by Galen Wolf
Count Zamborg Berok thought deeply - this was what his wife had always wanted - a child. The child that his impotent loins could not provide for her. He was pleased and enthused by her speech. Count Berok, Count Zamborg Berok, turned to his lovely wife Helena and whispered, his heart racing. "What have you named this child my love?"
"I have named him Zventibold."
3. A Rude Awakening.
The Palace Berok was built facing the exclusive Palace Street, so called because of the inordinate number of palaces built there. Above it, as previously mentioned, and except on a Sunday when it was washed, fluttered the Silver Cup standard of the House Berok, which signified plenty and succor for all. The palace itself was a large sprawling grey stone building with many jutting wings, but the favourite wing of all who visited was the West Wing. At the back were an enclosed garden and a paddock where the children's horses could be kept. Until Zventibold there had been no children. The Palace had been constructed at the orders of Zamborg's great-grandfather Smilos. He, like all the Beroks, had been a great visionary but instead of the emancipation of the lower classes, Smilos' hobby had been ivy. He had planted great amounts of the stuff all over the Palace and now the succeeding years had covered the walls with its green canopy. Everyone said how fetching it was, and most admitted it could be a great problem when caught short and needing somewhere to do one's business, out of sight but still in reach.
The day after Helena brought back the boy Zventibold, Zamborg had rushed out into the garden and borrowed a spade from the gardener to plant a young sapling - an oak. Years later Helena remembered his words on the occasion. She said that she had never heard him make a speech so fine or with such emotion. He took up the sapling and placed it into the hole he had dug for it crying, "Let this tree grow tall and straight like our son Zventibold and with it, I hope I am planting the sapling of truth and freedom not to mention justice and honour in the troubled soil of Piraktesh."
Zventibold grew fast and soon he could run and play with the servants' children. And no one, not even the closest confidants of the Beroks was told of his true origin. He was passed off as one of their own and no one but the nanny was allowed to see his left buttock and the dark star mark thereon. Zventibold throughout his childhood was unaware of the bitter struggle his stepfather was engaged in the field of human rights. But when he was deemed old enough, Zventibold was allowed to accompany his mother on a Thursday to the Assembly though he embarrassed both his parents, as small boys will, by wetting himself in the public gallery.
The years were not kind to Zamborg Berok. He seemed to be fighting a single-handed battle against the forces of repression and it drained him. Zamborg's brother, Zildak would often visit the family from the Berok estates in the country and he despaired to see his brother laid so low. Helena lost much sleep but in the end all she could do was mop her husband's furrowed brow.
One night, it was a Friday, Helena later remembered, Zamborg came back from the Assembly and he was sorely troubled. Helena came to see him in the Palace's Fourth Parlour where he was wont to meditate, and upon seeing his face lined and wrinkled, she gave a soft cry of despair. In a small voice, he said, "Helena, I can't go on. The opposition - those running dogs of the Autocrat grow stronger every day and I - I fear - grow weaker."
The fire crackled behind them and Helena's face filled with dread. "Zamborg dearest, you must go on. You cannot let those rascals drag you down after we have achieved so much."
Count Berok stood. "Helena, I begin to fear for you and the boy, Zventi. Those devils… If anything should happen to you I'd… If the day should come that I… when they… Oh, you know what I mean."
His wife did indeed know what he meant.
"Helena, if that day cometh then go to my brother Zildak in the North. Zildak will give you succor and, perhaps better still, supper," continued the despairing Count.
"Zamborg!" Helena exclaimed. She looked shocked. The dim light failed to disguise that she was an extremely attractive woman. Her breasts were full and round. Her hair was long and golden. Her eyes were the deepest aquamarine and her skin was white as milk. The Count turned away.
"Zamborg! Even they… even they wouldn't go that far?" It was a question not a statement and as she looked at her husband there was no hiding the fear in her blue eyes.
