Subsequent morning at
first daylight and well before Teuquob awoke, as part of their daily routine,
both Stark and Svein again headed straight for the wooded clearing to resume
their martial exercises. With due diligence, unstintingly Stark continued to tutor
his nephew on the varied martial techniques and strategies that he had mastered
or utilized via the time-honored lessons learned from eminent men, illustrious
generals, heroes renowned for their skill and other such distinguished fighters
that had existed throughout Wenjenkun’s history.
On Svein’s insistence,
another key combat style, that of Kontu’s, was now added to his already taxing,
grueling (physically & mentally demanding) practice schedule. Svein’s
rigorous training encompassing all had commenced from the moment he could walk.
Having the boy’s best interest at heart, Stark’d tried moreover to instill in
Svein the fighting spirit, the competitive edge needed to win at all costs,
notwithstanding (despite) the opponent’s superior power, strength and ability.
Svein was drilled and grilled, all the while propelled to becoming utterly
invincible in combat and to overcoming any or all obstacles that he may later
encounter. Stark expected nothing less
than perfection from his apt pupil and even though he rarely praised Svein, he
was inwardly pleased with the boy’s steady progress. Endowed with strong stamina, natural agility
and superior intellect, Svein had mastered with remarkable ease all the
strategies in warfare, requisite martial techniques, varied weaponry, excelling
particularly in sword fighting and archery.
“Only a little while
longer and Svein would be ready.”
Stark nodded his head in approval, observing the discharged swift steady stream
of arrows- each powerful shot finding their precise mark on the prescribed
target one after another, all perfect bulls’ eye – a target placed at such an
incredible distance that it was virtually invisible/barely detectible.
Stark closed his eyes and
heaved a grateful sigh. That elusive time and seemingly infeasible ambition was
gradually but surely nearing at hand; soon he would have fulfilled his
obligation and perhaps his greatest contribution to their cause: a conference
of skill and ability that would one day with measure of certainty, ensure the
boy’s future survival and success.
Postponing his certain
demise, Stark had persevered through daunting challenges and adversities, with
that incessant zeal in full anticipation of the day when all past criminal
injustices be redressed and the fallen could long at last be properly avenged!
Meanwhile, a youth of not
yet twenty, day by day Svein was beginning to look every bit the seasoned
warrior, exercising in the cool of the mornings and the heat of noon,
regardless of the weather. A promise had
been made to him that one day he would inherit his uncle’s heirloom sword,
which he had been shown only once as a child.
This sword, encrusted with fine jewels and wrought of exquisitely
crafted hard tempered steel, a metal both strong and pliable, had left such an
indelible impression on the young boy’s mind that he had since tried his utmost
to achieve the skill and be worthy of such an honor.
He practiced ceaselessly
each day, thence, even longer than the required time, without any show of
strain or tiredness.
Svein’s aggrandized
endurance and ability, fueled by the intense, driving force of his unyielding
will, augmenting his prowess as a warrior, is what encouraged and most
comforted Stark. In the span of years that Stark had been Svein’s willing
mentor, protectorate and friend, the bond of affection and mutual respect
between these two had, as mentioned before, grown akin to that between father
and son. Things had remained thus, between Stark and Svein for little over a
decade (12 Years), with their daily patented, predictable routines having only
minor variances or deviation from the norm and certain breaks when Svein went
on hunting trips or errands into town.
~
As fate would have it, an
unforeseen factor, namely Teuquob, had now been integrated into their equable
(unvarying) equation. Reticent at first,
Stark had gradually, successfully incorporated this variant modification- a
necessary social aspect/ phase of Svein’s more thorough education- into their
daily routine with hopeful portent for the future.
Moreover, as Teuquob’d
assumed, on her insistence, more and more of the household chores, it’d allowed
Svein more time to fully concentrate on his pedantic studies and martial
practices.
Teuquob was such a good
help that it also provided Stark with the opportunity to now oversee previously
neglected or postponed lesser concerns.
Another boon being that, finding spare time now, Stark became well disposed
to taking extended, contemplative walks with Teuquob, presumably to appreciate
the exquisite mountain scenery; but contrary to appearances and mindful of her
future, during many of these jaunts Stark strove with his subtle tutoring to
instill in her the requisite skills needed to be more adept at surviving in
extreme wilderness.
