THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 24

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION - 24

05- NEVETS AND FEM FATALE  YENIS

Prefect Micen Do and his assistant Mouro Kerr spent that afternoon overseeing the plan and deliberating on the meticulous steps they would take.  Since Micen felt that Yenis held the key to too many riddles and was the most expendable, Mouro was assigned the gruesome, tiresome task of her interrogation and torture. Knowing that Mouro's personal preference drifted more towards male actors and young man, Micen remained confident of his success.  Mouro would not be so easily swayed or beguiled by her feminine charms to show her any pity and easy going on the torture.

Unreconciled at first to her fate, Yenis had stuck to her story, using everything within her means to seduce Mouro, but she’d failed to sway (affect, move) him.  Where another would have succumbed to her irresistible charms and consequently human frailty, lust Mouro had instead, maintained his stone-cold composure and unyielding, hard (merciless) heart.  Without a trace of compassion, the finger vise and other brutal instruments of torture were repeatedly applied until the truth was literally wrung out of her.  She sobbed out her full confession, which was promptly written up and submitted.

As soon as it reached him, Micen Do poured it over in the comfort of his study. Her story, after all her reticence, was a simple one.

This innocent seeming beauty had, in fact, conspired with her lover, one called Canute Yonn, to dispose of her husband, Senson Luko, and then afterwards ran away with his valuables in order to begin a new life elsewhere.

Yenis had never loved her sadistic husband and, in truth, had wholeheartedly despised him.  Her family had owed Senson a great sum of money and the recent widower had proposed to overlook the debt if they, as he put it, "were to become related".

 In a despicable bargain, despite the vast age difference, her family had forced her to enter into wedlock with Senson Luko.

Headstrong to begin with, she had not reconciled herself to loving Senson as a dutiful wife should and had immediately begun to seek happiness and gratification elsewhere.  Contrary to the wanton adulteress that the testimony of the vindictive Latham and Hacket Luko had made her out to be, circumstances kept Yenis outwardly faithful to her aged husband, though there was no lack of trying on her part.

The recent appearance of the tall, dashingly handsome, charming scholar/ warrior, Canute Yonn, on the scene had fulfilled her latest desire, this void in her heart, and precipitated the consequential, tragic set of events.

Canute with his gentle disposition and fine mannerisms, at their (numerous) secret rendezvous, had entertained her and remained most sensitive (attentive) to her needs and vacillating, oftentimes nitpicky moods until; he had completely won her over.

Believing that he would reciprocate her affections fully and that he would remain true to her, she had consented to his pleas for intimacy on more than one occasion. 

Mouro Kerr had shamelessly extracted the complete details of these sexual encounters and recorded them in their entirety for Micen to drool over.

The killing of her husband had been Canute Yonn's idea, for Yenis would have been quite content with simply running away with her lover, carrying only her jewelry.  Canute had persistently warned her that, unless her vindictive husband was disposed of, Senson would spare no effort to hunt them down and bring her back to suffer ceaseless torments, to punish her for her indiscretion.  Forced to live hiding, they would always be looking over their shoulders, fearing discovery.  They would be robbed of solace and peace of mind regardless of the distance they may put between themselves and Denor City.

Seeing the obvious truth in his claim, Yenis was finally cajoled into accepting Senson's demise.  On that stormy night hence, she had snuck Canute into the compound and, as planned, led him through the interior of the house straight to her husband's bedchamber.  Being rather squeamish, she had wanted to wait outside and keep watch while Canute completed the gruesome task of decapitating Senson. But again, on his insistence she had been forced into being his accomplice.

Bloodthirsty Micen re-read this part of the confession with added interest:

“I let Canute through the side door and as he crept like a cat to a position behind sleeping Senson, I, as per instructed, silently disrobed, leaving only my undergarments on me, and stood just inside the room. In a most seductive whisper that I can muster, I called out my husband’s name, and then waited with fearful, trembling breath, for Senson to wake.  His eyelids opened, but then hungry, licentious gaze at once burrowing into me, he sat up bolt upright in his bed and, smirking (grinning), beckoned me to come to him. An involutory shudder passed through me, as I felt tormented by the sensation of my skin crawling with million insects, slithering and taking chunks out of my flesh.” Micen interrupted his reading at this moment and dawned a sinister, broad smile, imagining her in that compromised position.

