specific flasks (blue in color) adjacent to others in various colors, visible in plain sight for her Ladyship to notice.   

Oblivious to this subtle coaching, Lady Sejon predictably conceived the gambit (scheme) in her mind, with her customary self-congratulation.

As it were, this medicine (a drug, in the form of a white powder) within the specific, cobalt flask was typically administered to an ailing patient, each time in small doses, as means (remedy) to strengthen a weak constitution. Caution dictated however, that in larger quantity it would cause the heart to adversely, uncontrollably palpitate and most certainly burst a major artery (blood vessel). Taken orally, it was odorless and tasteless especially when mixed with sweets. More importantly, it was undetectable in post-mortem examination, unless suspicion warranted the specific tests to be conducted immediately or, within the first two hours of death. Who would suspect the cause of sudden demise of a seventy-year-old, stout, industrious Royal Tutor, to be anything other than a heart attack? This ripe opportunity, hence, was not to be missed; therefore, after discreetly conveying her wishes to Nijel, Sejon had feigned dizziness and collapsed quite convincingly into the handsome young physician's arms.

Despite the compulsory professional decorum, the hot-blooded young physician’s senses were inescapably (unavoidably) swayed by her innate, intoxicatingly sensual perfume; moreover, absolutely besotted by her coquettish smile, Enqui’s face flushed crimson and his heart pounded so wildly that he thought it would simply burst right out of his chest.

03- YOUNG PHYSICIAN ENQUI RIMENG (1)

While Enqui Rimeng fought hard against the raging hormones stirred up by this effective diversion, Nijel Pinng had quickly pilfered (swiped, stolen) one of the cobalt (caerulean) flasks from the bag and shifted the rest around to disguise the gap it left.

 Enqui with a timorous (bashful, nervous) demeanor, promptly concluded his examination, made a hasty diagnosis, and then reached for the bag to dispense the appropriate prescription. Nijel's efforts at concealment proved unnecessary as young physician Enqui Rimeng was too ruffled to notice that anything was amiss.

Afterwards, he abruptly snapped the bag shut and practically ran out of Lady Sejon's chamber lest (in fear that), he would commit serious breach of propriety.  

Later that evening Nijel had completed (finalized) rest of Sejon’s explicit instructions, returning at night to report her triumph, unaware that patient spies had observed and documented her every move.

                                                                                          ~  

                                                                            

Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries, for usual outlet, had often sported in private tournaments with the deadliest convicted criminals destined for the gallows. This late afternoon’s barbarian outlaw, a giant of a man (foreign lawbreaker) being a noteworthy adversary, before his inevitable demise had succeeded in inflicting a deep gash, a serious wound, in Egil Viggoaries’s left forearm. And so, this evening as Egil Viggoaries was being tended by his personal physician, Surgeon Mosek, who was busy patching up the cut in the most feared Eunuch’s forearm without the aid of sedative as it was Viggoaries’s way, Viggoaries (showing no indication of stress,) in his mind’s eye was actually re-living the most thrilling aspects of the prior combat, the likes of which he had not encountered in quite a long while.

An indistinct shudder of pleasure passed through him, every so often, as he recalled the key highlights, the five or six near-death experiences he had had: latest memorable one, at the precipice of the icy falls, when death’s breath fell on him during the lethal combat. The adversary in this case was a particularly agile one for one his size and, his skill in wielding his deadly weapon had been truly magnificent.

04- BARBARIAN OUTLAW 2- JP

Those hands, like bearpaws, solid muscle and powerful, the way they had gripped his neck at one point and, how impressive it had been, the way that weather worn face had twisted with pure unadulterated, murderous rage. The articulated (expressed) utter contempt…those menacing, flame-darting, ice-blue eyes…! Ahh, it was utterly glorious!

Even now, it sent ripples of (tingling) shivers down the Dark Eunuch’s spine and he got goosebumps, simply thinking of it: a bit more pressure and he could have torn out his esophagus (pharynx, throat). A longing sigh escaped Dark Eunuch’s taut (stretched), trembling lips, as he akin experienced the glorious, intoxicating dread.

At brink of death, such times he truly savored his own otherwise dreary (boring) life, his else tedious (dull) mortality; how thrilling it was to be so near to being extinguished by the talons of the swooping (looming) Death!

