THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 19

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 19

As predicted, it did not take very long before the unconscious scholar stirred.  Stifling a cough, Yagu sat erect, waiting with bated breath for the young man (Nevetsecnuac) to open his eyes.

The Scholar’s (Nevetsecnuac's) lips moved, but no sound ushered forth.  His eyes cracked open then, suddenly recalling his last moments (memories), he sat bolt upright.

"Take it easy, son." a friendly voice stopped him from jumping off of the bed.  "You might have had a concussion after that fall."

Fortunately, Nevetsecnuac having just then regained his focus, turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw the old farmer whom he instantly recognized.  "How is it that you came to be here, sir?" He asked respectfully despite his surprise.  Then, feeling a gripping pain in the back of his head, he raised his hand absentmindedly to touch it; there was a big lump there, that correspondingly stained his fingers with a crimson hue.

Yagu Dorka, hummed and hemmed, as he arranged his thoughts and the consistent facts that would tally (correspond, parallel) with the yarn he was about to weave (knit, plait); but even before Yagu responded, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) had already grasped the situation and the reason why he had been spared, from an otherwise, certain doom.

Nevetsecnuac now discretely observed how Yagu’s difficult life had etched a few more lines on his face already scored with wrinkles. Despite his apparent ailment however, which anew threw the old man into another violent fit of coughing, he was still a hardy peasant and, not easily sapped of his strength.

Eventually, when Yagu's coughing subsided, “So, it is you! I thought as much." his eyes smarting, the old man forced a smile to his quivering lips and nodded.

 “Heaven be praised! Sir, you gave us such a scare when you fainted."  He pounded at his chest to relieve the congestion.

"Fainted? No.", Svein's voice was incredulous. “I was drugged,” he wanted to say more, but he stilled his tongue, for fear of further aggravating Yagu’s condition.

"Yes, yes, you're right, of course. You passed out, but it was not done on purpose, you know."  Yagu groped for words, then grimaced slightly, leaning back to explain in a sincere tone.  "You see, at my advanced age, I'm always beset with ailments of one kind or another.  I won't bore you with lengthy explanations of them all.  Only that, well, one of my medications, it was my fault, really for leaving it on the kitchen counter after I'd used it, and wouldn't you know it?  It was mistakenly, when I was absent, it was used by Kenny, my cousin’s, the Innkeeper’s youngest son, when he made your tea.  You see, the ingredients of this prescription bear an uncanny resemblance to the tea leaves we use, and the pots are of the same sort.  It's understandable that he could make that mistake.  I'm so very sorry."

Yagu spread his hands comically.

Likely story: you must think of me as a fool.  Nevetsecnuac was peeved; still not letting on, with outward calm equanimity, he listened on to the absurd (bizarre) explanation.

 "Any way, it’s one of its medicinal properties that it puts me to sleep."  Stifling a cough, he shook his head, "Yes, that stupid boy gave you my medicine by mistake but don't worry, it won't harm you none.  Not a big boy like you.  Or should I say "man" now?" 

Yagu started to chuckle, partly due to his attempt at humor, partly in relief, as he saw that Svein raised no objections to his fabrication.

 "You are married by now, are you not?"  He paused to note Svein's nod.  "You must tell me all about it later.  After all we've shared, we're practically kinsmen, are we not?"

 Yagu smiled sheepishly while taking such liberties.

 "I'm afraid all I've gotten is older, although I've picked up a little learning, thanks to my educated cousin here….”

"Well, anyway, you should have seen the commotion when you fainted, passed out, rather.  You gave us such a scare," Yagu slapped his knee jovially, "that is, until we found out what had happened to you.  I came in just as you passed out, you see."

Nevetsecnuac (Svein), now that the danger had passed, was both amused and entertained by Yagu's description of the supposed antics of the innkeeper's family.  He knew it was all invented, but Yagu had the individual's characteristics all in place, and embellished it with such detail, thinking, no doubt, that he was covering all angles.

"And if you're wondering how, it is you revived so quickly, well, that's easily enough explained," Yagu concluded, "we gave you another medicine, one I use to keep me on my toes.  You see, I tire so easily and there's so much to be done around here.  Yes sir, it did the trick and brought you around in a jiffy.  Luckily you had not drunk so much tea to begin with and you're such a healthy young man.  Well, I mustn't disturb you any longer.", slapping his knee, Yagu rose to go just as a tray of food was brought in by the grinning Aguda, who parroted the same story as the old man, even using the same turns of phrase Yagu had used except for the minor difference of substituting the word 'wine' for 'tea'.

"We'll talk at length tomorrow."  Yagu tugged at Aguda's sleeve, steering him towards the door to cut short his prattling.  "Yes, yes, and we'll introduce you to everyone tomorrow too, especially my grandson Lerty, he’s such a good boy and you are his benefactor, he must thank you personally! We both owe you so much.” Yagu affectionately smiled at Svein.

“Yes, you’ll meet him tomorrow, because it’s too late now.” Yagu continued. “And besides, you should eat before your meal gets cold, and rest.  But don't hesitate to call out if you need anything else, son.  My room is right next to yours."  He pushed (shoved) his cousin Aguda the innkeeper outside and closed the door after them.

"What's the matter with you?"  Once outside, the old man wiped the beads of perspiration off of his forehead and looked scornfully at Aguda.  "You know, you really talk too much!  You nearly spoiled everything.  Didn't you eavesdrop on what I was telling him?"  Grumbling, he kept up the reproach as he led the way to the kitchen.

"I spoil everything.  You're completely without fault, I suppose?" Aguda gestured sarcastically then, closing the kitchen door to sneer spitefully.

"What?  What did I do that was so wrong?" Yagu jumped back down the other's throat with his questioning gaze.

