LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE WEDDING - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 4

 

Svein’s heart weighed with trepidation, he advanced (sped his steps) towards Seno’s steed, peeking over his shoulder only once more to reaffirm Yagu Dorka’s position.  Yagu Dorka rooted to the spot, had trailed Svein’s advance with his keen eyes, his projected passive facial expression altering gradually to seething hatred.  No sooner was Svein hidden from view by a rise when, grumbling to himself, he turned tail and headed to the front.

“Why should I spare their miserable, unworthy lives so they can go on pillaging and molesting innocent people? After the initial robbery, when there is no more to be had, did they not carry the intent to murder me also? My life would have been forfeited, if it wasn’t for this good hearted but very, very naïve hero. No, I am not so gullible. The authorities, bah, piss on them!” He spat on the ground. “Hah, a good bribe and these ruffians will be back on my case, to finish me off properly this time. No, they must not be given the least chance!”

First and foremost, he went searching for a blade or an axe and found his old trusty machete, where he’d laid it by the covered well, he nodded.

Then donning a disarming smile, he retraced his steps back to the ruffians and, he hauled them one at a time; each still bound and gagged, to around the back to the side of that (fount) well.  Not expecting any ill fate, Roux and Koji had given him no resistance.  Still, it was almost more than he could handle. After each trek he sat on the ground to catch his breath, panting heavily.

 Damn them! He cursed under his breath.  Must they be so heavy, pigs that they are? 

When he regained his strength, he then went over, fetched the weapon that had been hidden from their view. As he approached, brandishing the machete, murder registering in his pupils and a sinister smile on his lips, the hapless victims each had squirmed and struggled in vain to free their bonds. Roux had remained defiant to the bitter end, cursing under his breath; but the other, Koji, mistakenly believing he might affect his fate, had tried all he could in muffled voice to plead for his life.

“No use begging,” Yagu Dorka ‘s heart already turned to stone, he’d responded with the scornful retort, “he gave you his word, but I did not.  I will show you the same mercy you would have shown me!”  Without pity or conscience, he thereafter partially slit Koji’s throat and hurled the dying ruffian’s body straight down the well right after Rou’s - committing both to a slow, agonizing death.

When Svein returned after meeting success, leading the steed, he noted at once the absence of the prisoners from the spot where he had left them.

“Have they escaped?” He questioned Yagu Dorka with a dubious look.

“No, how could they, with bonds that secure?  I just moved them to the back, by the well, where they would not be so easily spotted.  Fine horse, isn’t he, son?  Well, I’m ready.  Let us mount and be on our way.”  The old man grabbed hold of Svein’s sinewy arm and steered him away from his intended aim.

“The winds might pick up later. They are, of course, placed at a safe distance from the possible kindling remnants of smoldering fire?” Svein felt he had to ask, desperately trying not to guess at their true fate.

“Yes, yes, the fire will not hurt them.  For heaven’s sake, why worry about them so much, as if they were kinfolk?  They really don’t deserve that much consideration.”

Suppressing the serious misgivings in his heart, Svein chose not to investigate any further and, in a leap, mounted the horse.  He then reached out and hauled Yagu Dorka up to a seat behind him.

 “Now hold on tight, elder.  We must ride swiftly to gain the advantage.” he said sternly, just before galloping into the distance.

The old man’s heart nearly jumped into his mouth.  In his fright he wound his arms tightly around Svein’s waist and, trembling, burrowed his face into Svein’s back.  He remained in this state of fright even after they’d slowed down, trotting over uneven ground.

“You can relax your grip now, elder.” Svein had to remind him.  But Yagu Dorka’s heart was still palpitating fast, he hung on tighter than ever.  After a spell he gradually relaxed his grip as his fear of falling eased. Besides, his arms had started to ache something fierce.

 You did that on purpose…. Trying to give me a heart attack! More himself now and feeling that Svein had suspected him of what he had done, he conspired to prove his innocence by airing his grievance with an indignant voice, “We really should have killed them, you know. Leave no loose ends I say.  It was wrong of us to leave them behind to perhaps succeed in freeing themselves.  What if they were rescued sooner than we figured, and hastened to trouble us, well before we rescued my grandson?  Aye, that won’t be any joke!”

Suppressing his rising temper at this blatant deception, Svein responded with an even tone, “That is not likely to happen, elder.  We are making good time.” 

But irked Yagu Dorka would not let the matter rest.  In response to Yagu Dorka’s subsequent provocation, his dishonest, manipulative ways, Svein’s curt (brusque) response was unavoidable: “And I say enough blood was shed!  Besides, rendered incapacitated, killing them at such a state would be deemed nothing less than a murder.  How can we expect Heaven’s help, if we embrace evil and practice unjust, wrongful ways?”

“You are too naive, my son.  Bandits aren’t just misdirected men.  They have no morality or scruples and all the time they deliberately cause injury to ordinary folks for money and other such material gains. They prey on the weak, the vulnerable and all decent beings. They are no better than wild beasts.  They should all be done away with, exterminated like the vermin they are, if you ask me, wiped off the face of the earth!  You are wasting your sympathy on the likes of them?  But, why argue the point, since we are well on our way?  Eh well, I hope we won’t regret your good hearted, humane decision later.”

