LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 25

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

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

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

01- MOURO KERR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

02-HELGA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

03- MASTER GUZO LUKO

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

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

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

 

(END OF SECTION 25)

                                                                                      ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

"How long is it going to take you to sharpen that Axe and machete, boy?  Hurry up, Yaggy, we haven't got all day." he urged the second son. Aguda was about to instruct Kenny to undress (disrobe, unclothe) the victim, when the excited barking noise of the caged canines(dogs) alerted him to his cousin’s early arrival.

“Blast; he’s back already?”  Too late, Aguda heard his cousin Yagu’s advancing unsteady footsteps.

 Where is everybody? The old man with curses on his lips, clung tightly onto the railing for security and, hauled his tired old body up as he, same time negotiated the soggy stone steps of the porch.

Aguda, having dropped his booty in the corner, had quickly rushed outside the kitchen door, passed through the hallway and now strove to block the old man's way with a barrage of questions.

01- YAGU DORKA

"Yagu, what a fine time it is too, you finally got back!  You’ve been gone for so long that we were worried sick to death, thinking that something terrible might have happened to you on the way.  Next time you don't go alone, you'll take Zog with you.  Well, what did the doctor say?  Is your condition serious or not? How was the trip?"

"As if you care!" the old man interrupted Aguda's patter with a restraining hand gesture.  "Never mind about me, but you sure look guilty. And wipe that grin off your face and answer me quickly, what are you up to now?  I bet you, is it something sinister, disgusting or decidedly evil? “

Seeing the other’s hesitation, Yagu angrily snapped. “Don’t try denying it; I've already seen the horse in the stable."  Yagu shook an angry, accusatory finger before the innkeeper's face then pushed him aside to enter the kitchen.

 "And what's this, your latest victim?"  He intended to say more but his rage caught in his throat, and he collapsed into a violent fit of coughing.

"Now look at the state you've brought upon yourself!"  Aguda, showing concern, rushed to his side and helped him into a chair.  He slapped Yagu on the back several times, hard, to loosen the phlegm in his cousin's lungs.  After turning to address his son Kenny, “Stop what you’re about to do!” Aguda ordered him, “And go fetch Yagu a hot cup of tea at once.” 

Gradually, Yagu's purple coloring faded as his coughing fit subsided.

Outside, a kid's voice was heard; pleading to be allowed to join his grandpa in the kitchen but this was soon cut short by shout, “he doesn’t need you to bother him now,” and the sound of a hand smartly striking his cheek.  The sniffling youngster was then forcefully dragged away by the teenage boy Kenny who, despite his usual tepid (apathetic, indifferent) nature, was a cauldron of evil, an actual brute in his own right. 

02- KENNY

The old man Yagu wished he had the strength to intervene, but abuse of this sort was all too common in this household.

Aguda snatched the steeping (infusing) hot teapot from Kenny’s hand and poured part of the infusion (tea) into Yagu’s cup to distract him from his grandson’s plight. 

"Here you go, have a bit more; it will warm you up.  You've given me terrible fright just now; you know you mustn't get so excited (worked-up) in your condition."  Seeing the old man had calmed a bit, he coaxed, "Look how you're still dripping wet.  Why don't you go change into some dry clothes and forget everything else.  I'll take care of things here."

His face growing red once more, the old man's temper flared anew.  Rasping in his dry, harsh voice, he pounded the table with his trembling hand and cursed, "You are going to get us all damned to Hell!  You want me to turn a blind eye to the murder of one of our guests; and this foul murder committed just under my very own roof? “Yagu shook his head and then somberly added: “Robbing them is one thing but butchering them in that hideous manner is inhuman!  I absolutely refuse to condone it!"  Again, he coughed, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Call it what you will." Aguda (already feeling a tinge of guilt) lost his temper; highly incensed at this reprimand, he then snarled: “You know very well that we must do this to be safe.  What makes you so high and mighty?”

But then regretting his outburst, in a gentler voice he reasoned. “Dear cousin, buying this cursed inn was your idea to begin with; I wanted to open up a wine shop in town but, no, you wanted a roof over our heads.  You wouldn't hear of it.  Still, it was a fine idea while the customers were steady."

Yagu’s stern expression had not altered in the least. Angered anew, Aguda sat down with a disgruntled huff and pounded the table with his fist.  "Things have changed now, so get used to it."

Aguda ground his teeth, then after a moment’s silence again warned as he, same time shook an irate finger at the old man.  "When things started to go bad, and I wanted to pack up and start a new business elsewhere you wouldn't hear of it.  Your procrastination has cost us what little money we could have gotten from the sale of the Dancing Bear.  Now it’s too late.  Yet we still have to pay taxes and extortion money to those vultures to keep them from feeding on our carcasses.  You know those bastards only care about lining their pockets.  What do they care about if we are barely able to carve out our subsistence?  The first time we fail to produce the money they'll beat us to a pulp and haul us all off, you and your precious grandson included, to debtor’s jail where we'll assuredly meet a miserable end.”