Aguda glared back, resisting the urge to bellow, "How come you couldn't think of a better excuse than that one you gave?  You gave me dreadful fear back there."

"And what was wrong with it?  He bought it, didn't he?  I thought I was rather clever cooking up such a convincing story."

"Clever, perhaps," Aguda laughed coldly, "except that he drank no tea."

"NO TEA?"

"Shh!!!  Quiet!  You want him to hear you?" Aguda warned hotly.

"Then what was the teapot doing there on the table?" Yagu demanded angrily in a quieter voice.  "I know you're too cheap to spoil the wine or the food."

"Well, for your information, we'd spiked all three.  And no, he partook of no tea; it was too coarse for his liking."  Aguda snorted, wrinkling his nose.  "It was half a cup of wine, if that? But for certain, it was the spiked vittles that did the job."

"No tea?  No tea!  Yet he...  augh, Gods preserve me!" Yagu clutched at his chest, stymied, totally missing Aguda's ugly grimace.

 "Oh, I feel so ashamed!" he meekly ejected, looking to his cousin for some sympathy, some understanding.  "He knew all along that I was lying, yet..."

"Yet he allowed you to maintain your dignity." Aguda nodded coldly.  "Such finesse!"

"Such manners too, don't forget.  He's a most remarkable young man, isn't he?"  Yagu’s sigh rumbled in his chest like thunder.

 "Oh, how I wish I'd had a son like him.  That boy will go far."  Again, he began to cough.  "You know, your boys can learn a lot from him."

"And what's wrong with my boys?" Aguda's eyes blazed with anger as he retorted hotly.

"Nothing…  No need to get so huffy about it.  I merely suggested that they take some lessons from this young man.", Yagu was cowed.  "You said yourself; he has such finesse.  Respect, isn't that what you meant by it?"

I said 'finesse', you fool! Aguda swore inwardly yet nodded his head in concurrence.  It's pointless to argue intelligently with this ignoramus.

"Yes, your boys do show respect to you, but not much to anyone else, certainly not to their stepmother Fiona."  Yagu threw a quick pitying glance at Aguda's young wife, toiling quietly in the corner then busied himself with the preparation of his own nightly potion.

Aguda's stern eyes scrutinized his wife briefly as a sinister, ugly smile played fleetingly across his face.  Deciding not to make an issue of it, he snorted and returned his attention back to Yagu. 

"It's your own fault if they show no respect to you, old buzzard. Aguda jumped in, not giving the other a chance to speak. “For, in all cases you must earn their respect first.” 

“All right, whatever you say...” Yagu was tired of constantly fighting Aguda, and as usual, let things slide.

 “Well then, so long as you see the error of your ways, “Aguda having won this round as well, softened. “Though now, I think I'd better go and lock up." Gloating in self-satisfaction, Aguda jumped to his feet. 

"You're going to be all right with that?" he asked his wife rhetorically as he headed out the door.

"Yes, yes, you go on ahead." she answered automatically.  "I'll secure the back door after I'm done here and dumped the..."  She saw he was gone.

"You'd better go to bed, too, sweet child." Yagu said to Fiona kindly, once Aguda was absent.  "It'll wait until tomorrow."

"I've kept your supper warm, Uncle," the young woman assented, "shall I dish it out for you now?"

"No, no, dear.  You just go on ahead.  You must be exhausted, toiling all day without rest.  I'll serve myself."

When she'd left Yagu prepared himself a platter, careful to add an extra helping for his grandson, in case the poor boy had, once again, missed his dinner.

 

                                                                                     ~

After proper introductions at dawn of the following day, Svein informed Yagu of his wish to depart at mid-morning, even though the downpour had not ceased.  Of course, his host would not hear of it and, gaining reinforcement from the innkeeper and his brood, prevailed upon Svein all morning to delay his departure for at least a day or two.  The false, forced sincerity, however, made Svein long all the more to escape this den-of-deceit.

After having readied his luggage, he breakfasted in the large dining hall.  Yagu was still pestering him not to go when Kenny, the youngest boy, burst in, dripping wet to announce that he'd spotted another traveler headed in their direction.

Elatedly just then Aguda let it slip to Svein, how good fortune had smiled on them thrice this week that, this was their third customer in as many days, a rare occurrence indeed.  Seated across the table from Svein, Yagu sat with a lowered head, (chewing his lip and) hiding the serious concern that had suddenly registered on his pupils.

Presently Svein witnessed first-hand the stir, the commotion from within the inn as they prepared to welcome yet another potential (prey) customer.

Sometime later, Aguda, having seen every detail, beaming from ear to ear took up his position by the door and waited anxiously, all the while wringing his sweaty hands.

 As soon as the traveler made his appearance at the door, Aguda greeted him with the same, patented felicitations that Svein had received earlier on; but when, after the sweeping bow which Aguda typically used to accompany his congenial inquiry of the stranger's name- the larger than life,  fierce newcomer, had instead, fastening (pinning) his cold, disdainful eyes on the innkeeper had simply snorted:

"You may address me as 'Sir'."

Nevetsecnuac could not shake the sudden, foreboding feeling that their puny lives were no more than a mere annoyance to this superior being; as at same moment a deadly, oppressive shadow had instantly engulfed the entire premise, chilling everyone within, to the marrow.  This was no ordinary traveler; there was something potent, something so very lethal about him.

The red-faced Aguda, mumbling nonsense, looked about him, as if seeking a hole to crawl into, only to see the amused Yagu turning his face to the wall as the old man stifled a chuckle.

From his odd attire the stranger could be any number of things: a warrior ranger, a military guard, perhaps an advanced scout, or a lone messenger.  He was formidable enough, his large, framed body towered well over six feet in height and his fiery red hair and grizzled beard framed a pair of ice-cold blue gray eyes.

