11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 11

Worren Youkup’s tightened jaw revealing his dogged resolve (his determined reluctance to speak) in the end forced her Ladyship Sejon to concede; and, forsaking propriety, a gesture of her hand dismissed Nijel also to the adjacent room with the others.

01- WORREN YOUKUP (6)JPM

Soon as she was gone, Worren Youkup’s expression hardened, presently burrowing his cold eyes into Sejon’s, he in an unyielding tone, bluntly stated that he was here to speak about Prince Herleif and the stiletto (penknife) in question. Anticipating her ready denial, he then held out his hand, and tersely added, "Save your breath, I’ve already determined the truth; it is of no use for you to deny your complicity in this matter.”

“You may as well make a clean breast of it."  Worren, moreover, taking advantage of her stunned silence, in his authoritative tone quickly put forth two consecutive, pertinent questions to her and demanded to know the answers to them:

“When precisely during the time he had shown Sejon the scrolls did Nijel (undoubtedly on Her Ladyship's instructions,) plant the stiletto inside the scroll? And when exactly had Sejon devised this scheme; a long while ago or, was it an opportune temptation to which she on the spur had succumbed to?” 

Worren had phrased this last bit deliberately to allow Sejon a chance to extricate herself with a semblance of dignity. Worren’s unusually direct approach meanwhile, had so shocked Sejon that her reply was long time in coming.

He would not dare be so forthrightly blunt with his accusations, unless he had attained indisputable proof; furthermore he, being right on the mark, would not take too kindly to her sly manipulation. Sejon askance (sideways suspiciously) had glanced at Worren. By then Sejon had realized that she had grossly underestimated the old tutor Worren Youkup, who was still very much astute, despite prior instances of his feigned muddle-headedness and supposed forgetfulness. Anxiously she bit her lower lip, thinking of her earlier erroneous suppositions when she had first heard of his unusual visit. She at the time had considered mounting a vehement denial of any involvement, then perhaps shedding a tear or two to soften Royal Tutor’s heart. She subsequently had planned gently berating (scolding)him and then swaying his righteous conscience, with sentimental euphemisms, guilt, and tailored aphorisms.

How could you even think of such a thing? She would have cried out against this injustice then would have added: I would never stoop to such pranks, for this surely was a prank, nothing more. I have harbored a slight resentment of Prince Herleif over the years, but who among us has not sustained an ingrained (deep-seated) grudge or worse, against him? The prince has never been an amicable being and has particularly been miserly with his deferential treatment of women. For numerous reasons, which I will not elaborate on other than to remind you of the last outrage he had committed, yes, I did intensely dislike him. Still, I have learned from you, Master Youkup, to walk a fine line and stay on the enlightened path of tolerance and compassion, and though it had not been easy, I had already forgiven the prince’s multitude of sins. Vengeful actions are all behind me now.   

  She would have gone on and on, just as she had rehearsed it.  

Sejon by using her feminine charms could still, even now, have played him, denied and distorted facts to achieve the eventual effect of, laying total blame elsewhere. Why, Worren Youkup’s vanity alone should have been sufficient to dissuade (discourage) the Royal tutor from pursuing this matter, for it would expose his being duped by no less, a naive female in her early twenties. Sejon was too clever in the meantime, to openly disclose her part in this diabolical scheme. Better she used uncertain terms and clever insinuations and double meanings, to allude to the truth. Later they could all be interpreted differently and totally recanted. It had to be done in such a way that Worren's analytical mind would be dulled or appeased. Oh, but all this mental strain so early in the day, was irksome to her and, it drained a good chunk of her vital energy. She was better disposed to managing such things in the late afternoons or evenings; the hours which, fortunately, coincided with Zakhertan’s occasional visits.  

Sejon was moreover displeased, noting that something was amiss with Royal Tutor this morning; though Worren seemed to play along, her evasive words and unspecified allusions obviously grated on his nerves, and he grew increasingly agitated. Despite his sympathetic smile, her instincts alerted her to the critical difference.

“You are way too clever for your own good, Master Youking, and by far too foolhardy.” Sejon lowered her eyes, to hide the fear and contempt that had just then registered in them. Worren had always been too upright and as much principled (ethical) as that cursed Lenny Sukzor. What if he did something quite drastic and went directly to Zakhertan to unburden himself of all that he knew. Best she humored him for now and articulated a heart-rending remorse to placate the old geezer (fool). He did after all, offered her a way out; obviously, that is what he wanted. Sejon’d settled on this recourse as she same time landed a partial ear to Worren’s incessant haranguing (tirade, lecture). No, but then she paused, she would absolutely, not give in, even an inch!

