Showing posts with label stallion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stallion. Show all posts

Tuesday, 12 November 2024

THE WEDDING - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 2




Svein, spotting this magnificent horse had been unable to restrain his admiring gaze, and so had lingered on the spot a moment or two longer than usual.  However, prejudging that the horse of this breed and magnificent bearing would be far beyond his means, he then turned and prepared to pass it by when the burly (robust) steward Kurin rushed towards him and, grabbing hold of his sleeve and tugging at it, began steering Svein towards the horse, as he wagged his tongue in coercion.

“You look like an intelligent and discerning young man, one that recognizes the worth of this magnificent steed.  All about here are fools, pay no attention to them.  Come, come, and look.  Take a good closer look; see how spirited and strong he is.  Look at his strong body, his shining coat, his luxurious mane.  Is he not superior to any others you’ve seen in the market today?  Why, you should feel privileged just to be near such a magnificent stallion.”

Holding his awe in check, Svein nodded his head approvingly.  Truly the horse was a superb specimen, a breed the like of which he had not seen before- save for the pages of books.  Excitement filled his heart as he approached the animal.

“Listen, I can see that you are an astute young lad.  I mean to do you a good turn,” Kurin continued ceaselessly, encouraged by Svein’s lack of an outright refusal to take a closer look at the horse.  “For you are not like this other beggarly lots.  No sir, you are indeed a most worthy young man.  You deserve to own such a horse, and I mean to help you realize your goal.  The horse should be ridden by one such as yourself and no other.  What do you say?  Are you interested?  If you are, I’m willing to make further concessions, and, just for you, I’ll even lower my asking price still another notch.  Well, what do you say?  Now, don’t take too long to make up your mind, or I may realize that I’m being too generous and therefore rescind my offer.  I mean I may change my mind about letting it go for such a low price.  As it is, I’m already taking a big loss.”

Though he had kept alluding to ‘lower price’, no specific figure had been cited, and, having arrived late at the market, Svein had not the slightest idea as to what price the steward was referring to. Still, it would not do to inform the seller of this.

“Sir, you are most generous with your offer of this horse to me, and I remain not without gratitude for your consideration.  Indeed, I would feel it an honor to own such a magnificent steed.” Svein declared with an appeasing smile.  But then he hesitated with his next words as he fingered the few remaining gold pieces in his pocket.  “However, I doubt that I can meet your asking price, therefore I must ask you, sir, to allow me to continue on my way.”  So, saying, he tried to take his leave, but the seller pretended not to have heard Svein’s last words and hastened forward, leading the horse by the bridle, until he again stood in solid stance before Svein.

Kurin’s forced smile made the scar on his forehead and cheek even more seemingly, as he tried his best to appear congenial. “Though the asking price is quite low, it can be further negotiated to meet with your approval, sir.”  He then invited Svein to take another close look and mount the horse for a good try if he so desired.  When Svein showed reluctance, Kurin quickly quoted his rock-bottom price.  Svein, dumbfounded by the lowness of it, was devoid of any response.  Unfortunately, it was still not low enough for Svein.  Just as Svein was about to explain to the steward that he was not against making the deal, only that he had within his means, a slightly lesser amount than even the last quoted price, when a do-gooder, keeping his distance, extended his warning to Svein with a shout, not to make the purchase.

Persistent haranguer, undeterred by Kurin’s murderous look as he ground his teeth, at safer distance, continued with his barking his dire warnings and hurling at Kurin many vulgar, slanderous words.  As he did this his animated gestures anew, drew (magnetized) more spectators to the scene.  Others joined in; in safe distance as well, they flung their abusive words at the steward Kurin for trying to sell a dangerous animal to the unsuspecting youth; while still others directed their voices at Svein, advising him not to be duped by this cheat.

The exchanged hostility, the cacophony of hurled abuses, slanders and threats – this dangerous precedence was unexpectedly thwarted however, upon the sudden appearance of an armed regulator on the scene.   Many took to their heels; save for Svein and the Steward.

Kurin going forward, exchanged few words with the regulator some of it appearing to be a threat; but then he pressed the necessary bribe into the palm of the regulator, promised to conclude his business succinctly and about face, he retreated his steps back to Svein.

Encouraged by the fact that this brave youth had not scattered like the rest and in fact, remained on the scene, Kurin now did his best to finalize the deal. As an added incentive, he even lowered the quoted price further.

In truth, from the start Svein had recognized the horse’s fiery, untamed nature and had also been aware of the superstition concerning the markings.  Only, possessing a clearer head and understanding the root of it, he had remained quite undeterred in his aim.  The only obstruction to this transaction had been the shortfall (insufficiency) of his funds.

When Svein had left home, he had within his means more than enough in gold to cover any deal but, due to circumstances encountered along the way, the sum had been greatly reduced, leaving him now in this bind.  Still, he was not disheartened.  Recognizing his advantageous position he had simply bid his time and waited to hear the desired sum.

Short time before the appearance of the regulator on the scene, though it had been inconceivable, Svein had thought, for a spell, he’d recognized a certain old man among the jeering crowd; but after brief scrutiny, he’d heaved a sigh of relief knowing his eyes had deceived him, that in fact, it had not been him. A curious expression dawned (manifested) on his face just then, as the wagging tongues of the crowd around him gradually grew muted and another reality set in - the reality of the last two days.

                                                                                  ~

 Svein was back on the lone stretch of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, advancing with bold strides.  Under the canopy of the smoldering midday sun, he remained oblivious to the rivulets of perspiration that ran down his forehead.  Not a breath of air stirred.  All was eerily quiet.  The dust kicked off by his feet leisurely settled back once more behind him to create shallow, solitary impressions of his feet.  Tall grasses, partially yellowed, drooped in a listless mood flanking the road. His feet subsequently led him to even more desolate section, where large areas of earth were mantled in misshapen mounts of black, at times sticky hard, charcoaled, amidst powdery black shapes generating bizarre, surreal landscapes.

Shortly before dawn, in another inhospitable segment that had cut through a rocky ridge (ravine), he had had a brush with the group of bandits.  They had pegged him an easy prey since he was traveling alone on this isolated route.  But even though they were armed, mounted and greatly outnumbered him, after several rounds of fighting, seeing that Svein could not be bested, they had scurried off in defeat to the safety of the hills.

At such a young age, caution being an alien concept to the youthful enthusiasm, it had occurred to Svein during the fight to unhorse one of the burly bandits and then gallop after the fleeing bunch, to teach them a proper lesson they soon won’t forget. But that same instant, unbidden had come to mind, his uncle’s stern face and words that quickly curtailed this objective.

Dusting off his clothes, he’d then with unfaltering energy, had continued on his way, in due course covering a great distance and though it was now midday, he still had kept up his speed without stopping for rest, food, water, shade or encountering another sort of brigand band or group of thugs, hence, missing out on another exciting opportunity to practice his prowess.

 A while back he had felt certain spying eyes tracking his advance, but after a time, they had shrewdly aborted the notion of another, equally unproductive engagement.

The surrounding landscape growing still more desolate with each step, he was on the verge of being despondent (glum) by the insipid surroundings and the subsequent lackluster (drab) trek that went on and on without end- when the tedious silence was broken by the distant, barely audible sobs and groans.  His acute hearing homing into this disturbance, he advanced towards it with renewed zeal- anything to break this monotony! The ejected sounds gradually increased in volume with each step, a telltale sign that he was headed in the right direction.  And sure enough, before long the obscure object on the side of the road, beside a ditch up ahead, began to take form of that of an old man, a peasant in somewhat tattered clothing.  He was crouched in the outline of a ball, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.  At present he had his head buried between his arms as he continued to emit sporadic groans punctuated by heart- rending sobs.  Svein hastened his steps towards this unfortunate fellow and, nearing him, halted only a few inches away.

Reaching out and gently placing a hand over the old man’s shoulder, he then accosted him, “What ails you, elder?  Can I be of any help?”

With a start the old man ceased his loud sobs and looked up; so, consumed he’d been with his troubles and sorrow that he’d remained oblivious up till then, to Svein’s presence.  What greeted Svein was the weathered, dusty face, scored with wrinkles and scars, evidently wiped clean with the tears that had poured endlessly from his puffed, bloodshot eyes.  In the absence of words latter gazed fixedly at Svein’s face, surveying his features to see if he recognized him.

No, he did not know of him at all; and he always prided himself on having a good memory for faces.  A look of anger and scorn replaced his surprise just then, as his mouth tightened in a frown.   So, what business of his, was it anyway?  Was he mocking him?  Had he the intent to rob him also?