Shoving aside the glib tongued Aguda, who was intent on ushering him to a seat, he strode boldly over to a table of his own choosing by the rear window and squarely sat himself down. 

As he placed his impressive sword down on the table, he looked across his shoulder at Svein.  Their eyes briefly met.  He grimaced coldly, gave a brief nod of greeting then turned his gaze ahead once more.  He then withdrew a pouch, obviously full of cash, and laid it on the table beside the sword's scabbard.  In a non-nonsense manner, he demanded wine at once and some meat for breakfast.

Aguda hurried Kenny off to the kitchen to start his wife cooking the meat, then attempted, as he had so many times before, to impose himself on his guest.  Unlike other times, the innkeeper was severely rebuked and had to make a hasty retreat to the kitchen after his son.

“Greed makes people courageous, they say.”  Yagu succumbed to additional chuckles.

Aguda emerged shortly with a small jug of wine, not unlike the one Svein had been served, and all in smiles, approached the stranger once more.

"What is this, you dolt?" the stranger thundered.  "Are you hard of hearing or just stupid?

 I asked for a flagon."  With a sudden sweep of his hand, he almost knocked the wine and Aguda with it, to the ground.

 Aguda, with incredible agility, righted himself, managing to spill only a bit of it on his dark clothing.

"It was I who ordered the jug." Svein loudly interposed.  "Please bring it here."

"Oh, yours is coming, sir." Aguda forced a smile to his quivering lips.

 "This is but a complimentary draught for this gentleman while my son fetches his flagon.

"Don't insult our guest!" Yagu felt he must intercede and rushed over to grab the jug from Aguda's hand just before he was about to pour it into the stranger's cup.  He made a pretense of sniffing it. "This is too coarse…our apologies, sir."

 Turning to Aguda he glared, "This is only fit for us, not for such fine gentlemen as our guests.  I'll take it away."

The son then made a timely appearance on the scene with the flagon.  Seeing the seal was unbroken, Yagu relaxed and let the boy pass.  I don't know why I'd worried.  That tightwad would never taint that much wine.

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) disdainfully observed the exchange of looks between the two men, as Aguda held the kitchen door for Yagu.  Nevetsecnuac surmised how; once they were hidden from view, both would be locked in a heated row, with Yagu again obstinately opposing Aguda's diabolical attempt to claim yet another victim.  It was apparent that even his substantial gift to Yagu earlier had not alleviated Aguda's greed enough to deter him from more (acts of) murders.

Meanwhile, the stranger, indifferently, or perhaps unaware of the peril he was in, downed one cup after another in succession, his eyes fixed steadily outside the window.  Only when the flagon was emptied, he angrily pounded the table and howled like a wolf for more.  At once another flagon and the hot meal were rushed to him to calm him down before he brought the whole inn down around him.

Svein delayed his departure, captivated by this most intriguing stranger and, never doubting his prowess, wishing to see how he would deal with this danger.  Naturally Aguda could do little to affect his fiendish plan (scheme) and so, after the safe departure of the stranger, Nevetsecnuac bid his farewells and resumed his lonely trek towards the Capital.

Once more, deliberately choosing the remote, cross-country routes, he relentlessly, for old habits die hard, pushed onwards, taxing the steed's strength to cover great distances. This time, however, an odd sensation of being tracked persistently gnawed at him; yet, each time he looked around, taking the pains to avidly survey his surroundings, he detected nothing (zilch, nil, zero,) out of the ordinary to warrant extra caution.

                                                                                         ~

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION - 18

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

01- YAGU DORKA

"How long is it going to take you to sharpen that Axe and machete, boy?  Hurry up, Yaggy, we haven't got all day." he urged the second son. Aguda was about to instruct Kenny to undress (disrobe, unclothe) the victim, when the excited barking noise of the caged canines(dogs) alerted him to his cousin’s early arrival.

“Blast; he’s back already?”  Too late, Aguda heard his cousin Yagu’s advancing unsteady footsteps.

 Where is everybody? The old man with curses on his lips, clung tightly onto the railing for security and, hauled his tired old body up as he, same time negotiated the soggy stone steps of the porch.

Aguda, having dropped his booty in the corner, had quickly rushed outside the kitchen door, passed through the hallway and now strove to block the old man's way with a barrage of questions.

"Yagu, what a fine time it is too, you finally got back!  You’ve been gone for so long that we were worried sick to death, thinking that something terrible might have happened to you on the way.  Next time you don't go alone, you'll take Zog with you.  Well, what did the doctor say?  Is your condition serious or not? How was the trip?"

"As if you care!" the old man interrupted Aguda's patter with a restraining hand gesture.  "Never mind about me, but you sure look guilty. And wipe that grin off your face and answer me quickly, what are you up to now?  I bet you, is it something sinister, disgusting or decidedly evil? “

Seeing the other’s hesitation, Yagu angrily snapped. “Don’t try denying it; I've already seen the horse in the stable."  Yagu shook an angry, accusatory finger before the innkeeper's face then pushed him aside to enter the kitchen.

 "And what's this, your latest victim?"  He intended to say more but his rage caught in his throat, and he collapsed into a violent fit of coughing.

"Now look at the state you've brought upon yourself!"  Aguda, showing concern, rushed to his side and helped him into a chair.  He slapped Yagu on the back several times, hard, to loosen the phlegm in his cousin's lungs.  After turning to address his son Kenny, “Stop what you’re about to do!” Aguda ordered him, “And go fetch Yagu a hot cup of tea at once.” 

Gradually, Yagu's purple coloring faded as his coughing fit subsided.

Outside, a kid's voice was heard; pleading to be allowed to join his grandpa in the kitchen but this was soon cut short by shout, “he doesn’t need you to bother him now,” and the sound of a hand smartly striking his cheek.  The sniffling youngster was then forcefully dragged away by the teenage boy Kenny who, despite his usual tepid (apathetic, indifferent) nature, was a cauldron of evil, an actual brute in his own right. 

