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 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC 

THE WEDDING - SECTION 3

On approaching the thatched farmhouse which Yagu Dorka called home, Svein’s attention was at once drawn to the two fresh mounds of earth beside an older one on the east side.

“Oh, I could not even afford a proper burial coffin for them.” suddenly Yagu Dorka exclaimed in a sorrowful voice filled with remorse.  “God forgive me, but that was all I could do.  I had to bury them in their straw mats and offer prayers without the benefit of priests.  How could I wait, in this heat, and what hope did I have of getting extra money?  I had to think of the living.  I had to think of my grandson Kevin, sweet, sweet boy.”  This last was said in an incomprehensible mumble as he lapsed into brooding.

“What wretched souls!” Svein silently reflected.  His heart ached in sympathy for the old man.  He wished he could, in some way, have prevented this tragedy.

Nearing the partially decomposing outer structure (wood, thicket walls), Svein observed several large, gaping holes, some of which were covered by straw matting, while one or two, left untouched, allowed an advanced view to the interior.

“Yes, they did all that.” nodding, the old man reaffirmed Svein’s silent inquiry. 

“The back wall on the other side is still worse, that room is half exposed.  Half the roof, with no remaining support, has collapsed in on itself.”  A brief silence ensued as Yagu Dorka tightened his lips and shook his head.  “This place is now in ruins.  I was meaning to fix it up.  Still, what do I care about it now?  Thanks to you, son I will be leaving it at the first available opportunity.  Yes, the very moment I get my grandson; I will be gone, gone from this cursed place.”

The old man, in his eagerness to demonstrate the damage caused by the ruffians, had led Svein to the front in a roundabout way.  In contrast, the front looked remarkably intact and, upon entry, Svein saw the front room and kitchen were spared from damage, with only a few minor gaping holes. 

“The other rooms are not safe to stay in.”, Yagu Dorka explained, as he motioned to a mended chair for Svein to sit on.  “I’ve moved whatever was salvageable into these two rooms.”

 When the earth became mantled in darkness both men retired.  Svein refusing to take the old man’s brick bed took the uncomfortable straw mat on the dirt floor instead.  As he lay on it motionless, he brooded over various concerns.  What if the bandits do not keep their word?  How long should I wait for them?  Can I really spare the time?

 He knew he must tell none of this to his uncle, who had strictly forbidden him to interfere in stranger’s affairs.  Up until now without exception he had heeded (followed, obeyed) this rule.  Pangs of guilt, for this defiance, stabbed at his heart. 

But how could he do otherwise. His eyes darted over to the old man that had fallen asleep instantly the moment his head hit the straw pillow. But try as he might sleep had averted Svein. On top, there was this unbearable heat.  It would have been better for him to sleep outside; the air was stifling inside.  Only the occasional wind that streaked through the room from the cracks offered him some relief.

Swat!  Swat!  He slapped his cheek, then his arm to kill those menacing insects that were (feasting) gorging on his blood.  Blasted nuisance! He swore under his breath, his cheek still stinging from the hit.  What did they exist for, anyway, if not to make man’s life miserable? For a moment his thoughts reverted to the poor girl, reduced to living under such conditions.

Had she really been happy? Possibly yes, as she had not known any better. Swat!  Again, he landed his heavy hand over his nose, killing the culprit that dared to bite him there.  As if for proof, the droning of the insects both inside and out, grew in intensity as the night advanced.  Compounding this, the loud snoring of the old man, his larynx reverberating and gurgling with punctuated whistling, was enough to keep anyone from slumber.  Off to the side, the dim light of the lamp revealed the few hanging strips of dried vegetables that were now dotted densely with black insects.  Moths, dancing toward the light, carelessly burned their wings, adhering to the cracked, hot cover and expired. 

Though he craved more than anything to go sleep outside, in the end he resigned himself to enduring these most uncomfortable settings of hospitality. He quickly blew the light out and turned to his side now to hug the wall, but from the aperture at the base of the wall a pair of shiny eyes greeted him brazenly.

