LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 25

Before noon the following day, sure enough, Canute Yonn was apprehended and brought in chains to the prefecture for incarceration.  Adjourning the court case in mid-session, Micen ordered Canute to be brought before him at once for questioning.

 Short time later, with a stern visage Micen watched the prisoner Canute, beaten and bruised, as he was dragged in with chains and a heavy cangue around his neck, to stand trial.

Strapped for time, the Prefect cleared the court and, skipping the preliminary procedures, ordered his bailiffs to prepare the ultimate instruments of torture (interrogation) at once.  It came as no surprise to Micen that Mouro Kerr, anticipating this wish, had already seen to this as well.

01- MOURO KERR

 Ingenious devices of cruelty were immediately hauled (lugged) into the courtroom and, under Mouro's supervision, Canute Yonn was subjected to the most horrendous, brutal torment.

"Oh, what's the use?" Canute at long last, (unable to bear the agony) groaned.  "Who am I trying to protect, anyway? All right, I yield… I will tell all.  I would like nothing better than to expose the hypocrisy of the Luko family and reveal Senson Luko, whom I am ashamed to call 'father', for the despicable bastard he really is!" Canute, so resolved, professed publicly, his version of the true accounts.

"What kind of malicious slander is this?  How dare you besmirch a good man’s name?" Mouro's red-hot rod viciously struck across Canute Yonn's already cut and bloodied face.

The astonished Micen was very intrigued and wanted to hear more.  He quickly intervened to halt Mouro’s barbarism and then ordered to have the courtroom cleared of further nonessential personnel, leaving only the recording secretary, his assistant clerk and a miminal number of bailiffs.

 "Let him speak." Micen, his hand raised, ordered the skeptical Mouro to stand aside; then curtly addressed Canute Yonn, "What do you mean by claiming the late honorable Senson Luko was your father?  What an unmitigated gall you have!  He has (sired) no sons, only daughters."

"No sons that you know of." Canute defiantly scoffed.

"Stop your spiteful lies, impudent dog!"  The outraged Mouro again struck savagely at Canute.  "How dare you try to deceive His Honor?"

"Let him be!" Angry Micen interceded.  "If you kill him now, how are we to get at the bottom of this?" 

Though Mouro wished to protest he checked his temper (and zeal), seeing the foul mood the Prefect was in and, grinding his teeth, wrenched the burning blade away from Canute's throat and quietly stepped aside.

 "What proof do you have to substantiate this claim?" Micen voiced (posed) his next question.

"I have none Your Honor; only my word."  Canute's answer was a study in calmness.

Mouro glowered at Canute furiously then urged Micen not to be taken in by this criminal as he clenched his fist in contempt.

While Mouro seemed to be fighting the urge to pounce upon the prisoner, Micen's own feelings remained quite mixed.

 "Bring the accused closer to the bench." Micen commanded in an afterthought.  He had known Senson since childhood, being a native of Denor City himself.  Leaning over the bench, he intently examined Canute Yonn's features while he struggled to jog his boyhood memories.  Though Canute's face was burned and bruised, and most of his, admittedly handsome, features were concealed by his bloodied, short blond facial hair, Micen discerned some resemblance.

 "I know those eyes anywhere, it’s Senson's eyes all right!" Startled, he drew back then, stroking his short (well groomed) beard he mused, nodding, "Yes, there is a definite family resemblance, especially his nose.  Most definitely he's got Senson's nose, no disputing it."  Micen’s eyes now narrowed, as he sneered at the prisoner under his breath, "Fool, you could have had all of it!"  It had suddenly become clear to the Prefect why Latham and Hacket Luko had perjured themselves in court.

Micen’s contemptuous glare burrowed deep into Canute's flesh as he stormed, "What kind of monster are you that you could knowingly sleep with your stepmother and, worse still, murder, mutilate and rob your own (flesh and blood) birth father?  What you have done violates all Human decency.  It is the most unconscionable, most detestable act I've ever come across in my ten years sitting as a judge.  How dare you brazenly stand so boldly before me when you should be cowering and bowing your head low in shame?"

"Because he's a madman, a certified lunatic." came the consensus from the court clerks in back.

Ignoring this, Micen again demanded a reason for the outrage Canute had inflicted but, throwing his head back, the prisoner only let out a caustic laugh, grimaced coldly then retorted from between his clenched teeth, "Why should I owe one shred of loyalty to a man who wished me dead even before I was born?”

“My steps to achieve my purpose may have been improper; still I have no regret, nor am I ashamed of what I have done.  I know I’m right.  I'll face the Underworld King (King of Death) without flinching and, if it’s my destiny (punishment) to face this trial in my next life, I'd do it without reserve, all over again."

The prisoner's defiant response so enraged Mouro that, seeing red, he, that instant, delivered a severe, deadly blow to Canute Yonn's head, sending the accused crashing, unconscious, to the floor.  Naturally, Mouro then became the recipient of Micen's harsh reprimand till Canute was examined by the certified stated physician, Sullen, found to be alive and revived.

 

The Prefect eventually decided, in view of Mouro's genuine regret and sincere, eloquent words of apology, to tolerate his assistant's continued presence in the courtroom.  Mouro was duly warned, however, to contain his temper and that any future outbursts or disobedience would meet with the most severe repercussions.

