* * *
A tree’s length away from the Circle of Chiefs, sat the cluster of Taneshewa’s friends and family. She felt deeply moved by Sur Sceaf’s speech, to the extent that she even whispered to Little Doe, “My whole being was on fire. Did that touch you like it touched me?”
Little Doe nodded. “I told you, he has much more than eye or ear can reveal about him. Our hearts have all heard him, but I think that perhaps you heard something even deeper than we.”
Honesty forced her to admit, “Little Doe, if he asked me into his tent tonight, I’m afraid, I would not be able to resist.”
Sagwi leaned over to touch her arm. “It is a good dhing to listen with da language of da heart. It isn’t a good dhing to be too eager. Dher still be much for yo two to be workin out. I done told ya, I seen dhis in my scrying, der still be a maze to pass through.”
Meny glanced toward Sur Sceaf once again seated on the black mat, a smile erupting on her face. “Ahy, that was more than a mortal man that spoke those words that touched our souls, my whole being quaked. Even when I was a maid of fourteen winters I thought Surrey was an unusually noble spirit. Now I realize that even more. I would think you would be curious about what he pulled me to the side to say during the Lover’s Dance.”
Taneshewa shot her what she hoped passed as a disinterested glance. “It’s none of my business what you two said.”
Mendaho laughed which she found to be most annoying. “But you really want to know, don’t you?”
“If you really want to tell me, then go ahead?” Taneshewa said not wanting to reveal how much she really wanted to know. But from the expression of the others, she realized she was fooling no one.
Little Doe prodded Meny with her elbow. “Go ahead Meny, she’ll be up all night if you don’t tell her.”
Mendaho laughed again. “He said he felt some powerful spiritual tie to you, rooted in the Ur Fyr. That he knew your meeting with him was more than a chance coincidence. He wants to get to know you better and put you at ease, so that you can get to know him better.”
Sagwi nodded. “I know’d dhat to be true. Surrey ain’t never said anything to be untrue like dhat Standing Bull. I know what ya is feelin. Ya heart says one dhing. Ya mind tells ya ya’s got to follow what ya custom is. Ya followed ya heart once before and was burnt. Now when ya need to follow it da most ya won’t let it lead you. Ain’t nothin worse den regret in dis world. I ain’t tellin ya to go after Surrey, only to listen and make sure dher be no regrets like I’s got.”
Dancing Rabbit came by with her mat in her hand. “Sagwi and Little Doe, the Council of Women is about to meet. We must hurry.”
* * *
The sweat lodge was south of the long lodge. It was a dome shaped structure composed of deer hides stretched over a frame of age-blackened pine poles. Sur Sceaf had used such a lodge much when he had lived amongst the Sharaka and found sweats both cleansing and enlightening. The campfire outside the lodge was loaded with large round river rocks on a bed of coals ready to be exchanged for the cooling rocks from inside the sweat. Three leather buckets of water stood nearby to be poured over the rocks inside to generate steam.
It was late. Many people, especially the young, were still partying while the Council of Women could be heard meeting in the nearby Red Tent. Sur Sceaf and Mendaka dressed down to their loin clothes and entered beneath a deer hide into the dark steam-filled interior. As they passed by the steaming hot rocks in the center, a deep voice greeted him from the other side of the chamber. “Os-Frith, Sur Sceaf, son of Sur Spear.”
“Hail, whom do I greet?”
“It is I, Chief Mescalera Coloratus.”
“I’m honored to share this sweat lodge with you. I appreciate what wise counsel you offered tonight.”
Mesculera dismissed the compliment with a grunt. “It is clear that you understand more than most the gravity of what we face.”
Both he and Mendaka parked on the floor mats.
Mesculera continued, “I have come here with my most trusted counselors and twenty of my dog soldiers to watch how the melding of three tribes can take place. We Apache have other tribes who wish to join with us. So there is much I wish to learn of you and your plans. By the totem animals I have seen flying on banners, it is evident more than a host of tribes are interested in this strange union of three tribes you make here. Your joining will be the rock that starts the avalanche of the other tribes that falls against Hryre Seath and the Pitter Empire.”
