LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 8

Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) expression still blank; he reverted his gaze back on Zaur.  The minister's eyes were fixed on a distant point, as his mind pondered (mulled over) on some serious recollection or thought.   Nevetsecnuac noted how all along Zaur had desperately tried to master, to contain a seething emotional battle raging within, while he upheld (sustained) an outward, impassive facade.

01- ZAUR STUGR   JP 28

The range of emotions (gratitude, sorrow, anger, exasperation, relief, dreads, apprehension, and impatience) that Zaur had tried to suppress beneath his calm facade (pretense), nevertheless detected by incisive Nevetsecnuac, rather intrigued him; hence, he subtly studied Zaur's face and wondered, “If I could vicariously impart to you (Zaur) all that I had observed in that pit, how would your emotions stand up to those grim revelations?  Would you be able to maintain this calm demeanor (face, guise)?”  A strange empathy, a sorrowful feeling enveloped Nevetsecnuac’s soul at that precise moment, provoking him to breach the all-pervasive wall of distrust that lay between him and his host, to communicate the true details in the hope of drawing Zaur out and enabling (aiding) him to drop the pretense and reveal what was truly at the crux (core) of his being. Moreover, Nevetsecnuac’s heart had ached to, for once have real communication, an exchange of thoughts and feelings, without least reserve. 

“What's come over me?” Nevetsecnuac snapping from his momentary weakness, this dangerous prescience (intuition), however, quietly admonished self: “It’s inconceivable to consider this sheer madness, especially with one such as Zaur, who has already proven to be shrewd and devious, though admittedly not dangerous yet.  I've divulged far too much already.  That pit was located dangerously near the spot where Egil Viggoaries's vassals waited in ambush for Fradel Rurik Korvald.”

 Nevetsecnuac ruminated (cogitated) now, how he had come perilously close to being discovered at the site by one of the sentries; however, fortuitously, the guard had been deterred from further scrutiny (investigation) of the noise, which Nevetsecnuac had inadvertently caused just moments before when he had fallen into the pit.  If that minor incident along with the planned ambush by Egil Viggoaries, were to ever reach Zaur’s ears (it was ever to come to light), Zaur’s discerning mind could, easily then link up the correlating (corresponding) facts and therefore, begin doubting Fradel Rurik Korvald validity. Nevetsecnuac hence reminded self to be more vigilant and selective with his rendition of the supposed facts; meanwhile, unable to not entirely trust his host, Nevetsecnuac was left with the only recourse of coaxing Zaur into taking the desired action on his own accord without any requisite assistance from scholar Fradel. 

The corollary (outcome) of Fradel’s part in all of this must appear quite incidental(minor).

Meanwhile, as Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) was not at liberty to conduct any sort of investigation within the scarce time span he had until his audience with the Sovereign - if his intuition (hypothesis) proved correct, by entrusting the key into Zaur’s hands, he would compel the good Minister to fulfill at least part of Nevetsecnuac’s obligation to that singular skeleton's spirit.

02-THE EXPOSED GRAVE

 Nevetsecnuac was confident that a proper burial would follow shortly afterwards, though much depended on the depth of Zaur Stugr's commitment.  If the minister was in earnest, he would even now be contemplating an inquiry into this, apparently very personal matter.  With the greater means and manpower at his disposal, Zaur could ensure that the unfortunate victim, or victims, would be granted the eternal peace due them in the afterlife.

In the pit of Nevetsecnuac's stomach, meanwhile, the nagging feeling that he had missed something vitally pertinent, some cryptic quandary (predicament, fix) which was tied to the elusive answer, had persisted.

Ending (interrupting) the unsettling silence, Nevetsecnuac resumed his fabricated account, being most careful to sporadically weave in just the right amount of truth.

"Having related how Toza had procured the key, Yakkasar for a time fell silent and cautiously, perhaps with a tinge of trepidation, looked about him.  Being finally assured that no one was paying any particular heed (attention) to us, he reached into his pocket, leaned across the table and saying, please accept this, unclenched his fist to drop this key right into my palm (hand)."