He knew it was a perverse sense, but Viggoaries had such an insatiable and intoxicating hunger rising in him then, wanting to devour, to absorb his nemesis’ soul, crunching on his bones then sending him straight to Hell, to be tormented and enslaved for all eternity.

But then, Egil Viggoaries dispassionately shrugged and grimaced menacingly, alas, how quickly it had all ended. He was bit angry with himself, for expecting it to be any different; predictably, even in that other unrelated incident, when the odds had been so stacked against him, hadn’t he still won? Life was getting too monotonous; for he always triumphed.   

Of course, Egil Viggoaries could have attained indefinite pardon for the man, to be used and tortured repeatedly, after all his crime, gruesome as it had been, was nevertheless an act of self defense. However, the Dark Eunuch knew there would be others in this one’s wake, hopefully, more ferocious, and more deadly. That recently subjugated uncharted territory, populated by violent, proud race of Tunker, their whole existence revolving around warring and retribution, was just ripe for the picking; Egil Viggoaries could still have his ample supply to satisfy his innate craving for extreme barbarity and violent cruelty.

It was possible that one day, he might be pleasantly surprised. A searing pain from his arm shooting up to his brain just then, turned his attention back to the matters at hand. Egil Viggoaries looked down at the physician-surgeon who was bent on working furiously to complete the unpleasant task with beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

 

05- EGIL VIGGORIES - THE DARK EUNUCH

"You are too damn slow!"  Egil snorted in disgust, knowing full well the meticulousness of the surgery being performed was most trying especially in these most unorthodox conditions. Ordinarily Surgeon Mosek would have had assistance and a plethora of equipment to fall back on.  

Mosek held (caught) his breath, as the blood in his veins turned to ice. At least the Dark Eunuch had not called him ‘incompetent.’    

 Mosek steeled himself, careful to maintain his abject, professional decorum, as he worked around the major arteries; he continued on with vigor and a certain diligence, pushing aside the terror that had gripped his heart, mindful of his predecessor's sudden, untimely cruel death under much the same circumstances, because, even after such a long, faithful service, he had been unlucky enough to have incurred Viggoaries's sudden displeasure (wrath).  A grunt, a complaining breath, and, in an instant his life too, would be forfeit just like Nevek; he was such a brilliant surgeon mentor too.

 

(END OF SECTION 15)

                                                                                     ~ 

 

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE (PART 2)

 

FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

 Part 2

As luck would have it, for the rest of the day no major storms or other such adverse weather conditions had hindered his progress.  The incessant winds changing course by mid-morning had fortunately herded (blew) the flotilla of clouds away, leading them instead towards northeasterly direction of the open sea. By noon Kaimu’s persistence and gambling had truly paid off. The open skies and sea bathed in beautiful sun’s golden rays, in the end had heralded a most glorious sunset.

Kaimu ceased his labors just as the dusk (twilight) was encroaching on Earth and returned home with his good bounty of fish. In his elated mood he first however took added care to wash up by the shed and wiped clean his mud-caked soles of his footwear, before entering the sturdy cabin that had withstood many adverse weather conditions.

 Ensa greeted him joyfully, with a beaming face, for thankfully he’d returned all in one piece!  Kaimu, resembling a conquering hero, was affectionately ushered into his favorite chair.

“How is she?” Kaimu asked impatiently, looking askew at the direction of the sleeping stranger, as he’d same time grabbed hold on to his wife’s arm and tugged at her sleeve.

“She’s as well as can be expected. Considering what the poor thing’s been through!” His wife answered, nodding. “She’s asleep now, so mind your voice!” She admonishingly placed the right forefinger over her pursed lips. Coyly tugged back to free her left sleeve then going to the stove, she fetched him a bowl. “Here, eat these while I prepare you some fish.”  She mocked impatience, putting a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.

He Knew this was the last ration (speck) of food, that they had and that she in her unselfishness had reserved it for him, naturally giving some of it to the girl while going hungry herself all day long.

“No. No.” Touched by her generosity, he grasped her sleeve and looking into her eyes, earnestly insisted: “You should have some as well; you also need to preserve your strength.  I’m not really all that hungry; besides, I do not want to spoil my appetite and would rather wait for the fish.”