The Count turned back, "You must protect Zventi, Helena," he said resolutely. She ran towards him, caressing him. Frantic with passion. He returned her embrace and their mouths met - opened. Just then there came a knock at the door. Perhaps just in time to avoid another disappointment.
"It's not…?" whispered Helena. "Oh God, no!"
The Count stood erect and drew his sword form the sheath where it hung on the chair. The blade shone, wicked and curved in the firelight. The knock came again - more insistent this time.
"Helena I love you," said Zamborg and then he turned and addressed whoever it was behind the door. "Who is it?"
An old broken voice answered, "It's Nanny."
"It's Nanny," said the Count.
"It's Nanny! Thank Merciful Hector", whispered the Countess in relief. "What is it Nanny?" she said.
"Zventibold be cryin' ma'am.'E says 'e wants you. I didn't think I should disturb you but 'e's in an awful state. I…" Nanny whimpered and whined.
"It's alright Nanny," came the strong voice of the Count. He opened the door and gave Helena a sovereign from the pocket of his work trousers which hung, neatly folded, beside the sword now sheathed on the chair. The Countess handed the coin to Nanny who took it eagerly, biting it to see if it was real. She mumbled a thank you.
"Pardon?" said the Count.
"Nanny was only mumbling a thank you, dear."
"I see," said Zamborg, but Helena had already followed Nanny in the direction of her small son's room.
Zventibold's room was near the third floor balcony and Helena, his step-mother, came upon the little fellow in a sweat of fear. He struggled vainly to free himself from his tangled sheets when he saw his mother enter the dark room. "Mummy, mummy," he said, "Zventi have a bad dream. He see lots of men, but they weren't men, they were things." By this time the small boy was shaking in terror. "They were things," he continued, "like bits."
"Bits?" said his mother."What sort of bits?"
"Yes, like bits. You know, like bits."
"Yes Zventi, but…"
"Zventi not sure what they like but they like what happens to poor people when the Autocart," he mispronounced the Autocrat's name. "When the Autocart's soldiers chop them up. You know like what the rats eat…" Zventibold was getting excited.
By now the Countess Helena was getting an appallingly clear picture of what her small son meant. "That's enough Zventi. I know what you mean now." But by this time the little lad was frantic.
"Bits like my friend Billy stitches together to play Make New People."
"Zventibold!" screamed the Countess. "That's enough!"
The tiny chap froze and began weeping again. Old Nanny came round the corner - her leather shawl creaking with every step. "Everything alright, mis'ress?" She enquired.
"Yes, Nanny. Thank you. You can go now."
Still the old woman stood there, her eyes agleam. "Yes, mis'ress," she replied but did not move. The light from the candle she held cast eerie shadows that made her face look like a walnut. The Countess, finally realising what the old hag wanted, reached down and took from her shapely ankle the gold chain that was looped around it. Nanny stretched out her withered hand to take this glittering object of her desire from her mistress' grasp. As she did so she cackled in a friendly manner. "Thank 'ee mis'ress," and she was gone.
When Helena was sure she was truly gone she took her small son's little clammy hand in hers. "Zventi, I'm sorry I shouted," she said in a sympathetic tone, "but you promise me that you won't play Make New People with that horrid child, Billy Mosser again."
The boy shyly agreed that he would not.
"Right now, Zventi, go back to sleep now."
> "But mummy, Zventi frightened - things."
"You won't dream of things tonight my love," said Helena as she rose to leave.
Outside an owl hooted three times in the old chestnut tree.
4. A Frequent Visitor.
A frequent visitor to the Berok home was Zildak, Zamborg's brother. He was a real wag and soon became the boy's favourite. He would entertain Zventibold with tricks using playing cards and the child showed an early fascination with magic.
