LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 1
It seemed as if an immeasurable time had passed, since Nevetsecnuac had forged ahead towards Lord Shonne Gulbrand's province that lay on route to the Capital.
All through his travels and encounters Nevetsecnuac noted the
prevailing and encompassing currents of fear and despair that emanated from the
perpetual clampdown on the population.
It was heart wrenching to observe the already ravaged individuals
striving to survive under the tyrannical rule of the oppressive bureaucrats and
their minions, who imposed impossibly burdensome taxes, conscript labor and
military service on all.
What was worse was the
disheartening lack of backbone, never mind the least hope for a spark of rebellion
or the smallest inkling of any insurgency rising from the piled ashes of these
enslaved masses.
The option of capitulating, however, was not in Nevetsecnuac’s
vocabulary…. And could not be so! Resolutely therefore Nevetsecnuac had
consoled himself through it all, reflecting on the indomitable spirit of the
Wenjenkun nation and the invincible fabric that had once forged this great
nation, hoping against hope that it will do so yet again under the right
circumstance and leadership, perhaps in five if not in eight year’s time.
~
Alas, Heng Erling, by his action of luring Nevetsecnuac
prematurely from his safe mountain abode had irrevocably altered the course of
Wenjenkun’s History.
~
It so happens that bad weather particularly downpours have
their own surprising advantages. One of which is, when torrential rains
ruthlessly pelt the inhabitants no one, including heavily armed guards manning
the gates at border provinces, be in any mood to be fastidious or vigilant. And so, on such a dismal afternoon,
Nevetsecnuac properly disguised, blended right in with a returning group of
merchants and their servants leading their heavily laden carts with varied
goods, passing right through, without least trouble, the first two checkpoints.
The long caravan (Nevetsecnuec was in) later still halted
before the iron gates and waited for the prompt dispensing of the customary
bribe by the group’s leader before passing unimpeded this and the final
checkpoint and entered the territory of Gulbrand province. As dusk was quickly approaching, the group
picked up momentum and hastened along the dirt road towards the nearest
habitation.
Nevetsecnuac inconspicuously separating (at this point) from
the pack, arrived at a modest inn at the outskirts of the village. Checking
into a room and ordering simple fare, he made discreet inquiries about the
state of affairs in Moulon.
The fact that Gulbrand’s name was shunned, however, confirmed
Nevetsecnuac’s worst fears about the Lord’s fate. To his added dismay he
learned that the province’s current ruling tyrant bore the name Shouzi Yozdek.
On the third day there was finally a welcome reprieve from the
persistent deluge. Settling his account,
Nevetsecnuac quickly retrieved his horse from the stables and led him by the
reins to negotiate the winding, narrow gravel path that eventually led to the
outlying fields. The mid-day sun’s golden rays, streaming from the cerulean sky
free of any clouds, now bathed the fields with the last remnants of a harvest
resting in haystacks. It should have
been a heartwarming scene but here as well, Nevetsecnuac noted the bitter
oppression that seemed permanently etched on the solemn, miserable faces of the
peasants bending over toiling the land which they will do from sunup to
sunset.
A few days later when Nevetsecnuac, riding his horse rounded
an extended hill, he observed in a vast clearing the most surprising scene.
There in the distance was a most extraordinary, fortified, affluent border
town, with high, gleaming golden towers and imposing tall gates. Access to it
could only be gained through a drawbridge constructed over a deep moat. Though reason told him to bypass this
provincial town, something else compelled him to urge his horse towards
it. Perhaps it was a sense of justice and
duty that compelled him to find out the fate of Lord Shonne Gulbrand or at
least determine where the Lord's remains now rested so that he could pay his
final respects and offer sacrifices and prayers to the benevolent Lord's soul.
Eventually the narrow path he was following converged with
other better traveled roads to become a major highway leading to the hub. Just on the outskirts of the town however,
before reaching the moat, some roads veered towards several inns of various
sizes that were nestled in a sparsely wooded area. From these establishments lively sounds and
appetizing aromas assailed the travelers' ears and noses, inviting them inside.
Unlike so many of his counterparts, Nevetsecnuac chose a
respectable one, rented a room and entrusted his horse to the custody of the
stable hands. Foregoing his meal in his
eager anticipation, he then left the premises on foot and blended in with the
crowd streaming into the town through the eastern gate just before dusk.