An old brave came in and removed some rocks with metal tongs and shortly returned with fresh hot rocks, accompanied by a younger brave bearing a bucket of water. Once the rocks were in place, the young brave poured the water over the hissing rocks and steam filled the lodge anew.
Breathing in the steam, Sur Sceaf cleared his throat. “Lord Kanarus has written of you in his letters. He has said you and your dog soldiers have given the Pitters an unending hell.”
In the light of the campfire filtering through the skins, Sur Sceaf saw an expression of pride pass over the stern chief’s face.
“Kanarus, is a great warrior in his own right. Together with his fyrds and my braves, we are an unbeatable force.”
Another voice asked from the steam filled darkness, “Well, who is this warrior, Kanarus?”
Sur Sceaf recognized the voice as that of Redelfis.
“Well, you have met Ilkchild, my adopted son, when you were visiting Namen Jewell. Kanarus is his elder brother and the son of a great Herewardi warrior. He took up the mantel and sword of his father’s house, determined to regain our lands of inheritance in the Taxus Hills. His followers are called Kaninchens and are an irregular band of Herewardi rebels, who operate outside of the sanction of the Roufytrof, but are not censured by them. His fyrds consist of all volunteer young bloods from the Seven Kingdoms.”
Mesculera amplified, “He had a small band in the beginning, but it has grown over the years from the many hot headed young bloods that seek him out to join him. His daring and cunning in battle are both well-known and praiseworthy.”
More rocks were brought in and steam hissed before Sur Sceaf added, “In his letters he cites reports of a new ally of the Pitters. He calls them the Growling and says that they are the children of trolls. They are a witch people, filled with the works of darkness. I am told these Growlings stay in their Poisoned Lands for the most part with their evil snucky punks, skin walkers, and shit-devils running amok over the deserts in the night. According to his last letter, the Pitter rat packs and legions often take refuge with them. Kanarus’ wife, Saga-Jah-El-Ea, urges we should follow them into the Poisoned Lands, but others fear the taboo too much to dare enter there.”
“It does stand to reason.” Mendaka declared, “But Surrey, Saga-Jah-El-Ea speaks truth. If they can come out of the Poisoned Lands, why can’t we go in?”
Mesculera declared. “Because the land is filled with skin walkers and creeps and a host of other unspeakable monsters and trolls. Our numbers are not sufficient to sustain a campaign against them in view of the dark magics that swarm over that land. Our efforts have been to aid the Hickoryan and Cherokee Tribes out of the South Lands. Lately there have been many encounters with the enemy’s raiding parties.”
Sur Sceaf wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Mesculera is correct, much of the peace we’ve enjoyed these last few years is because of the attacks and harassment you lay at the root of the Pitters before their branches can get here.”
“Yes, we have delayed them, but there are more and more of them every moon, but even as you explained they shall soon out number us even more than they do now. Since the enemy have united with the Vardropi of the North and the Growling of the South, they are become a gathering avalanche of death and destruction hanging over all of our heads from every direction but the West.”
Chapter 10: Placing the Ring in Standing Bull’s Nose
When morning’s light came beaming over the crater brim, Sur Sceaf was already up feeding White Fire at the corral and
making his vows unto the All Father Odhin for the coming day.
“Sorry, Sur Sceaf, I must have dozed off before dawn.”
Sur Sceaf turned to see Counting Bird, dressed in buckskins with bow in hand. He appeared to have just awakened from a deep sleep near the smoldering coals of his campfire. After returning Sur Sceaf’s morning greeting, the old brave explained somewhat sheepishly, “I had a little peyote in the night; I can tell you that stuff made your horse look like a Thunder Being, too powerful to gaze upon. He looked like a ghost horse coming out of the moon. Light shot out of his mane like lightning and sun mixed. I thought the horse was a spirit warrior or some Manitou from the Other World. I fell to the ground speechless until I just awoke.”
Sur Sceaf patted his stallion’s jaw. “White Fire is my brother. We have shared many campaigns together, Counting Bird. He has preserved me from bear and wolf, storm and elements, and none too few Pitters. To me he is a spirit sent from the Spirit Realms.”
“Will you run him in the race around the crater today?”