“Do I look famished to you?  No. You go ahead.” With a gentle tug releasing her arm, she lied. “Earlier I cooked me some eatable roots that I’d collected, rather dug up, from that small clearing, you know, that safe patch at the edge of the creek.” Indicating the sleeping girl with her chin she then added, “I went there in search of some additional herbs that she might require for her swift recovery. More precisely, I needed a Yufor plant to treat her more serious injuries. You’d used up the last batch. While I was there, I chanced on this bonus of edible roots. You think I would have had this much energy if I’d gone hungry until now?” 

But seeing that he needed more convincing, she spun a lengthier yarn: “I would have saved you a good portion of the nourishing root, for it has so many added benefits, far too numerous to recount.”

“I know, I know.” Kaimu waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve heard it all before. It will cure all ailments under the Sky… After all, it’s Heaven’s miracle food.”

“As it were, I know how much you detest the taste.” Ensa overlooked the sarcastic interruption. “Last time finding it unpalatable, you nearly retched all over my newly scrubbed floor. Imagine, a tough man like you, being so finicky about food! Tisk…Tisk.” She teased him mildly getting him back, as she again rushed off.

Kaimu was in truth, famished. So, after a moment’s hesitation he just shrugged it off and dug in ravenously. Within minutes he had polished the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“Need any help with the fish?” He then raised his head and stretching his bones called out sheepishly in a loud whisper. He grinned, as at the same time his eyes tracked her busy movements.  Such a good, capable wife she was. He was truly blessed! Yes, it was the blessings from Heaven, on that stormy night the way his late father’s path had crossed with a stranded scribe (scholar) burdened no less, with a scrawny frightened, sick child. Despite his father’s valiant efforts (in aiding, treating the wounds,) the scribe had died of his grave injuries soon after in a shroud of mystery and unanswered questions. That little girl, however, had beaten the odds and later blossomed into a beautiful young girl to in due course become his wife.

Kaimu was startled from his revere when the spiraling aroma of cooked fish filled the room. He sniffed the air and licked his lips in happy anticipation. He did not know how she did it, but she always managed to transform even the most mundane fare (provisions) into such veritable gourmet treats!

The wooden plates heaped up with sizzling delicacies (as she used local herbs previously gathered) were soon placed in front of him on the table. But Kaimu refusing to touch a morsel insisted they both sit down together and simultaneously partake (of) in this welcome feast.

When he had fully satiated his hunger only then, he spared added thought to the girl’s future predicament. Hmmm! But that discussion (entailing some details) will have to wait. Throwing a sideways glance at his wife, he mused. As it were, his good wife had waited patiently for him to tell of his day’s adventures. He, he! He devilishly grimaced. Suspense must be killing her!

His belly bursting with food, the old fisherman with a broad, mischievous grin on his lips sat back contentedly and rubbed it for relief.  Belching and burping he then with some elaboration, taking certain artistic license, told his captive audience the thrilling (sequence of) events of the day.  Well into the night, in an unusually good mood Kaimu simply rattled on, reveling in his latest triumph, meanwhile trying his wife’s patience.

As it became her turn then, “Suffice it to say, you are a good healer Ensa!” He responded with pleasure to the promising report on the girl’s prognosis.

 “I’ve always said we are complimentary, twice as strong we are, as a pair.  As always, I’m glad to see my efforts had not been in vain.”

 Hah…he. He then repeatedly chuckled to himself, grinning from ear to ear lost in some mischievous thought. His wife meanwhile had busied herself with clearing away of the empty dishes from the table.

Halting her beehive of activity at one point and turning, “What are you concocting in that diabolical brain of yours, Kaimu?” she asked. “Silly man, I should think you’d be exhausted after such an adventurous, grueling day. As you have nothing further to do, why not go to bed.” In jest, she mockingly scolded him.

But he’d not heard a word of it. “I was just thinking, what luck, a sure gift!” His head reeling with excitement, he suddenly burst forth (rejoiced) in a chortle, with his body pumped up now with sheer delight like a bloated puffer fish. “I tell you; we are truly blessed! Here we are worried sick that we could never be able to amass (accrued, accumulated) enough cash, even for a measly dowry, to enable our son to marry.” Then growing serious, (in a grave tone) he stressed. “You must admit that over and above the living expenses, we had no means to afford even a cheapest bride; therefore, faced a bleak prospect of being deprived of our God-given right to grandchildren in our old age.  Ha-ha! Then the blessed sea sends us this good catch!”  Grinning broadly now from ear to ear, in his exalted state he jovially slammed his palm (hand) on the table with such force that it rattled the mug of hot tea, as it was filled to the brim, that she’d moments before had brought it over for him to drink.