"Have you shared your thoughts with anyone else?" Sejon faking concern, asked.

Angrily, Worren Youkup shook his head, in denial.

“No, it is not something you would readily admit to anyone.”  Sejon was inwardly pleased and amused. "Good. Your own vanity will serve my purpose well.” 

02- HER LADYSHIP SEJON

 

Lady Sejon assuming solicitous demeanor, " Master Youkup, naturally I wish to ease all your concerns, however, let us first move to the comfort of my inner chambers, she sweetly suggested, at once rising to her feet. “It is so hard to relax in these outer rooms."  Her meaning was clear; we will have more apt privacy and security there, from the prying ears.

Youkub’s grudging assent still gratified her, for the room she had chosen was furnished with a rather loud fountain, sheer draperies and cushioned floors that made eavesdropping impossible. She left word with the servants that she was not to be disturbed for any reason then turned to accompany Worren into the inner chamber.

Once they were there and comfortably seated, she cast her eyes downward her face suddenly grown ashen and her green eyes overflowing with accusatory hurt. "Oh, I am so grieved Master Youking, for you are the last person I wished to offend. To think that my maid's harmless indiscretion, a mere prank, should have had such dire consequences for one I hold in such high esteem as you. You have become dearer to me than my own parents, my own loving grandparents. Oh, I am so very distraught.”    

“Please grant me your leave to continue."  Sejon hastened to block Worren’s anticipated response. She heaved a shuddering sigh and shook her head. "When I found out, I punished Zijur severely and dismissed her on the spot. If you had thought that Nijel had something to do with it, you are mistaken. She was in no way involved." Sejon blatantly lied. "It was Zijur who had placed the item there in order to discredit myself and Nijel after her demotion."  She paused, pursed her lips, and shook her head once more in supposed deep dismay. As it were, Sejon held the firm belief, that she’d conceived that whole scheme with the knife by herself and, Nijel had only carried out Sejon’s instructions; consequently, if Nijel’s part was ever to be disclosed and she unjustly got punished, the guilt would weigh like a millstone on Sejon's conscience.      

“Stop there.”  Sejon inwardly advised self. “Illegitimate half-sister or not, it is much too risky to go that far out on a limb for Nijel.”  It bewildered Sejon how, in such a short span, Nijel had won both her deep affection and sure confidence. She was grateful to her nevertheless, for so many things, not the least of which was her instrumental role in exposing the actual indiscretions of Zijur before it could generate the most severe repercussions for Sejon. Zijur's discipline, dismissal in disgrace and her unexpected suicide had been, thanks to in great part Nijel's conscientious efforts, well contained. Though Zijur had been her companion for number of years now, Sejon felt nothing but contempt for her after she had so grievously disgraced herself; therefore, she felt no twinge of conscience in compounding Zijur‘s faults by adding this blame, not when the timing was so appropriate. Nijel contrastingly, was deemed indispensable, as she had lent Sejon consistent support, where it had been most warranted.  

Sejon so completely trusted Nijel in fact that, if ample proof of Nijel’s duplicitous character were to be presented to her, it would still not be believed and furthermore, regarded as malicious slander. Pushing all that concern about Nijel aside, Sejon now glanced up at Worren, smiled warmly, confidently then picked up where she had left off, reiterating again that the chief culprit, Zijur, had been properly punished and dismissed from her service.  As for the fate of the former lady in waiting, it was no longer of concern to her.  

"All the same, I must accept the responsibility for my servant's actions, for allowing all this to happen right under my nose."  She tentatively turned her imploring eyes on Worren Youkup and grimaced. "As you have so wisely deduced, sir, it was a momentary temptation that was seized by a disgruntled servant. I said no more of it after I dismissed Zijur because I had not imagined that it would ever come to this.”

 

03- ZIJUR

 “I also believed that the prince would receive no more than a slight reprimand and a dose of embarrassment from all this.  As it were, the knife was not of weapon's grade, nor was it laced with poison as an assassin's pick would have been. It was a penknife such as those readily available in the library."  Sejon knit her brows in consternation, relieved that Nijel had briefed her on all the details should she ever be brought to task.  "Still, what's done is done." she huffed in resignation. Worren s persistent stone face continued to disturb her and inwardly she quaked slightly.   