“Just as Senson, delighting at my obvious unease, impatiently opened his mouth to bark his command at me, Canute struck from behind, in one powerful, lightening move he severed the main artery and sliced his throat. I nearly fainted at this gruesome sight, the terrible gurgling sound he made, the gushing blood! Then as if I was outside of myself, watching, observing the practiced way Canute tucked the head of Senson forward to stop the surge of blood. Next, he wielded his sword with practiced force once more, to decapitate him!  As the head rolled onto the floor and the corpse flopped back onto the bed, Canute moved in position to strike the body time and again, as if assuaging his deep-seated ire, his years of pent-up revenge, and mutilated Senson’s corpse with his swift, sure strokes.”

“I could no longer stand the grizzly, horrific scene any longer and so, in panic-stricken-terror I turned, picked up my wrap and fled to outside of the bedroom.  With wobbling legs, I willed myself to hasten to my chambers where I collapsed on the floor vomiting and crying, in a state quite beside myself. Sometime later when he came in, he was able to calm me down and with his assistance, I quickly dressed for the journey and gathered up the valuables to take with me. In my flustered (muddled) state I failed to note that Canute had taken for himself, a jewel- inlaid strong (metal) box, Senson’s prized possession. “

 That night, in the cover of darkness, two cloaked riders, Yenis and her lover, had successfully made their getaway with some valuables, but certainly far less than the amount claimed to have been stolen by the Luko family.

Mouro proved his worth by gathering a detailed list of the stolen items, which verified (attested) that only one quarter of the goods that Luko family had claimed to have gone missing, exposing their mendacity (deceit).

After a long ride, Yenis and her lover had eventually taken refuge at Kuno Temple, mistakenly thinking that they would be safe there. It was also there where, in dust, Canute, invoking prayers, had made the fiery sacrifice, burning hell money and something else, she was not entirely sure what. As for the jewel encrusted metal box, failing to unlock it, he had tried smashing it, and when that also failed, in seething rage he then had thrown it down some deep well, she couldn’t say which one, only that it was somewhere within the temple grounds.

 Despite the severity of torture and all other means employed by Mouro, in order to extract the entire truth, Yenis had stuck to her original claim of ignorance of the box’s contents. Her husband, you see, had never let her see what was within it.

 At one point in her confession, she had even cursed herself for not realizing the obvious change in Canute Yonn’s demeanor, shortly after his fiery sacrifice and later still, his unusual refusal to seduce her, that first night in the Temple.

At the time quite unsuspectingly, she had attributed his indifference to his superstitious beliefs as the ruins had permeated (infused) such an overwhelming eerie aura.

 It was beyond her comprehension that, as she slept that night, her beloved would so heartlessly sneak away with the valuables and horses, leaving her stranded to face a fate far worse than death. It was indeed a wonder that she had maintained her sanity through it all.  Victimized and betrayed in this cruelest fashion, when her tears were all but spent, she had vowed in her bitterness that, if she survived her ordeal she would, from then on, seek vengeance and bring destruction upon all men.

Fradel Rurik Korvald, although not deserving of her wrath, was unfortunate enough to have stumbled into the path of her rage and scorn.

Though he had treated her most solicitously and honorably, she could not soften her heart even a little to forget her bitter disappointment with Canute Yonn.  Consequently, it had been her intention from the first to seduce Fradel Rurik Korvald and make him pay dearly as a kind of atonement for Canute Yonn's sins.  She was luring Fradel, by feeding him false information, away from Denor City with the intention of never letting him go when they were, unexpectedly, apprehended by the authorities.

“What a wretched fool!  Women are such weaklings.” With a contemptuous snort, Micen put her confession aside and then sent for Mouro.  Upon his assistant's prompt response, Micen relayed his orders with a stern visage, "You must dispatch the search parties at once for the apprehension of the one called Canute Yonn, now that his complete description has been secured from the woman."

"Yes, you’re Honor; that has already been taken care of.  Begging for your pardon sir, but, since there was little time to be spared, I took the liberty of sending out every available guard we have to scour the Prefecture in force for the culprit.  Wanted posters, offering the customary reward for the criminal's capture, are being posted at every junction as we speak.  I'm presently awaiting news of his capture."

Looking pleased, Micen acknowledged, "In this instance your perfunctory response was most appropriate.  You may now return to your other duties.  You are to inform me the very minute you learn of his capture; Dismissed!"

