LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 24

“He is a shrewd villain; if he had witnessed the whole thing, what sinister reason did have in falsifying, his report to the captain?" Briac interjected, nonplused, as he cupped his chin in his hand and wondered out loud.

"And in such a way that, in the end, he came out of it totally blameless himself," Frastos added wryly. “Furthermore, imagine the captain, chalking his report up to a misinterpretation of obvious signs… Misinterpretation my pew!  It was unadulterated malice, nothing less.” Frastos shook his head; then with fresh concern, knit his brows.

01- FRASTOS - JP 05

“But what persuaded, our most discerning captain, to readily accept Tizan’s incongruous (absurd) version?  So long as I've known him, Zunrogo’s always been a stickler for exactitude in reports; this is quite uncharacteristic of him.  Why would he…"

"Don't you get it?”  Briac interrupted disdainfully.  "The captain is much shrewder than Tizan, and the Lieutenant is, far too cunning to try deceiving Zunrogo.  If you ask me, this slander was a slip-up, an act of desperation."

"What desperation?"

Briac ignored the question.  "Yes, it shows that Tizan's weakening, running out of time and patience, hard pressed as he is, to discredit me in Captain's eye.  No, you're not the one who is being targeted here, not really.  I know for certain now that he's planning to harm me yes, but more importantly, and during this assignment, he aims (intends) to permanently replace me."

"What?"  Frastos looked up sharply.  "How on earth could you, from this, deduce that?"

"You see," Briac smiled tightly, "there's a lot more involved here than you can imagine. He means to do away with me, all right.  He's made a go at it once before, and I don't mean this wig, or this getup."  Meeting Frastos' baffled gaze, he grimaced sourly and dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Never mind.  It will take too long to explain (tell).”

“As for your unpleasant experience of this morning, I suspect his motive was to make you squirm for the sake of pure amusement.  You see, his cruel nature craves, demands it every now and then.  He thrives on others' humiliation and misery, even if they did nothing to incur his animosity."

Briac continued with a dull voice, "I'm certain the Cheron incident played no part in this, for if it had, you would have had a taste of his real malice (wickedness) long before this day.  You know that patience is not one of his winning qualities.  The Cheron incident happened quite some time ago, two and a half months have passed, I believe.  Still, be warned just the same and watch your back from now on for, once Tizan turns on you, regardless of the reason, your life may well be forfeit."

After some pause for thought, Briac continued, "However, I think I can make a safe guess as to the reason for his recent animosity towards you since, through no fault of my own I, too, have incurred that animosity.  Ambitious as he is, he seeks to inveigle himself significantly more into the captain's good graces and confidence, with my ignominy and trashing my long-term loyal service. “

“Since I've been most careful so far to give him no leeway, his subtle campaign of psychological warfare has been kept in check, though not rendered ineffective.  I'm not as crude or simple minded as I may seem at the outset. “Briac looked intently at Frastos.

“That's a protective facade I find most useful in fending off aggression."  He then grimaced magnanimously, "I'm being frank with you now because I'm sympathetic towards you and I trust you implicitly.  You are a forthright fellow with a no-nonsense attitude, characteristics that I very much admire in a man."

"I guess I'm as guilty as the rest, for underestimating you." Frastos apologized.

"I sure was taken in by your pretense.  In fact, your discerning thoughts are exceedingly deep."

“And shrewd and calculating.” he wanted to add but proposed instead, "I hope you overlook my past offenses and will consider me as your good and loyal friend."

"I always have." Briac smiled.  "I judge a man by what is in his heart.  There is no need to apologize.  However, putting all this aside, I'd like to caution you to be wary.  You see, you've been with me a lot lately and your attempts to shield me from injustice have, no doubt, confirmed Tizan's suspicions that we are in cahoots, to say the least, and are plotting his denigration.  That is why he acted first to emasculate us.  That way, when he accuses us sometime in the future of some grievous, phantom crime, our attempts to exonerate ourselves will avail us nothing.”

“Do not underestimate the danger you are in.” Briac added gravely and nodded. “That would be the worst mistake you could make.  And don't think that he can be dealt with easily, for I've witnessed countless others who have tried to undermine him only to perish as easily as if he had swatted a fly.”

“I can't stress this point enough.  That is why, for the time being, I'm advocating patience.” Briac, for a time, lowered his head in weighty (reflective) silence.

"I suppose he forced every detail of the truth out of you?"  Receiving a nod from Frastos, Briac continued, "Then he had this fun at our expense."

Disdain tinged Briac’ voice: “That should satiate him for the time being, until he craves for more."

Seeing the anger building up anew in Frastos, Briac consoled him, "Oh, don't blame yourself.  Believe me, there's very little else you could have done.  I know full well how persuasive he can be.  He has few equals in that respect.  Concentrate now on sweet revenge, on devising a strategy to curb or eliminate his next cruel ploy (devilish scheme) before it renders irreversible damage. I can't help feeling responsible, however, that I've somewhat inadvertently dragged you into this peril.  I should have exercised more discretion and never asked you to make that promise to me."

“What promise?” Frastos looked up, astonished, but on second thought decided to say, to deny nothing.