Worren Youkup turned his head, biting back his rising anger at Sejon's ongoing deceit. He knew something about Zijur’s character, and he doubted the timid, sweet-natured girl Zijur who’d served Sejon loyally all those years, would be guilty of all that her mistress was at present shamelessly impugning (attributing) to her.

Subsequently, his frayed patience was somewhat allayed (dispelled) by the astonishment he felt at seeing the wide range of emotions Lady Sejon had displayed in that short spell. What he had witnessed had been truly incredible. That this exquisitely beautiful face could appear indignant, proud, strong, and even angry at one moment and the next become like a frightened, helpless little girl so hurt and petrified, as though she was protesting her innocence at a wrongful reprimand by an angry, unreasonable authoritative adult. At the end, the pleading eyes framed by such an imploring face that his heart, in all defiance of reason, became more inclined to forgive her.      

"Oh, Master Youkup, I would give anything, do anything, to alleviate your mind from all worry. If only I could erase the accursed events that led to this dire outcome. You must not be held accountable, and certainly not suffer least consequence, on my account." Sejon ejected shakily, her voice brimming with remorse.   

“Brilliant performance, my dear…  You almost had me convinced there. Such concern deeply touches my heart.”  Worren studied her face, his piercing eyes narrowing. “But why the insistence on protecting Nijel; what kind of hold does she have on you that it can override your innate selfish nature? Again, I digress.” He shook his head to clear away just then distracting thoughts. “This distasteful charade has gone on, far too long; it has been made clear to me now, precisely what needs to be done. You are the ideal product of this environment; more pity that you are also the mother of our future Sovereign.”  His tight smile had a tinge of sourness as he rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly.   

"It seems, Your Ladyship that I have been wasting both of our precious time; for that, I profusely apologize. I will now take my leave of you and proceed to the North Palace, where which, resolved to make a clean breast of things, I shall seek an audience with His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek. From this day forth I shall not be troubling you anymore."     

“Finally, the response I sought.” Worren Youkup was inwardly pleased, observing Sejon’s startled demeanor, as if she had just then awakened finally, to the future grim, dreaded reality.  Looking into her horrified eyes he smiled cynically, "Rest assured My lady, I will exercise the utmost care to leave your name and that of Nijel’s, or should I say, Zijur, out of my report (account, confession), if only for the sake of your son Prince Magnian."      

“After all,” Worren grumbled inaudibly, as he headed across the expansive room. “I should have had the farsightedness of my age and long years of experience, to have anticipated the outcome of irregular handling of Prince Herleif’s scrolls; the culpability (guilt) therefore, is entirely mine.”    

Worren Youkup’s apparent gallantry, his willingness to take full blame on her behalf, his supreme sacrifice, restored Sejon's full confidence. "But Master Youking, you can't do that." With the agility of her youthful age, she hastened forward, spreading her hands, to bar his path and to entreat (implore) Worren, once seemingly the shock had worn off and had freed up her voice.  Then in an obvious expression of regret and humility, letting go of her innate pride, she in an unprecedented move, quite unexpectedly fell to her knees before the old tutor to, teary eyed, beg his forgiveness.     

"The fault is not yours to claim, sir.  You are a man of great integrity and benevolence, as you have proven with your unselfish offer to extricate me, unworthy as I am, from this predicament and shoulder full responsibility yourself even though your true involvement was merely incidental.”    

“But in all good conscience I cannot allow you to tarnish the impeccable reputation you have preserved for so many decades.  No, kind sir, even at best your public esteem will suffer irreparable damage and I will be forced to make tenfold penance at my time of reckoning.”    

Worren had remained speechless especially when Sejon fell on her knees and with humility, bowed her head low to him. "Yes, you have shown me the error of my ways.  Please allow me the chance now to redeem myself for my mistakes.  Have pity on my innocent son, whose reputation will also be slandered by the sins of his mother.  As frightened as I am, I am firmly resolved to doing the righteous thing.  Henceforth I shall stoically face the consequences of my negligence (in controlling actions of my servants), but I need time to prepare myself for this.  I am, after all, a mere woman with limited capacity for elocution.  Words do not come readily to me.  If I should incur the wrath of His Highness before I can explain everything, all would be lost and Magnian and I will suffer even more.”    