The second after Mouro's back was turned, Micen's face blackened with annoyance.

“What audacity!  What gall he has to act without first consulting with me!  Next thing you know, he'll be presiding over my court.  He's efficient, yes, but far too clever, too overbearing and too ambitious.  I must watch him carefully and never let my guard down for a moment where he's concerned.  I may have further need of him for now, but I had better look towards finding his replacement long before he becomes a real threat to me.”

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 24)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 20

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 20

 After several days of laborious, continuous riding under the incessant rainfall, Nevetsecnuac, chiefly out of concern for his steed, once again sought some form of shelter to spend the night.  Fortunately, at that moment just before dusk, spotting the (orange tiles of) towers of an old, ruined temple jutting above the vast forest to their left, he steered the horse in that direction.

 After several hours of negotiating the difficult terrain and of snaking, ascending paths, they finally reached the long since abandoned structure.

Halting before the unlocked and partially destroyed, crooked, iron gates Nevetsecnuac dismounted and led the horse by the reins, through the opening, to inside. The dilapidated courtyard which greeted them hosted several pools, gifts of the relentless downpours, which dotted the area as if planned for a garden.  The entire yard, housing grotesque rocks, shattered pillars and broken tables and chairs carved out of stone, was completely overgrown with a thick, dark green layer of moss and climbers.  Brambles and thorn bushes choked the pathways.  Oddly enough, one clear, snaking path was beaten through the main thoroughfare, telling of a visit by some person or group in not-too-distant past.

After calling out and receiving no answer Nevetsecnuac cautiously pushed open a tattered, wooden portal which was filled with gaping holes.  It opened onto a large, dark hall where the air was so dense that it refused to enter the lungs.  Nevetsecnuac fetched the small candle from his pocket and lit it to illuminate his way. At the far end there was a ruined, ancient shrine.  The colored inscriptions had long since been gouged, burned, scraped and peeled off and charred, rounded shapes concealed the identities of whatever idols it had once hosted.  Several halls leading from the altar room had all deteriorated.  Broken bricks, stones and tiles littered the ground, some gathered in heaps.  Parts of the roofs of these empty chambers had collapsed, inviting the torrents of rain inside.  The wood floorboards had rotted, and parts had caved in, those still standing were carpeted in moss.  Grass grew in profusion in the kitchens, lecture halls, dining areas and in the scores of half-standing cubicles that, in their heyday, had hosted a great number of monks, novices and the droves of guests and devout followers.

 The few rooms with their roofs still intact were shrouded in a thick layer of cobwebs, dust and mildew.  This endless destruction of the walls, columns and stone altars and statues, undoubtedly inflicted by the hand of man, testified to a tragic, turbulent episode in history.

Nevetsecnuac's memory, triggered by the destruction around, quickly recalled Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon's narrative of the strife between the different religious orders attempting to gain supremacy after Zakhertan Yozdek’s usurpation of the throne and the subsequent strong resistance offered by some loyal monks to the new Emperor.

 What was the reason behind this carnage?  As if in answer, Nevetsecnuac’s eyes were at once drawn to a broken, badly marred tablet protruding from the rubble on the floor just a few feet away.  Nevetsecnuac picked it up, dusted it carefully and examined it.  Well versed in formal calligraphy, he attempted to make some sense of the deliberately obliterated remains of the script.  When he reached a line which ended "\\\NG \\TH V\R", he nodded his head in understanding as tears pricked his eyes.  Carrying the tablet bearing the honored name of his grandfather, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, along with a host of sad, leaden thoughts he pushed onwards into the major courtyard.

Most of the temple's once magnificent, adjoining (connecting) towers, were now crumbled ruins, walls tottering in the wind, totally unsafe to enter.  The main keep, bearing the evidence of a final battle, had decisively and mercilessly been razed right to the ground.

Amid the piles of stone and brick debris which filled these towers’ foundations, there lay shattered and cracked bronze bells, brass tripods, cauldrons and drums, broken blades, staffs (iron rods, bamboo poles), and spears, helmets, some still hosting their owner's skull, and a sea of bleached bones. 

Nevetsecnuac lingered at the sight, overcome with grief.  The tears coursing down his cheek were quickly washed away by the pounding rain as his unguided feet took him away from the major courtyard and into a dark, gloomy hall where an even more gruesome sight awaited him.