 “Let him go on believing what he must; he's partially right, therefore, we should work in unison to alleviate this dangerous circumstance (fix, situation).  Besides, he's been at this a lot longer than I have and I should utilize his knowledge and resources.  Who knows, he may have some plausible recourse up his sleeve that will turn out to be beneficial.  All that matters is, the end-result and I don't care who I must team up with to achieve it.

 "I'm afraid you're next." Frastos fixed his eyes on Briac and ended the prolonged silence.  "Any minute now the captain will be sending for you.  He was a bit displeased with your indiscretions anyhow and now he's been fueled up to reprimand you.  I suspect he'll chastise you well and good and then order you to behave from now on with the decorum befitting the illustrious scholar, Fradel Rurik Korvald.  But that's the least of your worries.  Eh?"

Briac nodded, "Yeah, the least of my worries."

                                                                              ~

After this episode Briac trusted Frastos more and more until Frastos had won Briac's complete confidence.  This led them to become bosom buddies, whereupon Briac began confessing to Frastos his innermost secrets bit by bit every night until there was nothing left unsaid.  Recruited into Briac's cause, Frastos schemed with him by lamplight on, how best to contact the agents of His Excellency Egil Viggoaries once they'd reached Jukurok.

Since several checkpoints, in effect strongholds, lay ahead, Fradel Rurik Korvald's papers, along with the others', were entrusted to the captain for safekeeping. After passing the last checkpoint at Zakoz they had already gone on some measure when four or five guards had emerged from the gate to race after them at top speed.

"I wonder what this is all about." Tizan grumbled as he looked back at them.

"It should be obvious."  Zunrogo grimaced wryly and ordered the group to a halt.

Meeting up with them, the Lieutenant from the checkpoint dismounted and, prostrating himself, greeted the captain.

02- GURARD

Kneeling on one knee, he then greeted Briac, believing him to be Fradel Rurik Korvald, and delivered his message directly to him. "Our Garrison Commander Taicor apologizes profusely for having missed your illustrious visit and respectfully invites Fradel Rurik Korvald and the Captain of his party to be his honored guests at a feast.  If the honored sirs will deign to come with me, I will escort you back to Commander Taicor's private offices and offer you all the hospitality that is at his disposal."

Briac froze in his saddle, not knowing how to respond.

"Please convey my sincerest apologies to Garrison Commander Taicor." Zunrogo rode forward to reply.  "We are pressed for time and Fradel Rurik Korvald regretfully declines his gracious offer."

"Sir," the Lieutenant looked up, flustered, to address the captain, "The Commander will be very displeased with me.  Can I not, in any way, persuade you to…?"

Zunrogo's stern look cut him off short, "I'm afraid that it’s totally out of the question, Lieutenant.  We cannot make allowances in the least.  I'm sure that Commander Taicor will not wish to incur a delay in the illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald's adherence to the summons from His Royal Highness."

"May I offer a thousand apologies for my oversight; Captain."  The Lieutenant bowed his head (in resignation).

"However, you may relay to the Commander that Fradel Rurik Korvald will be more able to oblige him on his return trip, when there will be no pressing engagements."  Zunrogo Tugo's tone was softer and more amiable and the Lieutenant, satisfied at having at least some good news to relay, wished them a safe journey on behalf of his Commander, mounted his horse and rode back to the checkpoint.

Briac, watching the men raising a cloud of dust in their wake, was relieved and, in part, disappointed.

Later, the Captain took some time to explain his reasoning to the real scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, "I declined that offer on your behalf, sir, for good reason.  That Garrison Commander, Taicor, is well known to be a grasping opportunist and not at all trustworthy; I advise you to avoid him on your return journey as well."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) thanked the captain graciously for his protection and sound advice.

Briac, witnessing this uncharacteristically polite exchange by the captain, twisted his mouth and looked away in disdain. “As if he'd be in any danger!” he huffed.

 “It’s my neck that's on the line, not his. But the Captain Zunrogo doesn't seem to have any confidence in my ability, to pull it off; as if it takes any special talent to be him.”  He stole a scornful look at Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 “He's only an overrated scholar.  Anyone can recite some lines and look arrogant.  But was that a deliberate mistake (I saw the captain make,) the captain made at that last checkpoint, when he’d introduced Fradel Rurik Korvald as Frastos and Frastos as me?”

“Ah, Briac, you're being far too paranoid; after all, we were in a rush.”  Briac dismissed the thought and spurred his horse forward to align himself with Frastos where he could spend his time gossiping and complaining to a sympathetic ear.

                                                                             ~

"This may be our only opportunity."  Frastos had anxiously sought out Briac everywhere throughout the Inn to tell him, "I've just come from the captain.  Tizan has been dispatched on an errand, probably to book our passage on a riverboat.  Because he insists on departing early tomorrow morning, the captain has taken the scholar to show him some beauty spots Jukurok harbor is famous for.  They won't be back for hours."

"Right, this is it." Briac concurred, springing to his feet.  "We've been waiting for this chance all along.  Maybe you should stay back, though, in case they return earlier than expected and you can cover up for me."