Be that as it may, often
on these excursions they would stay within the deemed safe circumference and
whenever possible followed nature’s veins to reach their destination. In this
lush environment however, even the previously cleared pathways would oftentimes
in fortnight be invaded by lush green rank vegetation and serpentine vines
therefore hindering any advance or transposing it altogether to perilous
state. Hence, Stark with his machete led
the way, at the same time affording them the added protection against chance
encounters with the predatory animals.
If the avenue was not too congested but only slightly obstructed, Stark
simply stirred the ground ahead with the blunt side of the tip to drive away
any crawling creatures or coiled serpents from the undergrowth that might cause
Teuquob unwarranted fright.
Eventually, during respite
Stark and Teuquob would converse, oftentimes at length, pursuing varied yet
always impersonal concerns; via secret understanding, each limited themselves
to educational or to mundanely innocuous, present topics. Consequently, for a very long time Stark did
not ascertain the reason or reasons that had compelled Teuquob to undertake
such a perilous journey. His restraint
and due discretion meanwhile being very much appreciated by Teuquob, growing
daily in respect and affection for Stark- in time she came to wish she could
openly confess her burdensome past (tribulation) to him. Only her reluctance born out of her inner
fear that Stark with his traditional views, strict morality and unbending
principles on filial piety might not be so forgiving once he’d learned of her
disobedient act towards her father- was what deterred her thus far from
revealing her secret.
All the same, barring this
impediment, day by day Teuquob and Stark had grown closer in heart; in the
interim Svein felt somewhat excluded, especially since he had to rely on his
uncle’s discretion, disposition and good graces to receive synopsis of their
private conversations. Oftentimes left
on the sidelines, he would periodically steal glimpses in her direction, his
attention distracted from his studies by her delightful mannerisms or by her
sweet, melodious voice. Though the
budding feelings of love had already taken root and in defiance of his will
presently were burgeoning and blossoming in his heart, ambiguous about her
feelings, after a careful consideration, he’d wisely or unwisely perhaps, opted
to relinquishing any attempt or outward show of communicating this to her.
Unknown to Svein his
affections were in fact, surreptitiously reciprocated by Teuquob. His very presence stirred warmth and
excitement in her bosom, and whenever he was in proximity, her heart palpitated
wildly, and she felt short of breath.
Oftentimes, she felt flustered, and her cheeks burned during their
linguistic studies together, especially when their eyes happened to mutely
meet, or their hands accidentally touched.
Still, she guarded her secret with utmost diligence and masked these
unavoidable outward telltale signs so masterfully that Svein came to believe it
was arduous, exacting studies (lessons) that brought on such display and that
she bore no such interest in him and at best tolerated him. In some ways, when it came to deciphering
feminine temperaments, Svein in his tender years, was unfortunately still quite
naïve.
Of course, this added
complication, the supposedly covert, burgeoning attraction between Svein and
Teuquob did not escape the worldly/discerning Stark- only he chose to remain,
albeit temporarily, mute on the subject.
Since both had impeccable morality and irreproachable integrity, there
was no immediate, warranted reason for concern, or any possibility of a future
impropriety or misconduct; meanwhile, Svein’s studies or his training had not
suffered in the least from this distraction, far from it, it seemed to further
galvanize Svein’s resolve.
Over time, as Stark
oftentimes sat (across) between their eye’s paths, mindful of the irresistible
attraction and evident, mounting intensity of it, he could not help but be
perturbed, surmising the complexities of a looming probability of the certain
future union. His mind beset with worries, he would hence, stroke his beard
rather distractedly as he pondered on the alternative…
“Hmmm…. Besides, since
their own portended future most likely be embroiled in great danger and
uncertainty, how could he, in good conscience draw Teuquob into this rather
risky, hazardous sphere?” Yet,
instinctively Stark knew, that it was already too late, that perhaps
preordained, she’d already permeated their respective lives. “That, conceivably, their fate was meant to
be intermingled with hers; for who could truly fathom the course of fate?”
~
As more time elapsed, the
heat and splendor of summer gradually gave way to the cool temperatures and the
glorious colors of fall. Presently,
golden, red-brown leaves, twigs and brambles of all sorts wove an incredible
tapestry over the ground as far as the eye could see. The intoxicating, picturesque scenery
naturally drew both Stark and Teuquob to outdoors with more frequency. One such fine day, bathing under the
checkered golden rays of the sun they had initiated an advance towards their
favorite destination- all the while managing the at times winding, difficult
paths or periodically pausing to admire and be absorbed by the full-splendor of
nature. Delightfully, the brisk mountain
air filled their sleeves, puffed their lapels and gently caressed their faces,
urging them to go on. Then quite
suddenly, the cool breeze would pick up force, whipping about the heads of the
weak vegetation and the golden branches, dotting the air with a flurry of fall
colors, as ancient pines, resilient to the wind, stood defiantly erect and
proud, spreading their canopy of green over them and the subordinate trees or
the ominous, grotesque rocks. Trailing Stark, Teuquob casually cast her vacant
gaze on the falling leaves, following their wavering descent to the ground;
suddenly however, the decayed matter being trampled underfoot came to resemble
the fallen, spent lives and her heart suddenly was gripped with an inexplicable
anguish.