Svein made no reply to this pretend self-righteous sermon. Yagu Dorka had no shame, no shame at all!

Biting his tongue, Svein simply glared on ahead, and then once more, spurred the horse into full gallop.

Frightened to death over again that he might fall, the old man abandoned his next line of argument and tightened his strong grip around Svein’s waist.

After a quarter of a day’s travel, the farm dwelling in question finally came into view. 

Yagu Dorka, in his hopeful anticipation forgot his fatigue, his aching bones, his resentment of Svein, and, donning a broad smile he, with eager eyes, awaited Svein’s help to dismount.

The stern, robust farmer had harbored some misgivings when the innkeeper had approached him regarding the sale of the boy but, since the price had been irresistible and well within his means, and since he needed another farmhand at worst, or, at best, a prospective groom for one of his multitudes of girl children, he had therefore rushed to conclude the deal.

The innkeeper, a front for the bandits, had fed him the story that the boy’s father was an unfortunate traveler who had fallen gravely ill while staying at the inn and soon after arriving had succumbed to death.  In lieu of the lodging and medical expenses that had been incurred the innkeeper had, therefore, put the boy up for sale to recover some of his losses. 

Now this sort of transaction, resulting from the misfortunes of stranded travelers, occurred frequently enough with no trouble trailing after it, so the appearance of two strangers, who declared that the boy had been abducted by bandits and was theirs to claim, sent the farmer into seething rage, fear and regret.

 It was mainly due to Svein’s distinguished, commanding presence and his fine manner of speech, that they were at all received and allowed to air their grievances.  Had the old man taken this journey alone, he would have forfeited his life before single utterance of a word. 

The farmer would have sooner killed him as a trespasser or a suspected bandit, or simply driven Yagu Dorka away from the premises, professing ignorance of any such transaction and quickly disposing of the incriminating evidence, then plain turning the boy over to him.  As it were, compelled to admit ownership, the farmer still griped (complained) about the idea of returning the boy; insisting on being first compensated for the incurred expenses- such as his time, food, and funds.

 “Or we can take up the matter with the innkeeper or the authorities.” he bluffed.

Svein, wishing to end the matter quickly, asked the farmer to state his price for the boy’s redemption.

Since it was also in the best interests of the farmer to settle the matter quickly, fearing worse trouble in the wake of these two, he promptly quoted an exaggerated amount.

Before Svein could respond the old man hastily interjected, “Please, son, allow me.  He is, after all, my kin and you have done so much for me already.”

 But, as he reached into his purse, Yagu Dorka could not help but murmur: “The idea!  Paying to get back one’s own grandson!  He is but another robber!”

 Fortunately, his words were barely audible; otherwise, it would have simply added fuel to the farmer’s ire and growing discontent. 

The other, seeing the size of Yagu Dorka’s purse, angrily reflected on how he could have milked this old man for still more.

The wretched condition of the little boy when he was returned produced fresh tears in Yagu Dorka’s eyes and rehashed acute resentments towards the bandits and this undoubtedly cruel farmer.  Still, choosing not to make an issue of it, they took their leave without delay.

“Elder, from here on, you shall not need my help.  For your safety’s sake I think that you should make haste and travel out of this district.  My presence will only slow you down.”  Svein dismounted, leaving the old man, cradling his grandson, alone on the horse. 

“Hang onto the straps, Elder and gently tug, for slow advance. The steed is well tempered, but whatever you do, don’t kick his sides with your feet. I now bid you farewell, elder; go with Heaven’s blessings and may you prosper in your new life.”

So, saying Svein veered and made his way towards the hills for a shortcut.

“Eyyy!!! Stop…Come back! I don’t know how to ride…. And I’ve yet to thank you properly for all that you have done for me!” Yagu Dorka shouted after Svein.

 “That’s not necessary, elder.” Svein shouted back, looking over his shoulder, as he continued with his swift strides.

“Come back, son!  How can I take the horse, too?  It rightfully belongs to you.  And what about the remainder of the ransom money?”, again Yagu Dorka insisted.

“You will have more need of both than I. But that reminds me, when you are at considerable distance from here, before you reach a safe town, you should also consider releasing Chieftain Seno’s horse in the countryside. A recognizable mount could beget you, unwarranted trouble.   Now, please ride on to take advantage of the daylight hours.”  Svein then picking up speed rounded the hill.

The child, not understanding his grandfather’s anguish, began crying in fright. 

“Hush, child.  There’s nothing to be afraid of, not anymore.”  When Yagu Dorka next raised his head to look at Svein he found the young man had already disappeared from view.  Through the tears that misted his eyes the old man investigated the void and whispered his heartfelt gratitude to Svein; then, as directed he gently tugged at the reins (strap), and let out a deep sigh of relief when the horse began trotting along on the main road.

