FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - PART 3

 FISHERMAN'S PRIZE

PART- 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

FISHERMAN’S STORY

SECTION 3

 

The (salvaged) girl had fortuitously survived her ordeal and because of several weeks of diligent, patient care, recovered in full. Recognizing these two as her benefactors, the moment that she had regained her strength and was able to, she had bowed to them with deep respect and uttered her name, words of gratitude, as well, promised to repay their kindness in full. Though her foreign language, the strange dialect had not been comprehensible (well understood), her sincere intent nevertheless transcending the barriers was fully communicated. They, in turn, responded with glowing faces, delighted words, and heartfelt, warm embraces, taking her to their bosoms as one of their own.

When the girl’s sunburned, chapped skin completely healed leaving no scar: she was revealed to them as one whose radiance and ravishing beauty rivaled that of Goddesses. Her striking good looks however mattered truly little to these simple, honest folks, with whom any young female would have sufficed and as well appreciated.  A gemstone cast amidst the worthless pebbles on the beach, she received no special recognition for her timeless beauty. In fact, her delicate poise, far from receiving admiration or special regard, gave them pause for concern (and added worry). As a result, they attempted to toughen her constitution up and they forced on her extra rations and arduous work.

  From the beginning, since they’d found it most difficult to pronounce or remember her real name, they chose another name for her in its stead.  They adapted the name Jiense, most common one in use in these parts and one most favored by the local fishermen, for their wives or female children, for it meant “Pearl of the Sea”.

In the ensuing days, the girl’s different vocabulary naturally presented some unavoidably awkward, cumbersome moments. Kaimu seeing the need charged Ensa with the added responsibility of educating the girl with Wenjenkun’s own vernacular. Despite all good intentions, however, pressing workload and daily chores had often hindered progress. The negligible communication gap meanwhile had been bridged by more effective, readily available sign language.

Needless to say, Kaimu and Ensa in all this time had taken every precaution to conceal Jiense’s presence from the unwanted, intrusive eyes of lawbreakers, racketeers that might be frequenting the region. Fortunately, as well, their nearest neighbor Zianko, one who had a questionable character, had been absent from his home for several months now; as Ensa suspected, undoubtedly engaged in yet another illicit plunder!

Over time, the absence of any formal or informal inquiry eased both Kaimu and Ensa’s trepidation. Having taken a genuine liking to this gentle soul from the start, Ensa gave no further thought to the girl’s leaving them, and to the delight of Kaimu, from then on began considering the precious thing in her heart and mind, as her very own future daughter-in-law.

On Kaimu’s part, by keeping in check his uncouth nature, he had learned to be gentler in speech, exercise patience and tolerance. So as not to scare off Jiense, he constrained his ill temper even when things did not go well; meanwhile avoiding any direct dealings with Jiense and leaving the job of molding her to their way of thinking, entirely to his wife's ability. As a result, Jiense encountered no ill effects or adverse experiences with Kaimu.

  As she had remained ignorant of her true whereabouts, and at the same time felt obligated to stay with these generous, decent folks to repay their kindness, Jiense for the time being at least, had postponed any notion of departure (leaving them).  She had no way of knowing of course that the spare room she stayed in, the room belonging to their son Yoansu, had been already pegged, designated as her future nuptial room. As she was sweet natured and easygoing, before long she had even gotten used to the coarse furnishings and the sorry absence of any decoration about.  The few belongings that had been left behind by the son had of course been secured in a locked, cumbersome wood chest in the far corner of the room. 

In addition to helping Ensa with her daily chores Jiense also learned a few other helpful skills, like mending the torn nets, weaving straw baskets or mats for additional funds, or added use. By now she could start a fire and cook meals their way, using the most primitive means that was available to her in this small dwelling. Her delicate hands under the strain of work broke in calluses, and her tender skin often bled from the cuts caused by the coarse materials she managed. The menial, demeaning jobs, ones that in the past would have been shunned by her lowliest servant were nonetheless completed by her nimbly and with no outward show of discontent. After the grueling day’s work, each night Jiense collapsed on her coarse bed and slept soundly without dreams or nightmares in exhausted state. She was driven hard, but remained contented for she received ample love, appreciation, and compassion.

 

And so, in this way two or three months had quickly passed.

                                                         

At this forlorn corner climate being particularly harsh, spring’s arrival had always been late in coming. It was yet another particularly chilling overcast night. Howling winds had kept up their tyranny all day long and now continued well into the night without any let up. The half-crescent moon periodically peeked, as the ominous cumulus clouds raced across the night’s sky.

In this god-forsaken night, three mounted riders galloped the barren stretch of land, fearful lest they’d be detected. Reaching Zianko’s dwelling, they abruptly came to a halt and dismounted. As the moon had gone in prolonged hiding, in that pitch darkness where visibility was almost nil (zero) except for the flash of sheet lightening within clouds that periodically (intermittently) illuminated the ground: the nocturnal animals had witnessed nervous horses drenched in sweat, being quickly tethered to the side. Two of the men busied themselves with the fastened cargo, whilst the third one pulled down from the horse’s back an abstract bundle concealing the bound and gagged figure of a man, and with some difficulty carried his heavy load inside the house. The windows had already been bolted shut with heavy shutters, discouraging any light or illegal entry. A small candle was quickly lit to effort them scant visibility. The stout fellow with the distinguishing mustache who appeared to be in charge, after peeking from the adjusted slats of the shutters turned to address Zianko.

“What about that cabin, your nearest neighbor- are you sure it will be all right? Shouldn’t we take the precautionary measure of disposing them?”

“It’s not necessary as it’s beyond the hearing range. And besides, do you know who dwells in that seemingly vulnerable, dilapidated cabin?” Zianko responded haughtily, with a smirk.

“Who?” The other’s curiosity was aroused.

