The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2)

by Russ L. Howard

  After exchanging a few more words with Herman, they started to move on, only to be stopped when two Quailor women walked up and arrested their progress. The older one had apparently recognized him even through his beard.

  “Surrey, thou art now a man in his fullness. Perhaps thou dost not remember me, I am Amanda Stoltzfuss. Do you remember, you used to go fishing with my son, Heinrich?”

  “Yes, yes I remember well. I’m surprised you recognized me with a beard. How is Heinrich?”

  “Well, dare I say, there are few men as handsome as thou art and that is the truth of the matter. It pleaseth the eye to merely look upon thee, though thou be outlandish. But, as to Heinrich, he left our community to live with the River People. He visiteth once in a while. Married a girl from the River Folk. I was telling Ursula...,” she stopped, “By the way, this is Ursula Tautorus.”

  Sur Sceaf bowed at the neck, “Glad to meet you.”

  Ursula said, “Amanda hath told me thou art a man that understandeth our ways and will not suffer the Pitter hell-rats to take us. Ever since the Battle of Salem I wake in night terrors. I will be so grateful to take shelter under the Herewardi wing in a peaceful, secure land. Here, there is nothing but a cow fence between us and those frightful legions of demons.”

  “Your gratitude is appreciated.” Sur Sceaf nodded his head and smiled.

  The women moved on down the boardwalk. But when they reached Herman’s smithy, they stepped into the dirt of the street to avoid Herman, which was required as reinforcement for the shunning.

  Sur Sceaf actually remembered Ursula from his youth. She had always made him and the other young bloods tasty meals and loved hearing the stories of their adventures. How could such warm-hearted women show such blatant character abuse without considering all its ramifications, he wondered.

  Elijah offered no comment, but instead directed him with his staff to the wainwright. The two doors were splayed wide open, revealing wagons in various stages of construction. He said, “I wanted thee to meet our wainwright, Dietrich Donnerbergen. As Herman mentioned, he is building the birthing wagon.” Elijah looked disappointed before glancing around. “Oh, look over yonder, the wain is almost finished building it. It only needs the special wheels and leaf springs Herman was busy crafting when we were there. Come, let us turn aside and see its special features.” They examined the wagon, running their hands over the smooth wood, smelling the freshness of its walnut scent, and testing the rain proof canvas.

  Elijah proudly declared, “See here, the wagon is extra-large and has added springing and shock absorbers to make the ride smoother. Look upon this fine kiln dried walnut wood. Have you ever seen the likes of such craftsmanship?”

  Sur Sceaf was genuinely impressed by the care and skill level the wainwright had so skillfully employed in building the wagon. He knew well the pride the Quailor took in their craftsmanship. “This is indeed a labor of love.”

  “Many of our women are with child, and so we shall be expecting numerous births on the trail. I’m sure thou knowest, life goes on.”

  Sur Sceaf smiled his approval. “What a marvelous accommodation! You truly have covered every detail of this trek. I salute you, once again, Elijah.”

  “Thy words are most welcome and appreciated.” Elijah rubbed the back of his head with his staff before they moved on.

  After they had covered several other shops, Elijah said, “I have shown thee our black smithy, the woolen mill, the grain mill, the bakery, and the tannery.” Then sticking his staff in the ground he marked the angle of the shadow, and said, “The shadow falls on the first point of the dial. Is there anything else thou wouldst care to see?”

  “That leaves us another hour before the meeting. Would you take us by Flying Wolf’s home? My heart has many fond memories there. I’d love to see it one more time.”

  “Why certainly. Right this way,” Elijah said, beckoning them to follow him. They walked for four plow-lengths down the South Road, bounded on both sides with neat, white wooden fences till the road took a westward turn. “Whoa.” Elijah raised his hand to stop. “As thou seest, we have sheep blocking the road ahead. That meaneth Zrael the Shepherd is heading this way with his flocks. I hope thou dost not mind getting jostled by the sheep and goats. He’s mustering them for the trek and taking them to the corrals in town. We’ll have to wade through sheep.”

  “I don’t mind at all. It’ll feel just like home. “Sur Sceaf smiled. “Our entire Herewardi Kingdom rides on the back of our sheep.”

  Elijah crossed his arms above his head, hailing the shepherd. A tall lanky man in dark trousers, white shirt, and traditional black hat, ran up to them. The man appeared to be Sur Sceaf’s age and had deep set hollow eyes, a full beard that swept from ear to ear with the traditional upper lip shaved clean. “Hail Elijah. Why hailest thou me?”

  “Zrael,” Elijah said, “this is the Lord Sur Sceaf and his lieutenants, Chief Mendaka of the Sharaka dog soldiers, and Mendaka’s son Redelfis, and Sur Sceaf’s son, Ilkchild.” Amidst the din of bleating goats and sheep, Sur Sceaf stretched forth his hand to receive a handshake that was so strong it verged on pain, a Quailor custom to ensure you know how heartily they greet you.