But Svein’s gentle caring face, the sincerity in his eyes quickly (muted all suspicion) melted away his frown and froze the subsequent words of retort on this tongue.  Instead, in a muffled voice he gave this reply, “It’s good of you to ask, stranger, there is really nothing you or anyone else can do to ease my pain. So be off with you lad.  My troubles are unsolvable; leave me alone with my misery.  Ah, if only I’d never been born!”  Having said this, he once more cupped his face in his hands and burst into loud sobs.  When he next raised his head, feeling spent, drained of all energy from all that grief, he abruptly ceased his crying; his curiosity piqued, he looked askance at the youth, interested in knowing why he still loitered about and not skedaddled like he should have. (Why hadn’t he taken his leave?)

“Are you still here? Why don’t you go away? Scram. Go on, leave me alone.  Let me die in peace.” Finding his courage then, he shouted at Svein angrily as if to unburden his stored-up hostility and grief that so heavily oppressed his chest. Then within his erratic outbursts, his rage succumbing to his grief once more, he began to wail, “What, oh what have I got to live for, anyway? They are all gone. Now he will be lost to me, as well.  I will never see him again.  Why, oh why did I toil all these years? To what purpose was my youth spent? What retribution am I paying for?”  With crazed emotion then, he pulled hard at his disheveled, matted hair till small clumps of it came loose in his palms.  He stared at them as if in surprised disbelief, with eyes unfocused. He was clearly in shock, his brain atrophied; his senses, his strength began to ebb and, by degrees, emaciated with grief- this presupposed great tragedy had clearly proven too much for him to manage.

Svein’s heart ached for the devastated old man and so again he persisted in his offering of help, “Respected elder, please tell me of your troubles. Maybe I can be of some help.  No man is alone in this world. It was fate that set me on your path. Please allow me this chance to offer you some slight solace.”

“Why should you help me? Why should you want to, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, do I?” he irately asked, not expecting an answer.

“No sir, we have never met, but that should not prevent fellow travelers alone on the road from giving aid to one another. My wish is most sincere.  Please accept my help.”

Still unconvinced the stubborn old man shook his head.  “This is a common road. It was not fate that brought you here. I know the God’s have forsaken me.  I am done for, finished.  No one can lessen my misery!”  Though he had said this punctuated by sighs, the note of tragedy in his voice nevertheless had lessened. He was, in fact, partially soothed by the stranger’s concern.  Inwardly he was grateful that at any rate he had received a sympathetic ear to his troubles, even though he expected little else to come of this.

 As Svein dispensed further kind words, little by little he won the old man’s confidence, grief gave way to reason and, by degrees, he became more disposed to divulging his troubles and receiving Svein’s help.

It was quite apparent from the old man’s earlier reluctance that he had never seen such kindness from others, let alone from a stranger.  After their brief introduction, in which Svein learned that the old man’s name was Yagu Dorka, the old man began, in a rather incoherent way at first, to relay the cause of his grief.

  Yagu Dorka told this sympathetic youth, how he once not too badly off, had bought a girl slave, Misa, with the intent of making her, after she grew up, his son’s wife.

 “They are cheaper if you purchase them young and rear them yourself.  On top of it, it would spare you the expense of a dowry.  Tell me, I know you are still young, but has your marriage been arranged yet?”

Svein’s reddened face brought a faint smile of amusement to the old man’s lips.

 “But it won’t be long, eh?  Your parents should think ahead.  It won’t be a joke if you were to come of age without the benefit of marriage.”

Svein felt extremely uncomfortable with this kind of talk.  As it was, until that very moment he had given girls no thought at all, let alone contemplating marriage.  He shifted his body with some discomfort.

“All right, I’ll say no more.” Yagu Dorka consented with a mischievous grin.  He was satisfied at having dispensed this piece of advice and was now eager to continue with the rest of his story.  “When she reached marriageable age, she was promptly wed, without too much fuss, to my only son. Oh, I forgot to tell you his name, Ake, it means to forbear.  Yes, Ake was my one and only precious boy, for his mother had borne me no other living children.  Ah, never mind.  As I was saying, Ake was truly handsome, and Misa had grown up to be quite a pretty girl, so it was a good match.  On top of that she was a good worker, a good, sturdy girl.  Never a day was she sick.”

Though, at the time of this marriage, Yagu Dorka’s wife had been deceased for some three years it still had not prevented the occasion from being a festive one.  When, ten months later, Misa bore a beautiful, healthy grandson, Yagu Dorka’s happiness had been boundless, and his future assured.

“Ahhh,” again he heaved a deep sigh, “little did I know that my happiness would be short lived.  Five years, five years was all that my happiness lasted.  I tell you; fate has been very cruel to me.  I am a hardworking, poor farmer with no vices.  I have only a few acres of infertile land to my name, and though my son and daughter-in-law toiled over that land from sunrise to sunset, just as I and my wife had done in our youth, we barely scratched out enough of a crop to sustain our meager existence.  Still, I was content for at least here, in this desolate corner, we did not have to pay heavy taxes or kickbacks, like so many, in other parts of the country.

“Last year we finally had a copious (bountiful) harvest, and we had enough spare after expenses, to buy us a mule.  My foolish son argued with me endlessly that if we had a mule pulling the plow, we would get double the work done and thus, land might yield us bit more harvest.  Why should we put the money away for a rainy day?  Little did I know that owning a mule would bring us such trouble?”

 Then, as if reminded, he looked Svein straight in the eye and cautioned, “Son, be careful, since you are headed for the town, for there are many disguised brigands that are there at the market, to pick out the potential victims, see what they are buying, and then follow them out onto the road…  Meanwhile word has been sent ahead for an ambush.  Sometimes they will follow you right to your home, learn your whereabouts, and then later return in numbers to raid your place for even greater gain.  Ahhh...”  The old man paused as he reflected.  This left no doubt in Svein’s mind that was what had happened to Yagu Dorka’s family.

“Though the mule is not that highly prized, wonder what was on that ruffian’s mind that he should have stalked my son all the way home?”, he loudly queried to himself, startling Svein from his rumination.  “But it must have been fate, for the villain from his hiding place caught sight of my daughter-in-law, who had rushed out to greet her husband, and being quite taken by her good looks- for I admit, she was rather blessed with feminine attributes- lusted after her.  Returning to his lair he then must have told enough convincing lies to lure some of his friends to accompany him, with the promise of good plunder.  This I concluded from all their bickering and swearing when they found so little to rob in our place and realized they had been properly duped on this supposed heist.  The coward had needed assistance you see, to carry out his evil intent.”

Yagu Dorka ground his teeth in contempt then impatiently wiped away a trickle of tears that had escaped his eyes.  “Our place, set out of the way, was built to guard against nature’s calamities and occasional, wondering wild animals, not against dangers from bandits.  I told my son, I pleaded with him, ‘Let them take all, let him have her.  Why resist?’  Though he was young and strong, what did he know about fighting?  Besides, he was one against many.  But no, foolish, foolish boy!  Ahhh!  Still, it was going to happen, what can I say?  I threw myself at the burly lout’s feet and begged him to spare my son’s life when he’d pinned him to the ground under his sword.  But he only laughed at me then, baring a fiendish grin, as he cruelly slit my son’s throat.  At that moment my whole body went numb, and the world darkened (diminished) before my eyes.  Meanwhile at the far end of the room the culprit ruffian had cornered Misa.  Her eerie screams just then as he began having his way with her, curdled my blood that had already gone cold and snapped me from my trance.  Before I could say or do anything, however, the swine, having had enough of her screams, landed her a powerful punch, which proved fatal and silenced her forever.  The brute, even after she was gone, he continued to...”  Yagu Dorka could not go on and turned his head away in silence.  It was some time before he could resume his story.

When he began anew, Svein rushed to stop him from telling further, seeing the pain it caused him, but the old man insisted.  “No, let me finish…The other goons, those disgruntled hoodlums ransacked my place, then they pried my grandson from my arms, the child screaming and kicking with all his might, and warned me that, unless I came up with some ransom money within a week, I would never see him alive again.  But where can I get this supposed money?  They have already cleaned me out, took everything I had of any value, carted away all my stored grain and seeds.  All I had been left with was that few acres of land out back and few lesser crops planted late and not yet ready for harvesting.  But all my pleas and cries for mercy went unheeded and I was left alone with the corpses.  Taking a grip on myself, I first buried them.  Then, taking the deeds to my land with me I headed to town.  After an extended try, I finally sold them, even then, for half of what they were worth.  But it was still not enough. Since then, I’ve wrecked my brain, trying countless ways to come up with the rest, all to no avail.  Now what am I to do?  Tomorrow is the day of their vowed return, and I have zip, zero, and zilch, nothing further left to sell.”