                                                                                                 ~

                              

Svein had taken the path through the hills to make up for the lost time.  On his return he would, if he could help it, abstain from saying anything at all his escapade- if the sequence of events that had transpired could be called that- to his discerning uncle.  He had blatantly defied Stark’s rule of non-interference; and he was not entirely sure how best to explain this infringement (breach, violation) so as not to disappoint or anger Stark.

                                                                                       ~

                                                                                                                     

“Well, are you going to buy the horse or not?”  The mixed tones of agitation and desperation in the steward Kurin’s voice snapped Svein back from his temporary distraction.

“Oh, may I again inquire after your last quoted price?” Svein quickly getting a grip on himself politely asked.

“All right, all right, but you sure do drive a hard bargain.  I will lower my price another fifty, but that’s it.  That’s my final price, take it or leave it.”

“Then I’ll take it”, Svein announced in an even tone, after a brief pause, masking his bursting delight.

Grumbling, huddling their heads together, the few remaining spectators dispersed, some pitying Svein, others calling him ‘stupid’ behind his back.

 A commencement of a strange conversation from shadows just then piqued Svein’s intrigue and so discretely, he poised (prepared) to listen to the rest.

“Shall we pursue him?” A seedy well-hidden character under the eaves, subsequently asked another.

“Whatever for, oh you mean the horse?  No, it’s not worth our while.” The taller one of the two shrugged.

“Granted, it has some strikes against it, but it is still a good stallion.” The stout shorter fellow insisted:” Why, if it weren’t for the mark and the color, it could rival the leader Seno’s horse.”

“Boy, are you way off!  You mean to tell me after all this time you still can’t tell the difference in breeds?”

“All right, no need to rub it in. One mistake, that’s all it was…one lousy mistake and you’ve never let me forget it! I suppose you’ve never erred, your highness the proficient wrangler.”

“Speaking of Seno” the other ignored the curt rebuff, “have you heard what had happened to him?”

Nodding, the first one answered, “Yes, I heard, a terrible, terrible thing. They found what was left of his partially burned headless carcass, and that’s because the winds had shifted. They found two more corpses in the bottom of the well. That took some doing; one had to be lowered down there with a lit candle to identify the cadavers. Fortunately, the well had been dry.”

Drawing nearer, the tall sinewy one lowered his voice to say, “Our chief was furious and dispatched men everywhere to find the culprits of this massacre, suspecting a group of at least ten.  If you ask me, though, I think it was the work of the rival Micko Gang, and they would have needed twenty or more to help vanquish them all in that gruesome way.  You know how skilled Seno and Roux were, and according to the reliable grapevine, there had been five in all that had set out for that old fool’s hut that day.  I’m convinced the stuff with the old man was but a ruse; this was a well-planned ambush, if you ask me?”

“I am with you on that, though according to the farmer that the alleged grandson had been sold to, he swears only two, a formidable youth and the old geezer that had shown up in mid-day I think, to demand the child’s return and to rob him. The farmer had complied suspecting also that the rest of the gang must have stayed well hidden in the small woods nearby ready to pounce, though I can’t imagine why?”

 “Yeah, why stop there, why not rush that place and raise it to rubble or ashes, also after pillaging…why be satisfied with, though I grant it, quite a sizeable sum… the farmer’s entire life’s savings.”

“You think he’s in on it too?”

“We’ll soon know. The magistrate is landing a hand also, dispatching spies everywhere to get at the culprits. And I hear there’s been a bounty put on their heads.”

Gradually their voices had drifted (melted) into the distance within the dark alleyway, well beyond the reach of Svein’s sharp ears.

“You wouldn’t be having second thoughts now, would you sir? A deal is a deal!”  Meanwhile the impatient steward drawing Svein’s attention anew egged Svein on towards the completion of the transaction.  “I’ll even throw in the saddle for free, a sort of good measure.” he boisterously declared as Svein was about to sign the papers.  Then, no sooner had he received the correct amount and transferred the ownership documents over to Svein that he took to his heels and disappeared entirely from view.  He did not wait to see the result of Svein’s attempt at mounting the steed, nor did he care.  He was not about to stick around for the inevitable repercussions from the new owner, who’d without fail, like so many other prospective buyers had, be thrown off and consequently suffer physical injury, as well, the effrontery to his dignity.

Had he stuck around he would have witnessed the rarest occurrence, akin to a miracle. For this rider had hung on…. for how long, no one could say.

As it were, right from the start Svein had showed unusual daring by throwing away the riding crop that the steward had handed him, though he had approached the high-spirited horse with some caution.  He first patted the mane and imparted a few soothing words into the animal’s ear, as if in communication, then, setting foot in the stirrup, mounted the horse.  He had barely enough time to grasp the reins and sound the command to advance when the steed suddenly took off at a gallop. 

Market place, then the actual town, in a blinking of an eye, diminishing from rear view; as with lightning speed, oblivious to Svein’s commands, the steed, bounded over fences, rocks, thick bushes, ponds and other such obstructions, and cut a path under and over low-hanging tree branches.  Subsequently, with purposeful intent, the charger (horse) tried his best to throw his rider off his back.  But Svein, with skill and equal persistence, had hung on for the duration, fastening his grip on the reins and (his legs) clinging tightly to the animal.