Zaur Stugr, lending Fradel only half-an-ear learned how Toza, Yakkasar’s audacious (foolhardy) son had returned from one of his bold escapades (more likely, illicit excavations or theft), and claiming he’d found this rare treasure, expectedly had attempted to fence the key to what he thought were some incited (interested) customers (buyers, collectors).  Not only had every avenue had fallen through, but worst trouble had beset the pair (father and son) shortly afterwards when Yakkasar, thinking he could do better, had taken the bejeweled key and showed it to an affluent acquaintance of his, unfortunately with negative result.

03- YAKKASAR AND HIS SON TOZU

Yakkasar’s trust was grossly misplaced, subsequent night a group of seedy ruffians had broken into their humble dwelling and demolished everything inside in their search for the key.  Toza, returning unexpectedly to retrieve something he had forgotten had interrupted their rampage and pitted against the four-armed bandits, had been badly trounced (beaten).

Yakkasar returning home, at small hours and in an already dejected mood, had found his beloved son in a pool of his own blood on the verge of expiring.  Stopping his father from fetching help, Tozu with his dying breath had implored Yakkasar to discard (restore) the wretched key, to its original owner.

 Believing the item to be cursed, Yakkasar had, after selling their small property to pay for the burial of his son, had undertaken the arduous return journey to find the pit. Only difficulty being, of late, he could not recollect the specifics his son had imparted to him.

Yakkasar had already traveled a respectable distance to, a rough estimation of an area, hoping that this would hone (sharpen, jar) his memory, but it had not. By the time he had met up with Fradel Rurik Korvald, having suffered during the course of his travel’s untold hardships, been assaulted, robbed, humiliated and subjected to other misfortunes too numerous to recount, Yakkasar had eventually been reduced to that sorry state. 

On top of everything else his health was now failing him and, noting that the persistent symptoms were the very same ones which had dispatched (caused the demise of) his former neighbor, Yakkasar firmly believed his days were numbered. Caught in these dire straits, knowing that he could neither retreat nor advance and, he would never be able to fulfill his promise to his dead son, he simply had begged Fradel Rurik Korvald to grant an old man one last favor and take this cursed key off his hands and perhaps, with his discernible competence, accomplish what he had failed to do.

"I wouldn't ask this of just anyone," Yakkasar vehemently had proclaimed, "but you have shown yourself to be a righteous (virtuous), good-hearted gentleman.  I beg you to help me out of my difficulties.  Both my deceased son Tozu and I'd be eternally grateful to you, and when my time comes to its natural conclusion, I promise, to speak well of you to the God of the Underworld." 

“The old man's insistences raised such pity in me (Fradel Rurik Korvald) that I had to finally acquiesce and consented to do his bidding.”

With complete confidence, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) had anticipated the probable timing of Zaur's request, his retaining of the subtly imparted details, the approximate estimation of specifics; however, as warranted caution, he’d excluded the name of the Cyprecox Pass, where the vicinity of it the pit was located, leaving Zaur to discover this by himself.

04-NEVETSECNUAC  JP 62

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Nevetsecnuac cast a quick, unreadable side-glance at Zaur as he reached out for a morsel or two.  He’d been plied (served, provided) with variety of alcoholic drinks all night long and watched most assiduously; hence, he had been emptying his cup out of politeness, not realizing that he had consumed an inordinate number of sprits over and above his capacity.  Consequently, at present, Nevetsecnuac's head began to swim, and it became increasingly difficult for him to maintain his coordination.  Curiously enough, his thoughts and speech had not been impeded (hindered), though he was getting rather awkward (clumsy), thus he was most anxious to drop this charade and retire (get preferred rest) for the night.  Yet, very much to his disappointment, Zaur had maintained his thoughtful silence and did not voice the anticipated (prompted) inquiry.

Despite Zaur's own intoxicated state, earlier on he had perceived (comprehended) Fradel Rurik Korvald’s subtle goading (ploy) and stubbornly did not comply.

“Now you are being too transparent.  Is this intentional?”

 Zaur was dubious of this latest, seemingly pure motive, enveloped as if it were in mere sentimentality and benevolent intent.

“No one could be that caring…Why would it matter to you, Fradel, whether the owner of this key was vindicated or not?” He looked skeptically at his guest; for Zaur found it hard to accept that anyone would go to this much trouble merely out of the (kindness) goodness of his heart.