"Nothing doing, I’m coming with you.  If we are together, I can't be accused of disobeying orders.  Even if they come back prematurely, we could certainly offer some reasonable excuse for our absence from this Inn.  Besides," Frastos smiled mischievously, "you may need my assistance should you be assailed (attacked) by beautiful women again on the way."

"You are right of course brother, but I can hardly go out like this, not in this garb.  Disguised as him, I'll be risking danger at every turn.  We need to first…”

"I'm way ahead of you, brother." Frastos held up his hand, smugly interrupting him.

 "It’s all been taken care of and, there's a bundle of apparel (clothes) in our room already for you to change into.  I'm afraid there was nothing much we can do about the wig, except hide it under the broad brimmed hat I also procured for you."  Frastos winked and smiled.

 

"It seems you've thought of everything.  You are truly an indispensable ally.  I'm indebted to you, brother." Briac thanked Frastos as he headed hastily back to the room.

"We'll sneak out the back way to avoid any curiosity." Frastos coolly suggested after cautiously closing the door behind them.

"Now, hurry up and change."

As Briac complied he asked nonchalantly, "Do you still remember the password? Oops!"  Briac'd inadvertently let out another secret.

"Of course, who could forget?  'Plum blossoms adorn the beauty passing under them.'” Frastos coolly answered. 

“I must have accidentally disclosed (blabbed) it, last time I was totally (intoxicated) inebriated. Oh well, he would have eventually heard of it anyway.”  Briac shrugged his shoulders and, wiping the worry lines from his face, smiled sheepishly at Frastos.

Originally Briac had intended on leaving Frastos outside the temple gates to keep watch since there was no need yet for him to be privy to everything.

“Frasto’s integration into the Do-ki spy network should be gradual.” Briac’d told himself.  In truth his caution had stemmed from pure greed and, in his reluctance to share the anticipated reward money.

Frastos, when he had been informed of this plan, had pretended not to notice this blatant insult to his character.  “So, he still distrusts me after all the great lengths I've gone to cover for him.  You would leave me out in the cold, wouldn't you?  No doubt you'd also discard me the minute I've outlived my usefulness.  Your loyalty is only to gold, and you can drown in it for all I care.”

03-FRASTOS - JP 19

"Right, well, aren't you finished yet?"  Suppressing his inner animosity, Frastos nervously paced the floor.

"Almost,” Briac finished tying on the belt.

"Well, how do I look?"  He spread his hands and twirled like a bridegroom in his finery.

"Like a beauty who's about to pass under some plum blossoms." Frastos grimaced wryly.

"Yeah, right; and are you, my beloved?" Briac responded in cold sarcasm.

"Touché.", Frastos relented.

 As they were passing through the door, Frastos turned to ask, “Why plum blossoms?"

"Imagine if you will this incredible, exhilarating scene in historical era: A time before the most crucial (decisive) battle, the legendary divisions (regiments) getting ready for the surprise vanguard attack.  It’s springtime and the crisp, morning air is rocked by the thundering drums, the stamping of the horse's hooves and the marching feet, as they all prepare for the most dangerous undertaking.  Subsequently, as they march through the gate, they pass under the canopy of plum blossoms, the tall, ancient trees lining the road, fully bedecked as they are with these fragrant pristine white blooms…. The vibrations of their progression, begetting torrents of blossoms, the same blossoms that adorn the Heavenly courtyard, begin to rain down upon them like tears.  Lingering at the gate are their loved ones, (old man, women and children, beautiful young girls) all, looking longingly with dismay after them, their painful hearts not noticing how they, too, are being bedecked by these same blossoms."

"I think that playing the scholar, Fradel Rurik Korvald, has finally gone to your head; it has turned you into a hopelessly romantic’ lyricist." Frastos with a wide grin, teased Briac.

Then looking away, he disdainfully (derisively) grunted, "It’s more likely that they selected that comparison line because every temple in these parts has planted plum trees in their courtyard and one can use that analogy to make the contact without arousing any suspicion from onlookers."

"That's one thing that I quite dislike about you, Frastos." Briac frowned.  "You always take such a straight, dim view of everything, almost to the point of being completely drab.  Lighten up!  Life has color."

"So now you're an artist as well."  Frastos' mockery ended the exchange on a sour note.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 24)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 14

After Magistrate Yakove Zewe’s departure, Judicial Commissioner Birgergu Gunt had ridden his closed carriage at breakneck speed to the residence of his good friend the Provincial Governor Rexi, in order to submit a report.  On his arrival, however, he was informed that the Governor was away on a short pleasure trip and was expected to return in a fortnight.  After leaving a message with Rexi's trusted aide, Birgergu returned home not in the least bit ruffled by the distant smoke and the glow of the fire on the horizon; subsequently, he entered his study in order to manage some pertinent neglected matters. First, removing a specific document from his locked cabinet, he placed it under the lamplight and perused it carefully searching for key correlations (crucial parallels, any links) or discrepancies between its account of facts and the detailed report of the Magistrate’s.

All was in accord, save for one: the glowing description of the stranger's horse remarkably resembled Yakove's account of Fradel Rurik Korvald's mount.