The old man Yagu wished he had the strength to intervene, but abuse of this sort was all too common in this household.

Aguda snatched the steeping (infusing) hot teapot from Kenny’s hand and poured part of the infusion (tea) into Yagu’s cup to distract him from his grandson’s plight. 

"Here you go, have a bit more; it will warm you up.  You've given me terrible fright just now; you know you mustn't get so excited (worked-up) in your condition."  Seeing the old man had calmed a bit, he coaxed, "Look how you're still dripping wet.  Why don't you go change into some dry clothes and forget everything else.  I'll take care of things here."

His face growing red once more, the old man's temper flared anew.  Rasping in his dry, harsh voice, he pounded the table with his trembling hand and cursed, "You are going to get us all damned to Hell!  You want me to turn a blind eye to the murder of one of our guests; and this foul murder committed just under my very own roof? “Yagu shook his head and then somberly added: “Robbing them is one thing but butchering them in that hideous manner is inhuman!  I absolutely refuse to condone it!"  Again, he coughed, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Call it what you will." Aguda (already feeling a tinge of guilt) lost his temper; highly incensed at this reprimand, he then snarled: “You know very well that we must do this to be safe.  What makes you so high and mighty?”

But then regretting his outburst, in a gentler voice he reasoned. “Dear cousin, buying this cursed inn was your idea to begin with; I wanted to open up a wine shop in town but, no, you wanted a roof over our heads.  You wouldn't hear of it.  Still, it was a fine idea while the customers were steady."

Yagu’s stern expression had not altered in the least. Angered anew, Aguda sat down with a disgruntled huff and pounded the table with his fist.  "Things have changed now, so get used to it."

Aguda ground his teeth, then after a moment’s silence again warned as he, same time shook an irate finger at the old man.  "When things started to go bad, and I wanted to pack up and start a new business elsewhere you wouldn't hear of it.  Your procrastination has cost us what little money we could have gotten from the sale of the Dancing Bear.  Now it’s too late.  Yet we still have to pay taxes and extortion money to those vultures to keep them from feeding on our carcasses.  You know those bastards only care about lining their pockets.  What do they care about if we are barely able to carve out our subsistence?  The first time we fail to produce the money they'll beat us to a pulp and haul us all off, you and your precious grandson included, to debtor’s jail where we'll assuredly meet a miserable end.”

"So, I ask you, what would you have me do?  Well?"  The innkeeper paused just long enough to give emphasis, but not enough for Yagu to respond. 

"Robbing them is one thing, you say, but if we don't dispose of the corpse completely, would we not run an even greater risk of being discovered?  Do you know what the penalty for robbing unsuspecting customers is?  I'll tell you, it’s the same as committing murder. In jail, once under duress they have extracted your confession and promptly pronounced you guilty, without the benefit of trial, you’ll be beaten to death. The executioner would then cut off your head and post it on spike (spear) at the city gate, as a warning to others. And your headless corpse, well, I don’t need to remind you what happens to that."

Seeing the old man cringe and give an involuntary shudder, “That's right." Aguda reasserted.  "Remember, cousin, I once used to be a clerk at the Magistrate's Office before my unjust dismissal.  I know what goes on in those dark cells.”

“Oh, you can be certain I make no exaggerations here.  Far worse, far more appalling crimes against human dignity are practiced there on a daily basis than we could ever have committed here.  So don't talk to me about law or humanity, as far as I am concerned there is only one law, one rule for me and my family to follow, the law of survival.  I must do all I can to subsist, even if it means vending (selling) my soul to the demons, to do it.  So, don't think that you can deter my aim, with your sanctimonious air or nagging!”

"I toiled so hard; all those years of tough grind, all those years of hard work; where did it ever get me or you?  You're still pining away for your lost son.  Well, I've got three living ones and a wife here to think of.  Shall I leave them all to starve, or be tortured?

No… Absolutely not!   I'll be damned if I give them up without a fight!”

“And what about your precious grandson; are you willing to sacrifice him so easily to accommodate your principles?  You know that nothing will grow on this wretched, barren soil, and that we're too strapped now to move out. So don’t go on being so censorious! Besides, what makes you think it’s any different out there?  Maybe it’s worse."  Aguda, having had his say, at the end of this long tirade, rather smugly now, leaned back and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"You could talk around the devil himself!" Yagu snapped back, having got his second wind and now that his cousin had finally stopped his rant.

 His stern eyes scrutinized Aguda, then, stricken with sudden remorse, Yagu hung his head, and he softened. His next remark lacked fire.  "Yes.", he acquiesced, for he could no longer dispute the other's arguments.

 Though his conscience had greatly pained (hurt) him, had he not always, as he had now, given in to their inexorable predicament?

Yagu’s head hung lower in deep shame, for even though he did not engage in the brutal act, turning a blind eye to it, time and again, did it not make him an accessory (accomplice) to Aguda’s crimes?   Yagu shared just as much guilt.  And besides, when the matter of their survival hung in the balance, overriding any question of morality, what right did he have to exonerate himself and load all the blame on his cousin, marking him, shamelessly, in front of his sons as the sole villain when the end result benefited all of them?

Coughing violently, Yagu rose and drew near to the table, bending over to have a better look at the latest victim, meaning, perhaps, to silently beg this stranger's forgiveness.  His eyes examined the scholar’s features, pausing (his gaze) at length on the face.

Odd, he looks strangely familiar? Hmmm…. Yagu mused, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I feel as though I've seen him somewhere before, but perhaps with a short beard …”

“Oh, Heaven’ forgive me! Can he be… is he that most remarkable youth, of four years ago?”  Suddenly his eyes bulged and astonished, his mouth dropped open.