“The parents of number 2 boss of the notorious “Ravens Gang”.

“You don’t say?” The other two men in one voice, aghast, came forward to ask.

“No kidding!” Zianko smirked.

“But the whole place is so rundown!”

“Go figure!” Zianko smiled wryly, and took in a breath, prolonging their suspense, before extrapolating. (Offering added explanation.)

“Kaimu, number two boss’s father, is a stubborn old coot. His wife Ensa is worse! She is a pious hag who insists on upholding morality and living with integrity. They would have been a ripe picking for any criminal and fallen prey a long, long time ago had it not been for this connection. But want a laugh? The old folks are ignorant of their son’s power and prestige.” He laughed.

“That must be convenient.” One of them interjected.

Zianko disinterestedly shrugged. “I’ve had no dealings with them since my wife died.”

“You mean murdered.”  The youngest one of the bunches snickered (countered). “Whatever.” Zianko winked at the other two. “Ensa is a shrew that controls that old man. Anyhow, back then, she insisted on exposing me; persisted in her bizarre hypothesis that I had something to do with my wife’s murder. A raw erupted and we have not been on speaking terms since.”

“Never mind about that,” Just then the fellow with a mustache coming away from the window interjected. “We haven’t got time for idle gossip.” Then turning to squarely face Zianko, in a stern voice added: “Now you know what is expected of you. Nevertheless, till you hear a definite word from us, I want you to lay off him.” With his chin he indicated the bound, drugged unconscious stout official that had been dumped at the far corner of the room. “Just in case things go array or more proof of a body part is needed. Meanwhile, I caution you to stay well out of sight. If she is as inquisitive as you claim, she may bring unwarranted trouble to us. Opportunists are everywhere. The abduction has already caused quite a stir. Hence, not a soul must be wizened to the whereabouts of this fiend! Have I made myself clear?”

“Great, now I’m a babysitter.” Zianko grumbled.

“You’ll be well compensated for your services.” The leader frowned. “If you blow it however, you shall suffer far worse consequences then him.”

“I don’t respond well to threats!” Zianko’s face, pitted against the leaders, flushed bead red in anger. But then relenting, he held his temper in check and turning, he asked instead.

“Am I expected to feed him too?”

“Do as you like.”  The leader scowled. “His fate would be the same either way.”

“Hungry corpse would be easier to dispose of after all.” Zianko grumbled under his breath, then turning to face the other two, asked: “Now can one of you help me carry him to the cellar before you go?”

Not waiting for their answer however, he pushed aside the table and rolled back the square rattan floor covering to reveal a trap door underneath. He grasped hold of the round ring of the heavy trap door and with a heave, lifted it open. Instantly a pungent, foul smell escaping from the (pitched dark) cellar assailed their noses. 

“Phew!”  They averted their faces, scrunching their features with utter disdain.

“What’s down there, dead rats?” The youngest one pointing complained.

“Human corpses smell the same.” Zianko, the only one who wasn’t at all disturbed by the smell, indifferently shrugged. He picked up the lit candle and descended the steps quickly to clear away some clutter and to arrange for an adequate space.

When he again resurfaced, a designated volunteer helped him to deliver the unconscious hostage to the prepared spot. Zianko using strong ropes now fastened the stout official securely to the pole.

“Unfortunately, since your leader wants him alive for the time being, I have to keep this latch door open for a crack, otherwise he would suffocate.” He then grunted, as he came up. “That would be a bother.”

The leader had had enough of Zianko’s smugness.

“We’ve dallied here long enough!” He barked and walked towards the door. But before exiting, he half turned to say. “You should be hearing from us (a word) in four- or five-day’s time.”

                                                                                  ~

 

Ensuing days, quite unaware of the sinister goings on in Zianko’s residence- for as far as they were concerned Zianko was still far away (absent) - hard working Kaimu, Ensa and Jiense lived out their invariable mundane lives in equable peace and tranquility.

 

All this time, however, Zianko had been insufferably sequestered inside (confined indoors) and from daybreak to dusk he had to remain perfectly still and stationary (quiet and immobile). At latter part of the night when it was opportune to do so, covert beehive of activity always reached a crescendo. For Zianko could then light up the stove, cook and drink; he was at liberty to engage in numerous vile acts and torment his captive, or on occasion, walk about aimlessly under the cover of darkness outside. After an elapse of only three days the constrained lifestyle, however, had begun to take its toll on him. To while away (pass) the dreary daylight hours, Zianko therefore had more than once, peeped through a spy hole, hoping to see something extraordinary, in order to dispel his mounting irritation and to divert his boredom.  It was then that he spotted a third figure, a stranger milling about Kaimu’s residence. With his excellent vision (eyesight), he could discern the stranger’s exquisite facial features, the long flowing hair, and despite the plain attire, the petite (slender) shapely form of a tender youth, that gradually surmounted (piqued) Zianko’s interest.

Now about eight years Kaimu’s junior, Zianko had only been married once. And that had been to a young widower, with a young son named Tizan- who was the product from her previous marriage.

As she had been from an opulent family, somewhat fair in looks and well-endowed with feminine charms (parts), she would have gone on satisfying Zianko’s discriminating taste or needs for a good many years. But in just three years, the matrimonial bliss had come to an abrupt and violent end, not too long after she had struck up a close friendship with Ensa. 

To date, Zianko blamed Ensa for spinning (putting) those contemptible notions into his wife’s head.

Like the idea, of it being both moral and lawful, to pass the inheritance of her former late husband’s property to his bloodline, his only offspring!

In time the rift between Zianko and his wife had widened to an irreparable point (measure), as Zianko had been prevented from getting his grasping hands on the rest, the bulk of her estate. What is more, her former husband’s begotten family, and then reeled into this mess, had exercised their supposed rights, through bribery, to siphon away a good chunk of it.