“Ha-ha! Who would have guessed…? What luck!  It’s a sure gift from the sea!”

His wife, in fear of more spillages had at once rushed over and grasped (clutched) the mug’s large handle in order to steady it.  Subsequently mopping up the spillage, “Have you gone mad? Shush!” She taxed (admonished) him meekly. Deferring (postponing) his ready response, in silence they both listened intently for a few minutes with both heads cocked in (turned towards) the direction of the girl. Fortunately, the girl did not even stir; she remained fast asleep, dead to the world. 

“Kaimu,” she then turning to face him, reasoned in soft, though somewhat serious tone, “aren't you being too presumptuous?  How can you talk as if you owned her?  She might belong to someone …Might have a spouse (husband) already. In any event, she certainly has a family… A family that might come looking for her!  She is not some fish that you can lay claim to as easily as that!”

That did it! 

Her words in one stroke had blown away his entire prior good, fluffy mood and replaced it with dark equanimity and anger.

“What family?”  Kaimu snapped.   “Can you deny that she was cast off at sea? Shipwrecked, as the result of that fierce storm that had passed!  If she has, had any family, they too would have perished in that storm.”

“Even if it were so...still, I cannot help wondering.” Ensa insisted on braving his wrath.  A brief silence ensued as she then hesitated to sort out her concerns.  Meanwhile Kaimu sullenly sat, pondering, seething in anger. 

“Besides,” she then hurriedly added, “have you not noticed that something is very odd about her?”

What are you talking about now?” He jeered, shaking his head.  “Stirring up trouble where there is none, that's what!”  Angrily he slammed his fist on the table. His tone had risen despite his forced restraint. He inhaled deeply, let it out, then spoke poignantly (keenly) with intermitting bouts of pleading tone. “For once, can we not take what’s been freely given to us without question? Aren’t you tired of our hard lot?  In case you haven’t (been made aware) wised up to the fact, let me spell it out for you: We are getting on in years! A scant number of good years are left ahead. Now you may be willing to endure endless crap (discomfort), but my patience is at an end. I want what is my due and, also a far better turn for us both from here on!”

His wife maintaining her sweet disposition had lowered her head. She understood the source of his anxiety. Using softer tone and more amiable words she now affected her submissive role while endeavoring to placate her husband's mood. 

“You mustn’t complain dear. Hasn’t Heaven always been good to us?  All this time we lacked for nothing, why, because we’ve never strayed from the righteous course (path) however desperate we’d been! We’re strong in spirit and body, all thanks to the Gods.”

“It’s all a bunch of malarkeys!” He burst. “No, I’m fed up, I tell you… I’m tired of always making do… There will be some changes from now on. I’ve listened to you long enough.  In future, I mean to do whatever is necessary to…!” Kaimu grunted defiantly, and then relenting, chewed on the reminder of his words.

“Dear husband,” Once more she gently interrupted him wanting to get her point across, before he unleashed his usual tirade.  He was a stubborn fellow, but he had a good, honest heart. As for her, she had a strong, unyielding spirit and willpower that refused to sacrifice her innate ethics, refused to give in to prevalent bad elements that surrounded them (was all around them).

Considered one of the worst postings in the country, the exiled venal government officials, for the last decade and a half had found this troublesome Province a serious liability for the scant returns. To meet the taxing demands of the Capital, therefore, the newly appointed Provincial governor had underhandedly permitted and even encouraged all sorts of illicit activities. This held particularly true in all the major townships, where the exact prize for the local inhabitants had been to have no real, legitimate local government or enforcement law officers of any kind for justice and order. Meanwhile the region being a powerful magnet for dissidents, rather, rejects of civilized society: the mushrooming, underground organizations- secretly sanctioned by the government- had in due course (flourished) thrived through unbridled extortion. There were dealings in illegal drugs, prostitution, trafficking contraband goods, kidnappings and more often than that, cold-blooded maiming, mutilations and murders. Naturally in this dangerous environment, the stranded, muzzled, honest citizens lived by the skin of their teeth. The unscrupulous, puppet government after all, had had a major stake in all the illicit gains. As it were, resultant gruesome episode of the last decade, the authorized contentious power now rested in the hands of two rival gangs that to date had ruthlessly controlled (dominated) the allocated, segments -the so called, parcels of land and people.