After countless hours spent at the gallop the stallion, now soaked in sweat, finally conceded and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of nowhere.  Svein dismounted and sat on the ground to catch his breath, trusting the animal not to run away.  The arduous journey had left him drained of energy as well, but he remained neither angry nor resentful of the horse.  Quite to the contrary, the steed’s defiant spirit had won his approval and respect.

When his breathing had returned to normal Svein threw a sidelong glance at the stallion and burst into loud, hearty laughter; the horse in turn reciprocated the same, by whinnying and thumping his right foot on the ground.  Then an unusual thing happened.  The horse moved right up to Svein and, with his hot breath assailing Svein’s back, gently nudged him, clearly wanting another go at it.

“All right, I’ll oblige, but I dare you to show me more of your tricks.  Feel free to test my stamina and skill against your own and fear no reprisals.  But if I win, you must admit that I am worthy (person to be in charge) and accept me as your master.”

As if the horse had understood this new dare, he nodded his head and whinnied then stood perfectly still for Svein to mount him.

No sooner was Svein in the saddle than the horse shook the flecks of foam from his mouth then reared, bucked and, when that did not work, fell into full gallop once more.  Going faster than an arrow just released from the bow they raced through the strange countryside on and on, their path eventually illuminated, only by the countless stars that dotted the sky and the glorious full moon that looked on with his curious smile.

 With his unyielding nature the stallion did his utmost to exhaust, and at the same time goad Svein, essaying all manner of tricks to throw Svein off of his back.  During the incessant ride, at times low-lying branched grazed Svein’s back, while at other times the horse himself fell victim to his own tricks, with Svein barely escaping injury by straddling the horse’s side.

 In the end the horse had to submit to Svein’s will and acknowledged him as a worthy master.

Standing in the middle of a field astride the horse, Svein looked at the deep night sky.  “New master, new name, I think I shall call you Fiery Comet.”, Svein sounded his decision in the horse’s ear, receiving a whinny and nod of the head in compliance.

                                                                                

With pride swelling in his chest, Svein was able to reach the cabin after several days riding and had called out to his uncle, anxious to show off his treasure.

Stark was most impressed and wanted to know at once how Svein had come by such a superior breed of war-horse.

FIERY COMET

Concealing some facts, while embellishing others, Svein had told his uncle the whole story.  Stark, though aware that his nephew had not been entirely truthful with him, had not dwelt on it and allowed Svein a moment of respite.

 

                                                                                          ~

(STAY TUNED FOR SECTION 5)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE WEDDING - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 2

FIERY COMET

Svein, spotting this magnificent horse had been unable to restrain his admiring gaze, and so had lingered on the spot a moment or two longer than usual.  However, prejudging that the horse of this breed and magnificent bearing would be far beyond his means, he then turned and prepared to pass it by when the burly (robust) steward Kurin rushed towards him and, grabbing hold of his sleeve and tugging at it, began steering Svein towards the horse, as he wagged his tongue in coercion.

“You look like an intelligent and discerning young man, one that recognizes the worth of this magnificent steed.  All about here are fools, pay no attention to them.  Come, come, and look.  Take a good closer look; see how spirited and strong he is.  Look at his strong body, his shining coat, his luxurious mane.  Is he not superior to any others you’ve seen in the market today?  Why, you should feel privileged just to be near such a magnificent stallion.”

Holding his awe in check, Svein nodded his head approvingly.  Truly the horse was a superb specimen, a breed the like of which he had not seen before- save for the pages of books.  Excitement filled his heart as he approached the animal.

“Listen, I can see that you are an astute young lad.  I mean to do you a good turn,” Kurin continued ceaselessly, encouraged by Svein’s lack of an outright refusal to take a closer look at the horse.  “For you are not like this other beggarly lots.  No sir, you are indeed a most worthy young man.  You deserve to own such a horse, and I mean to help you realize your goal.  The horse should be ridden by one such as yourself and no other.  What do you say?  Are you interested?  If you are, I’m willing to make further concessions, and, just for you, I’ll even lower my asking price still another notch.  Well, what do you say?  Now, don’t take too long to make up your mind, or I may realize that I’m being too generous and therefore rescind my offer.  I mean I may change my mind about letting it go for such a low price.  As it is, I’m already taking a big loss.”

Though he had kept alluding to ‘lower price’, no specific figure had been cited, and, having arrived late at the market, Svein had not the slightest idea as to what price the steward was referring to. Still, it would not do to inform the seller of this.

“Sir, you are most generous with your offer of this horse to me, and I remain not without gratitude for your consideration.  Indeed, I would feel it an honor to own such a magnificent steed.” Svein declared with an appeasing smile.  But then he hesitated with his next words as he fingered the few remaining gold pieces in his pocket.  “However, I doubt that I can meet your asking price, therefore I must ask you, sir, to allow me to continue on my way.”  So, saying, he tried to take his leave, but the seller pretended not to have heard Svein’s last words and hastened forward, leading the horse by the bridle, until he again stood in solid stance before Svein.