 “Shoo, go away!” but when it did not, to deter his aim, Svein after groping, picked up a piece of dried mud brick from the floor and forcefully wedged it into the crack.  Hours passed, as he turned and tossed.

“It’s no use, I’ll never get any sleep,” so saying, he sat up in the dark and leaning his back against the mud wall, he again mulled over some concerns.

 A parading string of pictures, each more gruesome than the other, flashed before his mind’s eye; then gradually succumbing to fatigue, his eyelids drooped and as he sat, he fell into a deep, disturbed slumber.  Barely was the first daylight manifest, when the churning hooves, belonging to several horses, were heard at the outside.

At once Svein sprang to his feet and peered through the hairline gap in the wall.  Recognizing some of them, his face grew dark (stern) and he seethed.  I had let them off too lightly, he hissed, if only I had known. Fortunately, only a small number of the group had responded to this raid, as the expected proceeds were comparatively too miniscule and too trivial to warrant more men.

Meanwhile the old man, hailed to, “Come outside with the money!” by the bandits, had hurried to dress himself.  Barely decent, Yagu Dorka, not daring to delay any further and clutching the allotted sum (of ransom money) to his chest, darted across the room and were about to open the door to rush outside, when Svein in lightning speed hastened to bar (obstruct) his way.

  “Sir, I must insist that you do not, as yet, go outside.”

Great beads of perspiration broke out on Yagu Dorka’s forehead and he hurriedly stammered, “Oh blessed sir, have you changed your mind about the money?”  Then, without giving Svein a chance to explain, he pleaded, “Please, oh please have pity on me and my grandson sir; don’t encumber (impede) me, I implore you to let me pass!”

“No elder, it is not a question of money.  All I ask is that you delay your response just long enough to peer through this hole in the wall and first make sure that your grandson is with them.”

 Something about Svein’s tone greatly alarmed Yagu Dorka.  His heart palpitating in fright, he rushed to the gap Svein had pointed to and looked through it with eager eyes.  His gaze panned not only the mounted bandit riders but also the surrounding area that was visible from the opening.  Sure enough, his grandson was nowhere to be seen.  The absence of Kevin could only mean... he could not bring himself to finish that thought.

With his worst fears realized, Yagu grew ghostly pale in the face, all strength drained from his body and his knees gave way.  Deep despair searing his heart, his body like a sack of potatoes, sunk to the ground. His blank stare affixed at the pouch containing money in his palms, he said nothing, did nothing. He cared little whether his life hung in the balance or that he was in peril. He cared not for the curses and threats issued at him from outside. 

His state of mind (present condition) greatly alarmed Svein.  “Forgive me, elder; please get a grip on yourself.  Things might not be as hopeless as they look.  Perhaps he is all right, but is kept elsewhere, to extort more money from you.” Svein hastened to reason with Yagu Dorka, but his words of encouragement did little to reassure now totally numbed Yagu Dorka.  One solitary fact reasserted itself over and over in Yagu Dorka’s mind. Since his grandson Kevin was not with them, it meant only one thing!

“Pull yourself together Elder and do as I say!” Svein’s stern, commanding voice suddenly snapped latter from his trance.

“Call out to them that you are too ill to get out from your bed, and ask them instead, to come in and get the money. Tell them you have it with you by your bedside.”

 “Why, why should I bother to…?”

“No time to explain, please do as I ask.” Svein grasping his shoulders shook some sense into Yagu Dorka.

Half convinced; the old man parroted out Svein’s words.

Hail of curses from outside showered heavily on the old man ordering him, threatening him, to quit playing games and show himself at once if he ever wished to see his grandson alive again.  Then one called Yari, showing impatience, dismounted from his horse and was heard saying, “Why waste your breath, brother?  Let me go get the money and finish off the old geezer.  Besides, I could do with a bit of fun.”  Yari, brandishing his sword, then kicked the door open and stepped inside.