Was I supposed to idly stand by and see it all disappear? If not for the meddling of Ensa, I would have had a free reign with it all! Zianko, while spying on the stranger, had once more become lost in angry revere.

 As he saw it, it was therefore all Ensa’s fault that he had to act fast and get rid of his increasingly difficult and uncooperative wife and stepson.

Indeed, timing being of the essence, before the boy had reached the age of ascent, a month or two before Tizan was to become twelve, Zianko had used every available means to secure, in his view, “what should have been rightfully his!”

Zianko had always, through such logic, rationalized his numerous brutal acts (deeds). This case being no different, his only regret had been- the eventual failure of the permanent disposal of the boy, who was an eyewitness to (of) his foul deed.

“How he hated loose ends! But the brat had been both agile and cunning!”

Incredibly, Tizan had successfully averted the virulent potions, the malignant food, and the pernicious traps; what’s more, persevering through prodigious (ghastly) physical and mental torments during his incarceration, had made good his escape.

“To date it boggles my mind,” Zianko with a frown, inwardly confessed. “The ingenious way the dastardly rat sprung himself from that cadaverous trap!”

It had taken Zianko many wasted years before he could relax his vigil and have the boy legally declared dead. It was after all, not an uncommon occurrence in these parts, for a man or a runaway boy in this case, having been at large, ultimately falling a pray to some predatory beasts or bandits.

Most of the wildlife at the edge of the foothills had been hunted down by then, but on occasion; some wild beast would still descend from the heights, in search of food.

One thing was for certain; the boy had never made it to the nearby town. And no one had ever heard or seen him since!

 

   (CONTINUES ON NEXT POST- PART 4)

 

 

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE (PART 2)

 

FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

 Part 2

As luck would have it, for the rest of the day no major storms or other such adverse weather conditions had hindered his progress.  The incessant winds changing course by mid-morning had fortunately herded (blew) the flotilla of clouds away, leading them instead towards northeasterly direction of the open sea. By noon Kaimu’s persistence and gambling had truly paid off. The open skies and sea bathed in beautiful sun’s golden rays, in the end had heralded a most glorious sunset.

Kaimu ceased his labors just as the dusk (twilight) was encroaching on Earth and returned home with his good bounty of fish. In his elated mood he first however took added care to wash up by the shed and wiped clean his mud-caked soles of his footwear, before entering the sturdy cabin that had withstood many adverse weather conditions.

 Ensa greeted him joyfully, with a beaming face, for thankfully he’d returned all in one piece!  Kaimu, resembling a conquering hero, was affectionately ushered into his favorite chair.

“How is she?” Kaimu asked impatiently, looking askew at the direction of the sleeping stranger, as he’d same time grabbed hold on to his wife’s arm and tugged at her sleeve.

“She’s as well as can be expected. Considering what the poor thing’s been through!” His wife answered, nodding. “She’s asleep now, so mind your voice!” She admonishingly placed the right forefinger over her pursed lips. Coyly tugged back to free her left sleeve then going to the stove, she fetched him a bowl. “Here, eat these while I prepare you some fish.”  She mocked impatience, putting a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.

He Knew this was the last ration (speck) of food, that they had and that she in her unselfishness had reserved it for him, naturally giving some of it to the girl while going hungry herself all day long.

“No. No.” Touched by her generosity, he grasped her sleeve and looking into her eyes, earnestly insisted: “You should have some as well; you also need to preserve your strength.  I’m not really all that hungry; besides, I do not want to spoil my appetite and would rather wait for the fish.”

“Do I look famished to you?  No. You go ahead.” With a gentle tug releasing her arm, she lied. “Earlier I cooked me some eatable roots that I’d collected, rather dug up, from that small clearing, you know, that safe patch at the edge of the creek.” Indicating the sleeping girl with her chin she then added, “I went there in search of some additional herbs that she might require for her swift recovery. More precisely, I needed a Yufor plant to treat her more serious injuries. You’d used up the last batch. While I was there, I chanced on this bonus of edible roots. You think I would have had this much energy if I’d gone hungry until now?” 

But seeing that he needed more convincing, she spun a lengthier yarn: “I would have saved you a good portion of the nourishing root, for it has so many added benefits, far too numerous to recount.”

“I know, I know.” Kaimu waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve heard it all before. It will cure all ailments under the Sky… After all, it’s Heaven’s miracle food.”

“As it were, I know how much you detest the taste.” Ensa overlooked the sarcastic interruption. “Last time finding it unpalatable, you nearly retched all over my newly scrubbed floor. Imagine, a tough man like you, being so finicky about food! Tisk…Tisk.” She teased him mildly getting him back, as she again rushed off.

Kaimu was in truth, famished. So, after a moment’s hesitation he just shrugged it off and dug in ravenously. Within minutes he had polished the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“Need any help with the fish?” He then raised his head and stretching his bones called out sheepishly in a loud whisper. He grinned, as at the same time his eyes tracked her busy movements.  Such a good, capable wife she was. He was truly blessed! Yes, it was the blessings from Heaven, on that stormy night the way his late father’s path had crossed with a stranded scribe (scholar) burdened no less, with a scrawny frightened, sick child. Despite his father’s valiant efforts (in aiding, treating the wounds,) the scribe had died of his grave injuries soon after in a shroud of mystery and unanswered questions. That little girl, however, had beaten the odds and later blossomed into a beautiful young girl to in due course become his wife.

Kaimu was startled from his revere when the spiraling aroma of cooked fish filled the room. He sniffed the air and licked his lips in happy anticipation. He did not know how she did it, but she always managed to transform even the most mundane fare (provisions) into such veritable gourmet treats!