That winter Zildak came down from the Berok estates in the North where he farmed. He stayed with them for a number of weeks. One afternoon Zamborg decided that he would not go to the Chambers of Government and that he and his brother Zildak would later take the boy Zventibold down to the poorer areas of the city for they deemed that the lad had age enough to see how the downtrodden suffered. They even hoped that they could instill in the boy the same ideals they cherished - truth, justice and freedom.
Zildak had at first not thought this wise, for every time he visited the Count he would see him a little bit wearier, a little bit more despairing. Every time the tears would roll down his cheeks and he would beg Zamborg to give up politics especially now he had this small son - this Zventibold. Perhaps Zildak's revulsion at the world of politics and Pirakteshi intrigue had something to do with the fate of his and Zamborg's father, Simon. Simon had at one time been a close confidant and adviser of the previous Autocrat - Shabbler the Hideous, and although Shabbler had neglected the poor he was not an evil man. The same could not be said for his successor the new Autocrat Axtos III. Axtos was a terrible beast and he disliked Simon's progressive views from the start. Furthermore Simon and his family had refused to take part in the weird sexual practices so beloved by Axtos. Because of this Simon had thought it wise to return to the ancestral estates of the Berok family in the North. With him he took his two small sons Zamborg and Zildak and his voluptuous wife Zargaana.
The country life suited Simon and all had gone well until one night when Zargaana had invited Sebastian, the thick thewed stable lad, to the family table. Simon was enraged and, after a violent row, had walked out into the night but not before he deprecated Zargaana's sexual choices and linked this in an unspecified way with the frequent excited state of Raunchy the pet poodle. Sadly Simon was not seen alive again. He was found strangled in his bedroom and savaged as if by a small dog. By his side lay a suicide note confessing to unusual perversions. This was never revealed to either Zamborg or Zildak but from that time they shunned the company of the poodle and were seen to eye him strangely
Countess Zargaana soon married Sebastian and at the wedding he was proclaimed the new Count of Berok. They led a wild life, running up huge debts and scandalizing the neighbours with their lurid saddle wear parties. Life was not easy for the two young lads either - they were put to work on the farm, often with the pigs and sometimes mucking out the stables. When Zamborg came of age he had both Sebastian and his mother put to death. He felt he had to.
With their mother out of the way neighbours began to call at Ponderosa as the Berok ranch was called. Zamborg and Zildak were invited to numerous sherry parties and upon seeing the liberal views held by both the young men it was suggested that they should follow their father into politics. After much thought, that is what Zamborg, now Count Berok, decide to do. Zildak had always been troubled by his brother's choice, for he saw him going the way of their father. He had been pleased, however, when Zamborg married Helena and in some way he was jealous for he too found her strangely attractive from the first day he met her.
Twenty years had passed from that time to this and they had found a Zamborg Berok drained by his services to mankind but still thoroughly enthralled with poor people. That day in winter the two brothers walked hand in hand with the child Zventibold back from their visit to the poor quarter. Zamborg was happy - here he was with his brother and his small son. Why even the December wind thrilled him. He was a little saddened when he remembered that he was impotent and he bowed his head as he wondered if he still pleased his wife. Zventibold saw a black cat and ran across the cobbled street to stroke it as it purred and brushed itself against his legs.
Zildak turned to Zamborg when he saw this and said, "Little Zventibold seems to have an affinity with animals."
The small boy chatted and whispered to the little moggy.
"They all seem to come to him," continued Zildak.
Count Berok's face clouded and he said, "Yes, he does have his little pets."
"You don't seem pleased Zamborg. Isn't it good that the lad has pets? I remember when we were young. We had Raunchy. We often used to…"
"Yes Zildak," said the Count, raising his voice sharply. "But all his pets are dead. He stitches them together and calls it Making New Animals. Although Hector knows what's new about them. I've tried to stop him. It's all going wrong Zildak - all we ever dreamed of or held dear - truth, justice, freedom - the lot!" Zamborg broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.
His brother tried to comfort him by placing his arm round his shoulders. "Easy Zamborg, easy. It'll be all right. He's just a lad yet."