 

Mouro, head lowered subserviently, brooded in silence off to the side as he tried to unravel the seemingly harmless facts and words spoken by certain members of the Luko family.  A sinister smile fleetingly brushed his lips as he suddenly comprehended the ugly ploy behind the conspiracy of Senson’s younger siblings to involve Canute Yonn. Moreover, the extent of which the two had gone, in encouraging Senson's offspring in his vile act of seduction and murder.  “What bastards they are…  You are deceiving, conniving, rapacious beasts; truth be dammed!  Why should I be surprised?  It’s the same everywhere; miscarriages of justice, arbitrary decisions, bribery, mutual protection, collusion and partiality.

 

Scholar Canute Yonn, by then having regained consciousness, forced to his feet and steadied, with his urgent need to be heard, he stammered incomprehensibly.

Prefect Micen pricked his ears but failed to understand or make any sense of Canute’s mutterings, except for one or two phrases, “Revenge... you can't silence me.  I will speak up.”

The scholar’s throbbing head meanwhile had made his speech incoherent at first but, gradually, with determination, he rose above his difficulties. “Yes, I shall make a clean breast of it and reveal the ugly truth for the whole world to know.  Their treachery against my mother must be exposed so that others may take heed in future.  Yes, I will tell all, all, without exception..."

Canute for a spell balefully glared at Mouro than fixed his burning gaze on Micen as he, by degrees in a resounding voice, punctuated by spurts of blood, confessed, "My beloved mother, Helga was her name, may her soul rest in peace, was the only offspring of the bond-servant Cuo, who had tended to the old Master Guzo Luko for over thirty years.

My poor dear mother (Helga) was orphaned at five, when her parents died of a plague, she was nevertheless kept on and constrained to the family's service.  She grew up with inexhaustible blows and toil, their loud commands and persistent scolding ringing in her ears from sunrise to sunset.  She endured her ill fate, adopting the persona of cheerful acquiescence so common in servants.  All those years of loyal service, of hard work, did any of it count?  Hah!  The opulent have black hearts."

"Belay the blather and get to the point!" Micen pounded his mace (scepter) on the dais.

Defiantly, Canute Yonn glared at him, then pressed on, "Despite her deprived circumstances, she had blossomed into a beautiful girl of barely fourteen when, unfortunately for her, she had unwittingly attracted the lustful desires of the first young Master, the cursed Senson Luko.”

02-HELGA

 “He pestered her from morning to night until, finally, on a fateful afternoon, he cornered her in a desolate section of the garden, arranging to have her sent there to pick peach blossoms for the Matriarch's chambers.  There, on the petal strewn ground, the rogue shamelessly, sexually assaulted her."  Canute Yonn groaned.

"So, the pretty maiden Helga was herself deflowered, what of it?" Mouro grumbled, smirking wryly.

Throwing him a venomous glance, Canute Yonn continued, "Though tormented, she bore the shame in silence, until her pregnancy was discovered, and, under interrogation, she sobbed out the details of the shameful, tragic episode to the Old Master and the Matriarch.  But it was she who was punished instead of Senson.  The jewel of the old man's eye could not be touched.  When Senson professed his innocence with affected conviction and claimed that it was he who was being victimized by my mother, Guzo chose to believe his son.  Senson, with false nobility, made it seem as if he was trying to protect her from her own promiscuous nature on account of her youth and his own compassionate, merciful heart.  Gradually he unfolded his entire fabricated account.  According to Senson it was my mother who had pursued him untiringly until the vixen, he had the unconscionable nerve to call her that, had caught him at a weak moment when he was suffering from a minor ailment, a fever after having been caught in the rain.  That particular night she had supposedly sneaked into his room once everyone was asleep and clad only in her undergarments, slid under his bed covers.  At this point, to reinforce this farce, he had even fallen on his knees and asked forgiveness from Guzo for his weakness.  The womenfolk rushed in to plead on his behalf. “

“Yes, the crafty cur continued to admit his guilt for not having the willpower to refuse her (brazen, lustful advances) and, clutching his father's feet, begged through his sobs to receive his due punishment.  His father understood for, after all, what hot-blooded young man could resist the seductive advances and improper embraces of a wanton young girl?  He had committed no crime.  Such was the knave's cunning!"

Undaunted by Mouro's clenched fists, which he had noted just out of the corner of his eye, and before Micen could launch into a reprimand for reviling the deceased, Canute Yonn quickly added, "To deepen the trap, Second Young Master Hacket, who had been in on the conspiracy from the start, came forward in support of his elder brother to confess his shame.  The servant girl Helga had, supposedly, tried to make improper advances towards him also and he was guilty of failing to report her.  He had felt, in his compassion, that if she was driven out it would be her end, for there was no other place she could turn to.  Helga was still young and impressionable and therefore could still be molded, turned with due understanding, good guidance and tolerance onto a righteous, virtuous path.  Why should the investment the family had already made in her go to waste?  Remarkable as it may seem, Guzo bought into this well-rehearsed façade (sham, charade) and as well praised both his sons for their tolerance, compassion and good sense. Bah!”

"Though her rectitude and moral integrity were known to the entire household prior to these malicious slanders, those sympathetic few were deterred from speaking on her behalf or coming to her defense when they observed how Master Guzo was totally beguiled by his sons.  Even if Guzo was only pretending, why shouldn't he take his son's word over that of a besmirched bond-servant Helga?"  Canute Yonn ground his teeth in disgust.