“There must be some sinister motive lurking underneath.  Moreover, what is behind this persistent, albeit discrete push, to involve me directly?”  Zaur suppressed a frown.

“Have I given it away?  How much does Fradel Rurik Korvald suspect?” 

Zaur never took anything at face value and had always dug deeper to be rewarded consistently with the ulterior motives behind those seemingly benign words, innocuous gestures and deeds that inundated him daily.  This was the golden rule to surviving in the duplicitous environment of the Capital and it had served him well so far.  He was not about to alter the philosophy he had espoused for his (whole) entire adult life on the mere chance that Fradel Rurik Korvald was a (glitch, an abnormality) rare anomaly.  Men acted the same way regardless of station, creed, or race, harboring the same malicious, greedy, and conspiratorial (conniving) intents.

Inclined slightly towards Fradel Rurik Korvald he scrutinized him, noting the subtle clumsiness of his movements.  “Truthfully, you are quite unlike anyone I have ever known (or encountered); even now, you are most remarkable, so resilient, despite your apparent inebriated (intoxicated) state.”  

A strange feeling of loss suddenly just then gripped Zaur Stugr’s heart.

“But I sense that beneath that placid exterior, there are so many grave concerns.  You seem burdened by a perilous responsibility, far heavier than the requirements of your young years.  What is it about you, Fradel Rurik Korvald, that I should feel inexplicably drawn to trust you in this way?  I feel simply dwarfed whenever I'm near you, yet this is none of your conscious doing.  On the contrary, your modesty and humility at times overwhelms me.”

 Deep down, Zaur did indeed harbor a certain affinity towards scholar Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) from the first moment when he had first laid eyes on him.

Being favorably disposed from the start, after each private conversation (discussion) with this affable, worthy opponent who had challenged his abilities to the maximum, Zaur’s admiration and respect had progressively increased (augmented) for Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Admittedly, Zaur had grown rather complacent over the years and needed this cerebral jolt (intellectual shock) which Fradel had presented at every exchange, for him to be prepared for the inevitable showdown.

“Under different circumstances, perhaps we could have…”  The sinister face of suspicion abruptly surfacing in his mind’s eye, however, cut short, this (yearning) sentiment to once more poison Zaur’s heart and cloud his judgment.

“No, you and I can never be close (intimate) friends.” For as far as Zaur was concerned the degree of complexity in Fradel Rurik Korvald’s character, the allusive secrecy, the vulnerable, pure naiveté lying atop a certain recalcitrance (or bedlam) were all inconsistencies in the scholar's character, which reinforced Zaur’s view that, Fradel Rurik Korvald was not one to be taken lightly and that underneath it all, lurked sure danger.

“What do I really know of him?  So far there is nothing concrete that I can hold up to him and say, it fits.  All along he's revealed only petty, negligible, and partial (incomplete) facts about himself. Nothing tangible, nothing useful that could be (pinpointed or) indexed for future use.  As always at every exchange, and this night is no exception, I'm stumped when it comes to deciphering his real motives.  Every avenue I explore in his character comes to the usual dead end. Is he toying with me?”

Subsequently working himself up into a state of discontent, Zaur Stugr became convinced that Fradel Rurik Korvald was a master at the art of deceit and that he'd been working all along to beguile him, to lead him astray, to show him up for a fool.  He became livid as he imagined how all along Fradel had subtly manipulated him and, worse still, had nearly beaten him at his own game.  With remarkable willpower, however, he maintained his impassive, amiable facade.

 He could not have imagined that his own cynical view was the very culprit he suspected, the evil contaminant that all along had blindfolded him, obscuring his innate intuition that otherwise might have shed the light of truth over Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Things might have turned out differently then but, being as they were, they now led Zaur Stugr to tread the course he would regret for the rest of his life.  He was locked in this erroneous course (route, path), and no amount of future great accomplishments could mitigate, alter, or amend for, what he would now fail to do.

Habitually, Zaur Stugr’s analytical mind, prevailing over any rumor or an account, did not allow him to capitulate or hastily construe facts without first exploring every avenue available to him, but the “key” and the lateness of the hour in this case after a long wearying (taxing) day, constrained him to make an exception.