The wooden plates heaped up with sizzling delicacies (as she used local herbs previously gathered) were soon placed in front of him on the table. But Kaimu refusing to touch a morsel insisted they both sit down together and simultaneously partake (of) in this welcome feast.

When he had fully satiated his hunger only then, he spared added thought to the girl’s future predicament. Hmmm! But that discussion (entailing some details) will have to wait. Throwing a sideways glance at his wife, he mused. As it were, his good wife had waited patiently for him to tell of his day’s adventures. He, he! He devilishly grimaced. Suspense must be killing her!

His belly bursting with food, the old fisherman with a broad, mischievous grin on his lips sat back contentedly and rubbed it for relief.  Belching and burping he then with some elaboration, taking certain artistic license, told his captive audience the thrilling (sequence of) events of the day.  Well into the night, in an unusually good mood Kaimu simply rattled on, reveling in his latest triumph, meanwhile trying his wife’s patience.

As it became her turn then, “Suffice it to say, you are a good healer Ensa!” He responded with pleasure to the promising report on the girl’s prognosis.

 “I’ve always said we are complimentary, twice as strong we are, as a pair.  As always, I’m glad to see my efforts had not been in vain.”

 Hah…he. He then repeatedly chuckled to himself, grinning from ear to ear lost in some mischievous thought. His wife meanwhile had busied herself with clearing away of the empty dishes from the table.

Halting her beehive of activity at one point and turning, “What are you concocting in that diabolical brain of yours, Kaimu?” she asked. “Silly man, I should think you’d be exhausted after such an adventurous, grueling day. As you have nothing further to do, why not go to bed.” In jest, she mockingly scolded him.

But he’d not heard a word of it. “I was just thinking, what luck, a sure gift!” His head reeling with excitement, he suddenly burst forth (rejoiced) in a chortle, with his body pumped up now with sheer delight like a bloated puffer fish. “I tell you; we are truly blessed! Here we are worried sick that we could never be able to amass (accrued, accumulated) enough cash, even for a measly dowry, to enable our son to marry.” Then growing serious, (in a grave tone) he stressed. “You must admit that over and above the living expenses, we had no means to afford even a cheapest bride; therefore, faced a bleak prospect of being deprived of our God-given right to grandchildren in our old age.  Ha-ha! Then the blessed sea sends us this good catch!”  Grinning broadly now from ear to ear, in his exalted state he jovially slammed his palm (hand) on the table with such force that it rattled the mug of hot tea, as it was filled to the brim, that she’d moments before had brought it over for him to drink.

“Ha-ha! Who would have guessed…? What luck!  It’s a sure gift from the sea!”

His wife, in fear of more spillages had at once rushed over and grasped (clutched) the mug’s large handle in order to steady it.  Subsequently mopping up the spillage, “Have you gone mad? Shush!” She taxed (admonished) him meekly. Deferring (postponing) his ready response, in silence they both listened intently for a few minutes with both heads cocked in (turned towards) the direction of the girl. Fortunately, the girl did not even stir; she remained fast asleep, dead to the world. 

“Kaimu,” she then turning to face him, reasoned in soft, though somewhat serious tone, “aren't you being too presumptuous?  How can you talk as if you owned her?  She might belong to someone …Might have a spouse (husband) already. In any event, she certainly has a family… A family that might come looking for her!  She is not some fish that you can lay claim to as easily as that!”

That did it! 

Her words in one stroke had blown away his entire prior good, fluffy mood and replaced it with dark equanimity and anger.

“What family?”  Kaimu snapped.   “Can you deny that she was cast off at sea? Shipwrecked, as the result of that fierce storm that had passed!  If she has, had any family, they too would have perished in that storm.”

“Even if it were so...still, I cannot help wondering.” Ensa insisted on braving his wrath.  A brief silence ensued as she then hesitated to sort out her concerns.  Meanwhile Kaimu sullenly sat, pondering, seething in anger. 

“Besides,” she then hurriedly added, “have you not noticed that something is very odd about her?”

What are you talking about now?” He jeered, shaking his head.  “Stirring up trouble where there is none, that's what!”  Angrily he slammed his fist on the table. His tone had risen despite his forced restraint. He inhaled deeply, let it out, then spoke poignantly (keenly) with intermitting bouts of pleading tone. “For once, can we not take what’s been freely given to us without question? Aren’t you tired of our hard lot?  In case you haven’t (been made aware) wised up to the fact, let me spell it out for you: We are getting on in years! A scant number of good years are left ahead. Now you may be willing to endure endless crap (discomfort), but my patience is at an end. I want what is my due and, also a far better turn for us both from here on!”

His wife maintaining her sweet disposition had lowered her head. She understood the source of his anxiety. Using softer tone and more amiable words she now affected her submissive role while endeavoring to placate her husband's mood. 

“You mustn’t complain dear. Hasn’t Heaven always been good to us?  All this time we lacked for nothing, why, because we’ve never strayed from the righteous course (path) however desperate we’d been! We’re strong in spirit and body, all thanks to the Gods.”

“It’s all a bunch of malarkeys!” He burst. “No, I’m fed up, I tell you… I’m tired of always making do… There will be some changes from now on. I’ve listened to you long enough.  In future, I mean to do whatever is necessary to…!” Kaimu grunted defiantly, and then relenting, chewed on the reminder of his words.

“Dear husband,” Once more she gently interrupted him wanting to get her point across, before he unleashed his usual tirade.  He was a stubborn fellow, but he had a good, honest heart. As for her, she had a strong, unyielding spirit and willpower that refused to sacrifice her innate ethics, refused to give in to prevalent bad elements that surrounded them (was all around them).