In vain she fought to
resist the tears welling up in her eyes but the onslaught of vivid images from
the past defiantly still crowded her memory, obliterating what scant, and
remnant serenity of her previous mood.
~
Transported in mind to
that precise time and place that had started it all, she envisioned herself on
her thirteenth birthday receiving, at the crack of dawn, the long-anticipated
summons from the Court, to present herself before His Majesty, the King. Amidst
the flurry of activity readying her for proper presentation, “Could this be the
end of my unfair incarceration?” she’d thought, rather hoped, at the time.
As it were, from the
moment of her mother’s death, when Teuquob was barely one month old, she had
been confined to the cold and desolate Northern Pavilion, a secluded place far
removed from everything and everyone. Tucked
away, as though an unwanted criminal, she had been reared there with none of
the privileges or affection of her other presumed siblings. Forbidden to set foot outside of her gilded
cage, this captive fledgling with a highly inquisitive and imaginative mind,
had grown up with no interaction, formally or otherwise, with the other members
of her paternal or maternal family, and with only the vaguest notion that she
even had a father.
Teuquob’s deprivation was
such that she was not even permitted to visit the family cemetery to pay her
respects to her ancestors as it was required (customary) on the set most
auspicious days. The rare exchange between her and her evasive father had always
been formal and rather contrite to say the least. It was as though it pained
him to spend any amount of time with her. Being a discerning soul, she would at
times pick up on his curious soup of emotions: pity, kindness, righteous
indignation, fear and something else she could not rightly say. She had
obtained some solace from the notion however which Shutizan sometime prior had
defiantly, put into her head: that the reason for his cold indifference was
because Teuquob herself bore uncanny resemblance to her much beloved, deceased
mother.
“He had to have loved her
very much; and though re-married and fostered other children; he still could
not forsake or forget his former wife.” Quite the romantic at heart, this
notion therefore, from hence had carried her through the rough spots and made
her privation in life more bearable.
Even in the aftermath of
her presumed sole benefactor father’s untimely death, on his Majesty’s bidding,
little else being invariable, Teuquob had continued with her enforced,
sequestered lifestyle and restrictive, tedious private education from string of
obdurate, mulish, close-minded and rather grim resident tutors. Despite the
constricting sterile environment however, it’d still failed to stifle her
creativity or inborn talents and so, by the age of twelve, her brilliance of
mind had shown in her essays, dissertations, prose and lyric poems, rivaling
the finest academics of her time.
~
When she was summoned by
His Royal Highness Murong Di, deeming this the Heavenly favor that she’d long
since prayed for that she was perhaps being finally recognized for her talents:
with bursting, enthusiastic joy of someone about to be set free, she’d entered
the closed carriage drawn by eight ebony thoroughbreds (pedigreed horses) that
had been sent from the palace stables in ready anticipation of her
compliance.
Upon her presentation at
court, this enchanting belle that had no equal, had at once transfixed all eyes
and captivated all hearts. Many felt blessed, envisioning her to being an
exquisite fairy descended directly from the Heavens. She had moved all except
for one that is... His Royal Highness with a heart of granite, after
scrutinizing her with his scornful, derisive, icy stare, had it formally
proclaimed in an unconscionably cruel edict that in two weeks’ time she was to
be wed to Lord Deng Hedenko.
When the designated
suitor’s name Hedenko, who was in absentia, was loudly pronounced- the
resulting great shock, an undisguised cold shudder had at once permeated the
tense atmosphere and rippled through the assembled body of obsequious
ministers, Lords and courtiers alike, in Court.
In that all pervasive eerie silence, none daring to appeal on her behalf
against this inhumane edict, they had instead with bowed heads exchanged
covert, questioning sidelong glances, and then stole pitying glimpses at Teuquob.
In contrast to her outward
submission and perfect composure however, inwardly, the flames of anguish and
pain had in fact torn through her emotional defenses to sear Teuquob’s heart to
cinders- for even she, sheltered as she’d been from the world, knew what that
name stood for. Even she knew of the
pernicious and cruel exploits of this much dreaded and feared warlord!