“Bravo my dear. Again, you almost had me convinced. If only you hadn’t overplayed your humility, rather debasing… there, you went bit too far.”    

"My own life is of little consequence.”  Sejon had continued meanwhile, with her teary supplication. “And even if I should prematurely expire, I would be content; for I cannot bear the thought of you, venerable sir, being so unjustly punished.  Oh, Master, you have been as grievously wronged as it is.  I hope that, in time, you will find it clear in your heart to forgive me.  I have so valued your altruistic tutelage (advice and guidance) and look how I have repaid your kindness.  Please, please sir, do not begrudge me this time I need to collect my thoughts and present my case in the best light so that the right thing is done for both my son’s and your sake, sir.  Knowing that justice is truly served will ready me for whatever punishment His Highness will deal to me."    

Despite himself, Worren Youkup’s heart was wrung out.  As he hesitated, he quietly considered how the dire repercussions would affect innocent Prince Magnian.  Over the past few months, he had grown quite fond of the intrepid toddler.      

"Heaven has eyes." Sejon surmising what was on Worren’s mind, continued.  "I believe Gods will protect the innocent, do not fret too much over Magnian, he won’t face any serious future peril.  No, sir, you cannot dissuade me from doing the right thing now."    

The old tutor (Worren Youkup) totally beguiled, now begun regretting his harsh treatment of Sejon.  Bending down, and lightly gripping her elbow, he urged her to rise and be seated.  Taking a position across from her, he first assured her that he’d grant her the extended time she’d requested then in earnest, began his good counsel.   

His mind was still as sharp as ever and the summation of his lifelong experiences were utilized to afford her the most perfectly enunciated, solid defense, one that she would have never been able to formulate on her own.   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 11)

 

                                                                                                        ~

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 5

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CHAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 5

The temporary Chief Inspector Tomlin Kenny (filling in for Yori), facing a complete lack of evidence, a clean slate with no semblance of new clues at all, proved unwilling to re-open the investigation, frustrating all avenues of the Prime Minister's indirect efforts.  While his investigators pursued more incriminating facts, he concentrated on fulfilling the terms of the agreement with the emissaries.

Incredible though it seemed, the upright Lenny Sukzor had insufficient monetary reserves to match the amount needed to repay the emissaries in full (for the missing gold) and his insistence on secrecy precluded all efforts to raise the money among his more affluent associates.  As this predicament placed the Under Secretary in a terrible bind, Lamont Gudaren held back his efforts until he saw what desperate means Lenny Sukzor would resort to.

01-LENNY SUKZOR (3)JP

After extensive soul searching, Lenny Sukzor’s brilliant solution had been to capitulate to his fate, bear the truth in Court and face the dire consequences, come what may.  Fortunately, the Prime Minister had been informed of it in time and was able to intervene through a third party and affect Lenny’s financial rescue.

It had never occurred to Lamont Gudaren that he should dip into his own reserves to restock Lenny Sukzor for the missing gold.  In fact, this idea was inconceivable to him even though he did possess the means to do so. 

One problem was that his vast fortunes were mostly hidden, concealed under a barrage of companies and holdings under host names.  To dip into it, simply to extract the Under Secretary from his predicament, would risk exposing its (this network’s) existence. Therefore, he’d rather let Lenny Sukzor be found guilty and be executed before he would part with a single brass coin of his holdings.

Moreover, the Prime Minister suspected that this could very well be another of Egil Viggoaries's ploys; his typically underhanded, devious means (aim) to force Lamont’s hand and hope he got careless.  As the pressure had mounted greater and greater, the more Lamont had been certain of this wily design and, the more he looked upon Lenny Sukzor as a mere pawn of the eunuch.  The sinister, costly plot was surely put together to draw in a much bigger fish; himself.

“But in the end, I outsmarted you, Egil Viggoaries, and I managed to turn your trap to my own advantage.” Lamont grinned, mumbling to himself.

For a while things had looked rather bleak, as time had run out and he had lost patience with his competent investigators who still had not turned up anything conclusive, anything concrete, nothing at all with which to file an indictment, much less order an arrest.

Then, in an unexpected stroke of good fortune, one of his investigative forces had a serious breakthrough and through it, they had uncovered a piece of vital information.  There was finally that (sought after) thread which, when followed, led to two of Lenny’s former servants who had been dismissed for wrongful conduct some three years prior.