05- ZAUR STUGR   JP 29

“All right,” he reluctantly conceded, “you win for now.  I'll play into your gambit.  I was going to anyhow and eventually resolve the mystery for you.  But I promise you that, when the time comes, I'll feed you such a bewildering version that it will spin your head into a daze and unleash your full imagination.”  He absentmindedly nodded to Fradel Rurik Korvald.

“And in due course, with perseverance, I'll break down that elusive (intangible) wall you've put up to guard your secrets.  I'll break you yet.  Wouldn't you be shocked out of your scholar's cap if you knew the significance of that key and, the enormity of the truth about the pit, skeleton, and I?”

All the same Zaur’s spiteful smile died before it reached his lips, as the imagined abominations, the gruesome tortures and, lingering, tragic demise of his revered one, caused an intense angst to overtake him.

Zaur’s ear just then caught Fradel Rurik Korvald’s explanation of, how the meeting with Zunrogo and the subsequent events had unfortunately thwarted (hindered) Fradel’s fulfilling his promise to the old man, Yakkasar.

“Is he still going on about Yakkasar and, that cursed son of a traitor Zunrogo?  When will he drop this tiresome prattle?”

Surmising this change in mood, Nevetsecnuac paused and once more helped himself to some food.  As he thoughtfully chewed it, he marveled at Zaur's tenacity and strong inner discipline.

“Very well, “he conceded, “I'll meet you halfway.”

 

(END OF SECTION 8) 

                                                                                        ~

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 26

Canute Yonn swallowed heard, then fighting the blinding, throbbing pain in her head, he continued to relate (reveal) his mother’s tragic story to the indifferent (unsympathetic) ears in court. “Tresor and his wife Suen were a kindly folk; and at the beginning they took great pains with herbal tonics and diligent care, to save my mother’s life. After a partial recovery, however, she was again driven out into the cold; this time the culprit was poverty, and the humble farmer and his wife had to harden their heart to do this.  Their reasons being valid, I carry no ill will towards them."

“How very magnanimous of you," Mouro ejected sarcastically and sneered.

Disregarding him, Canute Yonn elucidated (explained) why he’d so readily forgiven them: "Their deprived circumstances were onerous enough, but that year’s incessant rain had spoiled most yields (crops) and created scarcity. This prohibited any acts of charity to kin, much less a stranger.  Famine had already claimed two of their children, one at the age of three, the other barely a year old. My mother, Helga, was crippled by Senson's countless blows to her legs and could not work the fields or do any other strenuous work; she was a liability and a hindrance to them.”

01-FARMER TRESOR

“Subsequently, with scant clothing and food, her baby a millstone in her belly, my poor mother drifted from place to place, scavenging, begging for alms, to survive.  All the while trying not to hate the innocent child, me, in her womb. I’m telling it as is, when she had later unburdened her heart to me. She had endured these unspeakable hardships, living for the day of her vengeance."

"See, trouble begets trouble.” Micen stroking his beard, mused heartlessly. “They should have made certain of the serving maid Helga’s death before abandoning her in the ditch; if they had, all this trouble now could have been averted."

"I came into this world in a house of ill-repute, where we stayed until the day of my mother's passing." Canute Yonn, oblivious, continued hoarsely.  "I grew up hearing her bitter, tragic sobs every night, for she had never grown accustomed to selling her body."  He gazed dully at the floor to hide his eyes, brimming with tears.  The rekindled pain of those times again tormented his mind, wrenching his soul.

                                                                                       ~

"Please don't cry, Mama!"  His heart breaking, Canute buried his face in the pillow to drown out his sobs.  What was it that ailed her so?  Who was Senson, this name she had so often, like now, cursed out loud in her sleep?  He was seven years old.  He felt quite grown up and he did the chores like grownups, but everyone still treated him like a child.  I'm old enough to understand, why won't she tell me?

He tossed his covers aside and, sitting up, fixed his gaze on the locked door that separated him from his mother.  The room, no bigger than a closet, in fact it had once been used as storage, had a tiny window so high up that it let through only a thin sliver of moonlight.  The wind was howling outside but the dancing shadows in the room did not scare him.

 I wish I could comfort her; he rubbed his eyes sleepily; I know she needs me.

 Hanging his head low he heaved a deep, stealthy sigh wishing he could forget that another, a stranger, who was sleeping snugly beside his mother.  As he tried to purge his heart of the gripping loneliness, troublesome thoughts and haunting questions again crowded his brain.  Why does Mama claim we have no family?  What about my father? 