Kurin’s forced smile made the scar on his forehead and cheek even more seemingly, as he tried his best to appear congenial. “Though the asking price is quite low, it can be further negotiated to meet with your approval, sir.”  He then invited Svein to take another close look and mount the horse for a good try if he so desired.  When Svein showed reluctance, Kurin quickly quoted his rock-bottom price.  Svein, dumbfounded by the lowness of it, was devoid of any response.  Unfortunately, it was still not low enough for Svein.  Just as Svein was about to explain to the steward that he was not against making the deal, only that he had within his means, a slightly lesser amount than even the last quoted price, when a do-gooder, keeping his distance, extended his warning to Svein with a shout, not to make the purchase.

Persistent haranguer, undeterred by Kurin’s murderous look as he ground his teeth, at safer distance, continued with his barking his dire warnings and hurling at Kurin many vulgar, slanderous words.  As he did this his animated gestures anew, drew (magnetized) more spectators to the scene.  Others joined in; in safe distance as well, they flung their abusive words at the steward Kurin for trying to sell a dangerous animal to the unsuspecting youth; while still others directed their voices at Svein, advising him not to be duped by this cheat.

The exchanged hostility, the cacophony of hurled abuses, slanders and threats – this dangerous precedence was unexpectedly thwarted however, upon the sudden appearance of an armed regulator (police) on the scene.   Many took to their heels; save for Svein and the Steward.

Kurin going forward, exchanged few words with the regulator some of it appearing to be a threat; but then he pressed the necessary bribe into the palm of the regulator, promised to conclude his business succinctly and about face, he retreated his steps back to Svein.

Encouraged by the fact that this brave youth had not scattered like the rest and in fact, remained on the scene, Kurin now did his best to finalize the deal. As an added incentive, he even lowered the quoted price further.

In truth, from the start Svein had recognized the horse’s fiery, untamed nature and had also been aware of the superstition concerning the markings.  Only, possessing a clearer head and understanding the root of it, he had remained quite undeterred in his aim.  The only obstruction to this transaction had been the shortfall (insufficiency) of his funds.

When Svein had left home, he had within his means more than enough in gold to cover any deal but, due to circumstances encountered along the way, the sum had been greatly reduced, leaving him now in this bind.  Still, he was not disheartened.  Recognizing his advantageous position he had simply bid his time and waited to hear the desired sum.

Short time before the appearance of the regulator on the scene, though it had been inconceivable, Svein had thought, for a spell, he’d recognized a certain old man among the jeering crowd; but after brief scrutiny, he’d heaved a sigh of relief knowing his eyes had deceived him, that in fact, it had not been him. A curious expression dawned (manifested) on his face just then, as the wagging tongues of the crowd around him gradually grew muted and another reality set in - the reality of the last two days.

                                                                                  ~

 Svein was back on the lone stretch of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, advancing with bold strides.  Under the canopy of the smoldering midday sun, he remained oblivious to the rivulets of perspiration that ran down his forehead.  Not a breath of air stirred.  All was eerily quiet.  The dust kicked off by his feet leisurely settled back once more behind him to create shallow, solitary impressions of his feet.  Tall grasses, partially yellowed, drooped in a listless mood flanking the road. His feet subsequently led him to even more desolate section, where large areas of earth were mantled in misshapen mounts of black, at times sticky hard, charcoaled, amidst powdery black shapes generating bizarre, surreal landscapes.

Shortly before dawn, in another inhospitable segment that had cut through a rocky ridge (ravine), he had had a brush with the group of bandits.  They had pegged him an easy prey since he was traveling alone on this isolated route.  But even though they were armed, mounted and greatly outnumbered him, after several rounds of fighting, seeing that Svein could not be bested, they had scurried off in defeat to the safety of the hills.

At such a young age, caution being an alien concept to the youthful enthusiasm, it had occurred to Svein during the fight to unhorse one of the burly bandits and then gallop after the fleeing bunch, to teach them a proper lesson they soon won’t forget. But that same instant, unbidden had come to mind, his uncle’s stern face and words that quickly curtailed this objective.

Dusting off his clothes, he’d then with unfaltering energy, had continued on his way, in due course covering a great distance and though it was now midday, he still had kept up his speed without stopping for rest, food, water, shade or encountering another sort of brigand band or group of thugs, hence, missing out on another exciting opportunity to practice his prowess.

 A while back he had felt certain spying eyes tracking his advance, but after a time, they had shrewdly aborted the notion of another, equally unproductive engagement.