“Why didn’t you complain to the magistrate when you were in town?” Svein naively asked.  “Surely you could have gotten some help from them.  It is not right that you should give in to kidnappers’ extortion.”

“Are you not from these parts?” Yagu Dorka angrily snapped, but before Svein could give his reply, “Of course not,” came his own conclusion.  With a nod of his head, “Son, in this district the magistrate, the so-called law enforcement is but a farce.  In some ways he and his deputies are far worse than they are.  Some even claim that he is in cahoots with the bandits, just like the prior corrupt official he’d replaced.  Why do you suppose there are so many innkeepers, other such businesses that are thriving in town?  There really is no one, no honest citizen, or higher official you can trust to take on your case.  If I was not to heed their warning and go on complaining to the magistrate or anyone else and the word reached them, I would be in far worse fix…  There is no limit to their cruelty, I tell you, and I shudder to think what will befall my grandson then!” An involuntary quiver passed through him just then. After a momentary pause, he again, abruptly cried out in dismay, “Oh, I am getting too old for such trouble. All this worrying has taken years off my life and made me more muddle headed. And to think, all this happened because that son of mine wanted to better our lot…  If only he had remained content!  But what is the use of complaining about it now? They are all gone. All I have left is my grandson, which is why I must do all I can to save him.”  Then he mumbled to himself, “But how can I redeem him?”  Again, he fell into deep despair and, ignoring Svein, stared to sob as before.

“Please elder, stop crying. I meant what I had said before. And, since I am in a position, I will gladly cover the sum necessary to meet their demands.”

Had Yagu Dorka heard the stranger right? Were his ears deceiving him? “You would do that for me, someone you’d just met?” the old man asked in great surprise as he, same time scrutinized this youth’s attire now more closely. He was no pauper, that’s for sure.

Svein nodded his head, sporting a broad, supportive smile on his lips.

“Oh, son, you are too good to believe. Truly you must be a saint or an immortal, descended from Heaven. Well, I’ll be...There is justice on this black earth after all!”

So, saying, Yagu Dorka began shedding, but this time, tears of joy.

“As there is no honor among thieves, my only concern is that they might not return the boy,” Svein voiced his private misgivings, withholding the words “in safety.”

“That’s a chance I have to take.”  Yagu Dorka now with renewed spirits bounced back with his swift response. “Besides, he is only five years in age and a rather meek boy in physique.  More likely they will return him to me for another five years before trying to abduct him again, only I will not be here.  Even if I must beg my way, I will get away, far, far away from this place.  Come to think of it, I do have a distant, distant relative, a cousin of sorts from my father’s side that perhaps I could seek out.”  But wait a minute; he quickly checked his enthusiasm; he had not seen any money yet.   “Son, are you sure you want to give me this sum?”  So, saying, he now quoted a figure. “It is a bit much.” Then quickly swallowed the words and I am not sure when I can pay you back. He did not dare profess this outwardly, fearful of deterring him; nevertheless, his conscience forced him to add, “Are you sure you can spare it?”

“Of course I can, elder, and please do not concern yourself with how you can pay me back, for I am giving this sum to you as a gift.”  As he said this, Svein produced from his pocket a leather money purse.  After placing a smaller some from it into his pocket, he handed the pouch to the old man.  “I’m sorry I’m unable to give you still more.  Please keep the purse as a token of our meeting.”

When the old man opened the pouch and saw the amount, disbelieving the weight of it, his face at once flushed.  “Oh, but this is entirely too much!  You’ve made a mistake, son, you have given me far, far more than I needed.”

“No, elder,” Svein replied with a smile as he refused to take back the difference, “The rest is for your traveling expenses. Now please put it away in your safekeeping. I have more than enough to cover my expenses.”  So, saying, Svein patted his pocket on the outside for emphasis. In truth, he had kept only the bare minimum for the purchase of a moderate horse. He, in his generosity, had denied himself a place of sleep and food once in town.  But he was not concerned.

Meanwhile, the old man was beside himself with joy. Never in his life had he seen so much money all at once. Countless years of lucky, bountiful harvest and frugal living would not have produced this accumulated sum, which he now held in his hands. Fearful lest it should vanish into thin air, or that he would wake up and find himself deluded by a fanciful dream, he tightened his grip on the purse and then gave himself a pinch.  The pain convinced him of its reality. 

Now beaming in face, his heart filled with hope, he thanked Svein endlessly and insisted that Svein accompany him to his humble dwelling to pass this night as his honored guest.

 He reasoned with Svein that it was the least he could do to repay such kindness.  “Besides,” he reasserted, “the town is still two day’s journeys from this spot, while my home is but only a few hours’ travel in distance.”

Since Svein had committed himself to helping this old man, he accepted Yagu Dorka’s invitation with gracious words.

 

(END OF SECTION 2)



Sunday, 10 November 2024

THE WEDDING - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 1




It was a beautiful summer’s morning, with light breeze swaying the brunches decked with lush green foliage, as fluffy clouds far above simply sailed on by. Nature’s perfume from countless blossoms filled the air as dancing butterflies spread their wings in choreographed dance here and there. Birds chirping in conjunction with the insects’ cacophony of music competed with the occasional roaring of the predatory beasts; the perfect orchestra completed the picture of an ideal summer’s day.

This flawless setting that set fairies hard at work, Stark, at the conclusion of their martial practice, first sounded out Svein on the idea of marriage to Teuquob.  After receiving Svein’s surprised and tongue-tied response, he then informed his nephew of his own agreeable disposition towards the proposal.  This sent Svein into a paroxysm of joy.

 Later still, when Teuquob was consulted about the idea by Stark and her blushing, favorable response was also obtained, the inevitability of their future nuptials was confirmed. That evening, before sleep, Stark had compiled in his mind, a meticulous list (of itinerary) for the upcoming event.

The very next day they set out to complete the first item on the agenda. Not sparing any effort or expense, they worked long and hard till Teuquob’s room, Svein’s old room was within weeks, duly transformed: enlarged and appropriately refurbished to suit the future newlywed’s needs.

In the intervening time, whenever a moment could be speared, Stark perused the sacred annals, historical chronicles and as well, taking into account cosmic calculations, doctrinal, present ceremonial rites and procedures- to eventually arrive at the most auspicious day. Promptly then, as per ritual, he registered it (inscribed it) on a specific, premier quality parchment and stored it away in his locked drawer.

Certain preliminaries done, subsequently, one fine morning at sunrise, the Deity of the mountain witnessed the gathering for the engagement ceremony- the first part of the nuptial ritual-officiated by Stark, at which point the prospective couple verbally committed their hearts and mind to each other. Forgoing regular day’s schedule, they then feasted that entire day and talked without abandon.

Countless plans were endorsed and laid down, amongst which was Svein’s immediate departure for the nearest town called Karene the subsequent morning, for the procurement of the necessary provisions for the initial ceremony: the offerings to ancestors and mountain God, appropriate congratulatory gifts for the bride, certain conventional treats and few atypical ingredients for the prescribed menu of the wedding feast and so on and so forth. 

The decision of Svein’s prompt departure was agreeably the most prudent course- for in accordance with the time-honored tradition, from that moment on until the night of the wedding the prospective groom had to reside elsewhere. The firm belief was held by all three; to do otherwise, to prematurely share the same roof (while sleeping) as that of the prospective bride, would affect certain misfortune and adversity on the likely couple. Svein thus was instructed by Stark, upon completion of the preparations for his journey and the celebratory dinner that, he would have to spend that night in the stable.

Now after the day’s exhaustive and exciting course of events, the future lengthy separation dominating their thoughts, the evening’s repast happened to be comparatively somber.

Svein seated across form Teuquob at the dinner table, kept his head low, as his eyes swept the floor. Teuquob was no better; she had hardly touched her food. Even Stark, despite his pretense, pondered on pressing concerns, which had been the case each time Svein undertook the journey to town.  Naturally, with all their minds so absorbed (engrossed), apart from the sparse, intermittent bouts of conversation, most of the meal was consumed in utter silence. 

After Svein and Teuquob had retired, Stark, on the pretext of seeing to something, stayed up to meticulously go over the (list) inventory of supplies to ensure himself that nothing significant or essential had been left out.  That put aside, still too restless to retire, he’d then lit his pipe and settled himself in his usual chair; under the trimmed lamplight his eyes then perused the contents of the ancient manuscript.