Canute knew that his father was not dead, for once in slip of the tongue, she had referred to him in the present tense.  But why weren't they with him?  Wouldn't he be angry if he came here and found out she had slept with all these men?

He didn't play in the street anymore, for the other kids would tease him and call him and his mother all sorts of unmentionable names.  Like sharp slivers each name-calling stabbed at his heart.  Many a time he had retaliated with fierceness and pent-up anger, beating and dispersing all those who had ganged up on him.  Unfortunately, swift repercussions, beatings and berating soon followed from his elders in the house.  He was in a no-win situation.  Things will never change; why should I fight back (riposte)?  Still, a faint smile brushed his lips when he recalled the proper whipping, he had given to that big bully Yenn Katog, who was always inciting the other kids against him. It served him right!  And, it had more than made up for the thrashing he got later. 

He now stuck out his chest in self-congratulation.

Canute’s mind reverting back to his father, he reclined and closed his eyes in hopeful dreams, imagining that one day his noble, warrior father, their savior, would appear at their door, looking tall and distinguished, kindly and strong, to claim them.

02- CANUTE YONN'S IMAGINED FATHER

His heroic father would rescue them both from that ugly, intolerable existence.  For, to the marrow of his bones Canute detested this place he was forced to call home.  It broke his heart to see his mother ceaselessly tormented, day after day, by this uncaring, insensitive lot.

 Restless, he shifted his position.  His eyes fell on the discarded old plantation fan Tike had given to his mother.  He picked it up and examined it in the scant light, noting particularly the holes.  Absentmindedly he began gnawing at its edge.

 A few doors down he could hear that old tyrant of a house mother, Tike, scolding one of the girls.  In anger he threw the fan aside.  Oh, how he hated that callous old shrew who intimidated everyone, young and old!

He grimaced, thinking how when he was younger still, his mother had kept him in line with the threat that Tike ate disobedient, disrespectful children for supper and that was why she had gotten so fat.

Unsought, he saw before his mind's eye those venomous, piercing beads of eyes, encompassed by a gelatinous face which split into a threatening snarl to expose rows of rotted teeth.  "I'll get you yet, you piece of shit!" Tike was shaking a fat, threatening finger at him.  "Your days are numbered; wait and see!"  He retorted, clawing the air savagely to tear at her reverberating double chin that always seemed to drip perspiration.

03- CANUET FACES TIKE

 Tike thrived on tormenting people, always caning, hitting, beating and cursing everyone.  Never satisfied, never smiling, except at the guests, and then her smile was more hideous than her frowns and haunted his nightmares frequently.  She flogged him incessantly, not sparing the rod even at the slightest provocation.  Worse still, he resented being forced to behave, to be made to quietly submit to her abuse. His mother Helga was made to suffer the worst of it, for every one of his defiant acts.

He could hardly comprehend the extent of the fear Tike evoked in his mother's heart when Tike threatened to throw them out on their own.  In fact, had his mother Helga not been the prettiest and one of the key attractions of Tike's establishment, the street would have been their home a long, long time ago.

Oh, how I hate her!  I swear I'll kill her some day! he shook his clenched fist in the air.

The weeping and cursing finally muted after the slamming of several doors.  It was the same scenario being played out every night.

The following day Canute received an additional reason for despising Tike.  Canute's mother Helga had been sick for the last two or three days now, vomiting and feeling dizzy.  He was really concerned about her so, after the guest had gone, finding the door unlocked, he'd quietly snuck into her room and attempted to give solace to her.  She looked paler than usual.  When the steps of the old tyrant were heard approaching the door he heeded his mother's directive and made himself scarce.  Not wandering too far, he eavesdropped.

"Doctors cost money", he heard the shrew say.  "Besides, keeping it is out of the question."  A few other words he could not quite make out.  Then he observed Tike taking a small bottle from her pocket and handing it to his mother.  "There, I don't want you to think about it any longer.  I was good enough to get you this.  Never mind where I got it, just drink it.  He assured me it would get rid of the unwanted pest (nuisances).  You don't think this is the first time I've had to do this, do you?"