 There, at the center, a large heap of charred bones told of the tragic fate of the last survivors.  These loyal monks had fought and died with valor; yet in this length of time, no living being had dared, or cared to do the right thing by them.  Denied a proper burial, they had been barred from entering the nether regions and for decades their tortured souls had been imprisoned on earth, doomed to wander aimlessly. With this new visitor, Nevetsecnuac, however, their torment at long last would reach an end. 

Already having found a place of high, dry, shielded ground suitable for their final resting place, Nevetsecnuac took off his wet outer garments that weighed him down and put to good use the broken picks and shovels lying around the temple.  In the area he chose, protected from flood and erosion, he dug a deep, fair-sized grave and, selecting a stone tablet inscribed onto it a touching eulogy to commemorate the deed of these loyal monks.  Then, with utmost reverence, he collected all the charred remains and transported them through several trips, into the mass grave.  Covered over with clean earth and the headstone put into place, Nevetsecnuac paid them their last respects, intoning prayers, shedding tears and making proper sacrifices of food and wine (apportioning some provisions, as well, part of the plonk, vino, which Yagu had pressed on him at the time of his departure from the Inn) to their souls.

After this important task was completed, he first tended to the horse's needs then selected a dry room for himself in which he laid down his bedding and luggage.  As the pitch darkness blanketed the earth, flames of anguish still searing his heart, his depressed (state) mood driving away all appetite for food, he only downed several swigs (mouthfuls) of the coarse wine from the flask and feeling rather exhausted (spent, beat) he then reclined in slumber. Unfortunately, too many oppressive thoughts rushed at once to crowd his mind and deny him any respite.  Opening his eyes he distractedly watched the numerous fireflies that darted about the room, drawing luminous cursive shapes in mid-air; meanwhile, the sound of the rain drummed in his ears, till it gradually tapered off.  No sooner had the downpours stopped, however, mother nature set off a chorus of croaking frogs, droning mosquitoes and nocturnal chirping insects; all bustling with intense activity, they permanently disrupted any peace (silence) of the night.  Irritated, Nevetsecnuac turned his face to the wall and pulled the blanket over his head to dampen the ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, however, the din of noise, the croaking, had abruptly halted.  Nevetsecnuac sat bolt upright; he thought he'd heard a faint footstep trailing off into the distance.  Springing to his feet next, he darted outside to find no one there.  The frogs, about to start anew, hesitated, frightened by his presence.

Nevetsecnuac knew he would not sleep after all that, not till he resolved this mystery (satisfied with his curiosity) and, thinking that he’d perhaps overlooked some secret passageway during his previous inspection, he quickly lighted a candle and going outside, started anew his search, for be it a living prowler or a vengeful apparition (ghost), of the immediate grounds of the temple. 

On the far wall of one of the halls a small block of stone, previously hidden by a crumbled idol, had been brushed clean of dust. Drawing near, Nevetsecnuac gave it a brief scrutiny then applied pressure to the stone with his palm.  As he had suspected, the stone gave way and sank an inch deep into the wall and, with a faint groan, a secret underground passageway was revealed off to the side.  He traded the candle for a torch light and holding it up high, he descended the flight of dark, stone steps into a long, snaking underground tunnel.

Coming to a fork some way down, he examined the debris on the ground and determined the direction to take was to the left.  He advanced swiftly, but cautiously, he rounded corner after corner until he met up sharply with an obstructing wall.  Feeling around the partition, he stumbled quite by chance on the secret catch that parted the wall. 

After descending the precarious stone steps, further along the path, the tunnel had once, twice then again thrice divided into two segments; each time however, taking his cue from the disturbed debris and cobwebs, he veered either to the right or to the left, advancing cautiously through the dark, dingy tunnel network (labyrinths). 

Subsequently, two sets of footprints in the dust, one large, one small, piqued his curiosity.  As he proceeded, all manners of tunnel creatures, rats with coldly blazing eyes scurried off, frightened by the light, making a small commotion in the process.

Though he had covered a fair distance, he still had not encountered anything other than the resident pests (vermin, rats, mice a coiling snake etc.) within these catacombs. The long, narrow passageway at one point passed a set of stairs which led up to two opposite bolted doors. Singling out the door into which the small, wet footprints led, he traced them until they eventually disappeared behind a third door.  A faint light streamed out from underneath.  As he reached to lift the latch, he heard what it sounded like, a muffled child’s sobs.  Quietly, so as not to frighten the child, he pushed the door ajar and perused the inside before stepping through.  Except for the tall altar at the far end where the faint whimper emanated, the room was entirely empty.

