THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 26

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 26

Canute Yonn swallowed heard, then fighting the blinding, throbbing pain in her head, he continued to relate (reveal) his mother’s tragic story to the indifferent (unsympathetic) ears in court. “Tresor and his wife Suen were a kindly folk; and at the beginning they took great pains with herbal tonics and diligent care, to save my mother’s life. After a partial recovery, however, she was again driven out into the cold; this time the culprit was poverty, and the humble farmer and his wife had to harden their heart to do this.  Their reasons being valid, I carry no ill will towards them."

“How very magnanimous of you," Mouro ejected sarcastically and sneered.

Disregarding him, Canute Yonn elucidated (explained) why he’d so readily forgiven them: "Their deprived circumstances were onerous enough, but that year’s incessant rain had spoiled most yields (crops) and created scarcity. This prohibited any acts of charity to kin, much less a stranger.  Famine had already claimed two of their children, one at the age of three, the other barely a year old. My mother, Helga, was crippled by Senson's countless blows to her legs and could not work the fields or do any other strenuous work; she was a liability and a hindrance to them.”

01-FARMER TRESOR

“Subsequently, with scant clothing and food, her baby a millstone in her belly, my poor mother drifted from place to place, scavenging, begging for alms, to survive.  All the while trying not to hate the innocent child, me, in her womb. I’m telling it as is, when she had later unburdened her heart to me. She had endured these unspeakable hardships, living for the day of her vengeance."

"See, trouble begets trouble.” Micen stroking his beard, mused heartlessly. “They should have made certain of the serving maid Helga’s death before abandoning her in the ditch; if they had, all this trouble now could have been averted."

"I came into this world in a house of ill-repute, where we stayed until the day of my mother's passing." Canute Yonn, oblivious, continued hoarsely.  "I grew up hearing her bitter, tragic sobs every night, for she had never grown accustomed to selling her body."  He gazed dully at the floor to hide his eyes, brimming with tears.  The rekindled pain of those times again tormented his mind, wrenching his soul.

                                                                                       ~

"Please don't cry, Mama!"  His heart breaking, Canute buried his face in the pillow to drown out his sobs.  What was it that ailed her so?  Who was Senson, this name she had so often, like now, cursed out loud in her sleep?  He was seven years old.  He felt quite grown up and he did the chores like grownups, but everyone still treated him like a child.  I'm old enough to understand, why won't she tell me?

He tossed his covers aside and, sitting up, fixed his gaze on the locked door that separated him from his mother.  The room, no bigger than a closet, in fact it had once been used as storage, had a tiny window so high up that it let through only a thin sliver of moonlight.  The wind was howling outside but the dancing shadows in the room did not scare him.

 I wish I could comfort her; he rubbed his eyes sleepily; I know she needs me.

 Hanging his head low he heaved a deep, stealthy sigh wishing he could forget that another, a stranger, who was sleeping snugly beside his mother.  As he tried to purge his heart of the gripping loneliness, troublesome thoughts and haunting questions again crowded his brain.  Why does Mama claim we have no family?  What about my father? 

Canute knew that his father was not dead, for once in slip of the tongue, she had referred to him in the present tense.  But why weren't they with him?  Wouldn't he be angry if he came here and found out she had slept with all these men?

He didn't play in the street anymore, for the other kids would tease him and call him and his mother all sorts of unmentionable names.  Like sharp slivers each name-calling stabbed at his heart.  Many a time he had retaliated with fierceness and pent-up anger, beating and dispersing all those who had ganged up on him.  Unfortunately, swift repercussions, beatings and berating soon followed from his elders in the house.  He was in a no-win situation.  Things will never change; why should I fight back (riposte)?  Still, a faint smile brushed his lips when he recalled the proper whipping, he had given to that big bully Yenn Katog, who was always inciting the other kids against him. It served him right!  And, it had more than made up for the thrashing he got later. 

He now stuck out his chest in self-congratulation.

Canute’s mind reverting back to his father, he reclined and closed his eyes in hopeful dreams, imagining that one day his noble, warrior father, their savior, would appear at their door, looking tall and distinguished, kindly and strong, to claim them.

02- CANUTE YONN'S IMAGINED FATHER

His heroic father would rescue them both from that ugly, intolerable existence.  For, to the marrow of his bones Canute detested this place he was forced to call home.  It broke his heart to see his mother ceaselessly tormented, day after day, by this uncaring, insensitive lot.

 Restless, he shifted his position.  His eyes fell on the discarded old plantation fan Tike had given to his mother.  He picked it up and examined it in the scant light, noting particularly the holes.  Absentmindedly he began gnawing at its edge.

 A few doors down he could hear that old tyrant of a house mother, Tike, scolding one of the girls.  In anger he threw the fan aside.  Oh, how he hated that callous old shrew who intimidated everyone, young and old!

He grimaced, thinking how when he was younger still, his mother had kept him in line with the threat that Tike ate disobedient, disrespectful children for supper and that was why she had gotten so fat.

Unsought, he saw before his mind's eye those venomous, piercing beads of eyes, encompassed by a gelatinous face which split into a threatening snarl to expose rows of rotted teeth.  "I'll get you yet, you piece of shit!" Tike was shaking a fat, threatening finger at him.  "Your days are numbered; wait and see!"  He retorted, clawing the air savagely to tear at her reverberating double chin that always seemed to drip perspiration.

 Tike thrived on tormenting people, always caning, hitting, beating and cursing everyone.  Never satisfied, never smiling, except at the guests, and then her smile was more hideous than her frowns and haunted his nightmares frequently.  She flogged him incessantly, not sparing the rod even at the slightest provocation.  Worse still, he resented being forced to behave, to be made to quietly submit to her abuse. His mother Helga was made to suffer the worst of it, for every one of his defiant acts.

He could hardly comprehend the extent of the fear Tike evoked in his mother's heart when Tike threatened to throw them out on their own.  In fact, had his mother Helga not been the prettiest and one of the key attractions of Tike's establishment, the street would have been their home a long, long time ago.

Oh, how I hate her!  I swear I'll kill her some day! he shook his clenched fist in the air.

The weeping and cursing finally muted after the slamming of several doors.  It was the same scenario being played out every night.