Canute watched with some trepidation hoping against hope that it was medicine to cure his mother’s ailment, as Helga with some reluctance, a grim, ghostly expression on her pale face, raised the foul-looking potion to her trembling lips.

"Don't drink it, Mamma!  It may be poison!" His fears triumphing (prevailing) over hope, he sprang from hiding place to shout his warning.

"The idea!” Tike turned her venomous eyes on Canute, panting with rage, hands brought menacingly to her hips.

 "You ungrateful brat, poisoning her, is that what you think I'm doing?  You, you a slandering scoundrel, you!  Haven't I warned you never to come here this early in the morning?  How long has he been there?"  She turned to Helga, worried that he may have inconvenienced last night's guest.  She had another good reason to be fearful, since abortion was illegal in Wenjenkun.  She needed to ascertain that Canute had not heard or understood enough to incriminate her.

"I'll tell-on you!" Canute warned, having sensed her fear.  "I'll have you locked up!" he shouted defiantly, not really knowing what he was threatening her with.

"You, wrenched viper in my bosom; I'll teach you to threaten me, you piece of shit!" shaking her finger at Canute Tike began to viciously berate and curse him as she pounced on Canute.

But Canute was too agile and too swift to be caught, not one with her bulk.

Huffing and puffing as enraged Tike chased him down the hall, her shouts to the others to grab him created such a pandemonium that the whole house was turned upside down.

In the end Canute had successfully slipped through those innumerable, vicious, grasping hands and hid. 

By dusk, when eventually the mayhem settled down and everyone returned to their routine tasks, exercising due caution, Canute Yonn stealthily emerged from his hiding place.

By providence spotting the old shrew, he, hugging the walls, followed Tike all the way back to his mother's room.

Once more Canute hid and, from this vintage point, watched and waited with his heart pounding, for Tike to have her say and depart. Tike’s face was beet-red from all that exertion as she huffed and puffed and animatedly gesticulating, flailed (flapped, waved)) those fleshy arms of hers.

What has she got so much to squawk (crow) about?

Curiosity, getting better of him Canute pressed his ear to the door and eavesdropped. 

On and on, with mounting rage and spurting poison, Tike cursed and scolded Helga, as she unmercifully, vented her cruel diatribes on the hapless, ailing (sick) young woman.

 "I told you to get rid of that brat long ago.  He'll never amount to anything, mark my words.  He's nothing but trouble.  You know he's no good, but then you're no better!  Why do you encourage him to come up here?  Are you stupid or something? Mother’s affection, baloney!  All useless emotions!  You've no business feeling love, not for a bastard, not for anyone!  Now you listen!  I'm just about at the end of my patience with you.  I'll only tell you this once more.  Harden your heart to him or you'll be made to suffer.  Then you'll be sorry.  Get rid of him now, I say, for he'll turn on you too one day.  Just wait.  Don't you know the innate nature of all men by now?"

Tike paced the floor to and for in an unusual quiet, as she mentally formulated (prepared) her next set of arguments and rested her vocals.

The door he was concealed behind, (whom patrons sometimes used) was still unlocked.  He pried it on ajar and peered in to see what was happening.  To his dismay, he saw the emptied bottle in Tike's hand as she toyed with it before returning it to her pocket. Tike was careful that way; making sure to retrieve any would be incriminating items (objects) and destroying it later.

 Suddenly, in a much calmer mood Tike, going over sat by Helga’s bed and, her enormous paws cupping Helga’s delicate hand, she began persuading the ailing woman, to agree to something.  Typically, the shrew was trying first, a kinder, gentler approach but Canute knew all too well that, if this did not produce the desired result, she would in (but a few minutes) a flash reverts to her vicious nature.