Considered one of the worst postings in the country, the exiled venal government officials, for the last decade and a half had found this troublesome Province a serious liability for the scant returns. To meet the taxing demands of the Capital, therefore, the newly appointed Provincial governor had underhandedly permitted and even encouraged all sorts of illicit activities. This held particularly true in all the major townships, where the exact prize for the local inhabitants had been to have no real, legitimate local government or enforcement law officers of any kind for justice and order. Meanwhile the region being a powerful magnet for dissidents, rather, rejects of civilized society: the mushrooming, underground organizations- secretly sanctioned by the government- had in due course (flourished) thrived through unbridled extortion. There were dealings in illegal drugs, prostitution, trafficking contraband goods, kidnappings and more often than that, cold-blooded maiming, mutilations and murders. Naturally in this dangerous environment, the stranded, muzzled, honest citizens lived by the skin of their teeth. The unscrupulous, puppet government after all, had had a major stake in all the illicit gains. As it were, resultant gruesome episode of the last decade, the authorized contentious power now rested in the hands of two rival gangs that to date had ruthlessly controlled (dominated) the allocated, segments -the so called, parcels of land and people.

The same held true even for this remote, desolate stretch where Kaimu and Ensa lived. The other inhabitants, the so-called fishermen, fared better, only because they’d succumbed to temptation. Accordingly, engaged in the endless trafficking of contraband goods and other vile, illicit acts (goings on) swelled their bellies (abdomen) and purses but, as Ensa had so often pointed out, stained their reputation, and more importantly, their eternal soul. The repercussion of gruesome premature end unfortunately was not a good enough deterrent, as the material benefits far outweighed the perils.

Unrelentingly, she again pushed once more to get her point across. 

Kaimu was perhaps uncouth, at times even sacrilegious, but he loved her. And in the end always came around to doing the right, honorable thing. Married when she was barely thirteen and he well into his twenties, despite the age difference and bumpy start, to date they had had a blissful cohabitation. Nor had he ever given her a serious cause for any regret! 

But this time- and this she was to learn later- she’d seriously underestimated his desperation.

“No, no.” she insisted, changing the subject.  “I'm talking about her clothes.”

“Ha? What about them?” he asked agitated.

“Why, they are man's clothes.”

“So, what!” he grumbled, leaning back. “I could see that for myself wife, I’m not blind!”

“Very well then dear Husband,” she poignantly reasserted, “You must then also acknowledge that no matter which part of the country one comes from, which background, whether rich or poor, the standard, the quality of clothing is markedly different for each.  Now while her outer garments, without a doubt, are that of a mercantile class, her embroidered undergarments are of such fine quality of silk and lace- that it’s befitting nothing short of a lady of highest rank and substance! I venture to guess, could even be that of nobility! I’ve hung them all up to dry in our son’s old room, go see for yourself, if you doubt me!”

“I’m no pervert. When have I ever looked or handled woman’s undergarments that I should do so now? Imagine all this fuss you’re raising over mere clothes! I may be an uncouth fellow, certainly not as learned as you but I too have some worldly (sophisticated) experience, there was no cause for your high-handed speech. Now be straight with me… What are you really trying to say, what’s the actual point woman?” he scoffed with a jeer.  But without waiting for her to answer he then added, “Besides, why should that make any difference?”

“Husband, ignorant as I am,” she began humbly, after being so chastised, “I think it's safe to (say) speculate that she was under disguise at the time of catastrophe at sea, for a definite reason!  It may even be that...”

“Bah!” Kaimu interrupted sharply.  And now having lost all patience, with a retort he dismissed her words.  “What difference does it make whether she was wearing men's clothes or not, whether she has a wealthy family or not?  Nobility! Bah! Next thing I know, you’ll be claiming that she’s a Princess!  Women, why are you trying to provoke me?  Stop trying to spoil my happiness, or I swear you'll see the back of my hand!” 

This threat could be prelude to a beating. A thing he’d sworn never to do since that last time, a long, long time ago, when as newlyweds they had both been headstrong and young. His face now flushed with anger; he reaffirmed this threat with a slam of his fist on the table.

“You are such a sour old woman, always trying my patience, confusing my head, always dampening my spirits with your web of tales, with your uncontrolled imagination running amok and your daunting pious beliefs!  Don’t get me started now!” 

He shook his head as he gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath, then after a brief repose, before she could respond, he begun again. “Tell me, where did all this careful, virtuous living or all that morality get us? Why aren’t you discontented with the scant reserves and our meager livelihood? Always living on the edge, we are no better than scavenging rats! We’re the worst of the lot. Why? Because of your insistence of being upright and proper! When I had that accident, we’d suffered greatly because we exist on the margin. What’s wrong with wanting a bit more out of life now and then, if only to soften the next blow, to cushion the next (subsequent) inevitable adversity…Or catastrophe! I cannot always be strong for you; I’m getting on in years. When I become too old and feeble, what will become of us then? We’ll fall prey and be consumed as easily as flies being swatted!”

She always had her fate to keep her strong. But Kaimu being more a pragmatist, the growing concerns robbed him of any solace. In his restless state Ensa feared he would seek unwarranted trouble. Especially since Kaimu’s raised concerns could not be disputed or dismissed.

Reduced to silence, her head riddled with worrisome thoughts, Ensa left to fetch the pot (on the burner) to anew refill his mug. Knowing that any attempt to dissuade him from his aim now would be in vain: she’d sought this opportunity to get away to provide him with time to calm down.

The fear of vulnerability that his accident had evoked; being so incapacitated, it had changed him somewhat!

But as if deranged, he’d continued (to explode) with his long-winded tirades (diatribes), perhaps, in part trying to convince himself to override any intrusive moral reason.  “I found her and as a rule of the sea she belongs to me.  Me, you understand!  Not you!  Me! Besides, if I had not saved her life, she would have been fishmeal by now; so what are you gibbering this nonsense about, foolish woman!” 