Try as he might however, his mind kept wondering on other more pertinent concerns, one of which was the reaffirmation of the reasons why Svein’s upcoming marriage had done little to change his earlier conviction- to delay telling of the secret to Svein till he reached the age of twenty-five. As for Teuquob’s true heritage (birthright), he had kept this from his nephew also, though he was not entirely sure of his motives for doing so.

The subsequent morning, after a restless night’s sleep rising at first daylight, Svein after breakfasting, bid his farewells to his uncle and Teuquob then, taking the horse by the reins, led him down the path, soon to be swallowed by the thick foliage. 

Teuquob, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, simply gazed (stared) after him till he’d vanished from view.  Stark anticipating her concerns and wishing to placate her, in an even tone first used some conciliatory words, summating it with positive assertion: “We should expect his safe return after three and one-half weeks.  Now it won’t do, will it, for you to worry till then?” To this Teuquob nodded her acquiescence and turning, followed Stark back into the house.

                                                                                     ~

 For nearing half a day now, Svein and horse had negotiated the rough terrain, descending all the while as they followed invisible goat’s paths that led them further and further from home. At noon with the sun’s burning rays beating down on him, baking his skin, Svein felt particularly uncomfortable and rubbing his hand over the itchy chin, he scrunched up his face in disdain. It was bad enough he had endured the entire trip to the Temple and back under this disguise…. Of course, he had a longer beard than, which he had shaved off the minute he sat foot at home. He could not help but grin thinking of his (far thinking) uncle’s slight annoyance; though Stark had said nothing, his face had revealed that tinge of color at being clearly peeved. This had been Svein’s first inkling, first inference of Stark’s yet undisclosed plan.  For each time that Svein had undertaken these trips to town or other such, he had donned a beard and mustache, which made him look older, all for the purposes added security. 

 In truth Svein had always preferred to be clean shaven, and presently would have welcomed that cooling effects of the slight breeze which periodically caressed his cheeks. His face insulated with all that stubble (short beard, thin moustache), a necessary precaution, it did little else now, other than to annoy him. Svein ran his fingers over his stubble, thinking that by the time he reaches his designation, his beard and moustache should be more substantial and more incommodious (bothersome), though, enable him more effective disguise (camouflage).

Just endure this little inconvenience, he inwardly admonished self, for soon as this task is completed, I’ll be back to normal.  He was sure Teuquob would prefer him …. hmmm.  Svein pensively looked away as crimson hue had just then invaded his cheeks (he flushed); thankful that no one was about to witness this, he bit the corner of his lower lip, trying same time to drive away the vivid image from his mind, the image of him interlocking lips with his beloved. 

On this lengthy, lonely trek, to relieve boredom, Svein would always try resolving past disquiets (trepidations). Svein had become aware of his uncle’s presence bit too late on that particular night at the Temple, and not wishing a confrontation had acted oblivious, and quickly returned to his room. His Uncle had broached the subject and gently admonished him on the fact, few days ago; but Svein did not have the heart to disprove him and hence, contritely promised to be more sentient (alert) and astute (incisive) in future.

I am fortunate to have such a mentor! Stirring the ground ahead with his staff, Svein led his horse down the narrow, quite precipitous path.  He had opted for this shortcut to gain valuable time and perhaps surprise Stark and Teuquob with his early return.

 Presently his thoughts reverting to his future marriage (nuptial), Svein, with a slight grin, contemplated on the timing of Stark’s altered decision. He was certain Stark had been all along (against) contrary to such possibility; when had his uncle had the change of heart?  Was it at the Temple, had the Deity answered his request?

 Svein suddenly recalled to mind, that meaningful exchange between Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn and Stark at the purification ceremony after Svein’s lapsed guard (check, restraint) on his senses. Then there was that unscheduled, subsequent day’s private meeting with the Abbot, after which on his return, Stark had stolen, once or twice undecipherable, yet furtively pensive look at Svein and Teuquob.

The stallion just then as if reading Svein’s thoughts, neighed (whinnied, whickered) and stomped his foot, which made Svein grin even more broadly.

Svein knew that the next leg of the trek would be far worse, intensely grueling and more precarious, but he was primed for the challenge. Reaching this segment short time later, with all his senses on the alert, he had advanced warily on foot, thankful for the exceptional steed that he had, since this part of the arduous trail with its meandering, spiraling course was too rugged and unforgiving with sheer drops of thousands of feet, to negotiate alone, never mind his leading a spirited stallion through it all.  But when they (man and mount) finally, after an arduous stretch, emerged intact on the other end of the (fissure) ridge in the mountain, then after further descent (downward gradient), came to a more level clearing, Svein, with one swift leap, mounted the bridled steed and, holding the reins, impatiently galloped into the distance towards the direction of the certain (human habitation) town.

In his exalted spirits Svein, none the worse for wear, subsequently had pushed on relentlessly, day after day, needing only a brief rest or sleep.  If it were not for his consideration of his horse, he would have sped incessantly like the wind or like an arrow coursing through the air in one fell swoop, until he reached his destination.  As it was, they traveled as though they both had a pair of wings, with his magnificent horse sharing his exuberance and responding accordingly.

They halted only when the earth was mantled in absolute darkness that made any sort of advance difficult.  Only then Svein would dismount at a suitable spot, preferably by a stream with a sparsely populated forest nearby and let his steed loose to graze on the lush green vegetation.  Opting for a good, sturdy tree, he would lean his back against it and help himself to some dry rations, before closing his eyes in brief respite, under the blanket of stars.  Since dangers were paramount during the nocturnal period, Svein’s scant sleep would frequently be interrupted by his vigilant, unfettered stallion that always remained nearby.  When danger struck, more often than not, they would jointly, in one fell swoop, dispose of the offender.  At crack of dawn, unhampered by all the night’s disturbances, man and horse would refresh at the nearby stream, have some sustenance, then Svein once more mounted, they would speed away into distance.

Svein genuinely loved this stallion that he had so rightly named Fiery Comet.  From the very first he had felt most fortunate, indeed, to have come by such an acquisition.

This had happened on a day in the not-too-distant past.  Svein had journeyed to a faraway town, called Tanza, a place where horse trading occurred with frequency, after their last horse had met a tragic, premature end at the fangs of a fierce predatory animal during a stormy winter’s night.  This, by no means, had been his first trip there.  Despite his youth, Svein had undertaken the journey at least three other times, once with his uncle and twice alone, necessitated each time, after a horse had succumbed to some natural disaster.  The other transactions were not out of the ordinary; however, the fourth trip had been quite memorable, to say the least.

                                                                                  ~

 Originally Fiery Comet had belonged to an official of considerable wealth and of good standing in society.  Yered, as he was called, prized his horses above all else and therefore spared no expense in procuring himself a sizable collection.  His stables contained several choice breeds, which he never failed to proudly show off to all his friends and associates, or whomever he wished to impress, at every opportunity.

 Yered had come by this horse while on an official call to his superior, and after difficult negotiations, had finally persuaded the owner to part with it for a considerable sum of money.  Now, despite his knowledge and his experienced eye for selecting superior breeds, this time he had been properly duped by this horse trader, masquerading as a nobleman, who, unbeknownst to Yered, was in cahoots with his superior.  Because of extenuating circumstances, Yered failed to ride his prize acquisition before he reached his home district.

Upon his return he was promptly warned by his secretary and good friend that horses bearing such markings were considered, since time immemorial, to be ill-omened; therefore, urged him to dispose of the horse at once if he wished to escape disaster.  Though Yered admonished his friend and subordinate for frightening him so, when still others chimed in with the same sentiments as his secretary, the horse’s value gradually diminished in Yered’s eyes.

 Even after receiving further confirmation from books, though his heart succumbed to fear, Yered still refused to acknowledge his mistake and remained reluctant to part with the horse.

Now, by some coincidence, when Yered suffered serious setbacks to his position and his wealth, by degrees, declined until he was stripped of power and influence, he ultimately gave validity to these superstitions and, therefore, sought eventually to rid himself of this cursed horse.  Compounding his grievance was the fact that he had never been able to ride the steed to his own satisfaction.

 The stallion possessed a wild and strong nature, and from the first try, he had shown his defiance to his master’s will, by repeatedly throwing him off of his back.  Though Yered prided himself on being a most accomplished rider, his persistent endeavors to ride this horse had all ended up in disastrous failure; with the resultant numerous injuries and bruises, to say nothing of the shame and humiliation, that he’d been forced to endure upon every attempt.