Still, he needed to be certain; so, he drew his face ever closer and burrowed his scrutinizing eyes (stare) on Nevetsecnuac.

 But how could that be?  He shrugged his shoulders, bit the corner of his lower lip and stamped his feet in vexation.

Yaggy, meanwhile, having just then finished honing the hatchet’s blade, excitedly brought the shiny cleaver (axe) over to his father.  He stood most eager to begin the carnage (butchery).

Aguda signaled his son to wait.  "Listen, cousin," he then approached Yagu, suspecting that the old man was still wavering, "you know it’s got to be done, so why don't you leave us, since you can't stomach the sight.  Rid yourself of those pesky wet clothes and lie down to rest, before you make your ailment worse.  I'll have Kenny to bring you some more hot tea."

"But I think I know this young man!" Disregarding Aguda's words, Yagu turning, looked up with a flushed face to exclaim excitedly.

 He held up a restraining hand to freeze Aguda's query or retort.  "Just give me a moment longer will you, just to make sure."

"Surely you aren't telling me that you, a peasant, know a rich scholar?" Aguda mocked Yagu, then frowning, shook a finger at the old man.  "If this is another one of your stalling tactics, I warn you..."

The old man was totally absorbed with Nevetsecnuac.  "Oh, by the Gods!"  Suddenly he uttered a cry as he jerked back, his hand now clasped to his mouth.

 "Yes, no doubt about it.  It’s him!  It’s definitely him!"  Yagu’s complexion turned ashen (ghostly pale) as the realization of what had almost happened dawned on (occurred to) him; horror gripped his heart, and the words congealed in his throat.

 "What is it, cousin?" Aguda clasped the old man on the shoulder, truly concerned.

"What's wrong with you...? What is it that ails you?”

“Answer me first, his name… what was the name he gave to you?”

“I don’t know… You expect me to remember his name? What difference does it make?

"You don't understand!" Yagu clutched at Aguda's collar, jerking him forward, almost choking him with an unusual strength.

 "This…. This is the very young person who, four years ago, delivered me and my grandson from those bandits.  It's with his money that we bought this place, fool!  He’s the one who……” His explanation was interrupted with another spell of violent coughing.  As he habitually massaged the pain in his chest, great beads of sweat (appeared) burst out on his forehead.

"I'm dam sure, most assuredly, it’s him!  He's the one who avenged my son Ake's death, restored my grandson Lerty to me, and gave me the funds to buy this inn." Yagu hoarsely reiterated; then rubbed his burning throat to bring some relief.

 "Haven't I always had a good memory for faces?  Once I hear him speak, I'll be more certain."

"So, this isn't definite after all?" Aguda caught the slip.

“Tell me, try to remember… Was his name … Svein, Svein…. something?"

“Come to think of it, it might have been…… But still, how can you be so positive it’s the very youth? You’d mentioned that your benefactor was a skilled fighter but said nothing about him being a scholar?" Aguda demanded with skepticism, not liking the idea of releasing prey already in his snare.

Yagu’s coughing subsided; the old man looked up to burrow his resentful gaze into Aguda's eyes and sternly dictate, "Read my lips. Killing this young man is now totally out of question, not until I've made certain, at least, that it isn't him. Do I make myself clear?  I may be guilty of many things, but I will not go to my grave, accused of ingratitude.  If I'm wrong, you can drug him again later.  Now, quick, get me the antidote!"

"This is insane!  Think of what you're asking me to do, cousin." Aguda stamped his foot.  "Why should I, on your mere suspicion, spare his life then waste more of the precious poison on him?  If we revived him and, he turned out not to be your savior, what then?  You may be willing to let this chance slip away, but I'm not.  Besides, you can see how formidable he looks, even when he's unconscious.  When he comes to, won't he know we've drugged him?  Won't he ask questions, that is, if he doesn't beat us to death first without waiting for any explanation?  Why should I place us all in jeopardy on a mere chance that this was your young man?"

"Listen to papa, Uncle." the three boys broke their silence in unison to give support to their father.

"If he is the young man I met, he would not harm us." Yagu was adamant. 

"I'd stake my life on it.  You're not going to change my mind one bit," he threw a fierce look at the boys, "even with this army of support.  You may all think me unreasonable but, on this, I will stick to my principles.  Besides, we could always talk our way out of it, what's so hard about that?  Leave the explanations to me.”

"Now, give me the antidote at once, before it’s too late!" he barked, his demand.

"And don't try to deceive me and say that it’s already too late, I can tell from his coloring that he can still be saved!” With those words he also put a quick end to Aguda’s poised counter arguments.

Seeing that it was pointless to deter his cousin, Aguda grumbled under his breath,

 "I suppose we could add poison to his meal later on."  Handing the keys of the victim’s room to Yagu, Aguda then rushed off to retrieve the antidote himself.

 Yagu, wasting no time, quickly took charge and had the two older boys Zog and Yaggy carry the still unconscious scholar (Nevetsecnuac) back to his room while the younger boy Kenny went to fetch the scholar’s possessions, that of which Aguda had just dropped in the hall.  The unconscious scholar was then gently placed on the bed.

Zog, the strongest boy, pried open Nevetsecnuac’s mouth just a crack to allow Yagu, who had just received the antidote from Aguda, to pour a generous portion of it down the scholar’s throat.

"Not so much!  A little works just as well, you know."  The infuriated Aguda spent his rage by slapping Zog hard on head, then returned to the kitchen, swiping at the youngest as he passed by.

"Now scarper (get lost, beat it); both of you clear out of here!"  Yagu taking charge, ordered Yaggy and Zog with a wave of his hand.  "He'll be coming around soon.  Close the door behind you; and Zog, do tell your father to keep it quiet out there!" Yagu yelled out specifically so that Aguda could hear, before he leaned back on the chair panting from all that exertion.