YARI

Instantly the door was slammed shut behind him and he turned to face Svein.  Before he had a chance to utter a cry of surprise or launch an attack, he was knocked unconscious to the floor, so swift was Svein’s strike of the hand aimed at its mark.  That instant, the old man, finding courage and strength, snatched the fallen sword from the floor and began hacking indiscriminately at the bandit’s face, chest and throat.  Blood from the severed arteries spurted into the air, some of which heavily stained the old man’s face and clothes.  He looked at a gruesome sight as he donned a strange, mad glimmer of light in his eyes.

Svein, checking his surprise and horror, rushed to put a stop to the old man’s madness.

 “Let me go!” Yagu Dorka now whimpered in his half sane state.  “He was the one who raped Misa, the one who brought this on us!  I must avenge her death!”  This Yagu Dorka had time to say before another one named Koji sent on by their leader, not trusting the first one not to pocket some of the money, came through the door.  Again, Svein’s extraordinary speed and skill slammed the door shut and rendered this other one unconscious on the floor also.

With murder in his pupils, the old man launched at him now, to slice him open, to shed still more blood, but hastily Svein put a stop to it (stopped him) and asked, “Has he wronged you also?”

“No, I haven’t seen him before now.”

“Then, spare his life.” Svein reasoned, restraining (pinning down) the old man’s hand that gripped the bloodstained sword poised to strike.  “We need him alive for questioning if we are to learn of your grandson’s whereabouts.”

“So, you really think that there is a chance that he could still be alive?” Yagu Dorka, teary eyed, gawked at Svein.

Bellowed inquiry from the outside just then however, interrupted Svein’s cautious reply.

 The leader of the group was now demanding an explanation for the unreasonable delay as he agitatedly reared his horse.

KOJI

 Svein, taking some hemp ropes, quickly bound and gagged the prisoner then, applying his thumb and forefinger on the bandit’s nerve, he revived him.  The instant the bandit Koji regained consciousness, his response had been violent, with rage thrusting and kicking, trying to free himself from his restrictive ropes; his reaction quickly transformed to sheer terror however, when he noted the other bloodied body tugged at the far corner and fully comprehended his own dire predicament.  His grumbled curses and any cries for mercy or help, was effectively stifled by the well secured strip of cloth that ran across his mouth and knotted in back.  The man’s fear mounted when he suddenly recognized Svein.  His face grew ghostly pale and his body involuntarily convulsed.

 “So, you do remember me, after all.” Svein said to him with a mischievous grin.  The old man cast a surprise look at Svein. 

“This was one of the ones that’d tried to assault me on the road yesterday morning.” Without taking his eyes of the brigand Koji, Svein briefly explained.

 What’s this?  This remarkable youth singlehandedly had survived their attack prior.

Yagu Dorka’s mouth hung, in utter amazement; consequently, he grew more confident of Svein’s abilities.

The bound bandit, meanwhile, trembling much like a leaf in a fierce storm, with a muffled whimper, which was all he could manage, urged Svein to free his mouth, as he had something to say.

“First, give me your word, you won’t shout?”

When Koji nodded eagerly in earnest, Svein untied the narrow band. True to his word the ruffian Koji did not cry out, rather, stripped of his previous courage and poise, he now begged Svein to show him mercy and spare his life.

 “I’ll do anything you ask of me,” Koji promised, “just spare my life.”

“Sure,” Yagu Dorka hissed skeptically, “how the wretch now sings.  I suppose you would take arms against your own kind as well if he asked you to. Don’t listen to him.” He then urged Svein, “for the very moment your back is turned, or he got the upper hand, he’ll skin you alive.”

“May I rot in hell if I am trying to deceive you, sir.” Koji ignoring Yagu Dorka, responded.  “Please pay no heed to this senile old man’s words.  I’m in earnest.  I’ll do whatever you ask of me, just spare my life.”

“Senile old man eh, you, contemptuous rot?” infuriated, Yagu Dorka landed his clenched fist in the bandit’s face, breaking the other’s lip.  Blood trickled down his chin.

 If it weren’t for Svein’s timely intervention, grabbing hold of Yagu Dorka’s again striking fist in midstream, Koji’s face would have been pulverized to a pulp, under such wrathful blows.