The following day Canute received an additional reason for despising Tike.  Canute's mother Helga had been sick for the last two or three days now, vomiting and feeling dizzy.  He was really concerned about her so, after the guest had gone, finding the door unlocked, he'd quietly snuck into her room and attempted to give solace to her.  She looked paler than usual.  When the steps of the old tyrant were heard approaching the door he heeded his mother's directive and made himself scarce.  Not wandering too far, he eavesdropped.

"Doctors cost money", he heard the shrew say.  "Besides, keeping it is out of the question."  A few other words he could not quite make out.  Then he observed Tike taking a small bottle from her pocket and handing it to his mother.  "There, I don't want you to think about it any longer.  I was good enough to get you this.  Never mind where I got it, just drink it.  He assured me it would get rid of the unwanted pest (nuisances).  You don't think this is the first time I've had to do this, do you?"

Canute watched with some trepidation hoping against hope that it was medicine to cure his mother’s ailment, as Helga with some reluctance, a grim, ghostly expression on her pale face, raised the foul-looking potion to her trembling lips.

"Don't drink it, Mamma!  It may be poison!" His fears triumphing (prevailing) over hope, he sprang from hiding place to shout his warning.

"The idea!” Tike turned her venomous eyes on Canute, panting with rage, hands brought menacingly to her hips.

 "You ungrateful brat, poisoning her, is that what you think I'm doing?  You, you a slandering scoundrel, you!  Haven't I warned you never to come here this early in the morning?  How long has he been there?"  She turned to Helga, worried that he may have inconvenienced last night's guest.  She had another good reason to be fearful, since abortion was illegal in Wenjenkun.  She needed to ascertain that Canute had not heard or understood enough to incriminate her.

"I'll tell-on you!" Canute warned, having sensed her fear.  "I'll have you locked up!" he shouted defiantly, not really knowing what he was threatening her with.

"You, wrenched viper in my bosom; I'll teach you to threaten me, you piece of shit!" shaking her finger at Canute Tike began to viciously berate and curse him as she pounced on Canute.

But Canute was too agile and too swift to be caught, not one with her bulk.

Huffing and puffing as enraged Tike chased him down the hall, her shouts to the others to grab him created such a pandemonium that the whole house was turned upside down.

In the end Canute had successfully slipped through those innumerable, vicious, grasping hands and hid. 

By dusk, when eventually the mayhem settled down and everyone returned to their routine tasks, exercising due caution, Canute Yonn stealthily emerged from his hiding place.

By providence spotting the old shrew, he, hugging the walls, followed Tike all the way back to his mother's room.

Once more Canute hid and, from this vintage point, watched and waited with his heart pounding, for Tike to have her say and depart. Tike’s face was beet-red from all that exertion as she huffed and puffed and animatedly gesticulating, flailed (flapped, waved)) those fleshy arms of hers.

What has she got so much to squawk (crow) about?

Curiosity, getting better of him Canute pressed his ear to the door and eavesdropped. 

On and on, with mounting rage and spurting poison, Tike cursed and scolded Helga, as she unmercifully, vented her cruel diatribes on the hapless, ailing (sick) young woman.

 "I told you to get rid of that brat long ago.  He'll never amount to anything, mark my words.  He's nothing but trouble.  You know he's no good, but then you're no better!  Why do you encourage him to come up here?  Are you stupid or something? Mother’s affection, baloney!  All useless emotions!  You've no business feeling love, not for a bastard, not for anyone!  Now you listen!  I'm just about at the end of my patience with you.  I'll only tell you this once more.  Harden your heart to him or you'll be made to suffer.  Then you'll be sorry.  Get rid of him now, I say, for he'll turn on you too one day.  Just wait.  Don't you know the innate nature of all men by now?"

Tike paced the floor to and for in an unusual quiet, as she mentally formulated (prepared) her next set of arguments and rested her vocals.

The door he was concealed behind, (whom patrons sometimes used) was still unlocked.  He pried it on ajar and peered in to see what was happening.  To his dismay, he saw the emptied bottle in Tike's hand as she toyed with it before returning it to her pocket. Tike was careful that way; making sure to retrieve any would be incriminating items (objects) and destroying it later.

 Suddenly, in a much calmer mood Tike, going over sat by Helga’s bed and, her enormous paws cupping Helga’s delicate hand, she began persuading the ailing woman, to agree to something.  Typically, the shrew was trying first, a kinder, gentler approach but Canute knew all too well that, if this did not produce the desired result, she would in (but a few minutes) a flash reverts to her vicious nature.

"Why don't you let me get rid of the pest…? Arr, I mean the boy, for you as well?  You don't have to do anything.  I'll handle the transaction for you.  Why must you be so stubborn? I have your best interest at heart. Why won't you take my advice?  Can't you see that in the long run it would be better for him, too? He’ll grow up in a normal home.  I saw mistress Wang just the other day.  They're looking for another bond servant; trouble is they don't want to pay for a fully grown one. Now, don’t be so quick to turn this down; wait till you hear the rest of it. “

“When she told me of their wish to purchase a boy close to their Therran's age, to keep him company, be his study- buddy and, for to keep their son out of trouble; I'd at once, being so selfless (altruistic), suggested Canute.  She said she'd consider it.  I had hoped that they would have forgotten about that regrettable incident between the two boys.  But listen, if you agree I'll do my best to persuade them to take Canute off your hands; sold for a pretty price, I’ll even get a smaller commission, just to help you out. Besides, couldn't you use another new dress or two?  You really ought to be thanking me for finding him a good home.  You know that if he grows up here, he'll turn on you, sooner or later.  He'll hate your guts for what you're doing.  He'll despise you to the core for ruining his life.  Also, you know as well as I do, that no respectable, good girl will ever marry the illegitimate (illicit) son of a whore.  So why don't you heed my sound advice and get rid of him now, while there's still a chance, while there's still time."

Canute Yonn’s fury rising to the boiling point, he felt he would just explode.  He shook violently, uncontrollably.  He'd just about had his belly full of resentment against that old bat.  Grinding his teeth, he was about to dash out to gouge her eyes out… When,

"I caught you, you little worm!"  A strong hand grasped the back of his neck and lifted him up high.  "So, this is where you've been hiding all this time."

