Mendaka laughed. “And they think that will keep them from being absorbed by the surrounding peoples. I think it’s too late for that.”
“I can honor them in their endeavor.” Sur Sceaf explained. “They guard the Teutsch language the same as we Herewardi cherish the Wessex Tongue. Being an insular people they had few problems with other languages infiltrating their speech until the colonists from the other tribes moved in to defend them and Salem was given a Herewardi viceroyalty. What they have to realize, is that they can’t remain uninfluenced by the Herewardi, while requiring our protection. It is an odd thing, Mendaka, but isolation causes a people to grow evermore different than those outside their boundaries. In a way, you could say, isolation breeds diversity.”
“What does the sign say?”
“It says, the grist mill is to the east and the other way goes to the slaughter house. If we stay on this road, it will take you directly into the core of Salem’s Quailor commune.”
The three of them set off again abreast. They had gone less than a mile when Mendaka raised his hand to his eyes. “I see red and black objects moving below us on that road coming up out of the vale, but now the fog has grown thicker. Wait! There it is again. Whoa! Look, through the fog, here come the fyrds of Salem up the hill.”
“Looks like the commander is bringing some Quailor with him.” Sur Sceaf raised his hand to halt the caravan. He summoned Pyrsyrus, Herewose, Yellow Horse, and Ilkchild to his side.
White Fire and Wind Chaser both acted a bit agitated. The fyrd commander also called a halt, he then moved forward with only a black Quailor buggy following.
The commander was a broad shouldered Herewardi, with long brown hair and deep blue eyes. “Hail, Sur Sceaf, Chief of Chiefs, Alfhere am I, Heretoga of the Salem fyrds and Heorl over the Salem Viceroylty. I present to you my long swan wand and swear my fealty, to do your will. So mote it be!”
“Hail, Alfhere, kinsmen am I from the land of Witan Jewell.”
“Hail Sur Sceaf! Os-Frith! I Alfhere, son of Hereric do hereby place myself at your service, my lord.”
“I receive your wand and hand it back to you, in token of your fealty. Let me present my chief lieutenant, Chief Mendaka, of the Sharaka, commander of the dog soldiers.” Sur Sceaf then directed his gaze at his brother. “And this is my elder brother, King Pyrsyrus, the lord of Syrus, and this is his son Herewos.”
After the three men exchanged greetings, Sur Sceaf motioned with his hand at Ilkchild. “And this is my nigh-son, Ilkchild, acting heretoga, of the young blood fyrd. Beside him is Yellow Horse, the royal jester.”
After they greeted one another, Alfhere bowed at the neck before motioning to a barrel chested man in his late fifties, bundled against the weather in a thick wool overcoat and woolen muffler. His hat pulled low over his long silver hair. “My lord, permit me to present to you, Elijah von Hollar, the high priest of Salem.”
“Gruss Herr Sur Sceaf, Elijah am I from the Council of Ephrata, High Priest of the Quailor Ordnung, the Shepherd of Salem. It’s been a long time since thou didst grace our village.” The affable silver-haired man smiled.
“You are no stranger to me, Onkel,” Sur Sceaf revealed, returning his smile. “Perhaps my beard masks who I am.”
“Most wondrous,” Von Hollar exclaimed, as he tipped his hat, “I did not think thee to be the same Surrey. Thou hast grown much since last I saw thee at my brother’s home. Twas thy marriage feast to the fine lass. Who was she? Oh, yes, Lana Durer. How is Lana these days.”
“She fares very well and accompanies me even now. You’ll be able to ask her for yourself. But tell me, Onkel, do her parents still shun her?”
Elijah stroked his beard. “The truth be said, I wouldn’t know, but I have a feeling the mother regrets having shunned her all these years.”
Elijah sat transfixed for a moment staring at Sur Sceaf then shook his head. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Thou dost bear such a strong resemblance to thy grandfather when he was young. Ludwig von Hollar was a man of force and power to be reckoned with. I loved him more than the brother he was. He was more than just my blood. He was my dearest friend and as fine a man as God ever fashioned. This community owes their very survival to him. He was a Gideon in our day of need and now the dycons seem to want to sweep all that history under the rug and write a false history to make everything appear like they were the only ones who knew right from wrong.”