 Just then the hollered impatient inquiry outside drew both their attention.  The neighing of horses and the restless hooves churning the soil in response to their masters’ growing unease anew (cast) flew Yagu Dorka into sheer panic; but this outcome also had been anticipated by Svein and it fell well within the bounds of his already conceived plan of action.

 It was, of course, imperative that those at the outside should not be prematurely alerted; it would not bode well if one was to flee (take off) with the purpose of fetching reinforcements.  For the certainty of success, the outlaws had to be lured into the hut one at a time.

“We are nearly done.  The old geezer has hidden the money, but we are giving him a good lesson he soon won’t forget!” the bound bandit Koji, now shouted in accordance with Svein’s instructions.

“Never mind about the lesson, just hurry up and finish him off!  We haven’t got all day.” bellowed the impatient leader outside.  This timely exchange had halted the other about to alight and go forth to investigate, but though they waited, and waited still no one emerged from the hut.

“Now what the devil are they up to?” The infuriated leader, Seno, questioned the air with his growing suspicion.  “Wonder what they are cooking on the sly?”

SENO

“Roux, watch our mount.”, so ordering, Seno, on his signal, both he and Nuor dismounted.

As Nuor stealthily went round the back, Seno, brandishing his sword, rushed in simultaneously from the front. But Svein was ready for them both.  In a swift strike, Nuor was cut down at once. Seno meanwhile upon entry in that split second sizing up the situation, with his agility had successfully deflected the deadly blow and jumping back with his solid stance now, confronted Svein.  “So, it’s you!” His broad sardonic smile showed a few rotten teeth up front.

 “And I see… You have come back for more, have you?  But, ha, I won’t go so easy on you this time.”, so promising, he launched his deadly assault on Svein.

 Seno was a seasoned, competent fighter and wielded his sword with consummate skill.  Having had more than his fair share of victories, he’d deemed it an unlucky fluke that he’d been unable to best Svein at his earlier brush with him.  He grinned with sure confidence, noting the sword Svein was wielding now; and true enough, with his next preemptive strike he decimated it, shattering the blade in two.  But, in lighting speed, Svein, freeing the other sword from Nuor’s frozen grasp, parried Seno’s deadly strike and subsequent repeated blows; and even managed to strike back with equal equanimity, agility and force notwithstanding his inferior blade.  The small, thatched shack shook from its foundation, battered by the expended energy arising from the earth-shaking combat.

Just then Svein, finding an opening, landed on the other a powerful, swift kick that hurled the enormous body of Seno to the corner of the room.  Seno, though dizzied, ignoring his pain, sprung to his feet unhampered, then with a maddening craze in his eyes, thrust his leveled sword straight at Svein’s chest.  “Ha!  Take that!”  But, again, Svein parried the sword and affected on the other a strike of his own. 

This time Seno had narrowly escaped with his life after Svein’s sword grazed his chest, right across, in a good, clean line.  From the shallow wound the oozing blood stained his light-colored garments.  As Seno had jumped back to safety, his murderous eyes affixed on Svein, with a deliberate slowness he now dipped his index finger to his wound, and then, raising it to his lips he licked it clean.  With a scowling face, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“Not bad, not bad at all. “Then, seizing a sly moment he swung his sword around to again strike at Svein.

Svein, matching the speed, warded off this blow as well, as at the same time, diverted the momentum of the other’s force to throw Seno of balance and ultimately off his feet.  This Svein had done as he shouted, “I’d like to oblige you with a lengthier fight, but, perhaps at some other time.”

 Seno now properly ticked off, somersaulted (cartwheeled) a precise maneuver to terminate this pest; instead, he barely escaped the lightning strike from Svein only to have the back of his head hit, with force, the solid projection on the wall, and end up pinned to the wall, his dangling body twitching owing to severe brain injury and a cracked skull.

Just then the one called Roux- alarmed by the sounds of the fighting within cabin, after haphazardly tethering the horses- brandishing his sword violently kicked open the door and burst in.  As the younger brother to Seno, seeing his brother in such a state, Rou now with wrathful rage launched his deadly onslaught on Svein. His ceaseless attacks were all fast and furious! As he also excelled in arms and being quite nimble, the mortal combat between the two shook the dilapidated hut from its foundation yet again.