"Let go of me!  Let me go, you cursed dog!"  In vain Canute, eyes agleam with anger, tried to kick and claw his captor, the big, strong bully called Ron, Tike's nephew who (periodically) helped her with the running of the business.

The relentless verbal and physical abuse that both Tike and Ron rained on Canute made his mother livid with fear, worsening her wretched condition still more.  Her tragic pleas for them to stop hitting her boy fell on deaf ears until; finally, she uttered the words Tike most wanted to hear.  Canute was dragged outside, still kicking and screaming, bouncing down the steps until he was violently thrown onto the dirt of the cellar floor.

"I'll teach you to respect your elders." Ron ranted like a mad bull.  "So, I'm a cursed dog, am I, you, ungrateful turd."

He grasped the heavy stick which rested by the stairs.  "You've had this coming to you for a long time.  Take this, and this!"  He pounded solidly and savagely on Canute's tender young flesh.  "Plead for mercy, you wretch, or I swear I'll kill you!"

Despite the excruciating pain, Canute held fast, bit his lip to stop from crying out until he passed out. When he came to the musty smell of dust had assailed his nostrils and dirt coated his tongue.  His battered head was throbbing fiercely.  His fingers tentatively touched the area where the pain was most intense, at the hairline.  Just then he felt a sharp, cutting pain in his ankle and kicked his leg, scaring away the timid rodent that had wanted a taste of his flesh.  His torn shirt and pants had already glued themselves to his wounds.  Though every inch of his body was seared with pain he lifted himself with determination and persistence to his feet. Muffling his groans he groped his way in that semi-darkness, his path barely illuminated with a sliver of light streaming from the small window way up there; with determination, he weaved his way slowly towards the door.  As he had expected, the door had been barred shut from the outside.  His revulsion growing stronger by the minute, he drummed up his last ounce of strength and savagely pounded his fists against the wood.

"Let me out!  Let me out!  I'll get you for this, you fiendish bastards!"

 His strength was ebbing.  "I'll show you.  You can't keep me here for long…I’ll kill you all, you, you…. beasts!”

Curses on his lips reduced to barely audible whimper, his breath now coming in gasps, Canute (limply) collapsed to the ground.  He remained there motionless for an undetermined time until he'd recovered some of his strength.  The urgency of his mother's condition gave him the will, the (fuel) ability to forsake his pain.

05- CANUTE IN CELLAR

Rising to his feet, he first determined the direction he wished to go then slowly felt his way to that far corner.  He was relieved to find things undisturbed and so, with some difficulty, pushed the empty, moldy cart to the side.  This was not the only time he had been cudgeled or flogged then imprisoned in the cellar but, the last time, he had, through his resourcefulness, discovered this exit, this burrow through the wall and, enlarging it a little, had crawled outside, stolen a steamed bun from the kitchen, then returned to his prison without being seen.  He had been smart enough to have concealed the opening of this escape route and had confided its existence only to his mother, in order to ease her anxiety.

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 26)                                                                                  ~

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 14

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 14

       After quenching his thirst with a cup of tea, Asger, resumed in somber tone, his recounting    of the past, historical events:

“As the invincible army commanded by  Grand Marshal Gustav Erling poised (encamped, waited) at the border, the newly arrived military Tribune,  crossed into our territory, and gaining an audience with my Lord father, read aloud the degree from the usurper Zakhertan Yozdek, a complete amnesty for my father, allowing him to retain his title, lands and forces as long as he declared fealty to the new regime and relinquished custody of the Prince and all the other royal members, including my mother and me, to them.  Word had already reached us by then, that the rest of the country had, without exception, been subjugated under Zakhertan  Yozdek's rule and that we, alone, stood in resistance.

“Father (Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon), spitting on the ground before the envoy, reviled the usurper Emperor Zakhertan  Yozdek to his face and, shaking his armored fist in the air, vowed to fight to the bitter end.  Behind him our army cheered loudly, and I could see the Tribune shiver in his boots.”

"Our subsequent struggle lasted half a year as the opposing sides clashed in several savage battles.  Greatly outnumbered, our forces were unfortunately at some point dislodged from Nanku Pass in an assault that also lost Gustav Erling three divisions; after a month, we were driven back to within the confines of the city walls.  There, at Chenko, we continued to fight unrelentingly, only too conscious of our restrictive circumstances.  Food and ordinance, to say nothing of manpower, were being dangerously depleted.  Then Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, having received reinforcements from the Capital, divided his army and laid a vigorous onslaught (offensive, blitz) on the city (Chenko) from all sides.”

"During this final confrontation Prince Shon was mortally wounded by a sniper's poisoned arrow fired from the enemy ranks.  Later that afternoon, knowing that the end was near and that the situation was hopeless, His Highness called me to his side.  There I knelt beside his deathbed as the prince, his breathing violent and parched, asked me to take his only son, Nevetsecnuac, to safety so that he and I may one day return and avenge the deaths of the Royal family.  'We are beyond salvation', His Highness sobbed, 'but let hope flourish elsewhere so that the crimes of Zakhertan  Yozdek against our family and nation will not go unpunished!'  My heart aflame, I swore that day to make this vengeance happen.”

"That night I bid my farewells to my beloved family and, with sixty able bodied, loyal guards and you, Prince Nevetsecnuac, in my arms, went through the secret tunnel to the camp outside the walls.  Securing additional mounts from the adversary, we vaulted into the saddles and fought our way out of the encirclement to safety.  Each of us was hand-picked to be a match for a hundred of the enemy and they were powerless to stop us.  Our war bellows (cries, roars) rent-open the sky and struck terror into their hearts.”

“Five days after our escape, Chenko fell, and the defenders were slaughtered to a man.  The city was brutally destroyed, and the fires raged for two months until all was looted, burned or razed to dust.”

Except for one, my infant son Ivar Marrog Zhon, Stark fell silent, as stab of pain constricted his heart and soul anew, grieving silently as always, for his son’s ensuing fate.  It would have been better had he died, but no, Zakhertan  Yozdek’s barbarism, his ruthlessness knows no bounds.  None is safe from his malice, his spiteful vindictiveness, certainly not an innocent child. But this too, Asger kept to himself.  Then after inhaling a few puffs from his pipe, he continued (resumed) in an even tone, pushing aside this unbidden, unwelcome ache from his mind and heart.

"Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, leaving a major part of the army under the command of his able subordinate, Lir Yussaf, with instructions to effect the final obliteration of the Zhon family stronghold, marched southwards with eight regiments to join up with our pursuers.  After fighting several pitched battles with them, we succeeded in crossing the border.  By then our numbers had been reduced to thirty-eight, while the enemy, despite the heavy casualties we had inflicted on them, still numbered in the thousands.  The massive size of their force lost them the maneuverability they needed to pursue us through the narrow, treacherous mountain shortcuts.  Since there existed several such trails, some converging while others came to a dead end, and we’d laid false tracks on many to confuse the enemy, we were able to ambush and overcome with ease all the scouts sent to trail us.” 

“A subsequent two-day brilliant tactical feat won us a decisive victory over a key obstacle, a strategic pass guarded by none other than the notorious Garrison Commander Mulnar.  Armed now with fresh mounts and much needed supplies we proceeded (advanced) in due haste towards the Jerken River, a natural barrier that marked the border of the next province.  Unfortunately, the massive bridge which provided safe passage over the dangerous rapids at this juncture lay in ruins. Our circumstance was now dire (ominous), for in a few days’ time Gustav Erling's forces would be upon us, meanwhile, we were stranded without any means of crossing to the other side.  Even if we felled trees and worked diligently through the night to construct a raft, we still lacked the skill needed to master the fast-flowing waters and treacherous rocks of this high-country river.  The closest crossing to us lay near a major provincial town where we could expect staunch opposition. As we vacillated, considering our options, three seemingly harmless fishermen emerged from the rushes and offered to ferry us across.  When they learned just who we were, however, they abandoned their sinister plan of robbing us in mid-stream and, with full cooperation, delivered both our small force and the horses across the river to safety just as Gustav Erling reached the opposite bank, a full two days ahead of where we had expected him to be.  Fearless of Gustav Erling's repercussions, these braves, brigand fishermen remained in sight of his forces, taunting them from the opposite bank.  With earth-shaking fury Grand Marshall Gustav Erling cursed and beat his officers, rushing them to make repairs to the bridge.”

"For the next five days our path skirted several hills, eventually leading us to higher, more precipitous ground where, taking refuge on a densely forested hilltop, we pitched camp and posted sentries.  The night sky was engulfed by heavy, burdened clouds that mantled the earth in darkness.  The blazing campfires below, however, allowed us to pinpoint the size and the position of our enemy, or so we thought.  During the night, while keeping more campfires lit than necessary, Gustav Erling, at the head of thirty-five crack contingents, had secretly rode off towards Kensu Pass to enlist the aid of that outpost's commander.”

"The following day's downpour, which started at dawn and lasted all day, hindered our advance but, unaware that we were galloping straight into the heart of danger, we relentlessly pushed on ahead, riding ceaselessly all day and resting only for a few hours at night.  We were aiming to widen the gap between us and our pursuers and reach Kensu Pass first.”

“When, finally, we neared it at dusk, I gave orders for the torches to be lit.  Ironically, after observing the surrounding topography, I had just finished commenting how, with only a few good men, this place could be set up as a prime ambush for Gustav Erling's army when, suddenly, the thunder of war drums filled the air around us and the sky was ignited into one gigantic sunburst by countless fire arrows showering down on our heads.  Hastily, I ordered the retreat, but it was already too late.  A battalion of infantry poured down from the slopes ahead and another group rushed up the gully from our right to block the way.  Rather than dividing our meager forces at this vulnerable spot, I ordered a charge to our left, where we could gain some high ground and mount a more effective resistance. “

“Just then however, another troop of cavalry charged forward from behind the knoll and blocked this avenue as well.  A mass of dancing torches in the south revealed the arrival of Gustav Erling's main force, eliminating any hope of withdrawal.  Completely hemmed in, our situation most grave, we stood our ground to fight.  Our forward line clashed, amid wild shouts, with theirs in a savage, bitter battle.  Our men ploughed fearlessly into the enemy ranks, wielding their weapons with lethal effect, they began to carve a way out through a wall of living men. Corpses piled high around us, littering the ground along which the blood flowed in rivers.  Yet, after an all-night pitched battle, we could still not break their thick encirclement.”

"Then at dawn, another downpour drenched us to the skin; the curtain (wall) of water was so dense that it obscured all vision.  Taking advantage of this, my remaining   men grouped around me in a protective phalanx and fought with magnificent valor to tear throughout the enemy's ranks.  Sowing confusion and bloody mayhem, they provided me and my two officers the means to get away, and then they closed ranks behind us to fight on, as if we were still with them."

Asger paused to puff on his pipe his urgent tears held back, as his heart in a knot (constricted), simply ached. Fighting images of his men's faces, shouting bravely as they died, pained his soul, casting his thoughts into a dark, bloody abyss. 

Nevetsecnuac, with vivid, haunting pictures of war parading before his mind's eye, shared with Asger the feelings of exhilaration and pain.  The urge for battle had fired up the warrior's blood now coursing through his veins and the fierce, bone-chilling cries of the battlefield filled his ears.

"Yes, only the four of us: you Nevetsecnuac, I, Zeru and Uffen were able to escape that pass.", Asger's voice startled Nevetsecnuac from his trance.  "Tracking along that bloody path, we pushed on up the mountain slope in that blinding, driving rain.  A voice shouted behind us, 'On pain of death, do not let Lord Asger escape!', and a volley of arrows assailed us from the rear.  Suddenly another unit of cavalry cut in from our side to block our way.  Zeru and Uffen wheeled their mounts in either direction as they urged me to get away.  With deep sadness in my heart, for I was constrained by my promise to the late Prince Shon, I checked my urge to remain with these brave men and fight to the bitter end.  Though my senses shouted out of impending danger, the possibility of yet another ambush up ahead, I had little choice but to ride in the only direction that remained open to me.”

“As I rounded the outcrop, a final contingent, led by Marshal Gustav Erling himself, surged out of hiding to obstruct my way.”