 He advanced swiftly to investigate but, instead of the child novice he expected, there crouched a frail young woman with her head buried in her arms, sobbing pitifully. He was about to gently accost her when she became aware of his presence and, with a start, looked up at him.  Her tear-stained face, as lovely as a flower, drained completely of all its color.  Trembling, she fell on her knees and begged him to spare her.  He rushed to raise her to her feet.

"Please do not be frightened (alarmed).  I'm not going to hurt you.  I'm here to help." Nevetsecnuac reassured her then, bowing respectfully, introduced himself as Fradel Rurik Korvald.

In her crazed state she stared blankly at the scholar, not comprehending his words then again cupped her face in her hands and continued sobbing.  When the reality of the situation finally sank in, she turned and sized him up.  Yes, this is no robber, her face seemed to say.  He seems a decent sort, not an immoral being, I will be safe with him.

 Her racing heart was, furthermore, eased somewhat, when she looked into his kind, gentle eyes and listened to the placating, reassuring words that now began to make sense.  Sighing, she wiped her eyes and whimpered, "Please, sir, do help me.  You must get me out of here."  Receiving a sympathetic, affirmative response, she tried to fall onto her knees in gratitude but, made dizzy by her frail state, she faltered and collapsed instead into his strong, protective embrace.

She was revived and, with (Fradel’s) Nevetsecnuac's support, was led up to ground level where she was given both food and drink, her preference leaning towards the wine more so than the water.

Nevetsecnuac surmised that the woman he’d aided, a rather captivating beauty, was in her early twenties. Once her urgent needs for food and water had been fulfilled (satisfied), the normal color had then gradually returned to her pallid cheeks. Soon as she’d regained her strength, bowing, she thanked Fradel Rurik Korvald profusely and introduced herself as Yenis Luko.  Leaning her head back against the wall, her eyes half closed, she insisted on hence, telling Fradel of her past plight.

YENIS

Some three or four days prior, Yenis could not be exact, while her husband Senson Luko had been absent on business, four stout, armed bandits had, in the middle of the night when everyone was fast asleep, skillfully scaled the high walls surrounding her house, passed through the courtyard, gone through the second set of gates and penetrated the inner compounds into the privacy of the master's quarters, intent on robbing him in his absence.  The rogues, skilled in arms, had then made away with the valuables and her, as she had been unfortunate enough to have caught the eye of their chief.

Her servants and her husband’s two younger brothers, Latham, aged thirty two, and Hacket, aged twenty seven, responding to her screams for help, had been most ineffective at stopping the bandits.  Badly wounded and beaten, this ineffective lot had watched her being taken away bound and gagged.  The ensuing long, arduous ride had, by nightfall of the following day, delivered both her and her abductors to this forbidden, forsaken place.

"I dare not deceive you, sir.  Everything I say is the truth."  Yenis heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh as she wiped a tear from her eye.  Even in her despair, with her eyebrows knitted in a frown, Yenis looked enchanting, bewitching, a beauty.

 "The truth is, even if my husband had been there, he would have been, along with the rest of his family, powerless to stop these wretches."

 She sighed and continued in a murmur, "Though shrewd and cruel, he's old and cowardly, the same as them."

 Looking up at Fradel shyly, apologetically yet grateful too, she added in a stronger voice, "Though I've only known you, sir, for a short while, I feel I can unburden my very soul to you.  Yes, you have a most trusting disposition and have entirely won my confidence.  Truly, I feel I can trust you with my very life."

After a brief pause Yenis then told Fradel how her abductors had drunk heavily, joked and cursed roundly for the rest of the night, poking fun at her.  Finally, the bandit chief, seeing the night almost spent and still lusting after her, had hauled her over his shoulder and carried her to a private room where he meant to molest her.  After bolting the door from the inside, he had released her from her bonds and, smiling peevishly, had tried to woo her with sweet words and promises of marriage once they had reached his lair.  When this got him nowhere the brute tried to force his lustful intentions on her. Savagely smiling, he'd shamelessly groped after her and, hurled his enormous body onto the bed. At this point she gave a shudder and, hanging her head, remained lost in thought for a moment.  "I prepared to fight him with all my might." she said, looking up once again. 