"So, I ask you, what would you have me do?  Well?"  The innkeeper paused just long enough to give emphasis, but not enough for Yagu to respond. 

03- AGUDA

"Robbing them is one thing, you say, but if we don't dispose of the corpse completely, would we not run an even greater risk of being discovered?  Do you know what the penalty for robbing unsuspecting customers is?  I'll tell you, it’s the same as committing murder. In jail, once under duress they have extracted your confession and promptly pronounced you guilty, without the benefit of trial, you’ll be beaten to death. The executioner would then cut off your head and post it on spike (spear) at the city gate, as a warning to others. And your headless corpse, well, I don’t need to remind you what happens to that."

Seeing the old man cringe and give an involuntary shudder, “That's right." Aguda reasserted.  "Remember, cousin, I once used to be a clerk at the Magistrate's Office before my unjust dismissal.  I know what goes on in those dark cells.”

“Oh, you can be certain I make no exaggerations here.  Far worse, far more appalling crimes against human dignity are practiced there on a daily basis than we could ever have committed here.  So don't talk to me about law or humanity, as far as I am concerned there is only one law, one rule for me and my family to follow, the law of survival.  I must do all I can to subsist, even if it means vending (selling) my soul to the demons, to do it.  So, don't think that you can deter my aim, with your sanctimonious air or nagging!”

"I toiled so hard; all those years of tough grind, all those years of hard work; where did it ever get me or you?  You're still pining away for your lost son.  Well, I've got three living ones and a wife here to think of.  Shall I leave them all to starve, or be tortured?

No… Absolutely not!   I'll be damned if I give them up without a fight!”

“And what about your precious grandson; are you willing to sacrifice him so easily to accommodate your principles?  You know that nothing will grow on this wretched, barren soil, and that we're too strapped now to move out. So don’t go on being so censorious! Besides, what makes you think it’s any different out there?  Maybe it’s worse."  Aguda, having had his say, at the end of this long tirade, rather smugly now, leaned back and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"You could talk around the devil himself!" Yagu snapped back, having got his second wind and now that his cousin had finally stopped his rant.

 His stern eyes scrutinized Aguda, then, stricken with sudden remorse, Yagu hung his head, and he softened. His next remark lacked fire.  "Yes.", he acquiesced, for he could no longer dispute the other's arguments.

 Though his conscience had greatly pained (hurt) him, had he not always, as he had now, given in to their inexorable predicament?

Yagu’s head hung lower in deep shame, for even though he did not engage in the brutal act, turning a blind eye to it, time and again, did it not make him an accessory (accomplice) to Aguda’s crimes?   Yagu shared just as much guilt.  And besides, when the matter of their survival hung in the balance, overriding any question of morality, what right did he have to exonerate himself and load all the blame on his cousin, marking him, shamelessly, in front of his sons as the sole villain when the end result benefited all of them?

Coughing violently, Yagu rose and drew near to the table, bending over to have a better look at the latest victim, meaning, perhaps, to silently beg this stranger's forgiveness.  His eyes examined the scholar’s features, pausing (his gaze) at length on the face.

Odd, he looks strangely familiar? Hmmm…. Yagu mused, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I feel as though I've seen him somewhere before, but perhaps with a short beard …”

“Oh, Heaven’ forgive me! Can he be… is he that most remarkable youth, of four years ago?”  Suddenly his eyes bulged and astonished, his mouth dropped open.

Still, he needed to be certain; so, he drew his face ever closer and burrowed his scrutinizing eyes (stare) on Nevetsecnuac.

 But how could that be?  He shrugged his shoulders, bit the corner of his lower lip and stamped his feet in vexation.

Yaggy, meanwhile, having just then finished honing the hatchet’s blade, excitedly brought the shiny cleaver (axe) over to his father.  He stood most eager to begin the carnage (butchery).

Aguda signaled his son to wait.  "Listen, cousin," he then approached Yagu, suspecting that the old man was still wavering, "you know it’s got to be done, so why don't you leave us, since you can't stomach the sight.  Rid yourself of those pesky wet clothes and lie down to rest, before you make your ailment worse.  I'll have Kenny to bring you some more hot tea."

"But I think I know this young man!" Disregarding Aguda's words, Yagu turning, looked up with a flushed face to exclaim excitedly.

 He held up a restraining hand to freeze Aguda's query or retort.  "Just give me a moment longer will you, just to make sure."

"Surely you aren't telling me that you, a peasant, know a rich scholar?" Aguda mocked Yagu, then frowning, shook a finger at the old man.  "If this is another one of your stalling tactics, I warn you..."