 This oversight had nearly cost Lenny dearly, for the Prime Minister was certain that it was they who had exacted revenge upon their former master by robbing him and setting the place on fire.  Sure enough, when the two conspirators had been sought out, proof positive was attained (retrieved from its carefully concealed cache), in the form of one of the rare Kontu artifact (relic), in their present hideout.

The Prime Minister knew that it would have been too careless for the mastermind of the robbery to have paid these two for their services with part of the loot, especially a piece which was so easily traceable.  The only explanation was that one of the culprits had stolen the miniature during the heist, not expecting it to be a hard item to fence and figuring that its loss would go unnoticed. 

Without creating an incident, the perpetrators were summarily apprehended and incarcerated under a minor charge but, when it came time for their thorough questioning, they were found, both mysterious and under the most bizarre of circumstances, expired. 

Suicide had been ruled out, as had outside tampering for there had been a heavy and constant guard posted over them.  The subsequent autopsies all indisputably confirmed that they had died only minutes apart in their separate cells by natural causes.  When the Prime Minister's elite force arrived on the scene they investigated all avenues, as usual, and discovered that a luminous poison had been administered days before the pair were even suspected of the theft and had remained inert until after they had been arrested.  Unfortunately, after causing the intended victim's death, this type of poison decomposed into a chemical, often found in all corpses.  They had no existing proof to back up their findings.  And so once more these unsubstantiated allegations, the case Lamont had so meticulously built up against his greatest adversary, had to be dropped.

As far back Lamont Gudaren would recollect, it had always been the same, persistent cat-and-mouse game with Egil Viggoaries.  Every so often Lamont would achieve some small gain, other times he would have to concede gracefully to defeat and retire to lick his wounds.  Occasionally he would be forced to yield a little ground but on the next round his nemesis would be the one to retreat.  Their rise to power had been kept in check by these incessant measures and countermeasures.  Lamont Gudaren knew that, at the end of it when all was said and done, there would be only one victor and, determined as he was to be that one, he had spent the last few years mounting his secret associations (connections) and extending (widening) his support network.  His best efforts were concentrated on the grand strategies (schemes) that won ultimate (final) wars, not every day insignificant battles.

02- PM LAMONT GUDAREN -1-JP

These minor setbacks only ruffled his plumage for a time, nothing definite. Once again, he lied to himself.  In fact, the eunuch's steady growth in power and mounting influence (far surpassing his), had become a constant source of worry and irritation to Lamont.

 Many nights, Lamont laid awake concocting ingenious means to curtail his nemesis’s power; if not outright vanquish, him and his invincible network of agents.

This most recent victory concerning Lenny Sukzor afforded him much pleasure and so he was able to shrug off the more troubling notions he had about the case.

Eventually, through a trusted third party, Lenny had been provided with the required amount and the Prime Minister's part in this had, for the time at least been concealed from, the Under Secretary.  As far as Lenny Sukzor was concerned it was his close friend and sometimes confidant, Lakkos Hemming, who, during an intimate dinner, had sensed something was wrong and, with his persistence, had wrung a confession out from Lenny Sukzor.  Upon learning the source of the Under Secretary's problem (predicament) and its scope, Lakkos Hemming most readily volunteered to help his good friend out of the present difficulty.  He had offered Lenny the entire amount as a loan since Lenny refused outright to accept it as a gift.  Lakkos did specify, however, that there was no urgency to repay this trifling sum.

Mindful of Lakkos Hemming' supposed vast inheritance, his immensely wealthy family connections, Lenny had not suspected in the least that, the latter was in fact in dire straits himself, having lost the entire family fortune, discreetly of course, and quite some time ago, because of his terrible, hidden vice.  In fact, Lakkos was completely (utterly) bankrupt, barely able to keep up the outward pretense of opulence, going deeper into debt all the while with his extravagant expenses incurred.

And who was the source of the immeasurable amount Lakkos was put under obligation to?  Why, the Prime Minister's trusted affiliate, Tugo Kenny, of course, who acted as front man for the Prime Minister.  As it were, Lakkos Hemming had mortgaged his entire future, even his children's future.  The considerable sum with monthly interest incurred could never be repaid in his lifetime; hence he often became subjected to extortion or blackmail.