The surrounding landscape growing still more desolate with each step, he was on the verge of being despondent (glum) by the insipid surroundings and the subsequent lackluster (drab) trek that went on and on without end- when the tedious silence was broken by the distant, barely audible sobs and groans.  His acute hearing homing into this disturbance, he advanced towards it with renewed zeal- anything to break this monotony! The ejected sounds gradually increased in volume with each step, a telltale sign that he was headed in the right direction.  And sure enough, before long the obscure object on the side of the road, beside a ditch up ahead, began to take form of that of an old man, a peasant in somewhat tattered clothing.  He was crouched in the outline of a ball, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.  At present he had his head buried between his arms as he continued to emit sporadic groans punctuated by heart- rending sobs.  Svein hastened his steps towards this unfortunate fellow and, nearing him, halted only a few inches away.

Reaching out and gently placing a hand over the old man’s shoulder, he then accosted him, “What ails you, elder?  Can I be of any help?”

With a start the old man ceased his loud sobs and looked up; so, consumed he’d been with his troubles and sorrow that he’d remained oblivious up till then, to Svein’s presence.  What greeted Svein was the weathered, dusty face, scored with wrinkles and scars, evidently wiped clean with the tears that had poured endlessly from his puffed, bloodshot eyes.  In the absence of words latter gazed fixedly at Svein’s face, surveying his features to see if he recognized him.

No, he did not know of him at all; and he always prided himself on having a good memory for faces.  A look of anger and scorn replaced his surprise just then, as his mouth tightened in a frown.   So, what business of his, was it anyway?  Was he mocking him?  Had he the intent to rob him also?

But Svein’s gentle caring face, the sincerity in his eyes quickly (muted all suspicion) melted away his frown and froze the subsequent words of retort on this tongue.  Instead, in a muffled voice he gave this reply, “It’s good of you to ask, stranger, there is really nothing you or anyone else can do to ease my pain. So be off with you lad.  My troubles are unsolvable; leave me alone with my misery.  Ah, if only I’d never been born!”  Having said this, he once more cupped his face in his hands and burst into loud sobs.  When he next raised his head, feeling spent, drained of all energy from all that grief, he abruptly ceased his crying; his curiosity piqued, he looked askance at the youth, interested in knowing why he still loitered about and not skedaddled like he should have. (Why hadn’t he taken his leave?)

YAGU DORKA

“Are you still here?  Why don’t you go away?  Scram.  Go on, leave me alone.  Let me die in peace.” Finding his courage then, he shouted at Svein angrily as if to unburden his stored-up hostility and grief that so heavily oppressed his chest.  Then within his erratic outbursts, his rage succumbing to his grief once more, he began to wail, “What, oh what have I got to live for, anyway?  They are all gone.  Now he will be lost to me, as well.  I will never see him again.  Why, oh why did I toil all these years?  To what purpose was my youth spent?  What retribution am I paying for?”  With crazed emotion then, he pulled hard at his disheveled, matted hair till small clumps of it came loose in his palms.  He stared at them as if in surprised disbelief, with eyes unfocused.  He was clearly in shock, his brain seemingly atrophied; his senses, his strength began to ebb and, by degrees, emaciated with grief- this presupposed great tragedy had clearly proven too much for him to manage.

Svein’s heart ached for the devastated old man and so again he persisted in his offering of help, “Respected elder, please tell me of your troubles. Maybe I can be of some help.  No man is alone in this world.  It was fate that set me on your path.  Please allow me this chance to offer you some slight solace.”

“Why should you help me? Why should you want to, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, do I?” he irately asked, not expecting an answer.

“No sir, we have never met, but that should not prevent fellow travelers alone on the road from giving aid to one another.  My wish is most sincere.  Please accept my help.”

Still unconvinced the stubborn old man shook his head.  “This is a common road. It was not fate that brought you here.  I know the God’s have forsaken me.  I am done for, finished.  No one can lessen my misery!”  Though he had said this punctuated by sighs, the note of tragedy in his voice nevertheless had lessened.  He was, in fact, partially soothed by the stranger’s concern.  Inwardly he was grateful that at any rate he had received a sympathetic ear to his troubles, even though he expected little else to come of this.

 As Svein dispensed further kind words, little by little he won the old man’s confidence, the grief gave way to reason and, by degrees, he became more disposed to divulging his troubles and receiving Svein’s help.

It was quite apparent from the old man’s earlier reluctance that he had never seen such kindness from others, let alone from a stranger.  After their brief introduction, in which Svein learned that the old man’s name was Yagu Dorka, the old man began, in a rather incoherent way at first, to relay the cause of his grief.

  Yagu Dorka told this sympathetic youth, how he once not too badly off, had bought a girl slave, Misa, with the intent of making her, after she grew up, his son’s wife.

 “They are cheaper if you purchase them young and rear them yourself.  On top of it, it would spare you the expense of a dowry.  Tell me, I know you are still young, but has your marriage been arranged yet?”

Svein’s reddened face brought a faint smile of amusement to the old man’s lips.

 “But it won’t be long, eh?  Your parents should think ahead.  It won’t be a joke if you were to come of age without the benefit of marriage.”

Svein felt extremely uncomfortable with this kind of talk.  As it was, until that very moment he had given girls no thought at all, let alone contemplating marriage.  He shifted his body with some discomfort.