"Consider this your last warning!  I will not tolerate any more of your theatrical elaborations and your disrespectful reviling of the deceased."  To the satisfaction of Mouro, who also was simmering, Micen suddenly exploded, shaking a finger at Canute Yonn.

"But I am relating the facts as I had told them.  I'm not being disrespectful of your court, Your Honor.  I do not have the command over words to eloquently summarize it to Your Honor's satisfaction." Canute Yonn dryly (disdainfully, coldly) protested.  He was a condemned man, facing more torture; there was little else left for him to fear.

Tauntingly, as if to try Micen's patience, Canute continued as before, "Yes, taken in by his own sons, the infuriated Guzo Luko cursed and reviled my mother, the true victim, endlessly until his voice grew hoarse.  Then he ordered Senson, his precious jewel and the one injured most by her, to punish the culprit Helga properly.”

03- MASTER GUZO LUKO

“Calling my poor mother a most despicable, ungrateful vixen in their family’s bosom, an evil reincarnate that must be expunged before she corrupts anyone else, the brutal Senson, taking hold of a heavy staff, unmercifully rained down his vicious blows on her.  He stopped only when he thought she was dead."

Biting his lips and clenching his fists, Canute Yonn abruptly broke off at this point, beads of perspiration mingled with blood to sting his lacerations.  His face contorted in pain as he tried to suppress his bursting rage and his all-consuming contempt for his father.  He regretted that he could kill him but once as his eyes flashed fire and looked about the courtroom wildly.

 Soon he was able to restrain his emotions, grimaced coldly once again and said indignantly, "Then, barely alive, she was taken away in the middle of the night with the refuse to be mercilessly discarded (dumped) in a deep ditch outside of the city walls.  Left to die a horrible death in pools of her own blood, she was exposed to the rain, the bone-chilling cold and the scavenging rats and insects that came to gorge themselves on her infected wounds.  By some miracle she survived the ordeal until, just after dawn; a peasant's dog led his master to the spot where she lay.  Taking pity on her, the kindly peasant who was called Tresor rescued her from the pit and carried her on his back to the safety of his home.

 

(END OF SECTION 25)

                                                                                      ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

Dokurak most thankful of the fact he had a sympathetic ear, with a secret purpose in mind had ceaselessly unburdened his heart: “Beginning a new life with only a measly pittance I had concealed from the authorities, I first purchased some worthless piece of land and after initializing irrigation, proper crop rotation and a great deal of work, managed to turn my luck around.  Soon the land began to yield a good return, enough at least for me to properly care for my children. “Dokurak, falling silent for a spell, looked down.

“Unfortunately, the former owner who’d sold the land to me for a song now regretted his hasty decision; additionally, most envious of me for the beget bounty (profits), have harbored a personal grudge against me.  That was the precursor of my fresh troubles.” Dokurek pensively shook his head.

"When my eventual pardon arrived, and I was allowed to settle permanently in this region I ignored my neighbor’s envy and animosity and falsely thought that the past had finally been put safely behind me. For a short while things looked promising. My sons, meanwhile, going against my will and ignoring my good counsel, chose not the agrarian (farming, rural) livelihood (occupation), but that of erudite (literate).  Then again, there was a measure of leniency in the law and a few good posts and desirable government positions were once again being made available to promising learnt (scholarly) candidates.    Gradually I relaxed my vigilance and even allowed my heart the joyful pride when one of my sons, Kuer, was promoted to a good position in the Magistrate's office.”

02- KUER

"How was I to know?  How could I phantom that some unscrupulous, grasping officials would, within a decade, instigate yet another onslaught against the Literate?  You see, in their greed, they had come to realize the immense profits that could be reaped from the land and property holdings of the successful intellectuals (scholars).”

"Zakhertan Yozdek, a military man and an autocratic landholder, had, despite his outward policies of leniency, still harbored in the crux of his being a deep contempt for the scholars because of their analytical (logical, critical) way of thinking and their accrued (amassed, retained in mind) vast reservoirs of knowledge of past rulers.  Meanwhile the extensive military campaigns he had waged to secure his throne and Wenjenkun’s borders had nearly depleted the treasury.  The Office of Revenue was already hard pressed to come up with additional sums via (by means of) burdening taxes and forced labor, and besides, extra funds were now needed for the new campaign against Korion.

“It took only a little persuasion and a staged incident by the new Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, to make the literati into scapegoats once more.  Thus, the holdings of these affluent families were laid open for pillage and were sold at auction once the unfortunates had been blamed for the discontent, turmoil and hardships that plagued the country.”

Dokurak suddenly stopped talking and after his long, dubious look at Fradel, his voice tinged with jealousy, he said:

“You have really been most fortunate, Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald), to have escaped these disasters… these genocides.  I wish that I had been empowered to do the same for my sons.  You see, I had the foresight; right at the beginning of it all, I had read the signs and predicted the outcome. The ill-fate hovering at cusp (verge, edge), over the horizon, had left all too prevalent signs for anyone intelligent or discerning, to be wary.  Foolishly, though, I imagined that my pardon and the quiet, model (exemplary) life I had led, would exempt me and my two sons from all of this impending (looming) catastrophe” Dokurek shook his head then sullenly bit the corner of his lip.