“‘And where do you think you're going?’ Marshall Gustav Erling mocked.  ‘Surrender the child at once and I may be lenient.  If not, prepare to die a horrible death!’ he snarled at me.  I roared back in defiance, cursing him and his ancestors to rot in Hell then dared him to face me alone in a single combat.  I remember the monstrous laugh he responded with, and his words, 'Look how the lamb dares to fight the lion!  Death is staring you in the face, and you don't even know it!'  Charging towards me on his steed in a blind fury, he ordered his men to stay put.  They stayed behind dutifully, fidgeting on their mounts, aching to follow him in for the kill.”

"I barely had time to secure you to my back and spur my mount before our weapons clashed.  We fought at least thirty rounds, with neither of us able to best the other.  His fame was well earned, for he was truly a most competent foe, unequaled in martial skill.  This, coupled with his superb cunning   in tactical warfare made him virtually invincible.  Despite all my best efforts, I could barely keep him at bay.  In truth, I felt myself beginning   to falter, but my concern over the infant Prince, you, fueled my resolve and would not allow me to fail.  Perhaps it was out of respect for my own skill that Marshall Gustav Erling then began to sway me with words towards surrendering.  At the climax of the fighting, I feigned weakness.  Expecting me to yield or beg for mercy, Gustav Erling relaxed his vigil for a second.  Instead, I wheeled my horse around and charged at full gallop through the cordon of men around us at their weakest point.”

"To this day I don't know whether or not this was purposefully done by Gustav Erling, for the trail I was forced to ride led nowhere.  At one point I was forced by the narrowness of the path to abandon my horse and ascend on foot to the summit, you in my arms, followed by a snaking trail of foes, headed by Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, his double swords flashing like fangs in the serpent's mouth.  This was the final trap he had set for me, on this high mountain at the corner of three provinces.  Arrows whistled past me from behind.  By grace of Heaven and darkness I escaped their aim with but a slightly grazed shoulder and cheek.”

"Fighting still, and dodging arrows, when I reached the summit, it was dawn once more and the provinces below were bathed in light.  During the continuous close combat with Marshall, when one such arrow, missing me, found its mark in Marshall Gustav Erling’s left arm, from then on at least, the elite marksmen did not dare discharge any more arrows, and abandoned entirely any subsequent notion of using poisoned ones. There I combated Gustav Erling until I lost my arm.  Unable to fight and hold on to the child, I was caught in a bind.  It was there and then that I resolved to hurl both myself and you over the sheer cliff rather than let you be taken alive.  With you still clutched to my chest, after countless minutes of airborne flight with arrows whizzing by after us, we landed in the frigid waters of the river and were finally able to get away."

"How fortunate that you escaped that calamity,” Nevetsecnuac exclaimed in amazement.

"Fortune had nothing to do with it!  It was due to the sacrifice of those sixty valiant men and later still, Lord Shonne Gulbrand's invaluable aid that we were able to get away to safety.”

“If not for all that", Asger shook his head, "I shudder to think of the fate that would have befallen you, my Prince."

“Do you know what became of the Marshall?” Nevetsecnuac asked.

Asger simply nodded. Long after the rescue, mindful of Zakhertan  Yozdek's intolerance of failure, Asger had made an atypical inquiry from his trusted contacts regarding the final disposition of Marshall Gustav  Erling.

“Over the years I came to know of a certain, unconfirmed report, and again I emphasize the fact that it may only be hearsay at best.” Asger stressed, before continuing, “That Gustav Erling returned to the capital bearing the heads of Prince Shon and my father Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon along with their families, and reported as well, his failure to capture Prince Nevetsecnuac and myself. Despite this partial victory, he was nevertheless accused of incompetence and both he and his family were sentenced (condemned) to death. Then again,” Asger pondered out loud. “I doubt this account was entirely true, for it had been long rumored that the beautiful wife of Marshal Gustav Erling, Lady Lingrace, had an unusual attraction for Zakhertan  Yozdek and the two had supposedly an illicit...  Ah, but that's another matter."

Asger abruptly ended it, with a cold bemused smile.

 

Just then the cock's crow announced the arrival of the new day. As Teuquob woke up also at sunrise, she was asked to forgo the chores for the time being and be seated. She was then introduced to her husband in his identity as Prince Nevetsecnuac Therran Valamir and similarly was asked to succinctly divulge her long kept secret about her own Royal heritage and the true facts that precipitated her escape from the Palace and then Kontu. Then, over hot a breakfast, Teuquob was enlightened in a summary of the previous night's exchange, the relevant historical events of Wenjenkun and the key circumstances that had (led) forced Asger and Nevetsecnuac to this mountain sanctuary.

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

THE ASSASINS -SECTION 13

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 13

CROWN PRINCE LANGLEY

Asger (Stark), after a restless night’s sleep (repose), just before dawn quietly rose from his bed and after dressing exited the room. The last hot pot of Alec’s tea had been spiked, Asger knew that Alec would be dead to the world till noon, which gave them plenty of time to prepare.

Advancing, he quietly tapped at Svein’s door, then going over sat at his usual place by the fire.

Svein, anticipating his uncle’s desire, emerged outside shortly after, properly dressed and most eager to hear what Stark (Asger) had to say.

Stroking his beard with a thoughtful air, Asger signaled Svein to the chair before him.

"Svein, circumstances dictate that I now be frank with you. I am therefore well prepared to disclose all secrets, mysteries and unveil all truths that had until now, been kept from you.”  So saying, Asger rising, pseudo straitened (the creases of) his garments then abruptly falling on his knees, prostrated himself and addressing Svein in most dignified voice, proclaimed, "I, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, Son of Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon hereby pay my respects to Your Royal Highness, sole surviving true Heir to the Throne of Wenjenkun, Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir , may you live long and prosper!"

Nevetsecnuac, quickly overcoming his surprise, hastily stooped to raise his maternal uncle to his feet, “Please rise uncle, I should be bowing to you!”

When eventually, on Nevetsecnuac's insistence, the two finally regained their respective seats, the prince, in sincere and respectful tone, urged Lord Asger not to endow him with such honors.  "After twenty years of being nurtured and mentored (guided), living under your unstinting care as your nephew, I would be imbued in shame to my very core if I were to now receive your obsequies.  Please, Uncle, treat me as you always have.  Allow me the privilege of serving you, as your’ most grateful and devoted nephew. And please address me only by my name without the onerous title- a most undesirable and unwarranted feat (endeavor) at this remote milieu.”