Lord Hedenko, a stout,
belligerent man of thirty-four, was infinitely the most influential, most
powerful man in the kingdom, second only to His Highness. His ferocious appetite for blood could not be
assuaged despite the countless savage, exceedingly barbaric exploits or
truculent military campaigns during his unsurpassed, admittedly brilliant,
meteoric rise in power and affluence. Even as a pre-teen young man he’d enjoyed
the distinction of being notorious for his pugnacious disposition and
unscrupulous, oftentimes spiteful acts of brutality in the traditional,
championship games; and in general, during his life, indiscriminate abuse of
both genders (men or women).
Manipulative and devoid of
the least compassion, Deng Hedenko had married more than nine times for
financial and political gain only, fostering more than ten sons and two daughters
by his many wives. But only three of his
wives had survived thus far, and they, if left sane at all, were rumored to be
living in unenviable, under most wretched conditions. Disposed to sudden bursts of temper
oftentimes over the most unpredictable, trivial things, last year alone he had
maliciously tortured and murdered two of his sons and a daughter on a whim.
When his temper rose, and his pupils shone with that vicious gleam, then his
intended victim, as good as dead, did not ask for clemency, but rather prayed
for a swift and a merciful end.
Consequently, none envied any woman he’d elected to have as his bride,
despite his enormous wealth and power.
Yet, this was exactly the fate His Royal Highness had opted for the fair
maiden Teuquob, of whom covertly, through the palace grapevine, they had heard
so much about, but only now laid eyes on.
In the grips of such a tyrant she could not be expected to last out the
year. This was tantamount to, if not worse than the cruelest death sentence.
Upon hearing the dictum,
rather verdict, “Why am I being so unjustly punished?” she’d asked in
silence, holding back her tears. “Why
am I condemned to suffer such a horrible end?
What great crimes have I, or my father, committed to warrant such
disdain from the king?” Outwardly, however, with trembling breath and
a lowered head Teuquob had voiced her obedience to His Royal Highness and as
was required, thanked His Majesty for his regard and due benevolence.
~
Even before her dismissal
from court, the news about her had spread like wildfire within the Northern
Pavilion. All who felt the least
compassion for her lamented her fate and sighed continuously or shook their
heads in utter disbelief, some shedding sorrowful tears quietly on the side!
“How unlucky she is;
hapless, ill-fated and ill-starred; what kind of deplorable curse is upon her!”
She heard them bemoan and exclaim in wave upon wave amidst sighs and whispers
behind her back as she’d willed her unsteady limbs to climb the steps to her
private chamber. “She is so beautiful,
yet fated to such an untimely, tragic end.”
Her nanny Shutizan who had
always been there to console her in her times of dire need, this time around,
being way overcome with emotion and grief to be of any use, had hastily ran off
to hide her tears from Teuquob. Others
at a loss to how best to console her, on some pretext or other, had also made
themselves scarce. It was then that her courage had failed her! Having nowhere to turn to, on that wretched,
long, woeful evening, feeling forlorn and utterly alone, in bed Teuquob
lamenting her fate had wept ceaselessly, soaking (dampening) her pillow with
her streaming, bitter tears till
overcome with exhaustion, she’d drifted into a deep, disturbed sleep. Then with her captive soul cruelly in the
throngs of evil, she’d tossed and turned, assailed by the persistent, recurring
nightmares that oftentimes drenched her in a cold sweat and startled her into
wakefulness, denying her much needed respite.
Each nightmare ended the same way, with
Hedenko’s hands wrapped around her slender neck, ready to snap it into two like
a dry twig while she gasped and struggled despondently for the life’s precious
breath (air).
When Shutizan, called on
Teuquob at sunrise the following morning she had had quite a fright at the
sight of Teuquob’s condition. Aroused to
fury, she’d lamented bitterly her own folly, then lashing out at the already
distraught attendants, she had roundly abused them all one by one for their
negligence, even though she knew in her heart of hearts that they too had been
rendered, by her own admission to Teuquob, as helpless in this matter as she! Still, after she’d scolded the last one away,
Shutizan had tended to frail Teuquob herself until at last her pallid face and
sallow cheeks had reclaimed some of their normal pigment.