“Mo-Mo Redith says she notes the likeness in me as well. She weeps betimes when she sees me doing the works he used to do. Now as for your dycons who re-write history, are they on board with the joining of the three tribes.”
“They will be on board soon enough because the community has voted for the joining of the three tribes.” He paused momentarily to catch a thought. “Is Redith yet living?”
“She fares well.” Sur Sceaf said. Mindful of his mission, he changed the subject. “I must ask, have you received our ambassador, the Rabbi Amschel ben Levi?”
“We have already met with thine ambassador. A fine man, dressed much as we do and of a tribe we have only ever read about. He was most persuasive in laying out the Council of Three Tribes recommendation to unite, and it was our near unanimous agreement to approve that recommendation. Although there is a small portion of our community that refuses to leave, the rest of us have begun preparations for our departure.”
Sur Sceaf didn’t try to mask his astonishment. “I can not think anyone would remain. It is suicide, Onkel.”
“Thou speakest truth. Sometimes zeal blinds wisdom. We have tried to persuade them. But these days I am seldom at one with the Dycon’s Quorum. They fanatically believe that God will protect them against a world of hostile teeth and fangs. It’s as if they could take up serpents and not be bitten. It’s all under the new resurgence of belief they call Retrenchment. If you ask me, it is no more than a form of Hell cooked up in Christ’s kitchen. They call themselves God’s Retrenchment Core, but this group, under the leadership of Rudolf von der Vogelweide, believes God will protect them from all evil and harm. They need only petition the heavens and God and his avenging angels will cleave the skies in some grand rapture, swoop down and lift them out of any trouble through no effort of their own.”
Sur Sceaf twisted the reins in his hands. He could feel the anger well up in his fist at such pacifist stupidity and thought somehow he must persuade those fools, who chose to remain behind, that the gods only protect those who protect themselves and as his grandfather would say, “Faith without works is dead.”
“How big is the group who wish to stay behind?”
“Ten families consisting of one hundred twenty people. That includes your wife’s sister, Verushka, along with her husband and children.”
“Don’t they understand what the Pitter hell-rats can do, Elijah?” Ilkchild asked incredulously. “You need only bare your back, Father, and they shall see what we are talking about. The Pitters have nothing like human compassion or empathy. They are cold, cruel, and unyielding and will kill a child or infant as easily as one squashes a bug, not to mention rape the women ten ways to Sabbath.”
Elijah sighed heavily, “God knows, we’ve suffered attacks before; the members of the Core remember that horror. They saw the consequences of the Pitter horror not too long ago when only the Wose saved them by the skin of their teeth. I have talked till I had no voice, and still, they insist on staying. How easily we remember the good and put away the bad. Said they only need to show more faith. Recited that all Israel was afraid of their enemy, and it took a boy to stand alone against a giant.”
Sur Sceaf squeezed the reins even tighter as he sighed his frustrations. White Fire sensed his anger and began to snort and paw at the earth. “Perhaps if I speak to them?”
“I have heard thou art persuasive, my lord, but their faces are set like flint on staying. As for the rest of us, we are packed, most of the livestock is mustered in, and as soon as we depart, we will set fires to all the remaining crops and buildings so as to leav
e the Pitters only ashes to rake through. We have set aside one block of twelve homes to preserve for the ten families who will remain. We stocked their root cellars, left them a couple of cows for milking, and filled a granary for them. Damned zealous fools that they are! We couldn’t leave them to starve.”
“I applaud your ability to organize and your efficiency in making all ready. Our women have been on the trail, so we will allow them two days to wash their clothing and make ready for the journey back to Witan Jewell.”
“It will be done even as you say, my lord. We have only awaited your arrival, approval, and command.” The high priest pointed at his carriage, “Permit me to lead you with my buggy to the place of the gathering.”
Sur Sceaf nodded, “Lead on!”