"My second mistake was to place too great a store in my influential friends and the Magistrate that had mentored Kuer.  I could not envision that they, too, would collude with my enemies and turn on me for a share of the gain.  Of that, I am sure.  That oversight, unfortunately, was my gravest mistake and for years I've been eaten alive inside, bit by slow bit, by the burden of regret I've carried in my heart.” Dokuek desisting tears, wrung his hands.

"My heart aches so sorely (agonizingly) whenever I think of my two boys…my poor, innocent boys!  When the disaster fell Kuer had been married two years and, what's more, his beautiful, virtuous wife, Luokil, was carrying my grandson. “

03- KUER AND HIS WIFE LUOKIL

"But alas, my world once more collapsed when Kuer and Ruek were arrested and taken away in chains.  I knew that the charges brought against them were pure fabrication, that there was no solid evidence at all to convict them on, so I immediately dispensed generous sums in bribing the right officials trying to buy justice and extricate my sons from (false) blame. “

04-KUER AND RUEK FALSELY CHARGED 

 “All my efforts were in vain, however, for they wanted it all.  My property was confiscated in the blink of an eye and sold for the state's gain to the very same people who had laid the false charges against us.  I was again, shortly after,  reduced to a beggar's state.”

“Kuer was well liked and had countless influential friends but none; none dared to speak up on his behalf when...” Dokurek, abruptly stopping,  bit hard the corner of his lip; anger and despair registering in his pupils, he looked yet again  in the direction of the large mount, quite oblivious of the trickling blood that slowly made its way down his chin.

"You can't imagine the anguish I felt at seeing my boys, as they were dragged mercilessly down the street in chains, then …. Then… buried alive under that accursed big mound." Dokurek swallowed and pointed.

"But not a whimper escaped their lips.  My heroic sons!  I would have ended my own miserable existence right then and there, but I summoned all my courage to live on, enduring misery and humiliation in order to care for my unborn grandson.” Dokurek swallowed hard, and eyes brimming with tears, he dismally (gloomily) shook his head.

“Alas, as cruel fate is, he and his mother both died in childbirth. She went into labor soon after she had witnessed her husband's murder, you see."  Pointing to the two smaller mounds under the weeping willow tree, adjacent to the big mound, Dokurek lamented in a choked voice, "They lie there, close to my son Kuer and Ruek.  I cared for their graves all this time and offered continuous prayers for their comfortable existence in the afterlife.  Now I'm old, too old and too feeble to be of much use to anyone.  I would have joined them long ago, but I have not a soul to count on to bury these old bones and I have nothing left to barter with."  He buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, all those years, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so utterly beguiled?” He lamented. “It’s taken me a lifetime to see the error of my ways.  My eyes are finally opened. But what good is all that now? If only I’d listened to my younger brother’s words for, he was right all along, right about a lot of things.  I’m filled with endless remorse that eats at my soul?”

“Still Heaven, it seems, has at long last taken pity on me."  Dokurek abruptly looked up, smiling wryly and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the deluge of tears that soaked his pallid cheeks and neck.

 "For here you are … Good sir, can I impose on you, can I rely on your compassion and good graces to perhaps trouble you, to do me this one last great favor?"

Fradel was nonplused by Dokurek's imploring gaze and, understanding his meaning, frowned.  "I shall not be party to your murder sir.  Surely you have many long years still ahead.  Do not despair.  You have persevered this long, undergone so much; perhaps an emancipated future..."

Before Fradel could finish the old man had flashed a blade he had concealed deep within the folds of his rags.  With a swiftness that belied his age, giving Fradel no chance to move, Dokurek buried the knife hilt-deep into his chest. But missing his heart just barely, he lived long enough to still implore Serek (Fradel).

"I do not deserve your kindness, sir. Ugg…. Still, I know you will not disappoint me.  Far too long have I endured this loneliness, burdensome guilt and unbearable heartache?  I make no excuses now and accept full blame for my past miserable life choices. Having paid some penance; let me embrace fate and join them now.  Please, pray that we all find peace in the… afterlife." He gasped his last breath and, (blood oozing from his mouth,) was no more.

Fradel had done the right thing by Dokurek and, although he had buried the old man's body in a mound next to his grandson and daughter-in-law under the same willow, all rites duly carried out, he still carried away with him the pain of Dokurek’s misspent life.

 

                                                                                    ~

Fradel was from then on burdened with a series of fresh concerns.  The guilt ate at him to the crux of his heart: guilt for being spared, for having led a privileged life of ignorance while so many had perished.  Fradel now pondered: Had he (Fradel) the right to do what he planned?  Wouldn't his intended actions unleash yet another bout of purges resulting in blood baths and fresh persecution of the Literati? 

This was at the root of Fradel's dilemma as he rode away from the graves beside the ruined hut.

Fradel, tersely now, as if with a special understanding, nodded.  Yes, things being the way they are, whatever I do will have little bearing.  The outcome would invariably be the same.  So long as evil reigns (rule) supreme and corruption festers like locusts on this land, salvation will be a distant dream for everyone.

 

                                                                                         

(END OF SECTION 9)

                                                                                              ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

For the remainder of that morning Svein, riding alongside Fradel, had respectfully kept his silence understanding that a serious grievance was at the root of Fradel's reverie. 