“All right, I’ll say no more.” Yagu Dorka consented with a mischievous grin.  He was satisfied at having dispensed this piece of advice and was now eager to continue with the rest of his story.  “When she reached marriageable age, she was promptly wed, without too much fuss, to my only son. Oh, I forgot to tell you his name, Ake, it means to forbear.  Yes, Ake was my one and only precious boy, for his mother had borne me no other living children.  Ah, never mind.  As I was saying, Ake was truly handsome, and Misa had grown up to be quite a pretty girl, so it was a good match.  On top of that she was a good worker, a good, sturdy girl.  Never a day was she sick.”

MISA AND AKE

Though, at the time of this marriage, Yagu Dorka’s wife had been deceased for some three years it still had not prevented the occasion from being a festive one.  When, ten months later, Misa bore a beautiful, healthy grandson, Yagu Dorka’s happiness had been boundless, and his future assured.

“Ahhh,” again he heaved a deep sigh, “little did I know that my happiness would be short lived.  Five years, five years was all that my happiness lasted.  I tell you; fate has been very cruel to me.  I am a hardworking, poor farmer with no vices.  I have only a few acres of infertile land to my name, and though my son and daughter-in-law toiled over that land from sunrise to sunset, just as I and my wife had done in our youth, we barely scratched out enough of a crop to sustain our meager existence.  Still, I was content for at least here, in this desolate corner, we did not have to pay heavy taxes or kickbacks, like so many, in other parts of the country.

“Last year we finally had a copious (bountiful) harvest, and we had enough spare after expenses, to buy us a mule.  My foolish son argued with me endlessly that if we had a mule pulling the plow, we would get double the work done and thus, land might yield us bit more harvest.  Why should we put the money away for a rainy day?  Little did I know that owning a mule would bring us such trouble?”

 Then, as if reminded, he looked Svein straight in the eye and cautioned, “Son, be careful, since you are headed for the town, for there are many disguised brigands that are there at the market, to pick out the potential victims, see what they are buying, and then follow them out onto the road…  Meanwhile word has been sent ahead for an ambush.  Sometimes they will follow you right to your home, learn your whereabouts, and then later return in numbers to raid your place for even greater gain.  Ahhh...”  The old man paused as he reflected.  This left no doubt in Svein’s mind that was what had happened to Yagu Dorka’s family.

“Though the mule is not that highly prized, wonder what was on that ruffian’s mind that he should have stalked my son all the way home?”, he loudly queried to himself, startling Svein from his rumination.  “But it must have been fate, for the villain from his hiding place caught sight of my daughter-in-law, who had rushed out to greet her husband, and being quite taken by her good looks- for I admit, she was rather blessed with feminine attributes- lusted after her.  Returning to his lair he then must have told enough convincing lies to lure some of his friends to accompany him, with the promise of good plunder.  This I concluded from all their bickering and swearing when they found so little to rob in our place and realized they had been properly duped on this supposed heist.  The coward had needed assistance you see, to carry out his evil intent.”

Yagu Dorka ground his teeth in contempt then impatiently wiped away a trickle of tears that had escaped his eyes.  “Our place, set out of the way, was built to guard against nature’s calamities and occasional, wondering wild animals, not against dangers from bandits.  I told my son, I pleaded with him, ‘Let them take all, let him have her.  Why resist?’  Though he was young and strong, what did he know about fighting?  Besides, he was one against many.  But no, foolish, foolish boy!  Ahhh!  Still, it was going to happen, what can I say?  I threw myself at the burly lout’s feet and begged him to spare my son’s life when he’d pinned him to the ground under his sword.  But he only laughed at me then, baring a fiendish grin, as he cruelly slit my son’s throat.  At that moment my whole body went numb, and the world darkened (diminished) before my eyes.  Meanwhile at the far end of the room the culprit ruffian had cornered Misa.  Her eerie screams just then as he began having his way with her, curdled my blood that had already gone cold and snapped me from my trance.  Before I could say or do anything, however, the swine, having had enough of her screams, landed her a powerful punch, which proved fatal and silenced her forever.  The brute, even after she was gone, he continued to...”  Yagu Dorka could not go on and turned his head away in silence.  It was some time before he could resume his story.

When he began anew, Svein rushed to stop him from telling further, seeing the pain it caused him, but the old man insisted.  “No, let me finish…The other goons, those disgruntled hoodlums ransacked my place, then they pried my grandson from my arms, the child screaming and kicking with all his might, and warned me that, unless I came up with some ransom money within a week, I would never see him alive again.  But where can I get this supposed money?  They have already cleaned me out, took everything I had of any value, carted away all my stored grain and seeds.  All I had been left with was that few acres of land out back and few lesser crops planted late and not yet ready for harvesting.  But all my pleas and cries for mercy went unheeded and I was left alone with the corpses.  Taking a grip on myself, I first buried them.  Then, taking the deeds to my land with me I headed to town.  After an extended try, I finally sold them, even then, for half of what they were worth.  But it was still not enough. Since then, I’ve wrecked my brain, trying countless ways to come up with the rest, all to no avail.  Now what am I to do?  Tomorrow is the day of their vowed return, and I have zip, zero, and zilch, nothing further left to sell.”