                                                                                        

(END OF SECTION 18)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 11

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS- SECTION 11

Fradel, resolved to tell all, nodded and then solemnly confessed: "The venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald, in truth was my adopted father, who’d rescued me from the clutches of death and raised me as his own all these years. This fact was revealed to me on his death bed."

Svein empathetically listened to it, as Fradel gradually unfolded the threads of his confidential, distressing past:

Zukan Rurik Korvald, a celebrated scholar of his time, one faithful day on a return trip after visiting a close relative, propitiously (impulsively) requiring some respite, had had his boat moored on the banks of the river Tua, just a short distance from a bridge.  He had interrupted his journey craving also, to partake (imbibe) a particular fine wine (a special brew he’d procured from a winery), while absorbing proper appreciation of the marvelous scenery that enhanced that region. 

Subsequently inspired, he’d composed some brilliant stanzas that were later to be highly prized by the gentry; just before dusk, he’d laid down his brush and returned to his cabin to recline for a short repose (rest) when, the blowing of horns and the approaching thunder of hooves drove him back up on deck.

From afar, he had then witnessed the gruesome tragedy of two people, unfortunate enough to be caught on the bridge and, failing to clear the way, being trampled by Zakhertan Yozdek's unruly steed as he led his mounted contingent in a fearsome race over the hills, leaving a trail of dust behind. Overriding the protests of his boatmen, Zukan Rurik Korvald still sent his two trusted servants to the bridge to assess the damage and, perhaps, lend some curative help to the unfortunate victims.  As expected, their report of the couple's fate came as no surprise to anyone.  The couple had been trampled to death; however, the mother's quick action, as she'd used her body to shield her infant son from the deadly onslaught had spared the baby from a certain death.  The chief steward, not knowing what else to do, had returned with the scrawny, bawling infant in his arms.

The captain and crew put up a strong resistance to having the baby on board, arguing that this was no small matter.  Refusing to become involved, the captain had strongly advised Zukan to dispose of the infant along with his parents’ corpses into the river.

 "Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek,” he'd vehemently warned, "is not one to be trifled with.  You're a stranger to these parts; you don't know the half of it.  If you value your life, you'd best forget all you've seen today.  The law can't touch mighty Field-Marshall, so save yourself from sure future calamity.  This infant is not worth the serious trouble which it could beget, not only for you but for us all."

"Nonsense; no one is above the law!" Zukan had exploded.  Ordinarily a mild-mannered nobleman, he had regretted this outburst immediately and thus added calmly, "I'll deal with this in my own way, you will not be involved."

As a man of integrity and chivalrous character, the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald had delayed his departure from this region thence, in order to appear before the local Magistrate, named Luoki, to demand justice for two unidentified, dead peasants.

 Magistrate Luoki and the other prominent local authorities, disgruntled atop quaking with fear, had shown reluctance, furthermore, banding together had done their best to discourage Zukan from this dangerous pursuit.  Discreetly, and unofficially, the scholar was counseled to leave well enough alone and was again told that Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek was too powerful a man to offend.

“This misdemeanor,” as they called the murder of two peasants, who were obviously also strangers to the region, “was too light a charge to even think of summoning Field Marshal Zakhertan before a rural court to give account.”

 The Magistrate had, meanwhile, wrapped up the case quickly and efficiently, after his subordinates had obtained (secured) false evidence from the boatmen and his crew, all of it substantiating the final verdict, the pronouncing of the couple's death, a deliberate act of a double suicide.   

Outnumbered, Zukan Rurik Korvald’s protests had, via other measures, been totally curtailed; he was rendered powerless to beget any justice for the innocent victims. In this way, though, local authorities and the deemed ungrateful Zukan Rurik Korvald, were shielded from the certain future wrath of Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek.

The matter thus summarily settled; the Magistrate Luoki demanded next, that the child be turned over to the authorities for his proper disposal.  Rather than surrendering, however, Zukan and his servants fled the area under cover of night.

Later Zukan had sent a trusted aide back to the region under disguise in order to make discrete investigations into the identity of the victims and about any prior (erstwhile) links (relations, possible family, contacts).  When this effort proved to be in vain, Zukan had embraced the child as his own and, since he was himself childless, named the infant Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Quite discontented with the rampant corruption under Zakhertan Yozdek's growing power, observing how the Field-Marshall’s hands gripped the nation's neck, choking tightly until the pulse ceased its flow; the indignant (aristocrat) scholar Zukon, had eventually been constrained (forced) to become a recluse.

Zukan's peaceful domain was so completely insulated that it allowed no outside infiltration at all.  Fradel had grown up perfectly schooled in literary skills and religion, cocooned in this tranquil atmosphere, oblivious to the harsh realities in the so-called civilized world outside.  The truth about his parentage was revealed to him only at Zukan's death bed.  Unfortunately, before the three years of mourning for the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald was over and Fradel had fully explored his avenues of vengeance against Zakhertan, Fradel had been summoned to court.

Fradel at this point, falling silent, had pensively looked away beyond the curtainless window, to observe the night sky dotted with blinking stars.

"It is as I had expected,” Svein (Nevetsecnuac) just then rejoined with fire in his eyes, startling Fradel from his ephemeral brooding (ruminating).  "We share the same purpose, you and I.” Svein smiled and then nodded. “It may have started as a personal vendetta, but it has now gone far beyond that, hasn't it?"  Svein, next, answered Fradel's silent query. "Yes, my parents and all my family, too, were cruelly murdered by Zakhertan Yozdek."

Fradel gazed at Svein nonplused, realizing only then that, despite the intense and extensive interchange that led them to the brink of becoming sworn brothers, he still knew virtually nothing of Svein's background.  How far can I hinge on this blind faith?