NEVETSECNUAC

Most appreciative of this quiet, Fradel struggled hard but without avail, to dispel the gruesome, vivid images forming in his mind's eye: The mound of earth, overgrown with grasses and bush, the old man sitting at its edge, perfectly motionless, the gnarled walking cane resting unused on the earth beside him; these visions still persisted in haunting his peace and try as he might, after all this time, he could not purge his heart of a dogged, all-consuming despondency and guilt.

Currently, Fradel’s mind yet again ruminated (cogitated, recollected) of that long ago, the unpleasant happenstance (twist of fate, quirk) which should have been ordinarily locked in his subconscious psyche. Fradel inhaled deeply and sullenly harked back to that time when on route to Terek  he’d, sighting a solitary seated figure some distance down the road, assumed the old man to be asleep or in a trance; but, when a shaft of sunlight suddenly peeped through the dense rain clouds, Fradel’s acute vision had then noted the glistening tears streaming down the man's pale, wrinkled, sunken cheeks.  Now ordinarily, he would have sent his stewards to make inquiries but, propelled by an unexplained, strange desire, he’d dismounted at the edge of the roadside. As he was hot, he first took off his garment’s (top) outer layer and, handing this and the reins of his stead to one of the stewards, meanwhile, (ignoring) paying no heed their strong protests, ordered them to stay put, then went forth to investigate.

 

 As he advanced towards the old man, he’d for a spell, experienced some trepidation but kept on with determined steps regardless, climbing the rocky, uneven hillock, till he had reached the sorrowful being.  Halting a few steps back, he'd respectfully bowed in greeting, introduced himself as gently and politely as he could, however, giving him a pseudo-name Serek Vern, which Fradel had adapted wishing to be anonymous during his travels, and then, inquired about the old man's health and possible needs.

The old man appearing oblivious to it all, had at first, remained perfectly still. 

Fradel (Serek), nevertheless, being reluctant to leave him in that state, he’d advanced ever so slightly closer and was about to accost him anew when the old man sharply raising his head, seething, glared at this bothersome, pesky stranger.

Dokurek, which Fradel Rurik Korvald later came to know his name, had initially acted with uncalled-for hostility.  His cold, gray eyes had burrowed fiercely, contemptuously into Fradel's and lingered there, scrutinizing him, for a long spell. 

At the time, the icy, hateful gaze, like a frozen blade, had stabbed at Fradel’s empathetic heart!

Even after some elapsed time, while Fradel had assumed he was making inroads with Dokurek, the old man, with obstinate hardness, had retained his original skepticism of Serek’s (Fradel's) ignorance of the common facts, of his naiveté and his motives.  But, gradually, bit by bit drawn out of his shell, he’d thawed, then eventually entrusted Serek (Fradel) with the truthful accounts and factual answers to his persistent inquiries. 

It turned out that Dokurek's two promising scholar sons had been buried alive beneath that nearby mound along with some three hundred and twelve other literati.

This revelation shook Fradel, then and to date, to the core of his being. He’d never been the same since.

"And, make no mistake about it,” Dokurek had nodded gravely, pointing a bony finger, "this mound is but one of many.  Yes, many, many, more, most containing even more corpses than this, exist scattered throughout this great country of ours."

 Dokurek, moreover, added with such bitterness in his voice: “They even built roads over some, so tread carefully young man, the next time your path crosses one of these.  They have no respect for the living, why should they have any for the dead?"  Inclining his head downwards again, he'd scoffed contemptuously, as hot tears once more glistened in his eyes, but he’d bit his lip angrily to stem them.

Noting disbelief in Serek’s (Fradel’s) eyes, he’d swallowed hard, then grinding his teeth, announced sourly, "And secretly, ever so secretly, it's still going on!" His face was contorted with pain and anger, yet he could not stop now.  "When the scholars suffered such a fate, you might ask, what became of their families?"  He shook his head vehemently, "I'll tell you what!  Some were banished to the frontier where they were sold into slavery, some into forced labor or killed outright and all, without exception, had their property confiscated.  And why the hell not…There is great profit to be had in this sort of vile undertaking by the greedy, grasping patricians (nobles, aristocrats).  In many instances they fabricated charges to fill their coffers and to construct a powerbase.   In these dark times, justice is always trampled underfoot by the selfsame rapacious bureaucrats.  A slander without proof in the ears of the right person would be sufficient for a court of law to proscribe the victim.  On pain of death, who would dare mount a defense or champion the righteous cause?”

It became clear to Fradel that the old man was speaking from bitter personal experience; and that he, too, had fallen prey to the greed of akin official.

"And I thought he was a close friend!"

 Fradel raised his eyes from the old man's clenched fist to see him staring once more in the direction of the mound. 

"And to think my son held him in such high esteem!  Bah!” Dokurek turned angrily to spit on the ground.  "Curse you, and a curse be upon your whole family!  May you and your descendants be cursed forever in Hell?"  Dokurek's chest rapidly rose and fell in fury, until he finally grew a bit calmer.

"The reason for these atrocities...  How is it possible, you may ask?  Ah!” he fixed his dubious, pained, angry pupils above his deep-set, gaunt(boney) cheeks on Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald).

 "Have you had no knowledge of these sort of vile deeds at all, none?  What about the foul happenstance (coincidence) that had reportedly claimed Taok Therkan’s life?” Dokurek asked skeptically.