The same held true even for this remote, desolate stretch where Kaimu and Ensa lived. The other inhabitants, the so-called fishermen, fared better, only because they’d succumbed to temptation. Accordingly, engaged in the endless trafficking of contraband goods and other vile, illicit acts (goings on) swelled their bellies (abdomen) and purses but, as Ensa had so often pointed out, stained their reputation, and more importantly, their eternal soul. The repercussion of gruesome premature end unfortunately was not a good enough deterrent, as the material benefits far outweighed the perils.

Unrelentingly, she again pushed once more to get her point across. 

Kaimu was perhaps uncouth, at times even sacrilegious, but he loved her. And in the end always came around to doing the right, honorable thing. Married when she was barely thirteen and he well into his twenties, despite the age difference and bumpy start, to date they had had a blissful cohabitation. Nor had he ever given her a serious cause for any regret! 

But this time- and this she was to learn later- she’d seriously underestimated his desperation.

“No, no.” she insisted, changing the subject.  “I'm talking about her clothes.”

“Ha? What about them?” he asked agitated.

“Why, they are man's clothes.”

“So, what!” he grumbled, leaning back. “I could see that for myself wife, I’m not blind!”

“Very well then dear Husband,” she poignantly reasserted, “You must then also acknowledge that no matter which part of the country one comes from, which background, whether rich or poor, the standard, the quality of clothing is markedly different for each.  Now while her outer garments, without a doubt, are that of a mercantile class, her embroidered undergarments are of such fine quality of silk and lace- that it’s befitting nothing short of a lady of highest rank and substance! I venture to guess, could even be that of nobility! I’ve hung them all up to dry in our son’s old room, go see for yourself, if you doubt me!”

“I’m no pervert. When have I ever looked or handled woman’s undergarments that I should do so now? Imagine all this fuss you’re raising over mere clothes! I may be an uncouth fellow, certainly not as learned as you but I too have some worldly (sophisticated) experience, there was no cause for your high-handed speech. Now be straight with me… What are you really trying to say, what’s the actual point woman?” he scoffed with a jeer.  But without waiting for her to answer he then added, “Besides, why should that make any difference?”

“Husband, ignorant as I am,” she began humbly, after being so chastised, “I think it's safe to (say) speculate that she was under disguise at the time of catastrophe at sea, for a definite reason!  It may even be that...”

“Bah!” Kaimu interrupted sharply.  And now having lost all patience, with a retort he dismissed her words.  “What difference does it make whether she was wearing men's clothes or not, whether she has a wealthy family or not?  Nobility! Bah! Next thing I know, you’ll be claiming that she’s a Princess!  Women, why are you trying to provoke me?  Stop trying to spoil my happiness, or I swear you'll see the back of my hand!” 

This threat could be prelude to a beating. A thing he’d sworn never to do since that last time, a long, long time ago, when as newlyweds they had both been headstrong and young. His face now flushed with anger; he reaffirmed this threat with a slam of his fist on the table.

“You are such a sour old woman, always trying my patience, confusing my head, always dampening my spirits with your web of tales, with your uncontrolled imagination running amok and your daunting pious beliefs!  Don’t get me started now!” 

He shook his head as he gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath, then after a brief repose, before she could respond, he begun again. “Tell me, where did all this careful, virtuous living or all that morality get us? Why aren’t you discontented with the scant reserves and our meager livelihood? Always living on the edge, we are no better than scavenging rats! We’re the worst of the lot. Why? Because of your insistence of being upright and proper! When I had that accident, we’d suffered greatly because we exist on the margin. What’s wrong with wanting a bit more out of life now and then, if only to soften the next blow, to cushion the next (subsequent) inevitable adversity…Or catastrophe! I cannot always be strong for you; I’m getting on in years. When I become too old and feeble, what will become of us then? We’ll fall prey and be consumed as easily as flies being swatted!”

She always had her fate to keep her strong. But Kaimu being more a pragmatist, the growing concerns robbed him of any solace. In his restless state Ensa feared he would seek unwarranted trouble. Especially since Kaimu’s raised concerns could not be disputed or dismissed.

Reduced to silence, her head riddled with worrisome thoughts, Ensa left to fetch the pot (on the burner) to anew refill his mug. Knowing that any attempt to dissuade him from his aim now would be in vain: she’d sought this opportunity to get away to provide him with time to calm down.