This being the Day of the Spirits, he found most of the
streets thronging with people and carriages.
The clamor of their voices mingled with the din of the procession. Locals, clothed in their brightly colored
garments, carrying lamps and offerings to their dead were flooding into the
temples, lit up like day, where invocations and prayers were being offered.
Trying to be inconspicuous, Nevetsecnuac moved to one of the
less crowded temples to pay his respects to the dead. Dispensing money in a bowl, he took some
candles and offerings and placed them on the altar of the God of the
underworld, Yaskur. Kneeling, he then
prayed for the souls of those long departed.
Suddenly his prayers were rudely interrupted by a rowdy bunch
of eight provincial constables.
Disregarding the sanctity of the place, they had burst into the large
hall and, in their inebriated state, surrounded a local merchant and began
rising wild pandemonium. The bullied
merchant, trembling on his knees, with pearls of perspiration dripping from his
forehead, pleaded his case as to why he was late with his promised bribe and
offered to make amends to them.
"Too late for that now.” one scoffed, glowering at the
poor, petrified merchant who was in the throes of explaining circumstances that
had prevented the prompt delivery.
"How would it look if we made an exception?" The
brute constable pinned his venomous eyes on the
merchant and gnashed his teeth.
"Your crime is unpardonable!" a third bellowed,
pushing his way to the front.
"Imagine, trying to hide in here!"
"Have mercy!” the old shopkeeper pleaded with his throat constricting, shedding tears. "This is the Night of the Spirits! You know my word is good. I will deliver as I’ve promised. I will even surpass the difference; consider it a bonus for the trouble I've caused! Honest, I wasn't going to run away! I really, really lack the means now. Just give me one more day…." A furious slap just then across the merchant’s face silenced the old man.
"Shut up, squealing pig!
We've already been to your house." The deputy grabbed the merchant
by the hair next, and spit into his face.
When the old priest rushed to intervene, he was shoved back so
violently that he flew across the room, crashing into the far corner.
Biting his lip, Nevetsecnuac rushed to help the bruised and
dizzy priest to his feet. "Are you
all right, Venerable Sir?” he whispered.
“I’m all right, only my pride is bruised” The old priest
nodded then casting a cautionary look at the other priests congregating in
opposite corner. He shook his head as if to say to them, “Stay out of this and
do nothing”. In response they lowered their heads and averted all eyes as they
remained woodenly livid with a flush of crimson gradually overtaking their
sallow cheeks.
Nevetsecnuac’s disciplined mind going against his innate
response had also quickly checked his own outrage for it would not do for him,
particularly at this juncture, to draw unwarranted attention by interfering.
The locals in the hall meanwhile had remained huddled together
with ghostly faces and trembling in fear.
The one or two defiant young souls that strove to escape this dangerous
circumstance drew instead the wrath of the irate constables. In mid flight both were tripped, fell then
were violently kicked and roundly abused. Bloodied and bruised they crawled to
the safety of a dark corner.
Another of the stout constables in the interim had taken up
post in front of the door barring any possible exit. He now hollered to command
attention, "No one is allowed to leave here 'till we're done. You are all witnesses to his crime.” He
pointed at the bloodied merchant that was still pinned down. “Does he, or does he not deserve the severe
hand of the law, I say a beating he’s received is not good enough!”
A forced murmur of assent reverberated in the temple, and the
large hall seemed suddenly, suffocating, and small.
Nevetsecnuac's face flushed.
Unable to bear it any longer, he was about to step forward to give
challenge when he felt his vest being tugged, holding him back.
Turning, he saw an elderly beggar in tattered, patched clothes
flashing him a warning look from a face scored with wrinkles and scars. Half hidden in the shadows, he whispered,
"Don't be a fool!” in a pressing tone.
Just then, another ten
constables swarmed in, creating a greater panic in the temple. The poor merchant was dragged outside,
kicking and squealing like a pig being taken to the slaughterhouse.
"He's done for.", exclaimed a trembling voice beside
Nevetsecnuac.
"We won't see him alive again, poor soul!” the distraught
priest mournfully added as he walked away to join his fellows.