Cradling her in her arms
and rocking her gently, the old nurse then confessed, “My dear child, you
mustn’t think that I had forsaken you last night, far from it! Yes, I was way
overcome with grief at first to be of much use and not wishing to frighten you
further, I opted for solitude till I could compose myself and be restored to my
senses; now I’m fully resolved to fighting this!” At this point she abruptly stopped and,
rising, went to listen at the door.
Ensured that no one had been eavesdropping, she returned and sat facing
Teuquob on the edge of the latter’s bed.
“Listen carefully child,
after an agonizingly long period of contemplation, faced with such dire
circumstance, I’ve decided on the only, albeit disobedient recourse.” She
announced with firm conviction in her voice.
“But I no longer care about fealty or my moral obligation to my
Sovereign; nor am I afraid of the consequences, so incensed I am by this latent
injustice and his unending cruelty!” She
shook her head, “Was it not enough that he ruined your poor mother’s happiness
and drove her to an early grave? Must he
now also utterly ruin your life too?”
“Whatever do you mean,
dear Nana? How could His Majesty have
anything to do with my mother’s tragic and early demise? My father himself told me that she’d died
shortly after I was born, because of an untreatable malady!” Teuquob sat
upright, (somewhat) perturbed. Her heart palpitated wildly (as her pulse
mounted) with the encroaching doubt and the ensuing wayward thoughts presently
imbuing her brain. “My mother had a (coronary) stroke that ….”
“You don’t understand,
dear child.” Shutizan interrupted her with an abrupt gesture of her hand. “You
have not been told the …. Oh, chuck it….! His Majesty is your real father!”
Shutizan suddenly blurted it out.
“How can that be?” Teuquob
eventually overcoming her shock reached out to cup her nana’s face and raised
it, forcing a direct eye contact with her.
Shutizan suddenly left
speechless, her eyes brimming with tears, all she could manage was an earnest
nod of the head.
“I do not believe it.
No…You are deliberately trying to confuse me!” Teuquob vehemently shook her
head, in utter disbelief. For embracing this fact would also mean that the
truth, all past experiences, what she believed in, loved and cherished, even
her scant relationships, in short, the foundations of her existence, for what’s
worth, would have all been based on fabrication…Lies mounted on lies!!!
Averting her eyes,
Shutizan, nodded. “I’m sorry dear, but as Heaven is my witness, it’s the truth.
So many times, I wanted to tell you this: that His Majesty is your very own
flesh and blood father; but I was bound by an oath that entrapped me in an unjust
conspiracy of silence. Oh, blessed,
precious child...” Nodding her head she promised. “Regardless, I’m now resolved
in disclosing, yes… disclosing all the enigmatic, missing facts, bits and
pieces of personal history that had been kept from you that all the same you’ve
been yearning to know. Henceforth I
shall withhold nothing. Finally, the time has come for the unequivocal
unveiling of, though offensive as it may be, the ugly truth. It’s only right that you should be informed!”
She dropped her head and with her downcast gaze focused (pinned) on the floor,
she mumbled, “Then, perhaps, you will comply, accede to my subsequent proposal
(plan).”
The rest of her words
barely audibly, were uttered as if in self-assertion. “Though it may be a slim chance, one never
knows…? We may still beat the insurmountable odds to eventually succeed!” The
ray of hope that had brushed her face had swiftly disappeared, at the same time
Shutizan’s forehead creased with her mind anew beset with the onrush of
countless pressing concerns.
“But never mind that
now.” Defiantly, she wiped the
perspiration from her face and leaned forward to take the confused, distraught
Teuquob’s hand in hers. Unclenching it, she stroked her palm and raising it to
her lips affectionately kissed it repeatedly. In the aftermath of it, looking
into the Teuquob’s eyes, Shutizan spoke with a slight tremble in her voice,
“For years now I have stood by and watched helplessly how you, an innocent
child was forced to suffer psychic, emotional depredation, a cruel intentional
abuse from that biological, Royal father of yours.” She shook her head, then swallowing her spit;
in a barely audible voice she mumbled her suspicions. “Even your foster father,
a victim in his own right, could do little in curbing, let alone amending the
injustices…In the end as he, having genuine affections for you, became more and
more indignant…well, maybe that’s what’d cost him his life…?” She bit her lip,
then looking up, she confessed: “But only now, driven by desperation, I’m
ashamed to admit it, have I found the courage to defy His Majesty. Still, I’ve nursed you from birth to
adulthood; I’ll be damned, pardon the profanity, if I let them ruin it all and
throw my precious jewel so callously (into the pit) away!”
~
(New and exciting developments will continue in the next post
of The Rescue- Section 8)