His anger and fury now unleashed he continued to cuss (swear/curse) under his breath.  Why does she persist in taking contrary (opposing) viewpoint and spoil everything?  Obstinate woman! How can she be so blinded to their despondency? He’d realized his worst fear when he’d been incapacitated, admittedly, for the first time in a long memory. But the so-called “alarm-bell” had resounded so loudly in his head and chest that to date he quaked in fear for her wellbeing, her welfare!

She would not survive a day without him!

His hand violently shoved aside the mug that she’d just refilled to the brim. The careless, angry act however had its consequence. The mug’s hot contents had spilled all over the table, not sparing his hand. Scolded, the pain gave him added reason to bellow. His head exploding now with all that fury, his face flushed bead red and his fists, despite the stinging pain, clenched. Frowning, (with knit eyebrows) he burrowed his fierce, piercing gaze (eyes) on her back as she’d rushed off to fetch him some soothing ointment. He started to say something ugly, but then on second thought he relented. Staying (holding) his tongue, he sprang from his seat and darted outside without so much as a word.

In the cool, crisp air, unrestrained, he unleashed his anger on any hindrance. He kicked around indiscriminately and fumed, swearing, cursing, and grumbling animatedly under his breath, until his rage was spent. 

Though very much concerned, she knew better than to go after him, and so had let him be.

After a period of absence (spell) he returned, seemingly pacified, closing the door behind him.

With cool heads prevailing, he was now ready to resume sensible discussion, or failing that, with his ready rebuttal. Seated at the table once more, he with disdain pushed away the soothing paste she’d kept ready in hand, “There’s no need.”

 “Bring me that wine.” After the momentary stalemate stare, he grumbled, still bearing a grudge. “Not that one!” he stormed anew, when she’d rushed him the small jar of homemade wine. “I want the one we've been saving for!” Then he added adamantly, leaving no room for a discussion.  “Tonight, I mean to celebrate!”

She did not dare raise any more objections or in any way contradict him this time, not when he was still in such a foul mood, so in obedience (complying,) she quickly went off to fetch the wine that she had hidden in a secret place at the back shed.  She had concealed this jug of wine there for quite some time now in happy anticipation of their son's safe return.

As she dusted the cobwebs and dirt of the jug she vented her anger in a mumble, deeming that her husband had finally lost all sense and that he had gone stark, raving mad. “Acting like a senseless youth, imagine claiming ownership to a person as if he is some lord or God!”

When she returned to the cabin with the sealed jug of wine, she found Kaimu better disposed, having once again been transformed into his earlier gentler self. In her absence, Kaimu had inwardly redressed the innate problems, in the end choosing not to dwell on the negative aspects or the possible repercussions for keeping the girl.  Instead, he chose to concentrate on the future happiness and on the expected prosperity (prosperous returns) the bounty would bring”.

Smiling, Kaimu now watched his frowning wife place the jug and a single cup on the table. He reached out but instead of the jug, affectionately grabbed hold of her hand and looking into her eyes said in a gentle, placating tone, “Wife, let us not argue.  This is a very lucky day for us.  We should be happy. We should be rejoicing, yes, be celebrating the good catch and of my being restored to good health. My love, do bring over another cup and join me.”

Somewhat pacified, she went to fetch herself a cup.  When she returned, she warned, “But only one turn, you know I cannot tolerate spirit of this strength.”

Feeling more masculine, “Sure, sure. You’ll get only the pious drops.” he chuckled jesting, then proceeded to fill both cups to the brim.

“You shouldn’t make fun of my faith (belief).” She feigned admonition as she reached for hers. They both laughed, feeling lighter in their heart.

This storm inside had been averted as well.   In his conciliatory mood, he now grinned from ear to ear.

Besides, the less she drank, the more there’d be left for him to consume.

She had outwardly given in; inwardly however, as she slowly sipped the unsavory drink, she still could not help pondering on the concern that his celebration was bit too premature:  Undoubtedly the girl belonged to some powerful family. Why, everything about her spoke volumes in gentility. Furthermore, someone had gone to a lot of trouble, when faced with certain peril, to secure (fasten) her on a solid piece of expensive furniture or cabin door. This she’d deduced from Kaimu’s description of the wood. That singular, courageous act had definitely saved her life. In this small community, with so many unlawful opportunists running amok, her presence would be noted, and being seen as a valuable commodity, sooner or later someone would come to lay claim to her.  In the wake of that, Heaven only knew what other unforeseen repercussions may follow. 

But despite (all her misgivings and) the sense of foreboding, Ensa in the end, as she’d so often done, conceded to the fact that they could do nothing or little else to alter the inevitable outcome of things, being but mere pawns at (in) capricious fate’s hands.

Oh well, tomorrow was another day. Perhaps Gods will be merciful! She’d therefore with a shrug, went about her chores quietly and got the bedding ready. Then before her husband got too intoxicated, she asked his help in transferring the sleeping girl to their son’s room that had been temporarily (previously used for) converted into storage space. There, things already put away, in a cleared space she’d already prepared more comfortable, suitable bedding for their guest.

“Also, in that room the girl would be less disturbed.” She’d reasoned, providing Kaimu with an opportunity of break.

He’d obligingly responded, then unfortunately, forgoing sleep, returned to resume his drinking. In the small hours of the night, as he drained one cup after another, he was placed still at a more jovial mood.  His bouts of laughter resounded like a loud bell in that small hut and his excited chatter was enough to wake the sleeping mouse of the habitant.

“What fortuity, what a delicious, good luck!  Not one, but two good catches in one day!” he chuckled, in a self-congratulatory mood.  “I am a fortunate man this very night.  With such a prize, things are bound to look up for us from now on.”

 Ensa could barely keep her eyes open, coming over she reached down to urge him to go to bed, when he suddenly grabbed her hand. Insistently hanging on, he eventually persuaded her to sit by his side, to keep him company. “It’s no fun drinking all by my lonesome. Here love; won’t you share another cupful with me to celebrate?” He winked with a devilish grin on his lips.