"Taok Therkan?” Fradel furrowed his brow, and then confessed to, in his remote dwelling having scant news of the famed scholar, save for once, being lucky enough, to have come across one of Taok’s brilliant essays. Impressed, he’d sought to procure more, with no result; meanwhile, the mystery, the silence surrounding the scholar Taok Therkan had never been satisfactorily explained to Serek Vern (Fradel) and he, at present, implored Dokurek to enlighten him on this subject.

Dokurek shook his head, "It's inconceivable to think,” he looked straight at Serek Vern, considering: “how could your family have been spared this ferocious, evil tide that has swept the nation?  I know of this from the mouths of many, that these long years have been anything but brutal to all Literati. Why should you, your family be spared? And now standing before me you lay claim to knowing nothing?  No, you're false!  Worse, you must be an informant, a spy!  Is it conceivable that you are sent by that cursed Zaur to...?”

 Dokurek looked down to hide the sudden manifest disdain from his eyes then fretfully, stealthily looked about him.

 His eyes rested on Serek Vern 's servants, then narrowed into slits.  "And why should you be bothering with the likes of me?  Why not sic one of your dogs on me and have done with me?  Or is it your delight to first toy with your prey?"

 He turned an angry, defiant gaze back at Serek Vern only to meet the scholar's somewhat indignant, perplexed face.

 Dokurek immediately regretted his suspicious outburst.

Fradel had surmised later how, at this point Dokurek was filled with a great need, a burning desire to believe in someone, anyone, while the flames of his life-force still burned in him. His past misjudgments had cost him dearly and rendered him cautious, distrusting all; now and always seeking, expecting some sinister motive behind every kind of gesture. 

For a time, the old man had remained nonplused, shaking his head and mouthing half-crazed, barely comprehensible mumblings as he turned a deaf ear to Serek Vern's gentle arguments. 

"But there is nothing to be gained in trapping me.  It was not my will, my wish that my sons were scholars.  Besides, what do I possess now?  In my heyday, sure, I had substance then. Even ten years ago I had means, holdings to be coveted.  I commanded such respect!  But now…now I have nothing, nothing of any value or use to anyone.  Nor do I have any surviving affiliates left to be targeted.”

“But then, hmm, yes, you do look the kindly, honest sort. Suppose I take a chance?  Perhaps I've been too hasty in suspecting you?  I mustn't let my paranoia cloud my judgment.”  Dokurek continued mumbling to himself as though Serek Vern (Frade)l was not there.

Fradel, in exasperation having fallen silent, threw a cursory look at his impatient men and then thoughtfully looked down; in fact, he was (considering) of a mind to leave this insane old man when, catching the last part of what he had said, convinced Fradel to persevere just a bit longer.

 “Yes, you may be my very last chance."  Dokurek suddenly ceased his mumbling and decisively looked up. His eyebrows unraveled and he made a genuine effort to smile in a friendly manner.

"Forgive my obstinate ways, sir, but you can hardly blame me.  It's all the more incredible that you are a bona fide scholar.  No doubting that.  I'd even venture a guess that you come from a long line of illustrious scholars."  Allowing Serek Vern (Fradel), no chance to agree or dispute his statement, he nodded vigorously, "Furthermore, my eyes can attest to the truth of your claim that you are a stranger to these parts and that you must have led a life of seclusion, that’s why I’ve never heard of your name, a self-imposed recluse perhaps?"

 Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) reaction confirmed this guess and reassured, Dokurek leaned back, smiling.

 "Also, your distinguished attire, your decorum and fine, polished speech makes it all too evident that you are a well–off gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat.  A recluse scholar from an undisturbed sanctuary who has managed to prosper in these volatile times, an anomaly?” the old man shook his head, amazed.

Despite the tinge of sarcasm in his tone, Fradel had read no malice in Dokurek's face.  This perplexed him more.  And what did Dokurek mean by 'very last chance'?

Dokurek cleared his throat then in a softer tone rattled on, "You are so unassuming, so patient and not the least bit arrogant.  You have a great disposition.  You are by all appearances a good man, not unlike my Kuer.  Still, all the more reason for you to beware!"  He fixed his intense gaze at Serek Vern (Fradel) and said a bit more forcefully.  "You watch yourself young man!  Guard your words, his spies are everywhere.  His policies may undergo yet another change, and quite suddenly, too.  Then you're gone.  Pouf!  In one day.  Or worse still, it may all be a hoax, a scheme to finally entrap you.  I'm curious, though, what part of the country did you say you're from?  Which remote region was it that you hid in?"

Fradel had made no such claim, but his denial was cut short by a gesture of Dokurek's hand.  "No, don't tell me.  I'd rather not know.  Such knowledge is of little use to me now, anyway.  It's enough to know that there is some small corner of this Empire that was spared, where the forces of evil could not wreak havoc."  Dokurek abruptly fell silent and looked away, his eyes resting on the two small mounds nestled under the swaying branches of a willow tree.

 After a time, Dokurek turned to face Serek Vern (Fradel) and with eyes brimming with fresh tears, reiterated his warning, "You must beware!  It's too late for my boys and it's too late for me.  I've got one foot in the grave already, but you..."  He smiled warmly at Fradel.  “I can't emphasize the importance of this enough.  He's like a jackal, a wild beast on the prowl.  His poisonous tentacles reach the four corners of the Empire, and it makes no difference what service you may have rendered him.  Disaster can befall you at the most unexpected turn. Under his rule, all manners of evil flourish and you can never, ever anticipate when the next catastrophe strikes!  So, it’s best you remain vigilant in safeguarding your life.”