"Why don't you let me get rid of the pest…? Arr, I mean the boy, for you as well?  You don't have to do anything.  I'll handle the transaction for you.  Why must you be so stubborn? I have your best interest at heart. Why won't you take my advice?  Can't you see that in the long run it would be better for him, too? He’ll grow up in a normal home.  I saw mistress Wang just the other day.  They're looking for another bond servant; trouble is they don't want to pay for a fully grown one. Now, don’t be so quick to turn this down; wait till you hear the rest of it. “

“When she told me of their wish to purchase a boy close to their Therran's age, to keep him company, be his study- buddy and, for to keep their son out of trouble; I'd at once, being so selfless (altruistic), suggested Canute.  She said she'd consider it.  I had hoped that they would have forgotten about that regrettable incident between the two boys.  But listen, if you agree I'll do my best to persuade them to take Canute off your hands; sold for a pretty price, I’ll even get a smaller commission, just to help you out. Besides, couldn't you use another new dress or two?  You really ought to be thanking me for finding him a good home.  You know that if he grows up here, he'll turn on you, sooner or later.  He'll hate your guts for what you're doing.  He'll despise you to the core for ruining his life.  Also, you know as well as I do, that no respectable, good girl will ever marry the illegitimate (illicit) son of a whore.  So why don't you heed my sound advice and get rid of him now, while there's still a chance, while there's still time."

Canute Yonn’s fury rising to the boiling point, he felt he would just explode.  He shook violently, uncontrollably.  He'd just about had his belly full of resentment against that old bat.  Grinding his teeth, he was about to dash out to gouge her eyes out… When,

"I caught you, you little worm!"  A strong hand grasped the back of his neck and lifted him up high.  "So, this is where you've been hiding all this time."

"Let go of me!  Let me go, you cursed dog!"  In vain Canute, eyes agleam with anger, tried to kick and claw his captor, the big, strong bully called Ron, Tike's nephew who (periodically) helped her with the running of the business.

The relentless verbal and physical abuse that both Tike and Ron rained on Canute made his mother livid with fear, worsening her wretched condition still more.  Her tragic pleas for them to stop hitting her boy fell on deaf ears until; finally, she uttered the words Tike most wanted to hear.  Canute was dragged outside, still kicking and screaming, bouncing down the steps until he was violently thrown onto the dirt of the cellar floor.

"I'll teach you to respect your elders." Ron ranted like a mad bull.  "So, I'm a cursed dog, am I, you, ungrateful turd."

He grasped the heavy stick which rested by the stairs.  "You've had this coming to you for a long time.  Take this, and this!"  He pounded solidly and savagely on Canute's tender young flesh.  "Plead for mercy, you wretch, or I swear I'll kill you!"

Despite the excruciating pain, Canute held fast, bit his lip to stop from crying out until he passed out. When he came to the musty smell of dust had assailed his nostrils and dirt coated his tongue.  His battered head was throbbing fiercely.  His fingers tentatively touched the area where the pain was most intense, at the hairline.  Just then he felt a sharp, cutting pain in his ankle and kicked his leg, scaring away the timid rodent that had wanted a taste of his flesh.  His torn shirt and pants had already glued themselves to his wounds.  Though every inch of his body was seared with pain he lifted himself with determination and persistence to his feet. Muffling his groans he groped his way in that semi-darkness, his path barely illuminated with a sliver of light streaming from the small window way up there; with determination, he weaved his way slowly towards the door.  As he had expected, the door had been barred shut from the outside.  His revulsion growing stronger by the minute, he drummed up his last ounce of strength and savagely pounded his fists against the wood.

"Let me out!  Let me out!  I'll get you for this, you fiendish bastards!"

 His strength was ebbing.  "I'll show you.  You can't keep me here for long…I’ll kill you all, you, you…. beasts!”

Curses on his lips reduced to barely audible whimper, his breath now coming in gasps, Canute (limply) collapsed to the ground.  He remained there motionless for an undetermined time until he'd recovered some of his strength.  The urgency of his mother's condition gave him the will, the (fuel) ability to forsake his pain.

05- CANUTE IN CELLAR

Rising to his feet, he first determined the direction he wished to go then slowly felt his way to that far corner.  He was relieved to find things undisturbed and so, with some difficulty, pushed the empty, moldy cart to the side.  This was not the only time he had been cudgeled or flogged then imprisoned in the cellar but, the last time, he had, through his resourcefulness, discovered this exit, this burrow through the wall and, enlarging it a little, had crawled outside, stolen a steamed bun from the kitchen, then returned to his prison without being seen.  He had been smart enough to have concealed the opening of this escape route and had confided its existence only to his mother, in order to ease her anxiety.

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 26)                                                                                  

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

"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.

01- YAGU DORKA

"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. 

02- KENNY

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. 

03- AGUDA

"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)