Not waiting for her response, he then quickly filled another cup and reaching forth, pressed the rim to her lips in a forceful persuasion.

Seeing that he was tipsy and not wishing to antagonize him, she complied.

He was not going to see sense this night.  She might as well try to be amicable. She therefore took another forced sip against her better judgment; but jerked her head back almost immediately, short of more intakes.

“Go on, drink it,” he persisted generously, again pressing the rim to her lips to force her to more intakes (consumption).

“I’d rather not, dear husband’” she protested in an adamant voice. “You know I get sick if I drink too much.  But you go on ahead, as you seem to be having no ill effects.” 

When the other showed his displeasure with an obvious frown, she hurried to coax him, “Besides, what do I know about the taste.  It’s all the same to me. You would only be throwing it away.  A sure connoisseur you, drink it all, or better still, save some of it for yet another day.”  After all, past experiences had taught Ensa how best to handle her husband.

“Quite right, very well,” he acquiesced, smiling sheepishly.  With that, he downed both cups in two quick consecutive gulps, emptying them in repetition all at once into his grateful belly.  Afterwards, he smacked his lips with pleasure and winked at his wife, “Come closer you ravishing beauty, come sit on my lap.”

She simply shook her head, and ceasing the chance, rushed off, half turning only to say coyly, “You forget, we have company.”

“After all these years, you’re still playing hard to get. Do I have to come get you?”

But as he’d been unaccustomed to strong spirits, even though the contents of the jar had been only half consumed, when he tried to stand up, feeling light-headed and vertiginous (woozy), he slumped right back into chair.

“Woo- look at all the stars!  Hey, the room is spinning! Are we caught in a typhoon?”

Before she ejected a response however, (his head reeling,) feeling giddy he simply passed out, with his head and torso collapsing on the table. 

 

With some difficulty his wife finally got him to bed and tugged him under the warm quilt. Snug as a bunny, he snored loudly till daybreak, in most part keeping her awake. 

 

 

Rising at dawn the following morning with a terrible hangover- however maintaining his uplifted and happier spirits of the night before- he still managed to leave for the sea, as the conditions of weather continued to be favorable.

 

(End of section 2)

 

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE (PART 1 )

 

FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

 

Part 1

 

 From the beginning of time the incessant northern storms had violently swept across the Sea of Kontu crashing against the sheer cliffs of Wenjenkun with tempestuous fury to permanently mar or mold crazed abstract forms on this already scarred, irredeemable land.  With fair days few and far between on this inhospitable strand, incredibly, a small number of persistent, stalwart fishermen still managed to eke out a meager subsistence from the unforgiving, turbulent sea.

 

                                                                          ~

              

Most recent of these storms, lasting in intensity without wane four or five days, had been so severe that only now, when it had barely subsided, the bravest, the most stubborn or the most desperate of men, would have dared venture into it.

It so happens that one such fisherman named Kaimu, in defiance of all reason, cursing the elements, at the crack of dawn had set his small craft out to sea. He’d reassured himself that he was on the whole in excellent physical health and though middle-aged (in his late 40’s) he was still agile enough and possessed great stamina/strength to meet any impending challenges that would be mated out to him by the exacting “Mother Nature”.  Now ordinarily, he too would have paid heed to nature’s dire warnings: after all, the overhead sky was still riddled with ominous, flotilla of (billowing) clouds! This aspect among others had deterred his fellow fishermen from the perilous enterprise. But as ill-luck would have it, resultant of his cursed land-born accident that had inevitably incapacitated him for a time- his patience and their meager life provisions had been reduced to nil.

      Nor could he stomach one more accursed, infernal root- for the supposed, medicinal sustenance!

A proud man, he’d never be caught dead opining, let alone receiving a handout from his closest neighbor; nevertheless, he had his wife Ensa to consider. In the last couple of days it had pained him to see her put through such hardships. Though she’d never once complained, now that he had his mobility back, nothing short of death would deter him from his resolve. 

Besides, having spent his entire existence, rather subsistence, at this desolate (forlorn, dismal) corner, he’d always had this strange love and hate relationship with the Sea. From childhood, fishing had been in his life’s blood. Now, as he charted alone, the precarious course, the fickle sea foaming at the mouth, sprayed his face in tauntingly in greeting- as at the same time the towering, churning waves embraced and somewhat gyrated his seemingly toy craft off its heading (mark).  Undaunted, he steered hard to remain on the intended bearing; but sporadically still, (every now and then) his boat would be helplessly tossed about and whirled (reeled) as if caught in the whims of an impetuous, harlot.

Tempestuous wench, I dare you to do your worst…You owe me, and I mean to reclaim my right!  He clenched his jaw in defiance with certain determination, mindful of the dangers abound, with every fiber of his being now poised to tackle the unexpected. Despite his layered clothing however, a shiver passed through him as the bitter cold mercilessly seeped into his lungs with every intake of breath. Sudden gusting, biting winds rising in intensity meanwhile buffeted his sleeves and admonishingly trashed his already etched sculptured features, making him squint.

Would this blasted weather ever subside (let up)?

Apart from his physical exertion, he was also quietly disconcerted deep down in his heart, to see so much wooden debris floating about on the surface water.  Far more than usual, far more than he’d anticipated. All evidence pointed to (foretold of) a vessel or vessels’ calamity; hence, loss of myriad lives!  Many torn pieces of flesh and bones would be fishmeal, but infinite number of identifiable human parts or corpses would also be washed ashore. Subsequently wild dogs or birds would feast on them.

He dreaded such gruesome reminders of man’s vulnerability!

Shoreline barely visible now, at a deemed favorable spot, he dropped anchor. Steadying himself, he was about to cast his sturdy net over the sea (floor) when just then his keen eyesight espied (spotted) an intact floating figure at some distance.