 By now the horse had gained some local notoriety as a most dangerous animal, and so it foiled Yered’s attempts to make a present of the steed to any of his furtively loathed, nemesis associates or despised relatives.  Having already spent a small fortune on the acquisition and upkeep (maintenance) of the horse, but fearing prosecution, he dared not discard the horse to any official, merchant (horse- dealer), neighbor, or prevail upon his servants to simply sell the horse to any unsuspecting, foolish gentry, within the perimeter of his home district.  Eventually he was compelled to commission one of his trusted underlings, to covertly make the transaction for him in another, far away district.

He soon discovered, to his great dismay and shame, that others were not as ignorant of the superstition as he had been, this fact meanwhile obliterating his agent’s bargaining strength and eliminating any chance for the sale.  He cursed himself endlessly in silence for his prior negligence, which now so ruthlessly and persistently robbed him of all his peace and repute.  He became wary and suspected his friends and close associates of mocking him behind his back.  The good-hearted conscientious ones advised him to rid himself of this pest at all costs and without further delay, seeing the drain (stress) on his nerves already.  But, since he had already squandered quite a sum on the beast, avaricious (rapacious) man that he was, he did not heed their advice and adamantly refused to simply slay (slaughter) the horse or let him loose in the wild.  He still hoped to recover some small margin of his expenses and, by doing so, preserve some semblance of dignity.

Time passed and, as his fortunes further declined, at last the exasperated Yered conceded to sell the now disguised horse at an even further away region and at greatly reduced sum- practically giving it away for free. Long at last the stallion was sold off to another unsuspecting, affluent purchaser; but before the congratulatory toast had warmed the new owner Rayex, he’d awakened to realization (same as Yered), that the horse he had procured was, in fact, no great bargain.  Once more hence, the horse was put up for sale by a dispirited owner.

                             

The burly steward called Kurin, carrying the instructions of his cruel and unfeeling master had been forbidden to return unless he secured the satisfactory sale of the horse.  Each day that the sale was delayed he was told to expect ten lashes plus other reprisals upon his return.  But the greatest threat had been made in reference to his sole kin on this Earth; his beloved daughter Yasmin, that would be turning eleven years of age in three months’ time. If he failed to return by then, his spiteful master promised to covertly sell her to some unknown brothel where she would be lost to him forever.

 Kurin knew this was no idle threat, for in his lifetime, since he had been in his master’s service from the age of two, he had seen unspeakable atrocities being committed by that fiend, that to date, he would shudder at the very thought of any such. The danger he’d faced on this trip minuscule in comparison to his daily ordeals in that estate. Meanwhile, the deep, ugly scar on his face and body was sufficient visual advertisement, that he was not one easily to be reckoned with.

 The resolute steward who excelled hand to hand combat and fighting with a staff, had spared no effort and, in a very short span of time, had journeyed great distances, going from town to town, until he had reached this furthest outlying district.  He had been led to believe that in this region, especially in this unruly town, there was a ready market for horses, therefore a good chance for the sale.  Callous officials, iniquitous merchants, nefarious artisans, seditious landlords all in cahoots with the vile bandits that thrived in great numbers in the surrounding countryside made travel by foot extremely hazardous; this, coupled with harsh climate, precarious topography and the distance between towns necessitated ownership of a horse or donkey for every household. In this never-ending cycle of violence, the unfortunate victims of these brigands or thugs, subsequently, without due were forced to make good their losses (time after time), if they wish the continuance of survival.

Last few weeks, having undergone his share of the dangerous escapades, the robust steward, on this day, at this far outpost marketplace of a Town Temagus, had done his best to sell the horse.  Arriving at dawn, he had stationed himself at a most favorable junction and had stayed there, keeping up hope the entire time, refusing to embrace yet another day’s defeat.  But the receding sun’s rays, the approaching hours of dusk, brazenly and cruelly confronted him and along with the diminishing light, his heart succumbed to sorrow and despair.  Raising his eyes to the distant sky, he inwardly asked; Why, why?

Kurin had done everything humanly possible, yet to date success avoided (shunned) him.  No sooner did any prospective buyer draw near or try to mount the horse for a trial run than he immediately was discouraged from making the purchase and, in fright, took to his heels.  Others were not as timid, walking away cursing with clenched fists and threatening reprisals at the top of their voices for the steward’s brazenness in trying to sell such a dangerous animal.  Word spread like wildfire throughout the marketplace, discouraging any other prospective buyers from giving the horse even the slightest bit of consideration.

 All day long, some ruffians from safe distance had intermittently voiced their taunting jeers, as local thugs echoed the same hateful words and threats at him.  Irate steward, wishing to escape the ramifications of his impending, volatile, violent nature, had instead, quietly moved his stand to a more isolated section. Looking askance at the bane of his troubles, he ground his teeth. 

 May Heaven preserve my poor darling daughter; this blasted horse will be the end of us all! If it were up to me, I would chop him up, perhaps make mincemeat out of him, then sell it all to those that would revel in horse meat. Meat is meat…. Few more days, I may do just that…Kurin nodded his head determinedly; knowing few more hours and another day would be spent; trying therefore, in his desperation to convince himself of this likely recourse.

Hey, it should bring a bit of money, enough perhaps to satisfy my master. Any fib should do; anything credible sounding enough. His anger turned to sudden dismay as his thoughts once more reverted to his daughter Yasmin.  Oh, my poor, poor baby, wonder what you are doing now?

 As it were, his daughter’s welfare being paramount on his mind; he gave scant thought to the impending cruel whipping he’d receive on his return, regardless, just for the heck of it, more than hundred merciless lashes that would incapacitate him for weeks if not months.

Hope you are keeping safe, my poor, precious darling!  Once more raising his eyes to the boundless sky, he uttered a silent prayer for her well-being… Then almost instantly, he shook his head in defiant thought: God’s were blind to the likes of them!

Soon as I’m back, a certain determination ceased him then. Yes, he and his daughter will make good their escape this time, and live the rest of their lives, if need be, in hiding but determinedly safe, safer than being subjected to the impending, unpredictable whims of his brutal, vicious master. If that monster harbored such a thought, an idle threat this time may be, of selling her to the brothel…. A beauty she is growing up to be, the swine may find other fabricated reasons to carry out his vile plan!

From the moment she’d been born, such a dreadful fear had lived in the steward’s heart, and he could not stand by and allow his worst fears, this worst nightmare, to be realized. Such an ill fate must not befall his innocent daughter Yasmin.

As dusk fell, gradually, many of the buyers and sellers began to trickle away, clearing the market, leaving behind the desperate, dispirited souls and empty stalls, only a dim reminder of the day’s noisy bustle.  Occasionally a gusting wind rose up and rolled tumbleweed in a trail of dust down the almost isolated dirt road.  The sky, once a pristine blue, now dressed up in its finery, carrying brilliant hues of purple, orange and red attempting to impress the few idle pedestrians on the way home to fill rumbling bellies.  It was at this point when the sharp eyes of the steward suddenly caught an unsuspecting, impressionable youth’s interested look from afar.

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

                            

                                                                                         ~

Sunday, 27 October 2024

THE RESCUE - SECTION 9

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE RESCUE - SECTION 9 

(CONCLUSION OF THE RESCUE)




Silently, Teuquob sat in the place Stark had indicated to catch her breath. Before her, like a magnificent painting, stretched out as far as the eye could see, the vast expanse of undulating peaks, the tallest of which had their crowns haloed with white, floating clouds. Serpentine rivers etched their paths down into deep valleys, disappearing at times under the veil of mist that shrouded them in deep mystery.  Flocks of birds flying in their designated direction decorated the azure sky.

“How peaceful it is here.”  Teuquob, despite herself, heaved a deep sigh.

Stark gazed at her for a moment without replying, “Everything will be all right,” in the end he said, reassuringly.

But in an unexpected turn this brought renewed grief to Teuquob. Unable to contain her emotions, the furrows on her forehead deepened and she burst into tears. Alarmed, Stark moved at once to comfort her, offering his handkerchief. “Females cry so easily;” With a melancholy smile he said, “surely it can’t be as bad as all that?”

“I’m sorry.”  She dried her eyes. “Here, with you, I shouldn’t cry.”  She forced a faint smile to her lips then dropped her head and murmured, “I wish nothing more than to unburden myself to you; but how can I be sure after you hear the facts, you won’t hate me.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear? Oh, child say what you will, I promise I will not hate you, not ever.”  Teuquob was touched by Stark’s soft gaze and empathetic words, giving her the courage to long at last voice what was oppressing (harrying) her heart.