"By good fortune my virtue is still intact." she smiled wryly.

 "No, perhaps it was not fortune; perhaps it was that Heaven took pity on me; for the rogue was so inebriated (intoxicated) that, when he made the attempt, coming at me like the charging mad bull, he stumbled and his head hitting hard the pole of the bed, simply passed out.  Seizing this chance to escape this fate worse than death I rushed to the door, unbolted it and burst outside like a madwoman.”

 “I don't know how many times I fell (stumbled) during my escape; still, each time I cupped my mouth to stifle the cries of pain.  I do not know in which direction I fled, I just ran and ran, beside myself with fear, trying to get as far away from them as I could.  Then at one point, as I leaned against a wall to catch my breath, through sheer luck I discovered the secret passage.  Though mortally afraid of darkness and its ghosts, I nevertheless descended the pitch-dark stairs and hid there at their base for quite some time until I'd gathered the added courage to feel my way down the tunnel."  Yenis cringed.

The following morning, unable to find her in the ruins and afraid of lingering too long and getting caught by their pursuers, the bandits had left.  For two or three days, in a state of shock, frightened by every shadow, every sound, she had waited for the authorities to come and rescue her.  Just when she had resigned herself to death by starvation her savior, Fradel Rurik Korvald, had come onto the scene.  Of course, she had been aware of his presence the moment he'd entered the temple, but she had not summoned the nerve to approach him.  Looking nothing at all like a constable, she feared he was another bandit or an unscrupulous man at the least, else why would he be at this temple.  She stayed out of sight, praying that he, too, would go away.

Desperation and hunger had finally driven her out in the middle of the night, candle in hand, hoping to steal some of his food.  Not knowing how to ride, she had not gone for the horse.  Halfway into her errand she had lost her nerve and, turning on her heels, ran away without confronting Fradel.

"Oh, those days before your arrival, sir, I had suffered so terribly."  She cringed, adding in a tragic tone, "I was practically driven into madness.  I was a lost soul, severed most cruelly from my loved ones, from my protective home by that knave.  My brothers-in-law, Latham and Hacket, pshaw!  For all their boasting and martial arts training, they sure proved useless, weaklings and cowards when it came to facing real adversity.”

“Had I, had someone like you, sir, to protect me none of this would have happened, though it is some consolation that my virtue is still intact.  Still, I will live forever more, in fear that it could happen all over again.  My peace of mind has also been stolen.  Can I ever feel safe again?" She bemoaned cupping her face.

Despite Fradel's (Nevetsecnuac’s) council against it, Yenis downed several more cups of wine, claiming the need to forget her tribulations.  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), conforming to the rules of etiquette, also consumed the same measure at her insistence.  Slightly inebriated, her mood turned coquettish.

"Oh, why must you sit so far away, my voice is going hoarse from shouting?"  Yenis rose to her feet and wove her way across the room towards him.

 "It seems that we were fated to meet Master Fradel."  A tint of red spread across her girlish cheeks as Yenis sat herself close by, “Just as I was fated to be saved by you from this terrible ordeal." Again, Yenis thanked him most profusely.

 In truth she was quite beautiful and almost matchless in grace and allure.  But Yenis’s charms had failed to win him over, for it paled in comparison to Nevetsecnuac’s true beloved Teuquob, who, as far as he was concerned, far surpassed any and all other women in feminine (attributes,) beauty and charm.

"Yes, I'm most fortunate to have come across a gentleman scholar as upstanding as yourself." she smiled bewitchingly.

"Few men could measure up to your moral integrity, Master Fradel.  You must definitely be an immortal, or an angel."  She chuckled as she nodded her head.

"Though I'm here, entirely at your mercy, you have not tried, not one bit, to take advantage of me.  I mean, what can I do if you decide to take certain liberties with me?" Her face flushed (crimson).

"I'm not as strong willed as I was but three days ago, and with all this drink in me..."

Yenis stifled her giggle.  There was more than a touch of provocation in her voice as she glanced at Nevetsecnuac from under her fluttering long-lashes, dropping a few more improper hints.

Yenis spoke alluringly and looked utterly bewitching, as she glanced at Fradel (Nevetsecnuac).  Another in his place, not possessing his integrity and moral rectitude, would have long ago (surrendered to man’s basic urges and) succumbed to her charms.