Rubbing his eyes he focused his attention on the partially submerged object that lay beneath the unconscious, seemingly lifeless human. His clear vision partially obscured by the bobbing waves, Kaimu could but barely discern the thick ropes that fastened the castoff- therefore keeping him afloat- on a large, sturdy piece of dark wood.

Hmm! Looks to me a valuable commodity, a door perhaps, or a chest?   A hopeful light shone in his eyes, despite the odds stacked against of it being so. Then again, why should he bother; besides, the person could have already expired… dead as a doornail he would be from exposure to cold!

Kaimu in quandary gnawed at his lower lip as he same time thoughtfully stroked his chin.  Just then however the situation took on an urgent turn when he glimpsed (detected, pinpointed) large school of sharks over yonder headed straight for the castaway.

 

 “Not if I can help it!” Without hesitation, on the perchance the poor soul was still alive, he quickly aborted his earlier aim of casting the net. With incredible agility and strength, he first hauled the anchor up, and then raced his craft (vessel) straight (into) towards certain peril in order to rescue that poor unfortunate being. Having reached the spot, he, with the use of his sharp dagger quickly released the bonds and hauled the unconscious body up on board- just in the nick of time too! Sharks having missed their mark, circled the boat with certain frenzy, some irately bumping it, then just as swiftly they swerved and swam away towards yet another opportunity.  With the passing of this certain danger, Kaimu grinned elatedly. 

On second thought, forsaking the idea of salvaging the ‘adrift-wood-piece’, he now turned his attention back on the rescued being. Squatting, he carefully checked for the vital signs. The face was ghostly white (devoid of any color) but the body was nonetheless warm. The pulse although faint, was still there.  There were some bruises and cuts, some bleeding, but nothing serious.  Aha…. Hahn!

“What’s this, a woman?”  He was suddenly taken back and so abruptly yanked (jerked, pulled) his hand away.

It’s most puzzling, indeed? His suspicious, scrutinizing gaze affixed on the unconscious being, he absentmindedly scratched his forehead; for plainly enough, the drenched, rather prosperous attire was that of male’s. 

Hmm, what probable mischief was at play here… Could she be an escapee, a run-away?

When just then she made a faint whimpering sound and stirred, Oh who cares, at least she’s alive! Kaimu elatedly shrugged, having received added confirmation that at least his expansive efforts had not been in vain after all. As she seemed to be laboring for breath however, he now gently turned her on to her side and patted (pounded) her back. Pat, pat, pat…

She coughed, pinkish hue brushed her lovely cheeks and her lips parting, she spewed (ejected, disgorged) some seawater.  The eyelids fluttered, opened just a crack but then she, once more going ghostly pale, passed out cold. Kaimu knew all too well, the signs of shock and what the subsequent requirement would entail.  Cold as he was, without moment’s hesitation he took off his dry outer jacket, and as she was petite in frame, pretty much wrapped her whole body in it. Deferring his plans to fish until later, he then quickly applied himself to the oars (rowed) and swiftly steered his small craft back to the shore. His feet trod quickly on the wet, slippery path as he with ease carried her in his arms to his meager dwelling.

“Look what the sea has given us!”  Kicking the door wide open with his left foot, he barged right in leaving muddy footprints on the clean floor, and laid her on the cot.  “I shall leave her to your competent care.”  As he said this, he’d also quickly retrieved (reclaimed) his coat and put it back on. Then without sparing another moment for a response or an explanation to Ensa’s barrage of questions, he turned right around (on his heels) and darted out.

She’d nimbly rushed after him to outside and persisted with her loud inquiries. But there was so little time for him to waste; the weather could take a turn for the worse at any moment! Hence, ignoring his wife’s entreaties, his back still turned to her he raised his right hand up high in the air and waved a dismissive goodbye. Just like a woman! Exhaling an impatient huff, he shook his head as he quickly retraced his steps back to his boat. After returning to the proximity of the earlier spot, he then dropped anchor and cast his homemade net into the sea.

 

The Giver Should Be Thankful

 The Giver Should Be Thankful 

Two Persimmons, Kono Bairei (1844-1895) - 1890

 The Giver Should Be Thankful

The master of Engaku in Kamakura,  Seisetsu was so well known for his teachings  that many flocked to his tutelage.  Consequently, the School’s accommodations became seriously overcrowded.

Umezu Sibei, a highly successful merchant of Edo, happened to be visiting the region and so paid a courtesy visit to the esteemed teacher.  Noting the meagre lodgings of the school and feeling rather magnanimous he, on his return to his residence, made arrangements to donate five hundred pieces of gold (ryo) towards the construction of a more spacious school.  

A few days later, his chest swelling with pride, Umezu revisited the school and personally handed the sack of gold over to the teacher Seiseutsu. But when Seisetsu simply received the amount with his matter-of-fact attitude and only the assertion: “All right. I will take it.”, Umezu became highly dissatisfied.

One can live a whole year on just three ryo, Umezu grumbled under his breath, yet I’ve not received not even a simple thank you for this magnanimous gift of five hundred ryo?

Refusing to take his leave, Umezu  shifted uncomfortably and, after clearing  his throat with a slight cough,  added poignantly: “You know of course that in that sack are five hundred ryo?”

“Yes I know; you mentioned it previously.” Seisetsu replied impassively, turning to leave.

“Though I’m a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is still considered a hefty sum,” Umezu grumbled rather loudly.

“Do you wish a thank you for it?” Half turning, Seisetsu asked.

“Well, don’t you think you ought to?” responded Uzemu.

Seisetsu simply said: “Why? It’s the giver who should be thankful. ”

Ohara Koson (1877-1945)- Night Heron Under a Crescent Moon

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