Fradel was distracted just then by a debased snigger (snort, chortle) from his servants who had drawn close and were very much engaged with their heads pressed together in animated, amused mockery.  More infuriating still, Fradel’s ears picked up the steward’s disdainful ridicule, "Crazy as a Cakook!"  As if to demonstrate he then stood up, flapped his elbows, craned his neck and began drawing circles with his toes on the ground as he mimicked the bird.

 In mid twirl his eyes caught Fradel's fierce look of reprimand.  Chastised, the servant froze in his position. Similarly, the rest also cowered with stilled tongues and abjectly bowed their heads. 

When Fradel turned his eyes back to the old man, he found Dokurek keenly studying him.

"I'm right about you.  This time I'm right.  My salvation may just be at hand.” he mumbled then quickly looked away to escape Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) questioning gaze.

This time it was Fradel's turn for skepticism.  Had this all been a well-orchestrated performance, a charade on Dokurek's part?  Was he testing me?  Testing me for what?   Fradel had heard of cases where men touched by madness would slip into and out of reality, one minute sane as could be, the next, steeped in peril and precarious, imaginary fantasies.

As if surmising this, Dokurek looked up at Serek Vern (Fradel) and smiled wryly, "I wish it were so but, alas, my penance is to remain completely sane, mindful of all my past wrongdoings.”

“All right, I will tell you everything.  I've kept my silence long enough…but not here, not within earshot."  He indicated Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) servants with a wary look and a point of his chin.

 He rose and Fradel, signaling his men to stay put, followed the old man to a distant spot.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 4

Lu, unaware of Nevetsecnuac’s inner query, took another sip of water from the cup and then continued on with his recounting (relating) the past, tragic set of events: "Her husband, Kenneth Birger, though a man of mild nature, in fact quite timid, was still so outraged, so incensed that, with the letter still clutched in his hand, he took his grievance straight to Lord Shonne Gulbrand, not much caring for the consequences.  I suppose he had really loved her.”

01- KENNETH BIRGER

“Dwenng denied the charges for all he was worth; even producing witnesses to lie about his whereabouts saying he was instead attending another function. Dwenng validated this bogus facade through sham testimonies of others who repeated falsehoods all in all to slander her good name and to drag it through unimaginable filth in order to establish her as a wanton hussy.  He even went so far as to frame another man, who resembled him, to justify his supposed innocence and establish a claim of mistaken identity.  Had it not been for the Lord's discernment, good judgment and his ability to trick a confession out of Dwenng in the court under oath, justice would never have been served, and another innocent fellow would have instead suffered the consequences.  As it was the framed man was cleared and released with a small stipend from Dwenng's estate to ease his suffering.”

02-LORD SHONNE GULBRAND (7)

“Lord Shonne Gulbrand was relentless in his pursuit of truth. When all came to light, Dwenng was charged with attempted rape, trespassing and extortion. His sentence was prescribed by law. He was severely beaten until his flesh hung in tatters, and he was branded with the mark of the adulterer.  No one foresaw that, before his transfer to the provincial prison to serve his incarceration for twenty years, Dwenng would bribe the guards and effect (prompt, make)) his escape.  Lusting for vengeance, armed with the incriminating documents of Lord Shonne Gulbrand's intended rebellion, he made straight for the Capital and in close court presented them to Zakhertan Yozdek.”

"Though Zakhertan Yozdek was infuriated, he nevertheless knew of Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s moral might and influence.  Not wishing for an all-out, open rebellion at this juncture or to give the least provocation for swift retaliation from such a powerful Lord, Zakhertan opted instead to entrap the prey and eliminate all trouble at the root.  And so, Zakhertan’s subterfuge was to suppress this incriminating evidence and detain the villainous nephew, Dwenng, until the Anniversary date of Zakhertan’s coronation.  At which time an elaborate ceremony was planned, compelling all important aristocrats and notables of the Empire to attend with customary gifts, to profess or renew their vow of allegiance to His Majesty in person.  Lord Shonne Gulbrand, his beautiful wife Lady Bergdis and other close family members would be among the attendees.”

“On that faithful day, all through the ceremony and the ensuing celebrations nothing untoward was said or done to alarm the prey.  But at the conclusion of the festivities the Lord and his immediate family were promptly rounded up and brought before Zakhertan Yozdek to be formally charged with treason. During their brief incarceration, even before the commencement of the trial, the vast elite force, waiting in the wings in a neighboring province, on cue invaded Lord Shonne Gulbrand's lands in Moulon and decimated all that stood in their way. Thousands were slaughtered indiscriminately, land scorched, and historical structures wantonly pulled down. After this killing spree, nearly all livestock and crops were laid to waste.” 

“Back at the Capital, where the rule of law could not be so easily ignored, Lord Shonne, after a brief show trial, was secretly offered leniency in his punishment and, more importantly the (permanence) endurance of his bloodline, if he divulged the present whereabouts of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and the infant Prince. When Lord Shonne adamantly refused, however, his Lordship’s persecution took on a brutish turn. Lord Shonne chained to a wall in the imperial dungeon, was subjected to endless hideous tortures in order to wring the location from him, but no word escaped his Lordship’s noble lips. Since they failed to break his resolve, Zakhertan next targeted Lord Shonne’s beloved family. Before his very eyes his precious son and daughter were choked to death with a silken rope.  Lord Shonne's elderly maternal uncle, meanwhile, was dashed against a hedge of swords.”