“No, I need to have him fresh for my journey to Fort Rock tomorrow.”
Counting Bird drew closer. “How about the games? Are you going to do any of the wrestling or stick games? Or do you also wish to remain fresh for the Ring Ceremony tonight?” The old man laughed. “I myself would never allow anyone to lift me any higher than my horses back. But you are a young buck and will heal fast.”
Sur Sceaf laughed after he set a bucket of water before White Fire. “I might try my hand at a few games. I promised Going Snake to partner him in the spear-rings.”
“Well, you better hurry, then. The spear-rings will be staged right after breakfast on the open plain. I’ll be there to root for you.”
* * *
Taneshewa and Mendaho were jumping up and down on the plain as they cheered for Sur Sceaf’s team. All previous contestants had been eliminated. It had come down as a spirited contest with Going Snake and Sur Sceaf against Mesculera Coloratus and one of his counselors. The lead had gone back and forth numerous times. Finally, in the last round, Mesculera’s team scored the last ring with his spear and ended the game with Sur Sceaf’s team losing by one point. The men all stripped down to just their loincloths as they wiped the sweat from their bodies in the warming morning light and washed off with some fresh water the youth brought them.
As the other contestants gathered around to congratulate the winners, Mendaho said, “Just look at that body on Sur Sceaf, Ahy. I’d love to get my hands on that hard belly and let them slide.”
“Sssh! He might hear you, Meny!”
“Honestly, Ahy, you can at least let your eyes feast, even if your heart won’t. There he stands like a stud elk for you to admire. No harm in that.”
“Your stud elk lost, but I was betting on Mesculera.” She sighed. “Now that’s a body. Apaches are a well-built lot. Solid as rock.”
“Yes, but you can’t decoy me, Ahy. I know what you were looking at, and it wasn’t the Apache. However, I also hear if you’re doing any betting on the foot race around the lake tomorrow, then Coloratus is the one to bet on.”
Going Snake evidently spotted them and came running in from the plain. “Did you see me playing against the Apaches? We almost beat them, but Sur Sceaf said it was a long time since he’d played that game and that he was rusty.”
Mendaho said, “Well, he didn’t look rusty to me.”
“Going Snake, you threw your spear like a true dog soldier.” Taneshewa praised. “You were the greatest.”
Sur Sceaf arrived shortly thereafter. “Taneshewa is right, you were the greatest. I’m just sorry I wasn’t on my game.”
On the field the Apache dog soldiers had lifted Mesculera and his counselor, Wind Chaser on their shoulders, but most of the spectators were now moving toward the rink, located in the flat and dusty plains that ran for miles.
Noticing, Mendaho probed. “Surrey, are you going to fight in the rink?”
“No, I’m rusty there too. Besides I have to ride to Fort Rock tomorrow and have to do the Ring Ceremony tonight. I don’t want to look beat up for that or my sister. She still tries to mother me as it is.”
Going Snake grabbed Sur Sceaf’s arm. “The fighting is about to get started. Hurry! We gotta get our place in front to get a good view.”
The crowd was growing. This was always the most attended of games. The winner would be considered the Cock of the Rock until next year. As they approached the rink, Taneshewa heard Counting Bird shout, “Everyone stand back until the contestants are all here. The first match will be a match between Standing Bull and Mesculera Coloratus of the Apache.” Her heart dropped. Counting Bird said, “This will be a fight to remember. One person may challenge the victor and if that person is the victor, he may likewise be challenged by one person.”
Going Snake tugged at Sur Sceaf’s arm, towing him closer to the rink.
Taneshewa said, “Let’s get in closer, Meny, I want to see Standing Bull get his ass kicked.”
“What are you willing to bet that Mesculera can take him?”
“My beaded medicine bag.”
“And I’ll bet two mink pelts and the last of my chia seed, if Standing Bull loses. Just look at Standing Bull’s size tells me he’ll win. True, Mesculera is in better shape, but it’s size that counts every time in a fight.”
“We’ll see.”