 It could very well be a coincidence. This gave Birgergu no concern as, shrugging his shoulders slightly; he put the reports aside and picked up another document from the pile for examination. Despite his outward calm, however, he was inwardly fuming over the failure of the bandit's attack on Fradel, which now complicated matters greatly.  He frowned, thinking of the berating he would get from the hot-tempered Governor, and then his thoughts reverted to Fradel's letter.  Dropping everything, he rang for his trusted steward and verbally relayed his wishes to him.

That night a cloaked figure quietly stole through the darkened alleyways to rendezvous with another whom, scaling the city wall with a cat's agility, vaulted onto a waiting horse and galloped into the hills.

At dawn the next day Birgergu's trusted aide handed him a packet.  After examining the contents in his study, Birgergu donned (gave) a wry smile and cast both the letter and its wrapping into the fire.  A short time later the aide returned with an urgent message from the Governor and Birgergu made haste to respond to the summons.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

"I don't want to know anything about it!" the Governor Rexi raged at Birgergu with icy finality.  "Just get it done!"

"It has already been taken care of, Your Excellency." Birgergu assured him.

"Then why do you bother me with this?"  Rexi shoved (thrust) the report in Birgergu's face. 

"I have no time for such trifles.  You are dismissed."  Before the Commissioner of Justice could even respond Rexi turned his back on him and stormed out of the anteroom.

 "I'm surrounded by incompetents.” His voice trailed off as he began to muse: 

How can I ever gain favor with His Excellency (Eunuch) Egil Viggoaries when a simple matter like this cannot even be resolved.  That idiot Birgergu assured me of Fradel Rurik Korvald's demise; that he would disappear without a trace.  He's as incompetent as that doltish brother-in-law of his.  They've both managed to botch things up oh, so perfectly!  I should have taken the matter into my own hands from the outset, instead of relying on that idiot.

His steps had led him into his private chambers.  Entering in a huff, he sank his heavy frame down on the couch.  Seeing his foul mood, the servants all kept their distance, all but hiding in the corners.

03- PROVINCIAL GOVERNOR REXI

Seething in anger, Rexi reflected on the origins of the Eunuch's orders, the ongoing struggle between Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and the Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries, as each vied (contended) for significant clout (portion of power) at Imperial Court.  Viggoaries's latest attempt to undermine Lamont's inroads with the emperor’s favorite concubine, Lady Sejon, had led to the confidential word sent to him to oversee the Eunuch's interest in the matter of the Lady's favorite poet, Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 Rexi still remembered his delight at accepting the task and his assurances of prompt, favorable results.  Angrily he stamped his foot to purge his mind of the ugly, stubborn trepidation (foreboding) of the possibility of dud (failure), but the persistent, gnawing doubt and the consequences of a repetition of Birgergu's inability (incompetence) to set right what, by now, had gone so terribly wrong, so terrified him that all the blood drained from his face.  A cold shiver ran down Rexi’s spine, as his mind viciously fixed on the notorious reputation of Egil Viggories’s brutish intolerance of the least flop (failure). Springing to his feet, his brows stubbornly knit together, he paced the floor in agitation.

"What is it, darling?" the bewitching beauty but half his age mewed.  Her eyes still puffed from sleep; she had parted the bed curtains alluringly.  Though it was nearly noon, she yawned and stretched, settling back into sleep.

How beautiful she is!  This enchanting siren was a recent acquisition from his previous excursion.  Recalling the pleasures of last night, a smile grew on Rexi's lips, and the color returned hotly to his cheeks.  Going over, he gently sat at the edge of the bed.  Her sweet perfume assailed his nose, intoxicating his senses and enticing him to fondle her cheek once more.

"Oh, let me sleep!" she purred.  "I'm tired.  You wouldn't let me nap at all last night."

Grinning mischievously, he followed her under the covers as all his previous concerns and fury dissipated in her scent.

                                                                                       ~

At cockcrow that morning, as Birgergu received Fradel's letter, Magistrate Yakove and a few of his close associates had raised parting toasts to the scholar and had escorted him to the city gates.  Despite his protests, Fradel had been constrained to accept the protection of a squad of fifteen stout, well-armed bodyguards under the leadership of a lieutenant Zujor.  They were to deliver Fradel safely to the borders of the province.

With the walls of the great city long since lost in the distance, the party of seventeen traveled the lugubrious road at a canter for half a day, each cocooned in their thoughts.

 The uninspiring, desolate ground they traversed was but occasionally dotted with naked hillocks and the monotony left them riding in the miasma of a dream.

Fradel's reverie meandered to thoughts of his blood brother, Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir, and a troubled expression crossed his face.  To purge his heart of this longing and regret, he turned his gaze to the limitless sky, not heeding the refreshing wind that caressed his exposed neck.  He watched with misty eyes the white, billowing clouds as they converged, then parted, and then sailed (wisped) away across the sky.  When he lowered his gaze and looked ahead, he saw a small, scrub-covered knoll in their path, a precursor of a number of undulating, forested hills that skirted a great mountain whose peak seemed to scratch the clouds.

I don't remember ever having crossed such a mountain. Fradel reflected, surveying these strange surroundings.  Yet, if it was the guard's aim to injure me, they could have done it long ago.  Opportunities had abounded on that desolate path, so devoid of habitations or inns.