Nevetsecnuac looked down as emotions choked the rest of his words; after brief, thoughtful reflection, he simply shook his head and said: “I can only guess at the enormity of sacrifices and long suffering you have endured on my behalf.  My only regret is that I have but one lifetime in which to repay your kindness."

Deeply touched by Nevetsecnuac's show of love and humility, Asger looked away, constraining   any expression of the intense and therefore inappropriate emotions from bursting forth; then perfectly composed, he leaned forward and affectionately placed his hand on Nevetsecnuac's shoulder. 

Nevetsecnuac in turn, looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears of gratitude mingling with affection and said: "Uncle, I am anxious to hear all, particularly the circumstances, of how and why I alone, have survived my immediate family's tragic fate?”

“Yes, the time has come for you to be apprised of it all.” Asger, nodding thoughtfully, acquiesced.  “Hmm, but I shall do my utmost, through tact, to spare you the worse of it, my dear boy, while imparting succinctly, all the pertinent details.”

 He then smoked his pipe for a spell as he deliberated on how best to begin. Every word had to be chosen with care to minimize (and not burgeon) the angst that was already tearing at Nevetsecnuac's heart and soul.

The following narrated data (recounted facts) oscillated naturally between past and present and in this gentle, yet somber tone Nevetsecnuac was informed of his true heritage:

That he was the only offspring of the 7th Prince Shon Alric Therran Valamir and Ingrit, the adapted daughter of Lord Wutenzar Zhon.  When Asger was ten years old, she’d become Asger’s loving little sister, a girl child of about six years old, who’d suffered abduction and amnesia at the age of five. The frail female child had been rescued from the clutches of death, just barely, one stormy afternoon, by Lord Wutenzar Zhon, while he was on his way to visit a close friend (a blood-brother), keen to oversee (manage) an urgent matter, in Korion.  She’d later been named Ingrit and lawfully adapted by Asger’s Lord father, when despite year’s intense investigation, her true lineage had remained a mystery. Asger thus, was not Nevetsecnuac’s (Svein’s) biological maternal uncle.

When Ingrit grew up and was 17 years old, by then an exquisite beauty, during an annual Royal hunting expedition, as the two children had accompanied Lord Zhon, she’d caught the eye of Prince Shon and the two had fallen deeply in love. A few years later, overcoming many obstacles, the loving pair had been happily married off and a year and a half later, they had Nevetsecnuac (Svein).

Asger then proceeded to relay succinctly, the subsequent, true version of state affairs at the time (politics), which had adversely shaped Nevetsecnuac’s benevolent grandfather's reign and instigated (caused) the altruistic (humane) Monarch's downfall.

"First there were the prolonged wars, lasting over a decade, with powerful neighbors like Julge to the north, Tunesar in the north-east, and Senje in the east. 

Then the cataclysmic natural disasters came to pass: the powerful earthquakes that leveled whole towns to rubble and floods that ravaged the river plains.  The already tottering economy was devastated, and the strength of the central government was greatly taxed.”

“This precarious time had, meanwhile, further empowered the rising influence of Grand Field Marshal Zakhertan  Yozdek , who’d lead an army of several million on successful campaigns against Julge and Tunesar and by doing so, restored our lost territories and pushed them back to more natural borders.  Zakhertan next had marched his army straight to Senje and annexed that kingdom.  The tribute and booty from these campaigns strengthened the treasury for a time and in due course augmented Field Marshal’s own popularity with both the people and the court.” Asger took a puff from his pipe, before resuming.

"In Imperial Capital Channing, the Inner Chancery, which was charged with the responsibility of presenting policy options to His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, was gradually taken over by the Yozdek aristocracy with the full support of Prime Minister Morvald and Grand Secretary Lu Therkan.   His Higness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir was gradually by then relegated to the status of a mere figurehead; lending an ear to rumors (false or fabricated accounts) he was opportunely alienated even from the Crown Prince Langley.  Prince Langley was well loved by the people and his peers; he was an upright, brilliant tactician and a fine warrior. Because of his sagacity (shrewdness) and farsightedness, he posed a real danger to the ambitious Yozdek clan. Time being ripe, Yozdek faction decided to first illuminate this threat; before they instigated their bold action and worked to underhandedly gain effective control of Wenjenkun .”

"At the time Crown Prince Langley, who excelled in archery and was very fond of hunting, whenever his responsibilities allowed him, he with a group of loyal childhood friends, I would say, two or three times a year, held an affable competition of hunt at the Royal Game Preserve (forested, high-altitude ambit, sphere, sanctuary) on the outskirts of the city. “

 On that fateful day, during the hunting trip, after having spotted a rare white stag, Prince Langley took off after it (in lightning speed) in full gallop, leaving the rest of the riders far behind, who had no hope of matching the speed of his fine stallion. “

“Now come to think of it, I believe Fourth Prince Ruen was among the party that day.  Nevertheless, when the stag dove into the depths of dense woodland, Prince Langley recklessly led his horse after him in hot pursuit.  By the time the rest of the hunting party reached the prince, they were horrified to discover him gasping his last breath, mumbling something about a huge snake raining   down on him, his head lying in a pool of blood and a trampled adder nearby testifying as to the events.  It was presumed that his frightened mount had bolted detecting the snake slithering on one of the branches overhead and had thrown the prince onto the sharp-edged rocks which littered the area.”

“Suspecting foul play some ardent friends (and courtiers) stayed behind to meticulously search the area, in the hope of collecting incriminating evidence or finding the culprit; but their concerted efforts provided them with only a torn piece of homespun cotton that inevitably led to nowhere.”

"The untimely death of the heir apparent consigned the aging Monarch to his bed, stricken with a malady of the heart.  Rumors circulated at the time claimed that His Highness' affliction was, in fact, induced by his own physicians, under the coercion of the Prime Minister."

"The Prime Minister Morvald that had been colluding with the Yozdek faction....  It is clear who’d been behind that scheme.” Nevetsecnuac grumbled.

Asger nodded thoughtfully. “You would think so, but certain findings later, rumors really, cast the suspicion on Third Prince Vidar instead.  Some claimed he was also involved in the conspiracy against the Crown Prince.  He apparently was under the assumption that he would be next in line to ascend to the throne."