No sooner had the swarm of constables gone than the crowd in
the temple hall, forsaking their purpose for being there, jostled to the door
and disappeared in a flash. The sounds
outside grew quickly muted and then silence prevailed.
"What was his great crime?” Nevetsecnuac turned to ask
the beggar, still crouched in the dark corner.
The beggar checked to see that they were the only souls that
had remained on the scene then scoffed, "Crime? He was only guilty of shortchanging his
extortion payment. Poor man, only
yesterday he buried his wife. He must
have exhausted all his funds on her funeral."
He rose to his
feet. Shaking his head in resignation he
added, "This sort of bullying goes on unchecked all the time- best that
we, too, disappear before more trouble follows."
Blocking the beggar's way, Nevetsecnuac bowed respectfully,
introduced himself as "Svein" and thanked the beggar for his help in
keeping him from potential disaster.
Unaccustomed to receiving kind greetings much less kind words, the
beggar just shrugged off Nevetsecnuac's thanks.
But remaining on the spot the beggar squinted at Svein, curiously
appraising his face and fine clothes.
Convinced of the younger man's sincerity and honesty, he then returned
the greetings and introduced himself as Lu Moldan.
You must be a stranger to these parts. Yes, you have traveled from far; Lu grasped
at the truth without voicing his inner queries.
"I don't mean to
be singing my own praises but, sir; your intended action could have landed you
in serious trouble. You could have lost
your life or worse, been imprisoned, severely beaten then tortured to
death. They would not have been as
lenient with you as they were with Father Zuri.
We all know that these bastards travel in large groups, and that it was
just a matter of time before the reinforcements showed up. How else do you think they find the courage
to carry out their lawlessness and vile acts?"
"But what of the lasting repercussions of law and order,
surely there exists, some measure of accountability within the system, however
corrupt?” The naïve and sanguine notion escaped Svein’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) lips
before it could be curtailed.
"What law? What
order?" Lu threw his head back with
a guffaw. "All officials, high and
low are corrupt! Where do you suppose
all their illegal confiscations end up?
Are you kidding me?!!” He chortled; but then seeing Svein's flushed
face, he softened, "You must have just arrived here son and that explains
it." The Beggar Lu in half
disbelief (with some skepticism) studied this idealistic youth (Svein) more
acutely before voicing his query, which he then quickly answered. “You are from far, far away… the furthest
rim, yes?” He nodded. "Well, this may not be the frontier, but, believe
me, the situation is far worse here. It
has been that way for the last twelve, or is it fifteen, long, long
excruciating years?”
“It’s been absolute hell for all who are living here… if it
could be called that! The corruption is
so rampant, so imbedded in the provincial government that... Ay!!!!” He waved a hand. “But then you must
be wondering why endure such hardships, why not look for a better existence
elsewhere. Ah, but the poverty chains
are so entrenched!” He shrugged.
“And so, we endure, wallow or lurch would be a more precise
word, this trapped state being no better off than scavenging rats. But you, you're a visitor and you must not
linger here any longer than necessary.
Heed these words if you do not scorn my poverty: Trust no one. Do not believe in anything you hear or
see. Conclude your business and be on
your way as soon as you are able, that is if you do not wish to leave your head
behind, on the executioner's block. Of
course I need not warn you about the constables."
"I'm most grateful for your concern, sir, and I will
definitely heed your good counsel."
Svein (Nevetsecnuac) bowed with thanks then, after a moment's hesitation
added, "As you are so kind as to trouble yourself with a mere stranger's
well being, sir, may I impose further on your goodwill with a query?"
"Please do."
"Sir, my purpose in coming to this province has been to
seek out Lord Shonne Gulbrand's burial place in order to pay my respects to the
great Lord. May I therefore..."
"What burial place?” the beggar snapped. "There's no such thing." Shaking his head in anger he laughed coldly
and walked away a few steps. Then he
stopped, turned and scrutinized Svein's face.