But before Fradel could give voice to his thoughts, Svein inquired directly and with sincere concern, "Your courage and aim are both most commendable, Fradel; and I don’t wish to give offense, however, it is obvious that you lack both knowledge and skill in pertinent strategy, medicine, toxins or Martial Arts.  How do you propose to best (assassinate) this most formidable foe Zakhertan Yozdek? Lest I miss something vital, may I be permitted to learn of your plan?  Besides, I doubt that you have ever killed an animal, let alone a human being."

"You are quite correct in your supposition.” Fradel replied coolly.  "I've always been opposed to the taking of life.  I've espoused the philosophy of Zuox which holds that 'All life, its form and expression, is sacred.  They must be cherished and preserved.'  But that hardly applies to a villain like Zakhertan, a monster arrayed (clothed) in human form.  I'm well aware of the past, unsuccessful, numerous attempts on usurper Monarch's life.  Though I have comparatively little fighting ability, this inadequacy does not deter me from my noble aim.  I have the will, and I am prepared to die to attain justice for my parents and for my countrymen.  The monster must be made to atone for his crimes."  As he vehemently expressed his hatred of Zakhertan once more, he grew quite flushed, his ears burned, and his voice grew hoarse.

"You have echoed the sentiments of my own heart.” Svein responded thoughtfully when the other fell silent.  "But, Fradel, this is no small task, and it should not be taken lightly.  I, at least, was trained and conditioned since childhood for such a purpose while you were not.  Every fabric of my being stands in readiness for this fight.  Far be it that I should deter you from your just cause, but I fear that your noble attributes, exceptional courage may not be enough; why, then, should you throw your life away?”

"No.", Svein waved a dissenting hand to still the retort forming on Fradel's tongue.  "Please hear me out first.  A man can only die once.  All that I ask is that you postpone your vengeance until I have had a go at it first.  In the event that I should fail then it will be your turn.  By then, perhaps, you would have attained the necessary skill and be able to succeed where others before you have failed."

"I know that you mean well, Svein, and I will certainly take your words under advisement.” Fradel stubbornly replied.  "Still, being the least likely person to attack the Monarch, I would have the element of surprise on my side and may be more likely to inflict a mortal wound on him.  He is on his guard with formidable men (civil or military) with fine physiques, wary of fighters of all sorts (male or female), dissident scholars or any citizen with adverse views.  But he would never suspect a nature loving recluse such as I.  I’m aware of the fact that his elite security has checked me out thoroughly."  Fradel stopped and went over to his luggage and began rummaging around inside.  Finding what he sought for, he withdrew an antique-looking writing brush and presented it with a flourish.  "Besides, this provides me with the perfect means of killing him."

Suppressing a chuckle, Svein queried, "And how, may I ask, do you propose to use that?  However, genius a contraption, a concealed weapon in the form of a brush would be detected at once.”

Ignoring Svein's obvious misgivings, Fradel smiled wryly and pointed the bristles of the brush towards the headboard.  Instantly a small metal dart buried itself with a twang half-way into the wood.

 As Svein went to retrieve the dart, Fradel removed a small, wooden box from his pocket and opening it, announced, "This is no ordinary ink box.  It contains the highly noxious ink that can paralyze the heart within seconds of coming in contact with the skin.  Loading the brush for writing laces the tip of the dart and a concealed trigger launches it.  This trick should bring about Zakhertan's destruction instantly. “

“I most certainly will be searched for concealed weapons before I'm brought into his presence, but they would not take away the tools of my trade; I need these to fulfill my purpose in being summoned there.  I ask you; would anyone suspect the simple writing implement of a non-political, scholarly recluse?"

"It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought.  And admittedly it’s the most ingenious device. The barbed dart is most cleverly camouflaged as one of the bristles.  Now suppose you are fortunate enough that it does escape the meticulous scrutiny (search) of the elite security. But the target may not be such an easy one to hit.  Zakhertan Yozdek is renowned for his military prowess; he's reportedly unsurpassed in agility, strength, and cunning.  Moreover, he might be wearing under his court vestments, light metal armor (cuirass, shield); you, taking that into account, no doubt plan to aim for his neck, hand or face. Nevertheless, with his incredible reflexes he may still successfully elude the dart and what then?    Have you an alternate plan to follow in this one's wake?"

"No!” Fradel stamped his foot in vexation.  In truth, he had not configured every possibility, and, Svein’s points had certain validity.  Going against such a formidable foe he should have devised a more plausible secondary, even a tertiary plan to fall back on in order to ensure his success.  He sat down to ponder with a sinking heart.

"Do not lose heart, brother, for I shall not fail.  The monster's days are numbered."  Svein lightly tapped Fradel's shoulder in consolation.

Svein's addressing him as "brother" recalled to Fradel’s mind, his earlier resolve.  Rising to his feet, he proposed that, since there were now no obstacles, they should take the oath of brotherhood without further delay; after which they could plan at length how best he and Svein, as individuals or jointly, could best serve their cause.  But it was now Svein's turn to (hesitate) show reserve; nevertheless, in the brief silence that ensued, Svein had swiftly resolved his inner quandary.  Svein sincerely addressing Fradel, first asked forgiveness for his prior deception, and then drawing near, in a low voice revealed the name of his mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrow Zhon, and subsequently, confessed to his true identity.

Overcoming his shock, Fradel was about to drop to his knees to show his proper respect, when he was swiftly, courteously, stopped by Nevetsecnuac.  “Since they were practically brothers already,” Nevetsecnuac, same time had reasoned, “such formalities were quite unwarranted.”

"But I, the orphan son of lowly peasants, am unworthy of such great honor.  I cannot hope to ever become the sworn brother of a Prince (Nevtsecnuac Alric Therrain Valamir).” Fradel protested.