 He was about to query the stone-faced horseman alongside him regarding this choice of route when, quite precipitously, Fiery Comet halted and refused to advance any further.

Misconstruing this delay as Fradel's intent, Zujor left his scout and approached to reassure the scholar.

 "The reconnaissance bodes well.  The forest extending beyond these hills is clear of any danger.  If you desire, sir, we could take a short sojourn here and lunch in the shade of those trees."

Before Fradel could respond Fiery Comet, in another surprise move, suddenly bolted off on a course tangential to their line of advance (intended direction).

Zujor shouted Fradel to stop as he and the rest of the guards simultaneously fell into a hot pursuit.  That same instant a shrill whistle was heard from behind the woodland hill as a large body of armed brigands poured onto the road, brandishing their swords, charging by with the force of an avalanche out to bury its prey.

 Only the scout stood on his ground, a look of mute surprise froze on his face as his head hit the earth.  Alarmed, Zujor ordered two of his ablest men to forge ahead after the swiftly disappearing Fradel as he and the other dozen wheeled their horses about to bar the road at a defile between two hillocks.

"And just where do you think you're going, knave?" Zujor bellowed at the top of his voice.  So fierce was the lieutenant's cry that the point rider's horse stumbled, toppling its rider to the ground.

"Clear the way if you wish to live!" boomed the voice of the new Bandit Chief, as he whipped his horse to the fore.

 "Our business is not with you.  We only want revenge on the cursed scholar Fradel."

  As he brandished his sword his men let up a mighty yell to spur their murderous charge.

"You'll have to go through me and Hell first!"  Gritting his teeth the brave Zujor glowered at the new Bandit Chief as he steadied his horse, and his squad lowered their lances to meet the charge.

 The fierce fighting and bloodletting that ensued lasted several hours. Swords flailed the air and spears thrust out like pumps as the horses' hooves churned up the turf.  Though lieutenant Zujor and his men were all competent fighters, their adversaries, the bandits, were impregnable (in numbers) and unsurpassed in their cunning and maneuvers.

 When Zujor's strength ebbed, he was mercilessly cut down, sliced clear through from shoulder to waist and the four remaining guards dispersed in panic in all directions.

A small force was allocated to hunt them down while the main body of bandits, responding in one voice to their Chief's command, forged ahead after Fradel.

Riding their superb beasts on the wind, they soon overtook the two guards.  As a few stayed behind to engage the soldiers, the rest chewed on the dust trail Fradel had left behind.  The distance between Fradel and his pursuers widened further with every minute.  Fiery Comet, unequaled in agility and speed, pushed on until, diving into the wall of the forest, they were both lost to human sight.

For countless hours the relentless bandits scoured the dense forest, an evil place with hidden dangers of its own where ancient trees dramatically screened out the sun or altogether, turning day into night, blotting out the sky.  A lookout, climbing to the top of the tallest tree, ardently surveyed the area beyond the forest with his eagle eyes until finally, he spotted a lone, snaking trail of dust in the southeast that disappeared into a crevice between two hills.

 Racing towards it, they traversed a great distance until the strengths of both men and beast were spent beyond their endurance.  It was as though Fradel had been swallowed up by the earth or had vanished into thin air.  With the valley veiled in the shadows of twilight they set up camp, not daring to concede defeat and resolved to continue on with their search at the first break of day.

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

                                                                                       ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 13

It was Nevetsecnuac's intention to ensure Fradel's safety by trailing him from afar until Fradel had reached Toren.  Only when, at dusk, the city walls had come into view had Nevetsecnuac spurred Fradel's horse towards the hills where he embarked on a shorter route to Channing. 

At first Nevetsecnuac, forgetting that his mount was not Fiery Comet, pressed on with speed through the night, taxing the horse's strength.  When he realized his folly, however, he showed more restraint and took more frequent rests.

01- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD

Fradel, entering the city gates, his first task had been to accost a respectable-looking citizen, to gain directions to the Magistrate's Office; but being pegged a defenseless stranger who, by some good fortune, had dodged (evaded) the habitual attacks of the bandits that had incessantly plagued the region, unwittingly instead, drew a large crowd around Fradel.

Many of the curious onlookers, approaching him now, probed him incessantly for information while others, seeing Fradel was uncooperative, spread their own wild suppositions at the back of the throng.  As the milling crowd became more restless, officers of the law suddenly appeared on site, to disperse the unruly public and pushed their way to the center to seize the presumed instigator (troublemaker).

They allowed Fradel no chance to air his grievance or tender his request, they instead, forcefully hustled him straight to the Magistrate's Offices.  Since the Magistrate had by then retired, they incarcerated the scholar for the night under lock and key, despite all his protests.

As the more sensible officer had explained the next morning, the mysterious disappearance of other plaintiffs in the past had necessitated these kinds of drastic measures. 

After being given a basin of water with which to wash up, Fradel was brought before the presiding Magistrate, Yakove Zewe, in order to lodge his complaint. 

The Magistrate gave a start when he read the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald as the plaintiff standing before him, then raised his eyes to scrutinize Fradel.  He knitted his brows in skepticism then ordered him to approach the bench for questioning.