 After clearing his throat Asger once more commenced with his narrative.  "Zakhertan  Yozdek, a national hero, returning from his victories with the borders secured and more lands added to the kingdom Wenjenkun, took advantage of the Monarch's indisposition and, relying on his immense popularity, laid siege to the Capital.  Moments after His Highness, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir passed away, while the Royal Family was still in shock and mourning by his bedside, Zakhertan  Yozdek marched unopposed into the palace and seized the throne.” 

“This self-proclaimed Emperor deeming his act, the Mandate of Heaven, in a move designed to consolidate his power, subsequently passed his first evil edict which placed the entire Imperial Clan of the true Monarch under the executioner's blade.  The newly appointed heir apparent Second Prince Tzen, as well as Third Prince Vidar, were murdered shortly afterwards along with subordinate Princes and members of the Royal House of Valamir."

Through misted eyes, Asger related how many had chosen to commit suicide to deny Zakhertan the pleasure of directing their demise.

"So, all, without exception, perished?” Nevetsecnuac murmured solemnly.

"Not all.” Asger rejoined (responded) desisting tears.

 "Fourth Prince Ruen had been inexplicably absent, Fifth Prince Guylar had sent his son, Wuke, in his place due to a lingering illness which made travel impossible, and your father, Seventh Prince Shon had fortuitously as well, been elsewhere at the time.”

"Fifth Prince Guylar had unavoidably suffered much at the hands of the Yozdek Clan.  Earlier still, Prime Minister Morvald and Third Prince Vidar had launched a vile scheme to repudiate Prince Guylar.  They renounced Guylar and his absence from court to the Old Monarch, claiming that he was not ailing, that his infirmity was shammed, (sickness faked) as cover for his planning a rebellion.  They accused him of having grown too overbearing and dangerously strong away from the keen eyes of the court and they lost no time in presenting fabricated proof of this claim.  They offered exaggerated numbers of the occasions Prince Guylar had failed to respond to a summons from the court, supposedly drawn from the palace records, and added to it reports of the prince’s arms buildup, necessary to repel the border tribes, altered in such a way to also make this appear most suspicious.”

“These potent innuendoes of Prince Guylar's alleged conspiracy to foment rebellion had evidently caused His Royal Highness to fly into a rage.  Guylar's son Wuke, upon his arrival at the capital, was immediately incarcerated and an officer of the court was dispatched with credentials and the Imperial Tally to affect the prince’s arrest.  Before the officer's arrival, however, Guylar was informed of his dangerous predicament and, gravely ill already, in his indignation hastened his end (chose to end his own life) by forsaking all medication.  Sadly, his wife, sons and daughters were all taken away to the Capital under arrest, where they arrived just in time to be executed by the new emperor Zakhertan  Yozdek."

"What about Fourth Prince Ruen?” Nevetsecnuac asked, hoping that at least one uncle had survived.

"I don't rightly know.” Asger confessed.  “Again, there were rumors, but I cannot attest to their validity (legitimacy).”

“I still would like to know.” Nevetsecnuac interposed.

"Keep in mind, what I am about to disclose is only a supposition.”  Asger warned.

 "Once, during an informal (gathering) feast, Zakhertan  Yozdek had allegedly boasted of killing the said Prince in a most gruesome manner, but, when prompted, he’d refused to divulge the details.  Since Prince Ruen has never been seen or heard from hence, many had concluded that the rumors had to have been based on the truth.  Great many however disputed this claim (claimed otherwise), stating that Prince Ruen a distinguished warrior, an eccentric sort and an ardent lover of adventure, who frequently under disguise traveled to the furthest frontier regions of the kingdom in search of new thrills, was on yet another such escapade. I cannot support or deny this.” Asger shook his head.

"I did not know the prince personally.” Asger hid his true dislike of this selfish, reckless Prince with this disclaimer.  What will it serve to dredge up the unpleasantness of the past, and strain Nevetsecnuac's already tenuous connection to his dead family?  Some things are better left unsaid. 

Left unspoken also was the violent clashes of Asger’s and Prince’s personalities, how they both had countless disagreements and oftentimes quarreled, in the end settling to a mutual avoidance of each other.

“Some claimed he was a brilliant scholar.” Asger grimly looked away for a spell. “And that Prince Ruen insisted on uncovering the true knowledge that lay, not with the institutions of learning, but in the remote mountains with the hermits.”

 Hah, that was a laugh!

 “Often seeking this lifestyle, he would be absent from the court and palace."

In truth, it was but an effective cover for his vile deeds.  Asger inwardly scoffed, but at the outset with an even tone he’d resumed with his narrative.

"So, when the sovereign fell ill during one of these sojourns, Prince Ruen could not be contacted and summoned to his deathbed.  To date no one has heard from the prince, so assumedly, he too perished, perhaps from the elements.” 

Nor do I care what happened to that faithless brute!  Asger dismissively waved his hand; then quickly changed the subject.

"Your father, Seventh Prince Shon, was a brilliant scholar with a retentive memory.  His kindly, circumspect and unassuming manner cloaked his political and military genius, and he avoided any contention for power.  Prince Shon was seen by the court as unmotivated, weak and rather obtuse and was largely ignored by all, both high and low.  Yet, when it came time to awaken the Old Monarch to the existing danger posed by the Yozdek Clan, it was he who spoke up first.  Others, even Crown Prince Langley who despised the Yozdeks and harbored long secret desires to sweep them out of power once he was enthroned, shrunk from saying anything.  Your father, even at the young age of sixteen, had the prescience, discernment and foresight to rightly predict the future outcome of things.

 With bold determination he forsook his disguise and, in a private audience, risked his father's anger to try to persuade him to guard against the Yozdek Clan and curb their core power or, failing that, abdicate his throne in favor of the Crown Prince.  The Monarch had quietly and patiently listened to all that Prince Shon had to say yet remained unconvinced.  After a brusque promise to consider the matter, he abruptly dismissed your father.”

"'I will be banished.’ was Prince Shon's solemn prediction to his Stuard Kenny (childhood friend and confidant) once he had reached his private quarters. ‘My father could not be swayed, and my words were no doubt well documented by the Yozdek spies for the Prime Minister Morvald's repudiation.  I grieve, not for my sake, but for the sake of the many others who will suffer at the hands of the Yozdeks.'" 