The old man was totally absorbed with Nevetsecnuac.  "Oh, by the Gods!"  Suddenly he uttered a cry as he jerked back, his hand now clasped to his mouth.

 "Yes, no doubt about it.  It’s him!  It’s definitely him!"  Yagu’s complexion turned ashen (ghostly pale) as the realization of what had almost happened dawned on (occurred to) him; horror gripped his heart, and the words congealed in his throat.

 "What is it, cousin?" Aguda clasped the old man on the shoulder, truly concerned.

"What's wrong with you...? What is it that ails you?”

“Answer me first, his name… what was the name he gave to you?”

“I don’t know… You expect me to remember his name? What difference does it make?

"You don't understand!" Yagu clutched at Aguda's collar, jerking him forward, almost choking him with an unusual strength.

 "This…. This is the very young person who, four years ago, delivered me and my grandson from those bandits.  It's with his money that we bought this place, fool!  He’s the one who……” His explanation was interrupted with another spell of violent coughing.  As he habitually massaged the pain in his chest, great beads of sweat (appeared) burst out on his forehead.

"I'm dam sure, most assuredly, it’s him!  He's the one who avenged my son Ake's death, restored my grandson Lerty to me, and gave me the funds to buy this inn." Yagu hoarsely reiterated; then rubbed his burning throat to bring some relief.

 "Haven't I always had a good memory for faces?  Once I hear him speak, I'll be more certain."

"So, this isn't definite after all?" Aguda caught the slip.

“Tell me, try to remember… Was his name … Svein, Svein…. something?"

“Come to think of it, it might have been…… But still, how can you be so positive it’s the very youth? You’d mentioned that your benefactor was a skilled fighter but said nothing about him being a scholar?" Aguda demanded with skepticism, not liking the idea of releasing prey already in his snare.

Yagu’s coughing subsided; the old man looked up to burrow his resentful gaze into Aguda's eyes and sternly dictate, "Read my lips. Killing this young man is now totally out of question, not until I've made certain, at least, that it isn't him. Do I make myself clear?  I may be guilty of many things, but I will not go to my grave, accused of ingratitude.  If I'm wrong, you can drug him again later.  Now, quick, get me the antidote!"

"This is insane!  Think of what you're asking me to do, cousin." Aguda stamped his foot.  "Why should I, on your mere suspicion, spare his life then waste more of the precious poison on him?  If we revived him and, he turned out not to be your savior, what then?  You may be willing to let this chance slip away, but I'm not.  Besides, you can see how formidable he looks, even when he's unconscious.  When he comes to, won't he know we've drugged him?  Won't he ask questions, that is, if he doesn't beat us to death first without waiting for any explanation?  Why should I place us all in jeopardy on a mere chance that this was your young man?"

"Listen to papa, Uncle." the three boys broke their silence in unison to give support to their father.

"If he is the young man I met, he would not harm us." Yagu was adamant. 

"I'd stake my life on it.  You're not going to change my mind one bit," he threw a fierce look at the boys, "even with this army of support.  You may all think me unreasonable but, on this, I will stick to my principles.  Besides, we could always talk our way out of it, what's so hard about that?  Leave the explanations to me.”

"Now, give me the antidote at once, before it’s too late!" he barked, his demand.

"And don't try to deceive me and say that it’s already too late, I can tell from his coloring that he can still be saved!” With those words he also put a quick end to Aguda’s poised counter arguments.

Seeing that it was pointless to deter his cousin, Aguda grumbled under his breath,

 "I suppose we could add poison to his meal later on."  Handing the keys of the victim’s room to Yagu, Aguda then rushed off to retrieve the antidote himself.

 Yagu, wasting no time, quickly took charge and had the two older boys Zog and Yaggy carry the still unconscious scholar (Nevetsecnuac) back to his room while the younger boy Kenny went to fetch the scholar’s possessions, that of which Aguda had just dropped in the hall.  The unconscious scholar was then gently placed on the bed.

Zog, the strongest boy, pried open Nevetsecnuac’s mouth just a crack to allow Yagu, who had just received the antidote from Aguda, to pour a generous portion of it down the scholar’s throat.

"Not so much!  A little works just as well, you know."  The infuriated Aguda spent his rage by slapping Zog hard on head, then returned to the kitchen, swiping at the youngest as he passed by.

"Now scarper (get lost, beat it); both of you clear out of here!"  Yagu taking charge, ordered Yaggy and Zog with a wave of his hand.  "He'll be coming around soon.  Close the door behind you; and Zog, do tell your father to keep it quiet out there!" Yagu yelled out specifically so that Aguda could hear, before he leaned back on the chair panting from all that exertion.

                                                                                        

(END OF SECTION 18)

 

 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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