ROUX

 Roux at one point having successfully averted Svein’s retaliatory blows, in about turn delivered one of his most lethal offensives on Svein; only by a hair’s breadth, had Svein escaped certain death!

As the two clashed swords violently, they fought more than ten rounds before the fighting spilled over to the outside.  Now the bandit, in part demoralized by Svein’s consummate skill, sought to escape this futile situation to get help.

“Stop running and fight, you coward!” Svein shouted after Roux as he chased him towards the horses.  In fury, the bandit veered to meet his adversary’s challenge, since the last of the spooked horses had already broken free and ran out of his reach.

“You’re talking to me, you worm?” Roux bellowed back and with curses on his breath, he pounced on Svein.  Dodging each strike, Svein using his sword’s handle landed Roux one of his own successful hits (blow) right between the brows which almost rendered the bandit senseless.  Roux back flipped (sprung back) to land with his feet apart, in safe distance, shook his head to gain his focus, and then with renewed vigor he again lunged at the opponent.  But having lost the momentum, each of his deadly offensives was rendered ineffectual and he was being manhandled in such a way that he looked the very fool. 

As his fury mounted, the bandit’s escalated tackle and heightened deadly strikes grew still more reckless (rash, careless).  Had he been in on the previous morning’s assault on Svein he would have known just what he was up against. As it were, little by little he (his energy and skill) was being spent, while the opponent showed no sign of tiring or slowing down.

Meanwhile back at the hut, as consequence of the previous scuffle, a dislodged red-hot coal from the cooking stove had rolled across the floor to be arrested beside the edge of the straw mat and unfortunately some other scattered inflammable debris. By the time Yagu Dorka, who’d momentarily been distracted by the deadly fray outside wizened to this, in that dry heat the instigator of fire (trigger) had already burst into an unmanageable inferno and began consuming everything in its path.  Yagu Dorka’s frantic efforts all in vain (to no avail), the billowing smoke began pouring out from the orifices of the hut. 

This added a new urgency for Svein to finalize the combat and go lend a hand to those that might still be trapped inside. Immediately Svein left the bested, unconscious Roux where he lay and hastened to the inside; right away the fractional wall of fire stung his eyes, obscuring his vision and constricting his lungs. Undeterred, again he called out to Yagu Dorka; receiving no answer, he then with the covered head and shielding his tearing eyes, dived straight through the coiling, haze of fire and smoke that was well on its way to spreading to the adjacent rooms.  Quick search revealed that Yagu Dorka was nowhere to be seen; meanwhile, a faint stir came from the far corner where the bound Koji, barely conscious, lay.  Svein pulled him to safety (to outside) just in nick of time before the ceiling collapsed in and the whole room engulfed by the searing flames turned into a deathtrap.  A dreadful stench reached the outside as the bandits’ corpses were committed to the flames.  Leaping flames raged and crackled, with fiery tongues licking, consuming the scant remaining structures.

Being prevented from another entry, Svein then had circled the hut to the rear, with the intention of searching the back rooms from there.  The gruesome sight that greeted him there stunned his senses even more.  In horror, Svein rushed to put a stop to the savagery.

“Old man, why?”, angrily he then demanded as he held back Yagu Dorka’s bloodied hand, still grasping the heart of decapitated Seno, while forcing the other hand of Yagu Dorka from Seno’s chest cavity as it groped for still more fresh organs.

 “Have you gone mad?  Let go of it!” he shouted at Yagu Dorka, trying to shake some sense into him.  “How could you do such a barbaric thing?”

But Svein’s words were not heard by the old man who, bearing a strange expression on his face and a fiendish gleam in his eyes, stared stupidly at Svein.  Then his gaze turned to the torn heart in his grasp.  He stared blankly at it while his lips parted in a sinister smile.  After a spell of time, he suddenly gave out a piercing shriek that rose above the roar of the flames and, with fright, tossed the organ from his hand.  Collapsing on the ground, he began to sob uncontrollably, with rippling tremors going through his body.