 Forced to remain on his knees for the entire time, Fradel was most thoroughly and rigidly interrogated by the long-faced Magistrate as the facts were duly recorded by the Judicial Secretary.

In the telling of his ordeal, Fradel vehemently poured out his indignation at the cruelty and barbarism of the bandits and their leader who had nearly succeeded in killing him.  Embellishing the details of the fight that had ensued between the bandits and the stranger who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Fradel told of how the masked stranger, with remarkable bearing and superior skill, had vanquished the bandit's leader and many of the felons, forcing the rest to flee for their very lives.  Then, having delivered Fradel from this dire, desperate predicament the stranger had, in turn, robbed Fradel of his baggage and valuables, including his identity papers and summons, and had left him destitute, stranded in the middle of nowhere. Of course, Fradel took credit for his servant's full, and the bandit's partial burials in order to explain his delay in presenting his accusations to the Judiciary.

"You’re Honor, without my papers how can I dare show my face at the Capital?"

 Fradel, in a convincing ploy, broke down and wept.  He then implored the magistrate to apprehend all the felons and bring them to justice in the shortest time possible.  He also asked for the Magistrate's assistance in furnishing him the means to send words to Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren in order to explain his current circumstances and beg forgiveness for his unavoidable delay while he returned to his home province of Birgershing to obtain new documents.

02- -MAGISTRATE YAKOVE ZEWE

“Who does he think he is? The nerve of him; expecting my help, when even the question of his identity has not yet been confirmed. The Magistrate was incensed. Still, this is most serious. If these allegations prove to be correct and he is who he claims to be, I'll be in a terrible fix.  I would then be forced to assist him in forwarding his report about this lawlessness in my domain, being the reason for his delay.  His Honor, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, is most powerful, I dare not be remiss!”  Magistrate, Yakove Zewe at this point vacillated.

“Yet, the letter would still land me in terrible trouble.  The personal consequences would be immeasurable. According to this so-called Scholar’s testimony, the other robbers were all bested and then buried. Am I supposed to take him on his word that this arrogant, pampered Scholar took the pains after being robbed to do the honorable thing, like bury those culprits, albeit shallow graves?  I’ll surely be laughed at, may even be dismissed from my post and struck from the official list for incompetence, for believing in such a ludicrous story or, for failing to do my duty and not bringing bandits and this outlaw (one who has robbed him of his ID papers) to justice. I am sunk either way! Any investigation would reveal how outlaws had run amok for two years, robbing and injuring good citizens in this region.  Heaven knows how I've tried every means to annihilate them, but those cursed bandits seem so well organized, so prescient that all measures were ineffective.  I've already lost too many good men in the process.  His Excellency, Rexi, has so far been most tolerant of my circumstances and lenient with my shortcomings, but they would not see it that way at the Capital.  I've striven so hard and for so long just to get this post, I'll be damned if I lose it now.  Now why couldn't I have someone like that powerful stranger, if he truly exists, on my staff?”

Yakove Zewe heaved a sigh, "No one is going anywhere until we have ascertained all the facts."  He sternly raised his hand to cut short Fradel's protests then proceeded with more questions.

When asked why the stranger had also not taken his horse when he took everything else, Fradel claimed that, at the time the horse had spooked and ran away, returning on his own accord further down the road.  When (lone surviving) Fradel had finished relaying all of the purported facts, Magistrate Yakove Zewe then dispatched six deputies to the scene of the alleged robbery to investigate further and verify the facts.

Next, another warrant was signed, and a large force was dispatched to scour the surrounding countryside for the bandits.  The order was also given to draw up pictures and notices about the robbers, according to Fradel's description of them, and to post these notices at all the major intersections of the city and junctions of the outlying roads.

 A hefty reward was offered for any information leading to their capture and threats of a heavier penalty were issued for anyone caught shielding them or withholding any information that would in any way hinder their apprehension. 

Though skeptical of Fradel's identity, the Magistrate still ordered the detainment of Fradel at the government Hostel rather than the jail.  There Fradel would be furnished with writing implements and be permitted to write his letter to the Minister of Culture.  Guards would be posted, not so much as to prevent Fradel's escape but to afford him protection from any reprisals from the bandits.

The court, after an unusually long session, which took meticulous care to ascertain all these matters were lawfully handled, was then promptly adjourned to await the return of the deputies.

When the partially decomposed corpses of Fradel's servants and the bandits were dug up and brought into court a couple of days later, Magistrate Yakove Zewe, amid the intimidating shouts of the bailiffs and flanked by his clerks, reconvened the court.

 The stench from the bodies speeded up the proceedings as the corpses were briefly examined by the court's Medical Officer then identified by Fradel before they were hastily (taken away) removed.

The preliminary search of the servants ‘bodies had produced, in accordance with Fradel's disposition, two sets of identity papers stating they were servants indentured to the illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

The subsequent day, by some good fortune, one of the robbers was turned in by the physician when he had sought medical aid for his festering wounds.  Magistrate Yakove was highly pleased with this recent development and, ordered the man brought into the presence of the court at once. 