The fear of vulnerability that his accident had evoked; being so incapacitated, it had changed him somewhat!

But as if deranged, he’d continued (to explode) with his long-winded tirades (diatribes), perhaps, in part trying to convince himself to override any intrusive moral reason.  “I found her and as a rule of the sea she belongs to me.  Me, you understand!  Not you!  Me! Besides, if I had not saved her life, she would have been fishmeal by now; so what are you gibbering this nonsense about, foolish woman!” 

His anger and fury now unleashed he continued to cuss (swear/curse) under his breath.  Why does she persist in taking contrary (opposing) viewpoint and spoil everything?  Obstinate woman! How can she be so blinded to their despondency? He’d realized his worst fear when he’d been incapacitated, admittedly, for the first time in a long memory. But the so-called “alarm-bell” had resounded so loudly in his head and chest that to date he quaked in fear for her wellbeing, her welfare!

She would not survive a day without him!

His hand violently shoved aside the mug that she’d just refilled to the brim. The careless, angry act however had its consequence. The mug’s hot contents had spilled all over the table, not sparing his hand. Scolded, the pain gave him added reason to bellow. His head exploding now with all that fury, his face flushed bead red and his fists, despite the stinging pain, clenched. Frowning, (with knit eyebrows) he burrowed his fierce, piercing gaze (eyes) on her back as she’d rushed off to fetch him some soothing ointment. He started to say something ugly, but then on second thought he relented. Staying (holding) his tongue, he sprang from his seat and darted outside without so much as a word.

In the cool, crisp air, unrestrained, he unleashed his anger on any hindrance. He kicked around indiscriminately and fumed, swearing, cursing, and grumbling animatedly under his breath, until his rage was spent. 

Though very much concerned, she knew better than to go after him, and so had let him be.

After a period of absence (spell) he returned, seemingly pacified, closing the door behind him.

With cool heads prevailing, he was now ready to resume sensible discussion, or failing that, with his ready rebuttal. Seated at the table once more, he with disdain pushed away the soothing paste she’d kept ready in hand, “There’s no need.”

 “Bring me that wine.” After the momentary stalemate stare, he grumbled, still bearing a grudge. “Not that one!” he stormed anew, when she’d rushed him the small jar of homemade wine. “I want the one we've been saving for!” Then he added adamantly, leaving no room for a discussion.  “Tonight, I mean to celebrate!”

She did not dare raise any more objections or in any way contradict him this time, not when he was still in such a foul mood, so in obedience (complying,) she quickly went off to fetch the wine that she had hidden in a secret place at the back shed.  She had concealed this jug of wine there for quite some time now in happy anticipation of their son's safe return.

As she dusted the cobwebs and dirt of the jug she vented her anger in a mumble, deeming that her husband had finally lost all sense and that he had gone stark, raving mad. “Acting like a senseless youth, imagine claiming ownership to a person as if he is some lord or God!”

When she returned to the cabin with the sealed jug of wine, she found Kaimu better disposed, having once again been transformed into his earlier gentler self. In her absence, Kaimu had inwardly redressed the innate problems, in the end choosing not to dwell on the negative aspects or the possible repercussions for keeping the girl.  Instead, he chose to concentrate on the future happiness and on the expected prosperity (prosperous returns) the bounty would bring”.

Smiling, Kaimu now watched his frowning wife place the jug and a single cup on the table. He reached out but instead of the jug, affectionately grabbed hold of her hand and looking into her eyes said in a gentle, placating tone, “Wife, let us not argue.  This is a very lucky day for us.  We should be happy. We should be rejoicing, yes, be celebrating the good catch and of my being restored to good health. My love, do bring over another cup and join me.”

Somewhat pacified, she went to fetch herself a cup.  When she returned, she warned, “But only one turn, you know I cannot tolerate spirit of this strength.”

Feeling more masculine, “Sure, sure. You’ll get only the pious drops.” he chuckled jesting, then proceeded to fill both cups to the brim.

“You shouldn’t make fun of my faith (belief).” She feigned admonition as she reached for hers. They both laughed, feeling lighter in their heart.

This storm inside had been averted as well.   In his conciliatory mood, he now grinned from ear to ear.

Besides, the less she drank, the more there’d be left for him to consume.

