LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 3

Minister Zaur was about to reach for a morsel, when his complexion suddenly became ashen and his pupils for a spell dilated (became wider, larger). He slumped (slouched) back into chair, appearing dazed and as though he was fighting to restrain an overwhelming sense of queasiness (nausea).  That same instance, his mind underwent a subtle but decisive change.

01-ZAUR STUGR 17

Subsequently, as they consumed more spirits the conversation that ensued took on renewed vigor and at the same time became more varied in scope, this lasting well into the night. 

The topic of conversation periodically, amidst insinuations, touched on the existing internal strife in Wenjenkun between the two powerful factions, then purposefully reverted, delving into in depth issues at hand and their resulting spin-offs.  The direct or indirect account recounted in rapid succession next was designed purposefully to confuse the issue or perhaps test Fradel's ability to keep up.

Going along, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) fed the good minister explicit (precise, exact, specific) altercations, challenging issues, and topics, and tiresome or alternately intriguing facts in profusion to dazzle the mind.  Masterfully sparring (jousting, fencing) with ideas and hypothesis, Zaur Stugr had finally met his match.

Though elated at first, soon growing tired of this intellectual banter (repartee, wit), the charade and all that strenuous mind games, Minister Zaur steered the topic once more to seemingly mundane, innocuous affairs.

Nevetsecnuac, with his resilience at first, was reluctant to concede.  He could utilize still more varied stratagems (ploys, gambits), profound views enmeshed with questions to subtly extricate from his host the pertinent information he felt he needed for the successful conclusion to his mission.  Out of consideration for his host, however, he forewent these, seeing how Minister Zaur Stugr 's eyes were now drooping, and his body slouched slightly in utter exhaustion, despite his ceaseless prattling about some present-day political rhetoric that was obviously a hot issue in Court.  In accordance with etiquette, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) akin showing fatigue discreetly yawned; this provided his host, Minister Zaur, the perfect opportunity to propose calling it a night.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

That late evening after Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had dismissed all his pesky (bothersome) servants and had seemingly retired, his mind until dawn in fact, taking no solace from his plush surroundings, had raced mercilessly with conflicting summations, views, and personages.  Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts, in a profusion of images, veered incessantly from Deng Hedenko, to his beloved Teuquob, to Heng Erling, to Duan, to Lu Moldan, to Yagu Dorka, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand, to Sorgun Dofu, to Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, to Egil Viggoaries, to Zunrogo Tugo, to Tizan Lout, to Lance Diostin, to Zonar, to Dwengzu, to Zakhertan Yozdek, to Hedenko's assassins, and finally to Zaur Stugr. 

Then unpredictably (variably) Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts had lingered for a time on this curious bureaucrat Zaur whom he suspected to be deeply embroiled in this discriminating, astute world of politics, as well, the underlying layer of intrigue and clandestine acts. Contrasting with the seemingly unassuming first impressions, Nevetsecnuac conceived now that Zaur Stugr was rather a more calculating, complex, manipulative, and very profound individual; a most probable explanation therefore, for his (Nevetsecnuac’s) failure to elicit any candid response to any of the pertinent issues he had put forth, all during this evening. Nevetsecnuac felt quite apprehensive at not being able to penetrate that complex cerebral and psychological hedge that Zaur had erected; hence, not being able to appraise Zaur Stugr’s true motives, his genuine personal feelings, vested interests, or political leanings.

Minister Zaur, with his consummate sophistry had oscillated his arguments expertly during the exchange between diverging points of view, therefore appearing totally non-committed about any issues despite his seeming ebullience.  Zaur Stugr had been most careful, even when inebriated, to offer Nevetsecnuac the precise information that appeared invaluable at the outset but, on closer scrutiny, became a dangerous precipice to traverse, all chiefly to measure Nevetsecnuac's response.

In all that time minister Zaur Stugr had tirelessly woven a web of intangible, indecipherable facts to cloud the real, serious issues that were periodically and purposefully interspersed in the seemingly innocuous conversation.