The heavily guarded bandit, wearing a neck brace and chains attached to his ankles, waist and wrists was duly (fetched) retrieved. 

The tense atmosphere at his entrance in court was shattered and replaced by a surge of laughter, when the once feared outlaw, pathetically just then, was tripped to the floor.

Order quickly restored; Fradel was brought forth to identify the accused. This concluded, Fradel was ordered to wait outside while the prisoner was then further tortured and interrogated. 

Despite the severe beatings, cuts, burns and numerous blows to the head, the defiant bandits had proven most difficult to break.  He not only adamantly refused to reveal his name or betray the identities and whereabouts of his colleagues, but with unusual strength and courage, his eyes ablaze with anger, he cursed and spat at them, hurling vile insults and threats at the Magistrate, those present in the court and at Fradel outside. 

Some of the observers cowed in their places attempting to retreat into obscurity.  In response to Yakove's order to silence the prisoner the deputies rained more blows on the bandit and, when order was again restored, the Magistrate, now in a towering rage, ordered the ankle screws to be brought in.  Plenty of fighting spirit was still left in the sputtering prisoner as four large bailiffs held him while two deputies fitted on the ankle bracelets.  His sliced open leg made it all the more agonizing for him when they started to apply the pressure with the screws.

"Increase the pressure." Magistrate Yakove Zewe ordered with a sinister sneer to the men.  The bandit howled in agony yet still defiantly resisted capitulating.

His anguished cries permeating the air grated on Fradel's ears.  He rose and agitatedly paced the crimson floor of the hall in bold strides. What further need was there to detain him in this way?  Why must he bear witness to such inhumanity? 

He grew even more disgusted when he observed the pleasure the grinning guards derived from the hollering bandit's pain and their indifference to the other plaintiffs waiting as they boisterously exchanged stories, trying to outdo each other with tales of other tortures they had witnessed.

The torture went on for some time until the ankle screws finally broke into six pieces and the prisoner had lost consciousness.  The bandit did not respond to the attempts to revive him or even to the pain of added torture.  The court had failed to extract even the least bit of information from him.  "Put him on the rack, then." the fuming Magistrate Yakove Zewe thundered. 

"Break all his bones until you break his will, but on no account let him die until he tells me what I want to know."  Shouting their assent, the bailiffs dragged the broken, bloodied body back outside the court, pulling him by his feet past the waiting Fradel Rurik Korvald.

A trusted clerk now approached the bench and submitting his findings in a whisper to the magistrate, handed him the confiscated, still sealed, letter written by Fradel.  Alarmed, the Magistrate Yakove Zewe flushed, and perspiration beaded on his forehead.  Abruptly he recessed the court and ordered Fradel Rurik Korvald to be brought at once to his private chambers in back.

There, greeting Fradel with broad smiles, he took the scholar by the hand and, apologizing for the inconvenience he'd caused him, showed him to a comfortable seat.  With affected gentility he offered Fradel some tea and invited him to be his honored guest in his own humble home where he could show him his collection of the scholar's published works.  He expressed great admiration for Fradel's writings, saying that he read them often.  In truth, he found the work too intense for his own shallow and superficial nature and had only collected these writings in order to curry favor with his more refined superiors.  In private he showed his discordant nature to his confidants, calling Fradel's work overrated and not deserving of the recognition it enjoyed.

A muddleheaded simpleton of sorts, Yakove Zewe would have been totally befuddled with Fradel's recent work in progress.  Initiated after he had started on his way to the capital and existing at present only as an outline in Fradel's thoughts, this intense, politically based work was in stark contrast to the earlier flowery, but only moderately complex, tributes to nature and beauty that formed the bulk of Yakove 's, and the nobility's, collections.  Despite the danger Fradel presented, Yakove was opportunistic enough to jump at the chance to ingratiate himself with the famous scholar, always mindful of the windfall of prestige and privilege that this would bring. If only, if he could secure one original poem from his grateful guest!

Very much pressed, Fradel reluctantly acquiesced to the Magistrate's wishes to stay as his honored guest until, as Yakove put it, “his strength and good health returned, and his wounds healed well enough to stand the arduous journey home”.  Fradel was also assured that the letter he had written in the Hostel had already been forwarded by a special courier to Channing. 

Soon after Fradel was settled into his new quarters and his immediate needs were seen to, he was again imposed upon by his very courteous and obliging host to attend a private feast given in the scholar's honor.

 Magistrate Yakove Zewe, having plied Fradel with lavish food, fine spirits and good entertainment, rose to make his fifth toast to his guest.  Extolling Fradel's virtues and accomplishments, he then cajoled his other guests who then responded on cue and importuned Fradel to favor them with a verse to commemorate this fine evening and this festive gathering.

"Please do not begrudge us, few of your precious words." they all chimed in chorus.

Suppressing his indignation and outrage at this obvious coaching, Fradel demurred, claiming intoxication and fatigue.  He then asked to be excused and hastily retired from the feast, leaving the flustered Yakove to stew in his own chagrin. 