 As it was, Fradel's (Nevetsecnuac’s) head was lowered and, his thoughts having long since drifted back to his beloved wife, he heaved a deep sigh of longing (pining) for Teuquob.

 In his slightly inebriated state, he envisioned her guileless smile, and his heart ached, yearning to embrace her just once more.

Encouraged by his silence, Yenis continued to pretend, hardly noticing the strange changes (transpiring within her) in herself.  Perhaps it was her recent brush with death, perhaps it was the deprivation of the last few days, or perhaps it was a feeling borne out of gratitude, or was it the wine?  Whatever the cause, she gazed at this rather striking figure of Fradel, feeling at first strongly drawn to him then, suddenly, she was consumed with unrestricted desire.

How handsome his features are, how physically fit he is!  She looked at him, starry eyed.

08- NEVETSECNUAC AT TEMPLE (1)

Indeed, Fradel cut a striking figure of a man; his chivalry, his handsome looks, enhanced, despite his ordinary (riding) garments. He appeared to her most irresistible, liken to a demigod, and, unwittingly, ignited the long-forgotten flames of passion within her.  It now took all her willpower to resist the temptation to brazenly throw herself into his warm embrace.

He’s such an exceptional being, to have so readily, so solemnly agreed to do all he could for me; promising to restore me to the safety of my home and to the bosom of my loved ones; all that with no hint of any repayment.   I've never met (come across) anyone as selfless and as decent as this scholar, Fradel.  Is he for real?  Could this, after all, be only some delirium? 

No, she pinched herself (wanting confirmation); no, I'm not dreaming.  He's real, all too real!  Suddenly her expression clouded over, and a frown settled on her features. 

Then, what's wrong?  I know my beauty is irresistible to men, why hasn’t he tried to woo me to win my affection or, basically, seduce me? 

Her thoughts straying (drifting), she once more luxuriated in fanciful imaginings:

 Oh; we would make such a handsome couple, too.  I would be so happy with him.

 She affixed her questioning gaze on Fradel's lowered face. If only he…. But then, suddenly, a frown appeared on her face. Oh, I’m so terribly, terribly unlucky. Why couldn't it be him, instead of that wrinkled old brute they forced me to marry? 

 I know he has not taken offense, for he has not reproached me or taken his leave which can only mean one thing…. Hmm?...

Yes, of course, she just then smiled knowingly. He's bashful… That must be it.  Sure, he needs a little more encouragement, that's all. 

Her (intrinsic psyche) conscience, suddenly in conflict with her aspiration, reproached her: What’s come over me?  Why am I thinking this way? 

Moments later, the hot flames of passion anew (once more) seared her heart and, with her good sense and judgment clouded, she threw all shame and caution to the wind.  Fluttering her eyes bewitchingly, her face wreathed in smiles, she begged Fradel not to begrudge her more wine, vehemently disclaiming her intoxication.

Against his better judgment, Fradel complied, adding with mock severity that this must be the absolute last, that, after downing this, they must retire.

Her heartbeat wildly as she reached out her cup with both hands to receive the wine.  The meaning of Fradel's admonition had been changed substantially by her own imaginings.  Purposefully, she caressed his outstretched hand.

Fradel, his pure heart denying the obvious, refused to think unkindly (badly) of her.  Quickly swallowing the contents of his cup, he invited her to use his bedding for the night, observed her quick acceptance as she swiftly reclined under the blanket and assumed she must be truly fatigued after her ordeal and having consumed so much wine.  Biding her hasty goodnight, he quickly headed for the door.

Her rippling glances lingered on him, "Must you go?"

Feigning fright, she whimpered, "I don't feel safe here, all alone.  What if...?"

"You'll be safe." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reassured her.  "I'll only be in the next room.  There’s really nothing to fear.  Now please try to get some rest, we have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

But she knitted her brows, pursing her lips, and slightly trembled as if teetering on the verge of tears and again pleaded meekly with him not to leave.  She declared that she looked to him only with the purest heart, as her Elder Brother, her savior, and what harm could there be in spending the night in the same room with her if he slept apart from her, fully clothed.

Fradel frowned, "It still would not be proper."  He shook his head and calmly urged her to get some rest then he, with deliberate determination, left the room.

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 20)