“Oh, sir, I can no longer endure with such uncertainty and such falsehood.”  She had too much respect for Stark to allow this deception to continue any longer and she looked up, resolved now to confess, to tell him everything. “You have been kinder to me than my own kin. Fearful, though, as I am of losing your affection and respect, still I must dare profess that I am not what I earlier claimed to be. In truth, I am but an unworthy, disobedient daughter of His Highness Murong Di of Kontu. Only, born under an unlucky star, I have never basked in the warm, protective grace of His Majesty. Subjected to scorn, I was forced to endure habitual, contemptuous, and disdainful….”  Her voice had shaken with emotion before dropping off, as tears once more glistened in her eyes; for anew, she was torn by conflicting feelings (sentiments).

Repressing the urge to intervene, Stark sat motionless and gazed at Teuquob in thoughtful silence.

After a time, her composure regained, she then professed to Stark the summary of how she was raised (educated); but temporarily withheld (omitted) the circumstance of her birth, as it was too painful for her to recollect (call to mind). “On my fifteenth birthday, when His Majesty decreed that I’d be wed to Lord Hedenko...”

“Not the Overlord Deng Hedenko?” Stark interrupted Tequob in surprise.

“You know of him, sir?”

“I most certainly do.”  How could your father, how could His Majesty, in all good conscience condemn you to such an odious fate? Stark wanted to inquire, but restrained himself, instead giving her a brief explanation of how, when he visited Kontu in his teens, he had come to learn of the Overlord’s exploits from his esteemed teacher and host. The surname of which, when disclosed, resolved an earlier dilemma for Teuquob. Clearly fate had played a big part in bringing Stark and her to this present circumstance. With this notion, hope sprung anew in her heart.

“Perhaps, then, you do understand my plight,” she smiled, reassured, “for long since my heart has been ill at ease as to how I may best explain this to you. But sir, my own life is of little consequence to me, and this was not the reason for my flight. My action was (determined) born out of necessity, a daughter’s duty to her mother’s soul.”  Then, by degrees, Teuquob unfolded the entire truth: the story of her mother’s life, beginning with her mother Princess Lueling’s tragic tale, as it was told to her by her nanny Shutizan; next, she divulged  Hedenko’s notorious, more recent exploits, and the actual reason for her escape.

“You were quite correct in acquiescing with the wishes of your respected nurse.” Stark nodded in approval when Teuquob had reached that point of her story (narrative). “Shutizan is to be commended for her loyalty, farsightedness and clear thinking.”  Stark was also fatalistic in his philosophy of life and believed that much of everything was pre-ordained at one’s birth. Hence, he stressed further that all Teuquob had done was to follow her destiny.

His understanding words dispelled at once the gloomy, oppressive clouds that had so long stifled her soul, and instead, ushered in the fresh spring rain. Tears of gratitude now flowed ceaselessly from her eyes. Stark, his heart pained by compassion, embraced Teuquob as a father would a daughter, offering her solace. As she burrowed her face into his vest her tears rolled like pearls down the front of the garment.

 How difficult it is to console young girls, Stark reflected in exasperation. They are so frail, so emotional. I feel so inadequate at dealing with this. My wife was always better at this than I. His forehead creased, he shut his eyes tight, as the hapless girl’s grief reached the very depths of his soul. Despite his natural reserve, he found himself stroking her hair soothingly.

Darkness had begun to encroach on them as the sun followed its usual path to the western horizon. This provided Stark the opportunity of break and he said, as delicately as he could, “Please try to constrain yourself; besides, we really should be getting back before the sun sets.”

Teuquob, a sensible girl, responded immediately and pulled her head away. Drying her eyes she bashfully asked his forgiveness for her imposition on him in such an informal manner.

“Please, do not be concerned,” he smiled compassionately, “that was no imposition. We are all allowed our moments of frailty now and then. I am only glad that I could afford you some measure of solace.” With the outstretched hand, he then helped her to her feet and together they began their descent of the slope.

As they neared home, Stark suddenly halting, voiced his opinion, “It’s too late in the season now, but perhaps at the start of spring we could undertake the journey to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple.”

This precipitated fresh tears of gratitude in her eyes. How kind, how sparing Stark was, to be considering such a move in anticipation of her wishes!

“What is this?  Still more tears? My dear child, please stop crying or you will make yourself ill.”

“It’s all my fault, I should have waited,” he ruefully muttered in self-reproach, turning his head away.

“Oh no,” she rushed to counter, “I’m most grateful to you, sir.”  Then, in a most unexpected move, she fell on her knees in front of him and proceeded to thank him most humbly for his kindness and consideration. She had long wished to ask him about the existence and location of just such a place but, feeling that he had done so much for her already, had refrained from doing so.

Overcoming his own surprise, Stark hastily raised her to her feet and stressed that he had long nurtured the idea of visiting “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple” himself to offer prayers and burn incense to his late Sovereign and ancestors. 

“Your gratitude is unwarranted, my dear since I would have done this anyway for my own sake.  My objective, it seems, fell into accord with yours out of pure coincidence.” 

After a moment’s pause, he sadly added, “I, too, am guilty of neglect,” and his heart over again, flooded with grief.

 Of course, inwardly she had rightly guessed the true reason for his so-called procrastination; it had to do with protecting Svein. She could note that even now after having committed himself to helping her, inwardly he was torn with disquieting reticence, reluctant as he was to chance their security, by his leaving their well-guarded secret retreat and immersing (personally, physically) with the outside world.

Inwardly in fact, his reasoning was waging war with his sensibilities: Could it be that he had become unduly overly cautious. Surely, after all this time, almost nineteen years, there could be no real danger of spies or henchmen still in pursuit. Even he, the ardent nemesis, in absence of proof, would not be that persistent!

His mood lightened, his voice filled with the renewed vitality of youth, he firmly proclaimed, “Most definitely we will undertake this journey come spring!”  But the words were no sooner out of his mouth, when his face clouded over with concern, “I may have been rush in raising your hopes however, for you may not be up to such an arduous journey.”

“I beg to differ with you, sir. I am strong in physique and even stronger in will.  No journey, however odious, shall deter me from my aim.”

Despite his disagreement, Stark kindly refrained from airing his sound judgment and the projected difficulties they, not just her, needed to master. “All right, we will see what we can do to make the transition and the trek more plausible.  I’m sure that between the two of us we could afford you the necessary measure of security and means of comfort.  However, I feel I must warn you, well in advance, that the proposed journey will be most perilous and taxing an undertaking.”

“Yes sir, I stand warned.” She, suppressing her hopeful exuberance, responded in a mocked, serious tone. Then, with her heart bursting with joy, she quickened her pace to match Stark’s speed.

The vegetation skirting this meandering path was already being draped by the twilight mists. Meanwhile, back at the cabin, Svein was growing increasingly apprehensive over their late return.

Something unforeseen must have happened to offset Stark’s stance of punctuality!

Unable to concentrate hence, he had long since abandoned his studies and restlessly paced (to and from,) the length and breadth of the room, all the while deliberating whether to stay and wait, or simply risk provoking Stark’s scorn by going out in search of them. His rich imagination now an antagonist, most terrible sequential scenes, each more frightening than the next, began to (serially manifest,) unfold in his mind’s eye. In the semi-darkness of the room (with only the fireplace lit), heads bearing the razor-sharp fangs of known predators lunged at him out of the shadows, and then disappeared.

 Oh, I do hope they are all right.  He moaned irritably when the lone wolf’s howl from a distance pierced the still air of the room. He impatiently stamped his foot and turned to face the door. He was about to head out (the door) regardless of consequence, when to his great relief, he heard their approaching footsteps. Exhaling, he quickly rushed over to sit at his desk and pretended to be reading, feigning distraction, when they just then entered the room.

“Such diligence,” came Stark’s bemused remark. “My dear boy, you must have acquired extraordinary night vision, to be able to study so well in the dimly lit room.”

Teuquob hurried to light the lamp at the same time as Svein, sheepishly, also hastened to correct his error. Silently their hands collided, and both jerked it back, blushing.

That night, after Teuquob had retired and Svein had concluded his studies, when both men were relaxing by the fire before going to bed, Stark recounted the afternoon’s events to Svein.  In telling her story (but leaving out the fact she is of royal blood), Stark made specific reference to Lord Hedenko, the man to whom she had been betrothed.

“Since there is political significance in how Deng Hedenko rose to power, I will hence, take pains to extrapolate in detail everything I know of this Lord.”

“When I was residing as a guest at my teacher’s home in Kontu, I heard allusions being made daily to this notorious Lord, but it was not until my tutor filled me in on the details that I fully comprehended the extent of the fear his name generated.