After a time, Nevetsecnuac in resignation shrugged, then divesting his outer garments, reclined on the bed, however, as sleep still averted  him , he simply lay on his back and fixed his gaze on the ornate ceiling; as his eyes gradually adjusted to the scant light from the solitary oil lamp; he distractedly traced the swirls of the intricate filigree.  Despite his outward calm, his heart was torn by conflicting emotions over the inevitable denouement of his intentions.

He’d gone nowhere with his tireless efforts of obtaining any, least bit of info; all his subtle inquiries had amounted to nothing. Either no one knew or everyone was too frightened to even talk about such dangerous topics. 

The dungeon was immense and had many subterranean tunnels all heavily guarded. As for Lord Asger ‘s son, Ivar Marrog Zhon’s whereabouts, (Nevetsecnuac had learned the name by then,) it had been clearly a well-kept secret. Then there had been that presupposition by some individuals that Ivar Marrog Zhon had long been, secretly expired.  This prospect had profoundly (forlornly) frustrated Nevetsecnuac.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC  JP 34

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts reverting to Zakhertan Yozdek, the usurper, he shifted uneasily, in his bed.

Having fully assessed the current political situation well in hand, he had come to grips with the grim, undeniable reality that, when he succeeded in his aim, it portended great danger for Wenjenkun.  Logic and duty in his core again stood in terrible conflict. 

The villainous usurper, Zakhertan Yozdek, for all his brutal crimes, was a necessary evil.  After all, he had consolidated his power over everything and had maintained under his iron rule thus far a strong nation that could easily withstand any foreign aggressor, even one as formidable as Emperor Deng Hedenko.

 And what of Korion, who was waiting in the wings for a single chance to strike back despite their seeming conformity (submission)?

Nevetsecnuac comprehended full well, how by killing Zakhertan Yozdek he would be fulfilling his destiny and avenging the countless dead, victimized, wronged, and oppressed citizens of his country and, at the same time, would be robbing the state of the cornerstone of its strength and its best defense. 

By his action he would cast Wenjenkun into utter chaos, during which internal strife would take hold, led chiefly by those three rival contenders, the Yozdek faction, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security, Egil Viggoaries’ group, and render the Empire vulnerable to the invading armies of the foreign aggressor, Deng Hedenko, admittedly a greater villain than Zakhertan Yozdek. 

Yet, despite pertinent (relevant) logic, his heart was propelled to wrack vengeance upon Zakhertan Yozdek, if only for Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon; and besides, he was deeply bound by a strong sense of duty, filial piety, and loyalty to his family, they, taking precedence before Wenjenkun.  How, otherwise, could he face his Ancestors, Lord Asger Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, the real Fradel Rurik Korvald and the countless others who had sacrificed so much to give him this singular chance? 

Nevetsecnuac did not delude himself that he could, by enlisting the support of one of the rival contenders, through the application of ‘the divide-and-conquer strategy’, take over the state as Crown Prince and rightful heir, without the full support of the army and enough of the bureaucrats to administer the state. So entrenched were these three factions, in the fabric of Wenjenkun that any real change would be improbable, not while these cliques retained even the fraction of their power. There would, at best, still be a period of transition during which the contending parties of the Prime Minister, the Eunuch and the Yozdek family, one by one, would have to be put down and, if need be, entirely (rooted out) eradicated.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that, in most perfect scenario, should he survive these ordeals, his reign may well become the briefest Dynasty. He was also mindful (aware), that his precarious scholar disguise (as a Fradel Rurik Korvald) would not last to avail him of another such opportunity.  The pending (imminent) reversal of fortune for literate was fast approaching (near). They would once more become the escape-goat in the blame game for all the ills of society and county. Meanwhile, the burden of vengeance for all those wronged, restless spirits rested solely and squarely on his shoulders, and he alone had been given this one-time rare opportunity to avenge them all and bring the villain Zakhertan Yozdek to justice.

 Could he spare him because the country needed a strong leader to control the precarious state of internal and external (foreign) affairs that was chiefly Zakhertan’s doing in the first place? 

He had sustained this political volatility chiefly to ensure his uninterrupted reign, right down to fostering an incompetent weakling, which was Crown Prince and heir apparent, Herleif.