“Earlier still, Zakhertan Yozdek had arranged for a private audience with his younger sister Lady Ingrit and tried to persuade her Ladyship to turn against her husband. Zakhertan even tried to coax (cajole, inveigle) her into divulging the whereabouts of the missing price, to spare her husband the ultimate pain and torture. But her ladyship’s deep affection and loyalty towards her husband was unwavering; her staunch resolve infuriated Zakhertan and so, Lord Shonne’s beautiful wife, Lady Ingrit, was dragged into the dungeon (like a common criminal) and cruelly beaten to death before him with iron rods and clubs. Courageously, to her last breath she had cursed her brother Zakhertan and encouraged her beloved husband to not give in.  After all that, plus other unspeakable atrocities, when Lord Shonne still would not give them what they sought, he too was severely beaten until all his bones were broken and then publicly executed.  They hung his decapitated head at the main gate as a lesson to all would be rebels.”

“Zakhertan Yozdek was so incensed that he ordered the total extinction(obliteration) of Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s clan, down to the last member. Even the servants were killed.” 

Cupping his face in his hands, Lu gave way to a storm of tears until his sorrow was spent.  Then, drying his eyes, he added, "Yes, the Lord's perfect countenance we have just witnessed testifies to the mercy of Heaven and attests to the truth of that old saying, 'Benevolence in Life brings Beauty in the afterlife'.  The traitor Zakhertan Yozdek will not be so lucky.  If only someone could succeed in killing that, Demon!  Countless have tried, but to no avail.”

"As for Dwenng, the wretch, at least he paid for his treachery with his ignominious end.  May he rot forever in Hell!  Oh, how he squirmed like a pig, impaled on a spear in the City’s marketplace, but some would say, including me, even that was too lenient a punishment for one so vile as he.  The cursed swine!  Did he really think he could get away with what he had done?"  Knitting his brows and raising a clenched fist, Lu spat on the floor.

"Our small contingent, upon returning from the mission, witnessed too late the evidence of Zakhertan's wrath. But we avenged ourselves on the garrison commander of Zakhertan's forces in this province.  After leaving his head stuck to a sow in a pigsty outside his camp, we parted company forever.  I, myself, retraced my steps to where I had parted with Your Majesty and Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon in the hopes of offering His Lordship my services once more, but it was to no avail.  Now you are here, let me offer you my fealty, my Prince."  Lu's eyes burned with rekindled fire.  "I realize I'm not as nimble as I used to be, but I still have a few good years of service left in me.  I can still fight.  I will follow you faithfully, Your Highness, to the ends of the world, not fearing death.  Please allow me this chance."

Not wishing to fatigue the old man any further with reasons as to why he must stay put, Nevetsecnuac pretended to agree to let Lu accompany him to the Capital. 

Then, noting the old soldier's drooping eyelids, he encouraged him to recline on the bed once more and get some rest.

"All right", Lu consented, "I'll lie down for just a bit, but I will not sleep.  There is so much I still want to tell you. So much we must do in preparation for…."  His words drifted off to an inaudible mumble, his eyes closed and soon with his shallow breathing it became clear that he was lost to all-encompassing slumber.  Nevetsecnuac rose, affectionately covered Lu with a quilt then with pensive eyes watched Lu sleep for some time.

Borrowing Lu's meager writing implements, he composed a brief letter telling of his gratitude to this old warrior, giving his reasons for not allowing Lu to accompany him and asking his forgiveness. To foster hope, Nevetsecnuac then urged Lu to keep in good form in ready anticipation of that future time when, once Nevetsecnuac had achieved his goal, he would send for him.  He then bade his fond farewell to the old soldier.  He withdrew his money pouch from his sash and left a goodly portion of the contents beside Lu's bed wrapped in the letter.

Before dawn the rain tapered off then, at the first light of day, stopped altogether.  Appearing only as a shadowy figure, Nevetsecnuac snuck out of the city gates and, reaching the Inn where he’d checked in earlier, ordered a small breakfast, quickly settled his account then had Fiery Comet saddled.  He rode back to the small, wooded area outside the gates where he had buried Lord Asger's sword.  Again, with the sword slung on his back and concealed under the cape, he vaulted back onto Fiery Comet and fell into a canter towards the Capital.

It was mid-morning when Lu woke with a start.  His eyes eagerly searched for the prince but there was no trace of him. Understanding what had happened he cursed himself endlessly for eating and drinking so much the night before.  Consequently, the deep slumber had robbed him of the chance of a lifetime. With a sinking heart he scrambled to his feet.

Lu shook his head and stamped his foot thinking, now it would be far too late to track his Liege.  Then his eyes fell on the small bundle on the table, he unraveled it.

Tears coursed down his cheeks like rain onto the page he was reading, smudging some of the writing but, when he reached the last line, hope sprang up once again in his heart and he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Thankfully he raised the note to his lips, and then as caution dictated, he went over to the fire and reluctantly fed the paper to the flames. 

Another kind of fire burned in Lu now and he paced the room to and for with his heart pounding as he mumbled, "I must get in shape.  I must get in shape."  Finally halting for breath, he threw his arms up into the air and shouted in a resounding voice, "Oh, blessed Heaven, I'm alive again!"

 

(END OF SECTION 4)