Nodding thoughtfully, Asger drew a long puff from his pipe before continuing the narrative.  "Yes, just as your father had foretold, Prime Minister Morvald and others of the Yozdek Clan thereafter conspired to slander the Seventh Prince Shon to the Monarch and the Crown Prince.  They alleged that Prince Shon, despite his young age, was harboring ulterior motives and high ambitions for himself in his desire for the Monarch to abdicate in favor of his heir at just the precise time when the country was beginning   to enjoy the peace and prosperity of Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir's benevolent rule.”

“Public orators with false accusations further incited the populace and the Monarch against The Seventh Prince Shon; once his father's favorite, the prince fell fast from His Highness’ grace.  Even Crown Prince Langley was duped and remonstrated angrily with his younger brother (from the same mother) Prince Shon, suspecting him of conspiracy and masking his selfish, wicked thoughts.  Under these circumstances it took very little for the prince to offend His Royal Highness again and, in angry reproach; two days after his nineteenth birthday, Prince Shon was stripped major part of his inherited land holdings (bequeathed to him from his then deceased mother, Princes Beatrice) and banished indefinitely to the far province of Chio.”

"Once he had traversed the jurisdiction of the Capital province there were several expected attempts on Prince Shon’s life.  After three years of failed attempts, however, the culprit Prime Minister Morvald, finally aborted his evil schemes and resolved to hold back until a more favorable time in future. In the interim, prince Shon encountering your mother Ingrit in a quiet ceremony had married his beloved.  Upon the sudden and unexpected demise of the Crown Prince Langley, His Majesty's heart softened once more, Prime Minister Morvald, speaking eloquently on the hidden virtues of the Seventh Prince Shon, persuaded His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir to grant amnesty to your father and recall him to the Capital for his brother's funeral. “

“The Yozdek family intended to gather all the Royal Family you see, for a swift and definite annihilation. You were only two months old when your father, always a filial son and brother, embarked with your mother and a large entourage on the return journey (to the Capital).  Since my mother was his elder sister, Prince Shon took this opportunity to have a brief visit with her; after which, my parents would have travelled alongside them to the Capital. “

“So, you are my true maternal cousin!” Nevetsecnuac took in a breath, suppressing his elation in the face of Asger’s humble demeanor and his as a matter-of-fact way of relating it.  Lord Asger was rather too preoccupied in his mind with the forthcoming subsequent facts. He halted briefly for another puff from his pipe.

“Had the way been unobstructed and their advance been conducted with normal speed they would have all reached the Palace at the time of the usurpation and succumbed to subsequent tragedy.  Mercifully however, Heaven had played its hand to foul the Yozdek family's plans, for unseasonable, torrential rains plagued the earth just after the Prince Shon and His Royal entourage crossed over the border into our province of Toren.  Given that the bridges ahead were all washed out and the roads turned into fast flowing rivers, Prince Shon was constrained to stay as our honored guest bit longer than anticipated, at least until the tempests had abated.”

"When the roads finally became passable (traversable), the day before we were all to depart, at the final gathering after repast that night, fortunately after the ladies had retired to their quarters, the news of Zakhertan  Yozdek's treachery reached us.  The eerie silence that permeated the large hall, before it erupted into loud ruckus (commotion, uproar), was quite unbelievable.”

“All our spirits, you see, had sunk into a gloom too deep to dispel, and tears welled up in our eyes; but Prince Shon with calm composure, quietly rose from his seat, walked down the steps and went outside.  Alone and away from prying eyes, gazing up at the sky, only then, he shed some silent tears. “

“This I can attest to since both my father and I had hastily followed the prince to outside.  Once there, however, reluctant to disturb His Highness, we had tactfully maintained our distance. Prince Shon, nevertheless once aware of our presence, quickly dried his eyes and coming over to my father the Prince said with dignity and humility, 'In a few days’ time, Lord Zhon, Zakhertan  Yozdek will be sending troops to apprehend us.  We rest entirely at your mercy.  You must choose whether to resist, or to hand us over to them, for even if I had been still empowered to do so, I could not, with clear conscience, ask you to risk all on our behalf.’”

"My father, advancing on his knees before the Prince Shon, cried, 'You have shamed me, Your Highness, with your doubting of my loyalty’, and then he indignantly reviled Zakhertan  Yozdek and swore to live and die at the Prince's side.  Kneeling beside my father I, also, intoned; 'Your Highness' fate shall be our own.'”

"His eyes filled with sadness, the Prince Shon bowed his head to thank father and me.  When we were all seated once more the prince said, 'This is proof that Heaven has not forsaken our Royal Family.  With your help, Lord Zhon, we may yet stand a chance.  I have well observed how your court's administration and the relationship between you and your vassals are all properly regulated. “

“There is no breach of convention or discipline here, hence your province is prospering, and its subjects are all loyal and contented.  You can depend on them to give full support to your decision to resist; however, one province cannot hold its own against an entire country.  Therefore, it is my contention that we urgently seek alliances with other Lords.' “

“Father concurred and immediately sent several envoys laden with rich gifts to our neighboring provinces urging them to join with us against a common enemy, but they were all too cowed to respond when their turn came.  Each shamefully bowed their head and quietly submitted to the new regime.”

“Lord Shonne Gulbrand happened to be gravely ill at this time; he was in fact at death’s door. He suspected later, and told me as much, that his own immediate family taking matters into their hands had deliberately incapacitated him, to prevent him from aligning   with us and to ensure their own survival.”

"Left on our own to defend our principles, with all exits from Toren now blockaded, father summoned his advisors for a War Council.  According to their recommendations, fortifications around Chenko city were reinforced, strong archers were placed on the cliffs on either side of the River Yulan to defend its narrow pass, and Nanku Pass was blocked.  Strongly entrenched, we stockpiled supplies in Chenko, preparing for the long siege.  By the time the Yozdek forces reached Toren, father's generals had rallied several thousand good fighting men to defend our province along with the peasant auxiliary.”

"Yozdek's forces attacked in strength, but our army put up a stiff resistance and drove them back.  Then a greater force was mobilized in the Capital under the command of Grand Marshal Gustav Erling and was ordered to destroy us entirely if we resisted. “

 

(END OF SECTION 13)

 

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