When the gold failed to surface, just as the Prime Minister had anticipated all along that it would never be recovered or traced, the Prime Minister had spun this entrapment to force Lakkos Hemming, who in fact held an important office in the Treasury, to rig the books once more. 

This time it was, supposedly, to help Lenny out of his predicament, in exchange for a temporary reprieve and extended time of repayment on his (Lakkos’s) next installment of, amassed debt.

03- LAKKOS HEMMING

Lamont Gudaren had conceived, long before these events, that the Undersecretary's friendship with Lakkos Hemming would cost Lenny dearly one day and so had bided his time, waiting for such an opportunity.  When the proper circumstances availed themselves, allowing maximum gain for the Prime Minister, he intended to disclose the truth to Lenny Sukzor and extract a hefty repayment and significant favors from his new pigeon.  Under threat of exposure as a co-conspirator or even the instigator of Lakkos' crime, Lenny would be constrained to comply.  Under the dictates of his good business sense, the Prime Minister never invested in anything or anyone without first assuring himself of at least a tenfold return.

Lamont Gudaren grinned in satisfaction and returned to his desk and picked up a file only to push it aside as his mind wandered back to his triumph.  It had, accordingly, gone quite well for him. Lakkos Hemming was able to embezzle even more funds than were immediately needed and offered the overage to rebuild the Undersecretary's mansion.  For the time being the illicit deductions had been so expertly hidden in the financial maze that they could never be traced back to their source unless the Prime Minister purposefully disclosed the discrepancy.  Meanwhile the newly rebuilt mansion would stand as testimony to his resourcefulness in ensnaring the incorruptible Lenny Sukzor.

Prior to this, Lenny Sukzor’s integrity had been virtually invulnerable, and, despite Lenny's obvious dislike of Egil Viggoaries, there had been no means by which the Prime Minister could persuade the Undersecretary to join him in a secret affiliation and buy his loyalty to his own cause.  An independent ally who wielded a certain influence on the Sovereign, was certainly a boon to his interests, his greatest conquest yet.  He had even placed another of his agents, the Assistant Imperial Architect, Quanz Yommei, in charge of the rebuilding.

How fortunate that this had all transpired just in time before the assassination attempt on His Highness and the exposure of the treachery of the Kontu emissaries.  Now, Lenny Sukzor’s action and integrity shone even brighter still and won him further favor with Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek.

In Lamont Gudaren’s estimation, Lenny with his barely tapped (utilized) potential had been pegged, speedily, in a very short span, to ascent in power; hence, Lamont had taken advance precaution to truss Lenny Sukzor, with puppet's strings, especially since the Undersecretary was blissfully ignorant of his full potential.

“And when the command performance is called for, the right pressure here, a tug there, and Lenny Sukzor will dance like one of my concubines” Lamont grinned viciously.

A sudden knock on the door disrupted Lamont Gudaren’s licentious reverie and, responding to his loud consent, his secretary entered timidly and scuttled up to the desk to add even more files onto the pile on the desk.

"Is that the last of them?" the Prime Minister growled.

"No, you’re Excellency, there are still more forthcoming.  Also, the compiled data on the litigation being investigated by the Tunco Commission should soon be ready for your perusal.  The memorandum on the matter involving Konizo Noer has also been drawn up according to Your Excellency's specifications and is now being written out by the scribes."

A grunt and a wave of dismissal sent the fellow on his way.  Frowning, Lamont opened the file before him once more and he surveyed it with stern visage.  But again, it failed to capture his imagination, and he let his mind stray once more, as he drummed his fingers on the file's cover.

 

 Even with his busy schedule he should make time at his earliest convenience to throw a feast of introduction for this scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, if only to consolidate support among the invited and antagonize the cursed Egil Viggoaries. This business with Yekov could wait.  

Decisively, he recalled his secretary and dictated a set of orders, one of which was the forwarding of invitations to a select group of privileged individuals, inviting them to a future banquet (formal meal), given in honor of Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 

 

 

                                                                                 ~

 

(END OF SECTION 5)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 26

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

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

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

01-FARMER TRESOR

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

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

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

                                                                                       ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

He now stuck out his chest in self-congratulation.

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

02- CANUTE YONN'S IMAGINED FATHER

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

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

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

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

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

03- CANUET FACES TIKE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

05- CANUTE IN CELLAR

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

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 26)