"You have now offended me deeply, brother.” Nevetsecnuac frowned.  “I never figured you to be so pompous.  After all that we have shared, nothing has changed between us."

 The emotion filled speech that followed, imbued with such humility and honesty so overwhelmed Fradel that, his eyes brimming with tears, he finally acquiesced.

In the private ceremony that followed, the Prince and the Scholar both fell to their knees facing south.  Voicing their petition to the Heavenly Gods, they swore an oath before them to be brothers for life.  After a small cut was inflicted on each one’s index finger, the dripping blood was then collected in a ceramic goblet half filled with wine.  Taking the cup in both hands, Nevetsecnuac ceremoniously presented it to Fradel, calling him elder brother as Fradel was five years his senior.  Receiving the cup, Fradel drank the first sip from it then, with just as much ceremony, offered it to Nevetsecnuac, addressing him as his younger brother.  After Nevetsecnuac had obliged, the cup was hurled against the fireplace and broke into a thousand fragments, sealing the oath forever.  The (sudden) just then rising winds outside vigorously rattled the shutters as if in shared joy and approval.

Nevetsecnuac and Fradel, now as brothers sat across from each other and toasted to their future success. As they partook the wine, they reminisced about family members and dear friends that could not be there; later still, slightly inebriated, they drowned their sorrows in yet more capfuls of wine. 

During this time Fradel was told of the great deeds and sacrifices of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, Lu Moldan and the rest, marveling at their greatness, loyalty and scope of heroic attributes, comparing each to the legendary historical figures.

As the topic gradually veered towards the exacting of vengeance, Fradel asked Nevetsecnuac if he had on him the special ID Permit, a vital official (two-part) document essential in allowing one access to Capital Province Holger and then to Imperial city Channing.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head in the negative, then asked, "An ID Permit? This is the first time I’ve heard of such a requisite."

"Just as I suspected,” Fradel nodded thoughtfully.  "But that's to be expected."  He went on to explain that few officials, never mind influential citizens, were aware of the necessity for such a certificate, even though its use had been strictly enforced by the authorities in the Capital province, Holger, for half a year now.  He recounted how he, himself, would have been caught unawares, had it not been for the Palace Guard's explicit reminder when he'd delivered the summons from the Court.

"I'm afraid that, without it, entry to the Capital is impossible.” Fradel intoned grimly. 

"This strict measure had been put into effect after a latest, nearly successful attempt on Zakhertan's life by a small group of very competent assassins.  I have heard undisputed claims that since then, Imperial City Channing has been sealed like a fortress, allowing no entry or egress without proper authorization.”

It was most fortunate, indeed, that we talked long enough for me to recall this important detail otherwise, being caught at the gate without this official permit; you would have instantly been apprehended for questioning.  Your aim would have been frustrated very early on."

"Then I must act to secure for myself such documents,” came Nevetsecnuac's decisive response.  "Can I rely on your guidance and assistance, brother?"

"You don't understand the degree of difficulty involved.” Fradel shook his head. 

"It's not a question of my assistance, brother; I wish it was that easy.  I'm afraid that these two-part documents can only be obtained at your birthplace and are issued only by the resident Governor for a considerable fee.  You must also produce at least three other notable residents as witnesses.  Even under the best of circumstances, such a process could not be completed within a month."

Fradel drew out the documents from their protective covering of waxed parchment and pointed an explicit finger to the top left corner of one of them where, sealed under gum Arabic, a provincial court artist had drawn the poet's likeness.  Nevetsecnuac's eyes followed, with increasing misgivings and a heavier heart, the list of Fradel's identifying particulars, his physical description, parent's name, age and birthplace and finally, at the bottom, the long trail of official seals.

"Due to the urgency of summons necessitating my prompt departure, the obliging Lord and the new governor, Mojen, spared me the time and difficulty of procuring necessary documentation.  Taking me at my word, they acted as my guarantors and expediently processed the ID Permit with all due haste." Fradel, pensively(thoughtfully), meanwhile, had continued. "Of course, even if I did have the ID Documents of my deceased servants still in my possession,” Fradel interjected, "their particulars are so vastly different from yours that, I'm afraid, they still would have been of no use to you."

Having recently buried the men, Nevetsecnuac concurred with a nod of his head; meanwhile, it had become clear to Nevetsecnuac that without proper verification, he could never obtain, not at any length of time, this kind of vital documentation. 

"What is to be done, then?” he gave voice to his fret (hassle).  "How can I beat this unexpected hindrance (hurdle)?  I must seek another ingenious means to override this serious obstacle." Nevetsecnuac distractedly followed Fradel's bold strides to and for, as the scholar presently paced the room in contemplation.

"But, of course!” Nevetsecnuac jumped up in elation.  "Why didn’t I think of this before?"

Startled, Fradel grabbed Nevetsecnuac's arm.  "What is it, brother?"

"The answer to our dilemma is right before us. The problem has already been resolved by none other than you, brother." Nevetsecnuac responded with a bemused smile.

"Me? How?"

"Elder Brother, it just struck me how similar in appearance we are.  For instance, are we both relatively of the same height and bearing and share similar facial features?  Fortunately, due to haste, the hair and eye coloring were not precise. With a beard, could I not pass for twenty-five?"

"What an idea!" Fradel chortled.

 "I knew there was something about you I liked."  His eyes dwelt on Nevetsecnuac with a new intensity as he surveyed the prince’s features.  "Yes, it is possible." he had to concur.  "I must be getting muddle headed, strange how this simple solution eluded me."

"That's because, elder brother, despite all my previous reasoning you still harbor the desire to press on by yourself.  How stubborn you are."  Nevetsecnuac teased, shaking a finger at him.

Donning a long face, Fradel turned an aimless gaze to the crackling flames of the fire.  An inexplicable sadness just then, gripping his heart.

 

(END OF SECTION 11)