As a young man in his teens, sixteen years old to be exact, Deng Hedenko already towered over seven feet in height. With his massive build, prominent nose, large predatory eyes, and bushy auburn hair of fiery red to match his temper, he already resembled more a demon than a mortal man. Yet, only once from afar I bore witness to his imposing bearing as he rode his black stallion at the fore of his equally impressive military entourage through the main gates on his way to seek audience with King Murong Di.”

Stark thoughtfully leaned back in his chair and took in a few more puffs from his pipe before continuing, “Overlord Deng Hedenko, as he was more appropriately referred to then, was born second in line to an immensely powerful and well-established family in the fifth year of Murong Di’s reign. Deng’s cruelty showed first when he was barely seven years of age. Even at that early age he was contending for power and aspired to his elder brother’s title. He dared his brother to a swimming match in the icy river. It was a very frigid day in mid-winter and the temperature had already dipped below freezing. When the elder boy succumbed to the cold and stood on the brink of death, Deng cruelly let him expire, and only then made a feeble pretense of affecting a rescue. Hedenko himself was known for boasting of this, which is why it had reached my teacher’s ears.

“With one obstacle eliminated, there remained a more difficult one for Deng to overcome. Fortunately for Hedenko, however, his father Lord Dazong Hedenko had wizened too late to his son’s insatiable thirst for power. With due consequence, the old Lord’s attempts to subdue Deng and bring him under the control of his authority resulted in failure. By withstanding the cruel measures and punishments inflicted on him under the guise of discipline, Deng was able to increase his will power and stamina by degrees until even the father had cause to fear his own son. Deng Hedenko’s popularity, cultivated with other members of the family and influential friends, and his growing skill in military strategy and martial combat was met by the father with due apprehension.

“Fearing his own early demise, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko now contemplated conferring the hereditary title to his third son, overstepping Deng’s right of succession. But, before this could be affected (achieved), the younger brother succumbed to a fatal accident. Worse, the father could find no proof to substantiate his suspicion of Deng. Feeling his life was now in mortal danger, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko named his own younger brother Teron Hedenko as heir apparent and conspired with him to attain (beget) Deng’s demise; but the old Lord’s favorite wife, (for polygamy was an accepted norm there), who had special affections (fondness) for Deng Hedenko, betrayed her husband and warned Deng of the impending danger.”

“Sprung from the trap, Deng fled to the capital, and to safety. His first act was to seek an audience with Prime Minister Kwonsu Non, who bore Lord Dazong Hedenko an old grudge. Via circumspect bribery, Deng managed to ingratiate himself with the Prime Minister. Then, through P. M’s patronage, he was favorably presented at court to His Majesty Murong Di.  Deng’s striking bearing and his outstanding ability quickly won him the favor of the court. Despite his youthful age of seventeen, he was appointed as the commander of an Imperial force of battalion and, promptly dispatched to settle the border skirmish at Sikumu.   With deadly precision, in no time at all he annihilated the overwhelming forces of the enemy, recovered the lost territory, and returned victorious to the capital.

 For this stroke of military genius, he was awarded the rank of General. In addition, he was presented with a fine, black steed from the Imperial stables and, as a special mark of favor from His Majesty, a luxurious court garment.

“In subsequent years, Deng Hedenko, gaining command of larger and larger armies, won countless unparalleled victories. He was strict with his officers and fighting men and, quite unbending in his insistence on rigorous discipline as well as, absolute adherence to military rules and regulations. However, he was also fair in his treatment of good men and most generous in his rewards to those that deserved his recognition. With his fair distribution of the wealth won during his conquests, he won the unquestioning loyalty of his men. His words became law throughout the whole army and overrode the instructions from the Minister of War and the Prime Minister. There was an unspoken, unwritten conviction (belief, opinion) that the army’s loyalty to Deng Hedenko even superseded an allegiance to Sovereign Murong Di.

“As General Deng Hedenko’s fame spread everywhere, his father’s earnest warnings to His Majesty about Deng’s ambitious and treasonous nature (fell on deaf ears) were never heard.

“Most faithful, stanch subject, Lord Dazong Hedenko’s subsequent entreaties, for the king to curtail Deng’s power before it was too late or, more aptly, put Deng to death, were also effectively intercepted by the Prime Minister and his powerful clique at court.”

“In the end the old Lord personally undertook the long and arduous journey to the Capital and put the matter before the king.  Through persistence, and the help of the few faithful friends he had remaining, Lord Dazong Hedenko eventually succeeded in gaining a private audience, and presented his admonitions with great zeal. But, far from being commended for his loyalty, he was rebuked by the Sovereign for harboring unwarranted suspicions and for promoting baseless slanders against his own son.  The old Lord left the capital a broken man.

“Growing in influence and power, Deng eventually reached the limits of insolence when he dared to openly insult the Crown Prince. But, since Deng was the most valued Field Marshal of the Imperial forces, and his talents most sorely needed at that time, the Monarch overlooked this sleight, as well as his other numerous crimes.

“Through Deng’s victories, King Murong Di had gained those territories he had always craved, and, in a noticeably short time, all the borders of Kontu were, for the first time ever, secured.  With the antagonistic kingdoms that had previously posed a serious threat to his realm all, without exception, vanquished and their strongholds burnt to the ground, Kontu’s Sovereign Murong Di’s absolute dominion (and lasting reign) was affirmed.

“In time however, with no more wars to wage, conflicting principles and varied internal politics, despite cloaked ambitions, nevertheless, ignited serious disagreements between liege and vassal. As the dissention between the two worsened (intensified), the king now began to distrust Deng’s increasing political power and to question his professed loyalty. Moreover, Murong Di, now regretful of his past oversight, perfunctorily dismissed the Prime Minister’s ordinarily compelling lexis and opinions and heeded instead Deng’s enemies and Lord Dazong Hedenko’s forewarnings.

“Understanding that, with the nation at peace, the Field Marshall was therefore expendable, Deng sought a way out of this decidedly perilous predicament (situation).

 As the saying goes, ‘When the game is caught, the good bow is put away.’”

 “Moving swiftly, before the likely rival faction mustered (mobilized) an offensive against him; Deng Hedenko resigned his commission and asked leave from His Majesty to return to his home state. 

“The Sovereign could not afford to appear openly ungrateful to this national hero, and so, Deng’s request was promptly granted. Secretly, Murong Di had hoped that the old Lord would do the deed (finish the job) for him and dispose of Deng once and for all.

“Lord Dazong Hedenko’s ardent foe, Prime Minister Kwonsu Non meanwhile, harboring his own sinister designs, keenly supported the monarch’s decision, whilst, adroitly silencing those who planned to enunciate a warning against letting such a rapacious fiend loose in the countryside.

True to form, just as Prime Minister had anticipated, shortly after Deng’s arrival at the estate of Quinan, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko was swiftly, ruthlessly killed (cut down) and the blame put onto unknown assassins. Subsequently, two culprits were captured and, under torture supervised by Deng himself, confessed to the crime. Both were promptly, brutally (horribly) executed immediately after the trial. The case, thus quickly settled, gave the Chief Justice (of the High Court) no opportunity to call an investigation.

The first part of reprisals (retaliation, revenge) now over, Deng moved against, his once beloved uncle, Teron Hedenko.

As it were, the very moment the news of Deng’s impending return to Quinan had reached his uncle, out of fear and, to allay Deng’s suspicions, (or ire,) Teron had officially (formally) relinquished his claim to the succession and furthermore, staged a falling-out with his elder brother Dazong Hedenko. Underestimating Deng’s vindictive and brutal nature, upon Deng’s arrival, Teron then, reminiscing about past joyful family events and his lone, doting treatment of Deng- proceeded to curry as much favor as possible with his nephew.

Despite the assassination of Lord Dazong, Deng’s sustained amicable, respectful conduct towards his uncle, seduced (lulled) Teron into a false sense of security and he, albeit erroneously, further lowered his shields (safeguards).”

“Teron was elated when after the required period of bereavement, Deng, concealing his contempt, courteously invited his uncle to a lavish reconciliation banquet.

“Deng wined and dined his uncle with a cold smile on his lips throughout the ceaseless servings of alcoholic-beverages, rare exotic fruits, steamed edible plants, huge portions of venison and scrumptious (delectable) variety of outlandish victuals.