Just then Zildak noticed a sinister looking man wearing a black cloak covered in kabalistic symbols. He seemed to be a hunchback and appeared to be looking down Zventibold's trousers.
"Hey you! Get off that boy!" shouted Zamborg, breaking out of his brother's comforting embrace. "Get off him!" He drew his sword and went to attack the old man. However, the hunch backed dwarf was not as defenceless as Zamborg had previously supposed. With movements as quick as the cat, which by now had disappeared, he reached into his cloak and muttered arcane syllables. He hurled a handful of what seemed to be dust at the Count. If he had supposed it to be dust then the Count of Berok had been terribly wrong, for as it caught the wind it hummed and murmured to itself, catching light and condensing to form a swirling monster of fire that strove to entwine the Count and his brother with its fiery limbs. With many flame tongues it tried to pull them into its furnace heart. They could hear the sorcerer, for that they guessed him to be, laughing insanely. The cackle seemed to resonate in every flaming sinew of the beast.
"My Hector, Zamborg - what is that thing?" exclaimed Zildak, his voice shaking.
"I don't know brother, but let's see how it likes the bite of good honest steel!" With that he sprang to the attack while his brother took the chance to snatch the boy Zventibold to safety.
Zamborg ran at it but his slicing did no good against the ethereal limbs of the beast which merely engulfed his blade.
Then the wizard spoke again. "Know this Count Berok - I am Turvius Sullius and by the mark on him, I know this boy is mine. Mine he is, and like a dry tree searching out water he will come to me and find me. Neither you nor your lady wife can do anything to stop him or to foil the mighty plans that I have for him. Leaving you in despair with that knowledge, I depart!" With that both he and the fire creature vanished, leaving naught on the windy cobbled street by the amazed Beroks and an acrid smell on the breeze.
When they arrived home, it was obvious that something terrible had happened. Helena rushed toward her husband and son as soon as they entered the grand doorway. Her face was a deathly white. Her voice quivered as she spoke, "Zamborg, Zventi, what's happened? Was it something terrible?"
"No, Helena - don't ask. I'll tell you later." Zildak put a reassuring hand on his sister in law's shoulder.
Zventibold came forward for by now he had forgotten his earlier fright. Jauntily he said, "No, U'c'e Zi'dak. Zventi know. It was funny! Funny man come and look at Zventi's bum. He see mark and say 'I your daddy!' I laugh coz Zventi know daddy daddy! Silly man! Ha ha ha ha!"
Zamborg, his face showing the strain of his recent encounter, came forward - pushing past his jovial son. "Yes, Helena. He's come for him after all this time. He's come for him and there's not a thing we can do about it."
"But Zamborg, it can't be that foul toad of a father that left the child and his mother all those years ago?" Helena looked puzzle
d. "And even if it is," she continued. "Can't you use your influence at Court and get him executed or something?"
Count Zamborg seemed astounded. "Influence at Court? I have no influence at Court. Don't you understand that by now?" Zamborg screamed at her and began to hurl things about the room, shrieking and then alternately laughing and crying. Zventibold joined in chortling and ripping off chunks of antique tapestries that hung in the Entry Hall."This good game daddy! Ha ha ha ha!" he said.
His father advanced on him with his hands outstretched as if reaching for the small boy's throat. The Countess darted in between them and snatched up the frightened child - frightened for she had seen from the look in his father's eyes that his father did not mean him well.
"Zamborg, get a grip on yourself!" shouted Helena.
"Easy Helena," interrupted Zildak. "He's had a hard day."
The Countess calmed instantly. "Yes, I suppose he has," she said and pulled a sash to summon a footman. Zamborg was lying on the floor crying when the doorman William arrived to escort the ailing lord to his bed and strap him in.
Soon after the Count had been taken away, Zventibold sat with his uncle and his mother in the drawing room.