He wanted very much to ask why one as young as Svein and an obvious
stranger should be so concerned with the late Lord’s eventual resting
place. Instead, he said indignantly,
"Your search would be in vain. Even
Lord Shonne Gulbrand's Centuries old ancestral burial plots, after surviving
the ravages of time, had been vilely desecrated and obliterated into heaps of
dust. Nothing, nothing at all remains of
his legacy, his family or his name. Even
his wife, sister to the emperor, has perished long, long time ago. They are all gone, all without
exception."
 |
| 06- LU MOLDAN |
Lu abruptly paused. Though he knew he was alone with Svein,
his eyes still fearfully scanned the immediate perimeter before resuming in a
hushed voice, "If that's your only purpose in coming here, son, you had
best be on your way." Lowering his
grim face, he turned once more to go but, on reflection he stopped and, looking
back, imparted his last words of advice to Svein, "Besides, it’s far too
dangerous for you to be asking such questions around here, even after this
length of time. Now, leave well enough
alone and be gone from this misbegotten province." He clasped his stomach as pangs of hunger had
stabbed at him just then. Subsequently
distracted, he turned quickly and hurried away.
"Oh, blasted hunger!” Nevetsecnuac faintly heard Lu swear
to himself as he was drifting into the shadows.
“What sacrilege!” Nevetsecnuac fumed thinking of Lord Shonne
Gulbrand’s fate. Then his thoughts
turned to the beggar Lu, “An intriguing individual!” He mused. “I'm certain he knows far more than he's
letting on. I wonder what relationship
he bore to the late Lord to warrant such enduring loyalty.” Nevetsecnuac
inwardly queried next, mindful of the heart’s fiery passion that the beggar’s tone
could not conceal.
Nevetsecnuac then quickly made up his mind. "Please wait
up, sir!" He rushed after Lu.
For an old man the
beggar had moved with the agility of a wildcat and, within seconds, had
disappeared from view. Veering round the
corner Nevetsecnuac with his prowess quickly caught up with the beggar in a
deserted alleyway.
Laying a gentle hand on Lu's shoulder, he said, "Sir, I
would be most honored if you would consent to dine with me. I have not eaten a meal for quite some time;
furthermore, I would be most appreciative of good company."
Tears of gratitude pricked Lu's eyes once he overcame his
surprise, for he had not been treated with such kindness, such respect since
the time when...it was so long ago he could barely recollect. Averse to leaving this region, he had taken
various odd jobs that others found too detestable or too hard to do. With these skimpy earnings he had managed to
carve out a meager existence in the past but, of late, he had found no such
opportunities. There were more desperate
and fit workers than there were jobs.
His gaze shamefully fell on his own tattered and soiled
clothes. If the truth be known, his Lips
had not touched a single grain of rice or even millet for the last three days,
but he was too righteous to steal or beg.
Not that it would have done any good. Because of the recent set of
adversities, even the pious that streamed into town at this festival period,
had remained tight pursed.
Today of all days his
despondency had finally driven him into the temple with the purpose of
borrowing some of the offerings but, once there, he had relented on his planned
sacrilege and had, just moments before the disturbance occurred, quietly
resigned himself to death from starvation.
An invitation to dinner was a good fortune he had not dreamt of,
although he understood well enough Svein's motive in wanting his company.
Still, for the price of a small bowl of gruel, what Svein
wanted could be given freely; there was no need for such generosity.
Could this be a ruse to entrap him? He
mused. Spies were planted everywhere
as a rule, sending scores to the gallows every month. But why would they bother with him after all
this time and on such a night? He pondered.
It might have been
different once, but not now. He was too old and feeble to merit any fuss let
alone the expense of a trial. Assassins
abound, they would have simply snuffed out his miserable Life long ago in some
dark alley and be done with him.
A Dinner, well then with his Life so burdened with hardships,
why should he fear death any longer? Besides this being the Spirits night, in
this late an hour many would be too terrified of repercussions from avenging
ghosts wondering about, to venture outside of the safety of their
confines. Hmm that also presented
another difficulty, as many eating establishments would have long since been
closed. All except that one place at the
outskirts of the …… Hm… So resolved Lu met Svein's eyes and nodded, "Sir,
I would be most happy to oblige but, in all fairness, I must ask you to
consider carefully what you are proposing."
Svein was adamant.
"Very well then, I will take us to a place where even
Lord Yozdek's Militia would not dare show their faces. Still, it may be a trifle costly.” Lu added,
hemming and hawing.
"You are shaming me, sir, with such talk of money.” Svein
responded. "Let us be on our way
without further ado."
(END OF SECTION 1)
~