He followed the black hooded buggy, pulled by two black horses, through square after square of wooden two story houses arranged in blocks of twelve homes, with each block connected by dirt roads. Every wooden home appeared recently painted and each dooryard was neatly groomed, tidy, and clean with an abundance of colorful shrubs and flowers. Every home displayed either double distel hexes or double rose hexes. The neighborhoods were alive with activities. People were busy loading their wagons with household goods. As they passed, many of the Quailor stopped and paused, appearing awestruck as they peered at the unusual caravan. Most of the Quailor men wore the same white shirts, black coats and pants and black string bow ties. Some few wore sear-sucker shirts, indicating they were lumbermen. The women were dressed in homespun grey with snowy aprons, their heads covered with a white tiechl. Old men stared out from beneath their black hats while women bustled to gather produce from the gardens. Collies barked at the thunder of hooves, their tails playfully wagging.
He felt his heart sadden that anyone would dare stay behind, it was against every instinct he had, but realized it was critical to honor their free agency, despite their foolhardiness. That tenant was a bedrock-based rule of the Herewardi to not get involved in internal affairs so long as they did not negatively impact the Herewardi. A courtesy few Tribes ever returned.
Not only had the town center grown since his last visit, but it gave every indication of being a well run community. Once they reached the center of Salem he couldn’t help noticing how much the town appeared to have grown. One section near an open grassland contained many more shops than he’d remembered. Next to the general store and the black smithy was an apothecary and leechcraft shop with all the healing herbs and medicines the Quailor were famous for. A taylor shop and a large bakery occupied opposite corners of the next block where a tannery, a woolen mill, and an iron mongery reflected industry, prosperity, and a certain basic wholesomeness these people were known for.
It was near midday. Most of the Quailor people went about their business and waved as they passed. He couldn’t help remembering his carefree school days on the flachs at Witan Jewell when the caravan passed the schoolyard and ran alongside the road. Girls in neat pinafores and boys in knickers and white shirts left the schoolyard and ran alongside Elijah’s buggy through the streets.
Mendaka appeared fascinated by everything he saw. “Why is it, my lord, that the Quailor all dress the same, even the children?”
“They oppose any form of rank and make it a point to dress simply in an effort to esteem all men equally.”
“Even amongst elk and buffalo there are ranks. This just seems like an enforced equality which goes counter to nature. When you lived here, did you dress like this?”
“No, I was Herewardi, and no one expected it. The Quailor think it too strange to look like them, but not act like them. Dress is another way to separate the holy from the profane.”
“Thank the gods for that. I’d hate to wear a black wool coat in this type of weather.” They rode on in silence until Elijah’s buggy came to a halt in front of a large canvas tent with the sides of it rolled up for a cross breeze. Behind the tent, stretched a parkland, used for large assemblies, auctions, and community activities of all sorts. As soon as three Quailor boys ran from the tent to tend Elijah’s buggy and horse, Elijah climbed out of the buggy and walked over to Sur Sceaf.
“This was just a big open field when I was a teen, Dak. We would practice archery here,” Sur Sceaf said as he dismounted. Mendaka followed his example, beckoning to Ilkchild and Redelfis to tend their horses.
Elijah gestured toward the greensward, which stretched over a plain of approximately ten acres and was edged with a forest of oaks where pigs were grazed on the mast in the autumn before their slaughter in the Blood Moonth. “Thou and thy troops may post camp here in the park, my lord. This field has been kept well mowed by the sheep and stretches completely to the outskirts of town on the north and on the south. Our boys will show thee the water sources and provender. This is the place I’ve chosen to assemble for launching the exodus. We shall meet together in that meeting house with the dycons and high priests for dinner around two on the medicine wheel, so feel free to explore until then.”
The meeting hall was a very simple white, ship lapped building, altogether bleak and simple looking.
Elijah continued, “Then we hope you will be able to elaborate on the plan, the rest stops, and how many miles or leagues we should cover in a day to get us over the Mountains of DiAhman before the winter storms strike.”