Svein tried to constrain his ill-feelings towards the old man, not at all convinced of the other’s sincerity of remorse, so he turned his head away and spared no words of solace.  Mindful of the bandits he had left outside (at front), one especially, unconscious but unbound; he then went to tend to that chore. 

When he returned, he found that Yagu Dorka had stopped crying, but his face carried a somber, almost angry, expression, a thing which he tried to conceal from Svein.

Yagu Dorka, somewhat ashamed, now tried to explain, “My poor son, I had to avenge him, only then could his soul find rest in the underworld.  His assailant had to pay!”  Then, cupping his face once more, he began to weep and wail, “My poor son.  Why did you have to be lost to me in the prime of your life?  How can I go on without you?”

 When Svein responded only in silence, Yagu Dorka raised his teary face and pitifully investigated Svein’s eyes for absolution.

 “I had to do it.  You can see that, can’t you?  How else could I free my son from his bondage of shame?”

Swallowing his resentment, Svein now moved to console the old man, making a pretense of understanding the other’s point of view.  But, once more they differed when Svein wanted to give burial to Seno’s decapitated corpse.  The old man raised strong objection, “Why can’t we just throw the bastard into the fires?  What use is it without a head anyway and I will not...”  Not completing his statement, he, with the certain agility of a young man, grabbed the discarded heart and rushing over, hurled it into the fire, invoking his son’s name for him to reclaim it.

“There, no head, no heart, go ahead bury the bastard, for all the good it will do!” He then defiantly growled at Svein.

Svein was thoroughly disgusted by this unrepentant, stark (show) display of inhumanity.  As a young man in his mid-teens, he carried an idealistic heart and believed that all men by nature were born good and noble.  Only the circumstances of their lives molded them to exercise evil and harm others.  Brought up to show patience, tolerance, and dispense justice, even to the lowest forms of life, he could not understand the old man’s cruel ways that bordered on savagery.

 In time with age and experience, he would (of course) lose this naïve outlook; at the moment however, being left with no other option, with reluctance he carried the remains of Seno into the future path of the fire.

When Svein again went to look in on the now conscious bound prisoners Ko and Rou, and questioned them they, in fear of their lives, and upon Svein’s promise to spare them if they talked, readily volunteered all the pertinent information Svein needed to recover the grandson of Yagu Dorka; the identity and exact whereabouts of the farmer to whom the boy had been sold to as a slave, via an agent innkeeper.

“Now, elder, I have given them my word, therefore, it’s imperative that no harm comes to them.” Svein ejected with a resolute, stern tone. “They are secure and can remain there by that tree, till later, for the proper authorities to handle. To win us the advantage I shall go and capture that white steed that is still hanging about.  See, by that tree?”  With that he gestured, pointing directly to the far edge of the rocky terrain.

 Though Yagu Dorka was aged, his eyesight was keen as ever and at once he spotted the animal happily grazing beside an ancient tree.

“Why that’s the leader, Seno’s horse.” Yagu Dorka nodded with approval, pretending to know about horses when, in fact, he had never even ridden one.  “He is a fine horse.  He could carry us both with ease, and cover great distances, too.  It would really be nice, if you could catch him.”

“When I return with this steed,” Svein overlooking the old man’s skepticism, resumed. “We must embark on this journey at once and liberate your grandson; notwithstanding this, I am rather sorry you have lost all your possessions in that fire.”

“Never mind about that, I still have with me all that I need.” Yagu Dorka gratefully produced the money purse.

“Very well” Svein strode forward. “Now elder, remember they must not be harmed!” Some ways off, half turning, he shouted back, and then hastened towards his goal.

With reluctance, the old man had voiced his assent after Svein, “All right, son.  They don’t deserve to live but, since you insist.”

Then giving his back to Svein, he’d glared in the direction of the captives as he voiced his dissent. “In a pig’s eye, I will! …it’s all (very proper) well and good for   him to be so compassionate, so generous, but he is still too young to know any better. He does not yet know all the evil ways of men.”

 

(END OF SECTION 3)