The other guests, sensing their host's antagonistic mood, one by one took their leave under various guises and brought the assembly to a quick end.  Alone in the dining hall, the Magistrate continued on with his drinking, shifting his indignation and hatred away from the real source onto his wife. He cursed and belittled her unmercifully.  Finally, growing hoarse in voice and dizzy in the head, he fell into a deep stupor and was carried off to his bed.

The following morning, as soon as Magistrate Yakove was able to get away, he took the letter Fradel had supposedly already sent to the Capital and a copy of the court case and, traveling by palanquin, set off for the office of the Provincial Commissioner of Justice, Birgergu Gunt, to seek his advice on how best to extricate himself from this dilemma, short of capturing all the bandits, as well as to boast about his competent handling of the case thus far.

03 -BIRGERGU GUNT

 Once Magistrate Yakove Zewe had been announced, Birgergu, quickly concluding or putting aside all his other business, came out in person to welcome and usher his childhood friend into his private study.  After his careful perusal of the report, however, the red-faced Commissioner frowned, alarming Yakove anew.

"This is most unfortunate.  Brother-in-law, I warned you long ago to give priority to apprehending these bandits. You should have allocated most of your constables to dealing with this matter.  Now that things have come to such a pass, I fear I may not be able to shield you from the repercussions.  As it is, his Excellency Rexi is already furious with you over the indelicate way you handled the Courtesan Yule Reidun."

"But, sir, how could I have known she was His Excellency's favorite?"

"Never mind that," Birgergu curtly waved his objection away.

"This business with the scholar is most serious.  I'm afraid that, this time, you're on your own. I will certainly not perjure myself before the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren to cover up your incompetence."

“Then I’m as good as destroyed. “Magistrate Yakove Zewe’s distress became even more acute.

“You can be so melodramatic!” Brigergu frowned.

 "I implore you, sir, please do not forsake me."  Yakove, trembling, dropped to his knees and, clasping his hands together obsequiously, cried despondently.

 Crouching before Birgergu in wailing supplication, he further pleaded, "You know of my situation!  You know very well how I've tried my utmost, how I've utilized everything within my power to alleviate this problem.  Besides, now we've caught one of them it will only be a matter of time before we make him talk.  Can't you cover up for me for just a while, just long enough for my objective to be reached?  I will make it worth your while.  Haven't I always been most generous with my appreciation of your past favors?”

"All right, all right…  Do not distress yourself."  Birgergu, assuming a condescending air, raised the Magistrate to his feet.

 "But, owing to this matter's importance, I'm bound by my duty to report this to the Governor at once.  However," Birgergu stalled to prolong Yakove's misery as he stroked his well-groomed beard, "very well, for my sister’s sake I will again speak kindly of you in my report and assure him that everything is under control.  Perhaps he'll show leniency.  Take my council, however, and dispatch this letter this very day to its proper destination.

 It's far too dangerous for you to be withholding such information from the Capital.  And do not detain this distinguished scholar, either, but provide him with adequate means and a measure of security on his speedy return journey.”

"Hmm… For obvious reasons I cannot be seen to be involved in this case.  When I do see the Governor, I will assure His Excellency that the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald is properly taken care of and has already departed our province.  Perhaps you'll be spared an investigation by the Capital and His Excellency's wrath."

Taking off his gauze cap, the Magistrate Yakove Zewe fell to his knees bowing repeatedly, pouring out his gratitude to his brother-in-law, promising to invite him soon to a grand feast, then left to expedite Fradel's departure. 

                                                                                    ……

Yakove was halfway home when he sighted on the horizon the dark, billowing smoke pouring up from the direction of his offices, the offices containing the court documents, criminal records, and the jail containing the unfortunate prisoner.

A short time later, a view of the grisly scene confirmed Yakove’s worst fears.  An arsonist had set off a huge fire that had already devoured most of the building and, fueled by the winds; it was now spreading down the street, turning the homes, tea houses and shops in its wake into piles of smoldering cinders.

 It was dusk before the fire was carried under control and the exhausted Magistrate Yakove Zewe was able to return to his home.

“Oh, how true it is!” Magistrate Yakove bemoaned soon as he crossed the threshold of his opulent abode. “Troubles never afflict men singly, but at least the letter is dispatched to the Capital.”

When he called on Fradel Rurik Korvald that night the distinguished scholar again expressed his strong desire, not to delay unnecessarily, his departure for his home province. To Fradel’s relief, this time Magistrate Yakove Zewe did not insist on keeping him, nor did Yakove offer contrary arguments.

 "Because of my high regard for your person, sir," came instead, the Magistrate's obliging reply, "I can no longer, in good conscience detain you any further.  I have erred in keeping you from your duty and I wish to assure you that I have already taken measures to ensure your safe, comfortable and speedy return."

With a wave of a hand dismissing Fradel’s expression of gratitude, Yakove, declared in most sincere words he could master, that it was his privilege to be of some small service to the distinguished Fradel Rurik Korvald.  The honeyed words on his tongue simply rolled on; while stressing that he was not deserving of any thanks, still the undertone of his argot hinted at his wish to be repaid in full, suggesting it be with an idiom (axiom) or two if not a poem.  But with a grace that far surpassed his host's, Fradel ignored their implicit meaning.

                                                                                    ~

 

(END OF SECTION 13)

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