* * *
Sur Sceaf issued orders for his troops to make camp. After making sure his orders were being followed, he decided to spy out the lay of the land as was his custom so as never to be taken by surprise. Now that the morning mist had lifted, the day turned out to be both sunny and warm with the promise of increased heat as the day waxed on. The fyrds, especially the young bloods, seemed in a buoyant mood, laughing and laboring to set up their tents and cooking fires and going about their chores with cheerful hearts.
Pyrsyrus was setting up his ladies, his officers, and allowing Donya to walk her two brown and brindle shepherd guard dogs. Lana was assisting her while Swan Ray and Face-of-Stars directed some young bloods in setting up their shared tents.
On the east was a busy road with bustling black buggies and wagons, handcarts and men walking together in droves. Grey clad women wove in and out of the shops bordering the central field. The latrines were to the north and the hand pumped water sources to the south of the open field. To the east stood the open tent. Directly across from the tents stood the simple, white painted, meeting hall with a newly shingled roof, and two main doors on the front facing the road. At the gable was the customary double rose hex of Sur Sceaf’s grandfather.
The ladies in Pyrsyrus’ troupe were busy unloading their wagon near a copse of boxwood shrubbery in the middle of the field. Herewardi women, wives of the Salem fyrd, came to assist and pass on news and gossip from other settlements. Sur Sceaf saluted them as he walked over to Pyrsyrus’s second wife, Donya, who was tying down her shepherd dogs.
The dogs barked warning at his approach.
“It’s okay, Kraki and Fress,” she said. “He’s one of us.” The dog’s temperament immediately changed to wagging tails and playful barks.
“Donya Margarita de Borego, may I speak with my wife?” Sur Sceaf asked in the Herewardi manner.
“Si! Certainly, Lord Sur Sceaf,” Donya said in her musical voice. She pointed to the other side of the wagon. “Ju will find Lana is busy over there.”
Sur Sceaf circled the wagon and saw Lana was fast at laying out the stakes. “Not quite as nice as our bedroom at the Rock, is it, freckle fox?”
“Oh! I thought thou wast to be in a meeting. But nay, this tent though plush, isn’t as cozy as our room, but a small price to pay to be with thee. I’ve enjoyed having thy presence every night of our trek. It brings back the memories of when we were first married, leaving my homeland for the tribal lands of the Sharaka at DiAhman. Pyrsyrus will be bedding with Donya this evening so Face-of-Stars will be staying with Swan Ray since you will be sleeping with me.”
“I do have a meeting to attend, but needed to speak with you first.
Lana, since we are here in your hometown, shall I arrange for us to meet with your parents? It would only be right that we should make the first effort.”
“Odd that thou shouldst ask,” Lana said looking down at the pile of tent stakes before looking up with a sigh and stealing a glance in the direction of her father’s house. “Donya and Swan Ray volunteered to take me, but me thinketh this would be best if I went with thee. It will be easier on them if they see me as thy only wife, although they know better, that thou hast many ewes in thy flock. Remember, it was because of my marriage to a ‘heiden’ that the Ordnung shunned me. Little could they have realized that it has brought me a lifetime of happiness instead of the dire predictions they poured over me. If they could only know that which I now know. And even though the shunning was cruel and painful, I cannot stop loving them. They entertain a pleasant place in my heart. Chust today, as we were riding into town, I saw my old friend Griselda Mersfelder. It brought back so many memories. She said naught, but I can only think it was because she could not recognize me. My love for thee was the severing of my bond with this community. I haven’t laid eyes on my folks, my kith and kin, in fifteen years. It’s clear to me, I have to consider that perhaps they will never want to see me again. Nevertheless, I at least want to see them this one last time. The Ur Fyr tells me, it must be so.”
“It is good, my love.” He said as her eyes brightened. “I will go with you. Make ready. I’ll come for you at the fourth point of the sundial. Be assured, under my wing no one may harm you. If they wound you, I shall bind up your wounds and pour balm into them. And even should our attempts fail, remember, we have each other.” Sur Sceaf kissed Lana and thought he saw the young sixteen-year-old girl he first married looking back at him so trustingly. “Don’t worry, my little freckle fox, if the Ur Fyr prompted you to visit your folks, it will be because the Norns will it so.”
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 10