“Why didn’t you complain to the magistrate when you were in town?” Svein naively asked.  “Surely you could have gotten some help from them.  It is not right that you should give in to kidnappers’ extortion.”

“Are you not from these parts?” Yagu Dorka angrily snapped, but before Svein could give his reply, “Of course not,” came his own conclusion.  With a nod of his head, “Son, in this district the magistrate, the so-called law enforcement is but a farce.  In some ways he and his deputies are far worse than they are.  Some even claim that he is in cahoots with the bandits, just like the prior corrupt official he’d replaced.  Why do you suppose there are so many innkeepers, other such businesses that are thriving in town?  There really is no one, no honest citizen, or higher official you can trust to take on your case.  If I was not to heed their warning and go on complaining to the magistrate or anyone else and the word reached them, I would be in far worse fix…  There is no limit to their cruelty, I tell you, and I shudder to think what will befall my grandson then!” An involuntary quiver passed through him just then. After a momentary pause, he again, abruptly cried out in dismay, “Oh, I am getting too old for such trouble.  All this worrying has taken years off my life and made me more muddle headed.  And to think, all this happened because that son of mine wanted to better our lot…  If only he had remained content!  But what’s the use of complaining about it now?  They are all gone.  All I have left is my grandson, that is why I must do all I can to save him.”  Then he mumbled to himself, “But how can I redeem him?”  Again, he fell into deep despair and, ignoring Svein, stared to sob as before.

“Please elder, stop crying.  I meant what I had said before.  And, since I am in a position, I will gladly cover the sum necessary to meet their demands.”

Had Yagu Dorka heard the stranger right?  Were his ears deceiving him?  “You would do that for me, someone you’d just met?” the old man asked in great surprise as he, same time scrutinized this youth’s attire now more closely. He was no pauper, that’s for sure.

Svein nodded his head, sporting a broad, supportive smile on his lips.

“Oh, son, you are too good to believe.  Truly you must be a saint or an immortal, descended from Heaven.  Well, I’ll be...There is justice on this black earth after all!”

So, saying, Yagu Dorka began shedding, but this time, tears of joy.

“As there is no honor among thieves, my only concern is that they might not return the boy,” Svein voiced his private misgivings, withholding the words “in safety.”

“That’s a chance I have to take.”  Yagu Dorka now with renewed spirits bounced back with his swift response.  “Besides, he’s only five years in age and a rather meek boy in physique.  More likely they will return him to me for another five years before trying to abduct him again, only I won’t be here.  Even if I must beg my way, I will get away, far, far away from this place.  Come to think of it, I do have a distant, distant relative, a cousin of sorts from my father’s side that perhaps I could seek out.”  But wait a minute; he quickly checked his enthusiasm; he hadn’t seen any money yet.   “Son, are you sure you want to give me this sum?”  So, saying, he now quoted a figure.  “It is a bit much.” Then quickly swallowed the words and I am not sure when I can pay you back. He didn’t dare profess this outwardly, fearful of deterring him; nevertheless, his conscience forced him to add, “Are you sure you can spare it?”

“Of course I can, elder, and please do not concern yourself with how you can pay me back, for I am giving this sum to you as a gift.”  As he said this, Svein produced from his pocket a leather money purse.  After placing a smaller some from it into his pocket, he handed the pouch to the old man.  “I’m sorry I’m unable to give you still more.  Please keep the purse as a token of our meeting.”

When the old man opened the pouch and saw the amount, disbelieving the weight of it, his face at once flushed.  “Oh, but this is entirely too much!  You’ve made a mistake, son, you have given me far, far more than I needed.”

“No, elder,” Svein replied with a smile as he refused to take back the difference, “The rest is for your traveling expenses.  Now please put it away in your safekeeping.  I have more than enough to cover my expenses.”  So, saying, Svein patted his pocket on the outside for emphasis.  In truth, he had kept only the bare minimum for the purchase of a moderate horse.  He, in his generosity, had denied himself a place of sleep and food once in town.  But he was not concerned.

Meanwhile, the old man was beside himself with joy.  Never in his life had he seen so much money all at once.  Countless years of lucky, bountiful harvest and frugal living would not have produced this accumulated sum, which he now held in his hands.  Fearful lest it should vanish into thin air, or that he would wake up and find himself deluded by a fanciful dream, he tightened his grip on the purse and then gave himself a pinch.  The pain convinced him of its reality. 

Now beaming in face, his heart filled with hope, he thanked Svein endlessly and insisted that Svein accompany him to his humble dwelling to pass this night as his honored guest.

 He reasoned with Svein that it was the least he could do to repay such kindness.  “Besides,” he reasserted, “the town is still two day’s journeys from this spot, while my home is but only a few hours’ travel in distance.”

Since Svein had committed himself to helping this old man, he accepted Yagu Dorka’s invitation with gracious words.

 

(END OF SECTION 2)