Things had already been set in motion. The dreaded future of this country being overrun by a foreign aggressor was as inevitable as the dawn of the day. Once Zakhertan Yozdek was dead, whether it was by assassination or just old age, Wenjenkun was fated to be plunged into a struggle for power that would leave it vulnerable for any hostile takeover.  As Nevetsecnuac saw it, he had no other alternative but to fulfill his destiny and abide by ‘Heaven’s Mandate’.  The Yozdek Reign was meant to end at this time. That was surely a ‘Divine Intervention’, at work here; and that is why he’d been lured out prematurely into this vengeful world. Five years would not have made that much of a difference; he knew full well, that is to be the truth now.

It was in this terrible; unresolved state of mind that Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) faced (greeted) the first light of dawn.

 

                                                                        ~

After the morning session of Court and as soon as he had concluded his other obligations and responsibilities of office, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren in an unorthodox, yet politically astute move, visited the private residence of the Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr, to extend his personal welcome to the illustrious scholar and poet Fradel Rurik Korvald- one that had been chosen particularly by the Sovereign's chief consort and most recent favorite, Sejon.

In keeping with propriety, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) bowed low and said, "I have been remiss in my duty and have failed to pay my respects upon my arrival in Channing, to you, Your Excellency; to my great shame you have honored me instead, with your visit."

03- PM LAMONT GUDAREN 7-JP

“I am only too happy to do it.” Prime Minister responded in an unusually affectionate tone and smiled; after which, though he was more than twice Fradel Rurik Korvald’s age, Lamont Gudaren bowed his head slightly in return, as measure of his deep respect, to the scholar.

The Prime Minister, with his glib tongue, bestowed his further felicitations and other such pleasantries as they both moved towards the reception chamber.

There, host and guests (all three,) comfortably seated sipped fragrant tea, and, under the guise of a seemingly innocuous, sincere conversation, they gauged each other’s strengths and weaknesses. During this seemingly pleasant exchange of ideas which lasted several hours, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, a man of discerning mind, became more and more enthused by the infinite potential he saw in this scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 

“I could reap untold benefits from furthering this scholar.”  He told himself. 

 

Never one to take chances, however, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren extended his visit of Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr and Illustrious Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald and stayed for lunch.  During the sumptuous private feast, despite the heavy consumption of wine, tirelessly, yet discreetly, Prime Minister prodded scholar’s mind further, to ascertain that his first impressions about him had been correct.  By the end of his subsequent, though, subtle (shrewd, ingenious) examination, Lamont was unequivocally impressed with the scholar's superior attributes; his eloquence, his outstanding quickness and brilliance of mind, his noble bearing, and exceptional good looks; all these findings had far exceeded the Prime Minister's expectations.

“If Fradel Rurik Korvald had been born to a noble family he would have, most certainly, gone much farther than he had.” Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren mused, looking down and stroking the long, stringy beard that reached his mid-chest.

 

 “But all is not lost; even at this late stage, something can easily be arranged.”  

At that very moment Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had conceived a plan to utilize the scholar’s full potential by adopting him into his ranks where, as his protégé, he could mold Fradel into the position of greatness he deserved.

“Ah, that is if the political winds do not shift yet again.” But then on second thought Lamont conceded that it would be best to exercise caution and bide his time until Fradel Rurik Korvald had passed His Highness' scrutiny.

“Yes, we will first assess the impression you make on the Emperor, Fradel Rurik Korvald, before we risk all in any venture on your behalf.”

 

Prime Minister was just then given a confidential message; after a quick perusal, despite his reluctance to end the stimulating exchange (conversation) with Fradel, he quickly rose to his feet.  Stating that, “he must return to his office to attend to an urgent matter of the State,” he quickly left.

Seated comfortably within the posh carriage that was hastening away, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren knitted his brows in ire and mumbled.  “How could things have gotten so out of hand? No doubt about it, Egil Viggoaries has engineered this!  He has played his hand just so, to discredit me.”

 

 

                                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3) 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 19

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

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

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

01- NEVETSECNUAC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yagu spread his hands comically.

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

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

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

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

 Yagu smiled sheepishly while taking such liberties.

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

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

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

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

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

02- LERTY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"NO TEA?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

03- YAGU DORKA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04-FIONA (AGUDA'S YOUNG WIFE)

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                                     ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You may address me as 'Sir'."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                                         ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 19)