She had outwardly given in; inwardly however, as she slowly sipped the unsavory drink, she still could not help pondering on the concern that his celebration was bit too premature:  Undoubtedly the girl belonged to some powerful family. Why, everything about her spoke volumes in gentility. Furthermore, someone had gone to a lot of trouble, when faced with certain peril, to secure (fasten) her on a solid piece of expensive furniture or cabin door. This she’d deduced from Kaimu’s description of the wood. That singular, courageous act had definitely saved her life. In this small community, with so many unlawful opportunists running amok, her presence would be noted, and being seen as a valuable commodity, sooner or later someone would come to lay claim to her.  In the wake of that, Heaven only knew what other unforeseen repercussions may follow. 

But despite (all her misgivings and) the sense of foreboding, Ensa in the end, as she’d so often done, conceded to the fact that they could do nothing or little else to alter the inevitable outcome of things, being but mere pawns at (in) capricious fate’s hands.

Oh well, tomorrow was another day. Perhaps Gods will be merciful! She’d therefore with a shrug, went about her chores quietly and got the bedding ready. Then before her husband got too intoxicated, she asked his help in transferring the sleeping girl to their son’s room that had been temporarily (previously used for) converted into storage space. There, things already put away, in a cleared space she’d already prepared more comfortable, suitable bedding for their guest.

“Also, in that room the girl would be less disturbed.” She’d reasoned, providing Kaimu with an opportunity of break.

He’d obligingly responded, then unfortunately, forgoing sleep, returned to resume his drinking. In the small hours of the night, as he drained one cup after another, he was placed still at a more jovial mood.  His bouts of laughter resounded like a loud bell in that small hut and his excited chatter was enough to wake the sleeping mouse of the habitant.

“What fortuity, what a delicious, good luck!  Not one, but two good catches in one day!” he chuckled, in a self-congratulatory mood.  “I am a fortunate man this very night.  With such a prize, things are bound to look up for us from now on.”

 Ensa could barely keep her eyes open, coming over she reached down to urge him to go to bed, when he suddenly grabbed her hand. Insistently hanging on, he eventually persuaded her to sit by his side, to keep him company. “It’s no fun drinking all by my lonesome. Here love; won’t you share another cupful with me to celebrate?” He winked with a devilish grin on his lips.

Not waiting for her response, he then quickly filled another cup and reaching forth, pressed the rim to her lips in a forceful persuasion.

Seeing that he was tipsy and not wishing to antagonize him, she complied.

He was not going to see sense this night.  She might as well try to be amicable. She therefore took another forced sip against her better judgment; but jerked her head back almost immediately, short of more intakes.

“Go on, drink it,” he persisted generously, again pressing the rim to her lips to force her to more intakes (consumption).

“I’d rather not, dear husband’” she protested in an adamant voice. “You know I get sick if I drink too much.  But you go on ahead, as you seem to be having no ill effects.” 

When the other showed his displeasure with an obvious frown, she hurried to coax him, “Besides, what do I know about the taste.  It’s all the same to me. You would only be throwing it away.  A sure connoisseur you, drink it all, or better still, save some of it for yet another day.”  After all, past experiences had taught Ensa how best to handle her husband.

“Quite right, very well,” he acquiesced, smiling sheepishly.  With that, he downed both cups in two quick consecutive gulps, emptying them in repetition all at once into his grateful belly.  Afterwards, he smacked his lips with pleasure and winked at his wife, “Come closer you ravishing beauty, come sit on my lap.”

She simply shook her head, and ceasing the chance, rushed off, half turning only to say coyly, “You forget, we have company.”

“After all these years, you’re still playing hard to get. Do I have to come get you?”

But as he’d been unaccustomed to strong spirits, even though the contents of the jar had been only half consumed, when he tried to stand up, feeling light-headed and vertiginous (woozy), he slumped right back into chair.

“Woo- look at all the stars!  Hey, the room is spinning! Are we caught in a typhoon?”

Before she ejected a response however, (his head reeling,) feeling giddy he simply passed out, with his head and torso collapsing on the table. 

 

With some difficulty his wife finally got him to bed and tugged him under the warm quilt. Snug as a bunny, he snored loudly till daybreak, in most part keeping her awake. 

 

 

Rising at dawn the following morning with a terrible hangover- however maintaining his uplifted and happier spirits of the night before- he still managed to leave for the sea, as the conditions of weather continued to be favorable.

 

(End of section 2)