As Taneshewa threaded their way through the crowd and approached the rink she felt sick. Even the thought that Standing Bull might think she was there to cheer for him made her ill. She determined she would make it very clear it was Mesculera she was cheering for. She yelled out, “Yeah, Mesculera, take him down.” She caught an angry flare from Standing Bull, who pounded his fist and assumed a menacing posture in the rink as he twisted his neck and glared.
Mesculera gave her a smile as he glanced over at her.
The two men were stripped down to loincloths and mocassins. Mesculera sported several battle scars over the back and across the chest, while Standing Bull had none, having never tasted of a real battle. Mesulera glanced Taneshewa’s way and offered a confidant smile. The two men squared off in the rink, a big circle, gouged from the dust. There were few rules, with the exception of stepping out of the rink, which would disqualify you. Also, any hitting or grabbing below the belt would result in a forfeiture. Traditionally, both winner and loser would emerge both bloody and bruised and often the fight could take up to an hour.
Counting Bird, was acting as the referee, had them lock arms on each other’s neck.
“When I drop this lady moccasin,” Counting Bird said, “the fight is on!”
No sooner had he let it fall, than the fight commenced, with the crowd roaring in excitement. Bull’s cronies were all cheering him on as was Mesculera’s Ndee braves, and a sizable number of Sharaka.
Meny said, “There’s not too many rooting for Standing Bull, but I still keep my bet on weight over strength.”
Taneshewa scanned the crowd until she located Going Snake and Sur Sceaf on the opposite side of the rink. Every time Mesculera landed a blow, Going Snake jumped up and down with excitement, but Sur Sceaf stood silent, his expression impassive.
After Standing Bull attempted to break Mesculera’s ribs with a bear hug, the Apache freed his arm, rolled over backwards and bounced upon his feet, then punched Standing Bull square in the face. The blow sent Standing Bull reeling backwards. Even some of Standing Bull’s supporters laughed at these unexpected acrobatics. Mesculera was out thinking Standing Bull and it was enraging him.
Regaining his feet, Standing Bull roared his fury and charged Mesculera who attempted to dodge. But Standing Bull managed to grab his arm while smashing his fist into the back of the Apache’s head.
Taneshewa felt herself being pushed in closer by the crowd and both she and Mendaho had to push back to maintain their view as Going Snake was almost shoved into the rink.
Mesculera gave Standing Bull a retaliatory punch to the neck. The fight continued
, they were exchanging blow for blow and gradually Mesculera was gaining the advantage. Standing Bull staggered and seemed to cling to Mesculera for support when he brought an unexpected chop to Mesculera’s groin. A roar went up from the spectators and a cry of ‘foul’ went up. Taneshewa added her cry of foul to the others, outraged by Standing Bull’s lack of honor. Both she and Meny had to push back against the protesting crowd to maintain their view. Across the rink, Going Snake was almost shoved to the ground. Only Sur Sceaf’s quick grab saved him.
Taneshewa said, “I ought to call this bet off. Your man is obviously a cheater. This is not a fair fight.”
“If the bastard wins, you can keep your bag. He didn’t win honorably.”
Counting Bird declared the foul escaped his sight and under the rules he could not make a call on it. He gathered the two contestants back to the center of the rink and once again dropped the lady’s moccasin. Clearly Mesculera was still nursing his pain, his movements slowed, awkward, and he appeared nauseated. With another roar Standing Bull grabbed him by his loose hair, pulled him to the ground and commenced striking Mesculera in the face with his elbows till Mesculera’s eyes rolled back half-conscious. Taking advantage of his weakened state, the Bull pinned him to the ground. Counting Bird counted to three and then grabbing Standing Bull by the hand, pulled him free. His expression registering disgust as he held the Bulls hand up, signaling the Bull was the victor.
The crowd booed, except for Standing bull’s cadre and a group of young maidens.
“Let’s go. I’ve seen enough. It makes me sick to see that fool gloat,” Taneshewa said as she looked over at Pock Face, and Lone Dog congratulating the cheater. Worst to her mind, several of the younger maidens were fawning over him.
“Wait!” Meny protested. “Let’s see if someone is brave enough to challenge Standing Bull. This time I’ll take your shell necklace and you can still take the bag, the chia seed, and the minks if he doesn’t beat his challenger.”
The Sire Sheaf Page 24