“The after-dinner nerve-racking, bellicose martial entertainment, however, was ensued by unexpected, dire revelations from Deng’s paid witnesses, who brought forth false proof and a trumped-up charge of treason against Teron Hedenko.  The Uncle had not even digested his food before he was brutally hauled in chains to a damp dungeon, tortured, then summarily executed for his crime.  Once more, the case was so clean-cut that the High court was rendered powerless to indict Deng; as the witnesses themselves, had disappeared with as much rapidity as the accused.

“Quinan, which encompasses a remote, mountainous region was the farthest state from Capital. Burdened with prevalent, severe weather and harsh topography, the hardened citizens, herders, woodsmen or hunters, had always been difficult to rule. On the plus side, the region landed itself to producing the finest warriors in the land.

After the consolidation of his power in Quinan, Deng engineered some border troubles on his land and, using this reason, proceeded to create a new, invincible army in his state.

“When this new development became known in the Capital, the king sent a secret envoy into Quinan to keep surveillance (watch) on Deng and return with his findings. Expecting such a move, Deng hid most of his force in the mountains and provided numerous false reports for the envoy. Favorably impressed, the envoy returned to court and cleared Deng of all charges.”

 “With time, Deng grew ever more savage in nature and many of his enemies equated him to the fierce carnivores that plagued his mountainous state.

This predatory Lord had remained fond of wars and bloodshed all his life.

“It was said that, when he could not conduct a war, he would butcher men just for the sheer pleasure of it. He, true to his innate nature, remained just as fanatical about regulations as when he had commanded the Imperial army.

He enforced his unvarying, harsh edicts, with equivalent rigidity, regardless of stature or age- on the military, close kin and, on the entire civilian population.”

“All this while, many of the ablest soldiers who had served under Deng had, intermittently defected from Imperial force and re-enlisted in Quinan. With such an impressive force under his command, Deng Hedenko next embarked on a campaign of bloodshed to make Quinan the biggest and strongest state within Kontu.

“The first set of wars was waged on the neighboring kingdoms, Kwan and Ezaks, extending Deng’s holdings further to the north and north-west. After his power in these border regions was consolidated, Deng then looked to the neighboring states in Kontu, which stood between him and the Capital.

His ruthless exploits by then were so well known that just by seeing his invincible army poised at the gate, was sufficient cause to frighten these lords to capitulate (surrender) or, to strive for an alliance with the Overlord.

 “In this way, by degrees, Deng Hedenko succeeded in usurping good portion of the country from right under the very nose of Murong Di. In fact, by the time he was thirty-one, Overlord Deng had directly controlled over one-third of the Kingdom of Kontu and had secretly annexed another quarter.

 “This dominance was attained, via effective manipulation of many of the influential ministers at the Imperial court who had the King’s ear; and, by maintaining rigidly enforced control over engorged state of Quinan; which was ruled by the harshest administrative governing body, under sole authority (command, rule) of Overlord Deng Hedenko.”

 

“While all these factors were adding up, Sovereign Murong Di’s attention was instead, directed to the more urgent threat (pressing matter) from Ircon, on the eastern border region, one of the first states formerly subdued by Hedenko, which at present had again risen in power to war against Kontu.

“Hedenko had earlier warned Murong Di of the strength of the conquered country and had counseled the annihilation of the entire Royal Family.  The king, however, had coveted the Third Princess of Ircon, and later made her his fifth wife, leaving the Royal Family in power and registering Ircon as an independent tributary state.

“Too late, His Majesty Murong Di regretted his ignoring Hedenko’s warning of just this possibility. He would have been surely lost had he not still had the backing of Imperial army and some powerful and staunch loyal ministers in Court.

Compounding this mistake with another one still later however, he, gave the danger from Ircon a far greater precedence over looming (imminent) one from Quinan, and refused to recall Hedenko to court to give account for his, by now well-documented, treasonous activities. This slight chance, sole window of opportunity closed, by the time the injudicious monarch wizened to be concerned over Deng’s invincible power, the internal strife, and corruption at court had permanently eroded his ability to effectively deal with Deng.

“No doubt, numerous assassins were covertly dispatched to Quinan, but their attempts were all rendered ineffectual in that tightly controlled military state.

“Deng Hedenko, for the three years prior to Teuquob’s escape, had permanently absented himself from court. His emissaries still assured the muddle-headed king of his loyalty to the throne and provided sound reasons for Deng’s accumulation of arsenals. Nevertheless, with Deng Hedenko a permanent thorn in his flesh, it appears Murong Di had finally resorted to his last recourse, that of allying himself with Overlord Hedenko. Informed covertly of licentious Hedenko’s not so secret desire to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the entire kingdom, The Sovereign had issued an edict, along with the invitation, to appease Lord Deng Hedenko.  Although, I suspect, this was but a ruse (ploy) to lure Hedenko to the capital and there to arrest him and execute him for treason.  Teuquob was the bait to lure this fierce Overlord into the snare.”

“Judging from Overlord Deng’s abilities, however, he would have accepted this proposal only to have sprung some sort of trap of his own, allowing him to usurp the throne.”

Stark finally concluded his narrative with this most plausible prediction. Much of what he had said about the situation (state of affairs) in Kontu reminded both about the current history of their own country, and both Stark and Svein lapsed into silence, their thoughts converging on one unspoken name: Zakhertan Yozdek.

                                                                            ~

Winter soon showed its bitter face, with unending storms and bone-chilling cold temperatures. Added to this was the danger from ferocious predators, those that did not hibernate, now contended for the scarce food still left on the mountain. So, all unnecessary activities, like Stark and Teuquob’s excursions into the woods, were postponed, while the daily martial exercises continued as before in the clearing.

On this night, like so many other frigid winter nights, nestled in the warm comfort of their living room, Svein poured over his books, while Teuquob engaged herself with needlework and Stark, seated in his chair, quietly read a favorite passage from a book.  Only the howl of the winds outside, in harmony with the roar of the wild beasts, intruded thoughtlessly on the silence of the room. When Stark distractedly looked up from his book Teuquob, misconstruing his pondering (considering carefully) as break in concentration, impetuously voiced her request, “May I trouble you, sir, with, perhaps, my unreasonable hope?”  Stark nodded his assent.

 “Sir, I would be most honored if you would consent to impart to me the (teachings) requisite mastery of the “Literate” calligraphy, so that I may be able to decipher the ancient scrolls and benefit from the antiquated poetry and prose that are in your keeping. Since it is my wish to remain in your honorable country indefinitely, may I, therefore, trouble you with this supplication?”

What purpose would it serve other than to confuse your mind? Stark reflected before finally giving his reticent response.

 “Since only certain times are allocated to education, are you certain you can spare the time from your present linguistic studies? The future would be a more apt time (perhaps) for such additional explorations.”

“I can achieve both. In this way also, curious as I am of the beautiful, exceptional works, I shall not repeatedly trouble you for the translations.” she pressed in her eagerness.

“Perhaps it can be done.” Stark teased “But first, we must ask Svein if he would not object to you sharing additional paper, ink and writing utensils.”

Svein, delighted at this opportunity of spending more time with her, raised his head from his books and meeting his uncle’s eyes, nodded to him in the affirmative.

Of course, you would, foolish boy. Stark looked away to ponder on the concern.

 For a time, he remained reticent, worried about the unnecessary distraction, but instead, reverting his gaze back on Svein, he voiced this query, “Are you sure that it would not be an imposition?”

Svein could hardly contain his bursting delight; so, you are not entirely opposed to it, and once more gave his ready consent.

From that time onwards, each night sharing the same lamplight, Teuquob sat opposite to Svein and, with due diligence, followed Stark’s instructions in reading and writing in the ancient dialects. These times spent in such proximity were not however without their measure of restraint and discomfort for Teuquob and Svein. Feeling the way, they did for each other; it took great deal of effort and willpower from each to direct and maintain their concentration on their studies. Ultimately, (at the right time) Teuquob was encouraged by Stark to only speak in the Wenjenkun’s language.  Her persistence in using the unfamiliar tongue, despite her inadequacies of speech and discernible frustrations (such as flushed cheeks) when she could not readily recall the words she wished to use endeared her still more to them.

Over time, despite their reserve and propriety of conduct, Svein and Teuquob were now growing more familiar with each other. Svein could not resist teasing her from time to time, making her more flustered or flushed with fury. This innocent interplay, when done in times other than the study period, was overlooked, and even silently condoned by Stark.

 In a noticeably brief time Teuquob marshaled enough of the old language that enabled her to read a line or two of their most treasured poems or prose.  Thirsting for more, she continued to pour over her studies with unending enthusiasm and delight.

                                                                                    ~

 (Epic story of “Legend of Nevetsecnuac” resumes in the next post, “The trip to the Monastery”- Section 1)