  “Pleased to meet thee, my lord and herren lieutenants,” Zrael answered in a scratchy voice. “I have heard ye Herewardi are the greatest of flock masters and have some of the finest wool anywhere to be found. I yearn to see such flocks.”

  As the sheep pressed in, surrounding them on all sides in the familiar scent that Sur Sceaf always associated with home, Ilkchild grabbed a sheep, parted its wool, and showed Redelfis how to examine wool for crimp and handle. “You see, this is Romney wool. It’s long, strong, and lustrous. See how the wool squiggles.”

  “Yes, I see,” Redelfis said with a puzzled look that said he didn’t.

  Ilkchild grinned, “The squiggles are called crimp. Merino sheep in our flocks have much more crimp and the fibers are much finer in texture, making them feel softer to the touch.”

  “Does handle mean they are easy to grab?”

  “In a way. Handle means the wool is easy to work on the wheel or the loom.”

  Sur Sceaf delighted in the familiar bleating of the sheep and goats, which brought back many memories of a pastoral life in Witan Jewell. “Our Saxon Merinos do produce fine wool, but the fibers are not nearly as long as your Romneys,” Sur Sceaf said, while Zrael’s three border collies nervously crept up close and low to the ground, waiting for their flock master’s next command. “We make it a point to send our Saxon Merino wool to you, for we love the woolen shirts the Quailor make.”

  “Be of good cheer, kind shepherd,” Ilkchild said. “We are going to a goodly land where our ewes are so fat we have to roll them out of the fields at night.”

  Zrael laughed. “Well, the good thing is the Pitters won’t touch a sheep. They consider them an unclean animal, but they have stolen our cattle from time to time. Those hell-rats.” Glancing at his collies, he ordered, “Come by me.” Obediently, the collies maneuvered the sheep around them, working hard to keep them on the road leading to town. “Normally I’d lead them in with my kiko goats, but I’ve got those out in the brush.”

  Redelfis watched with interest before turning back, “Is it true those hell-rats won’t touch honey, either?”

  Zrael answered. “It is. They call honeybees, Herewardi flies, and won’t have anything to do with food made by an insect. But, if you ask me, they are missing out on the three greatest foods on earth; lamb, milk, and honey.”

  Two of the collies circled back to gather in a cluster of sheep that had lingered in a ditch.

  Sur Sceaf pulled his men near him as some loose sheep banged against them to avoid the dogs. The dogs tried to compensate by drawing near and moving the sheep away while reinforcing with their yips and barking. “Zrael,” Sur Sceaf said, “It would please me if I could enlist your services. My flocks are great and my eldest son has had to manage them long enough. He’s doing an excellent job, but h
e needs to render his service as head of his fyrd. I’ll be in great need of a good shepherd to manage them in his place if that doesn’t cause you any conflict. You need not give me an answer now. We shall talk more of this on the exodus.”

  “I can give thee my answer now. I’d be delighted to work with Merinos. That is if thou wouldst allow me to keep my small flock of Friesen milk sheep.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then it is settled.” Zrael tipped his hat. “Been a pleasure, my lord and herren lieutenants, but I must get these sheep corralled before the coyotes strike.”

  Redelfis said as they walked away, “He was a likeable soul. I look forward to getting to know him better.”

  Elijah said, “You’ll find him to be a faithful shepherd. It is, as we say, Zrael can sleep when the storms come. Because he hath anticipated everything the livestock need in advance.”

  Mendaka side-stepped some fresh sheep droppings. “An admirable trait that is valuable in a commander as well.”

  Ilkchild tossed up a stone that landed in the first haystack out of a line of eight. “Lord Elijah, why are these haystacks everywhere, even next to the houses?”

  “I am no lord, my boy. We are all chust brethren. Thou mayest call me Brother Elijah. Now, about those haystacks, they are for burning everything to the ground when we leave.”

  Redelfis commented. “Just as my people are doing in the Sharaka Lands.”

  “I feel sympathy for those who have to sacrifice their homes and burn them.” Ilkchild shook his head. “I remember how devastated Swan Ray was when her house burned down from a spark in the fireplace. She lost everything and was forced to live with my mother, Pam-El-Ea.”

  “Fortunately,” Elijah said, “our people are able to take our most valued possessions with us to Urford.

  “There was some argument from our people that they would be able to return once the Pitters had moved on, but we had to explain we couldn’t leave these assets in the hands of the Pitters. We’re a bit like a beaver caught in a trap, we either have to chew our arm off or stay in the trap and be eaten.”

  “Speaking of homes, Brother Elijah,” Ilkchild said, “I notice that every block we pass has the same number of homes. It’s like they are laid out in a perfect geometric pattern. Why is that?”

  “Yea, thou art correct. Every block consists of twelve homes laid out like the Camp of Israel. Four facing east, four west, and four north and four south. As thou seest, the fences then run from house to house, and this alloweth the children to be confined in the center square so the women folk can wash, cook, and garden communally with their children all safely confined and easily within hailing distance.”

  Mendaka looked thoughtful. “A well thought out plan.”

  As they waded through a rain swollen stream that ran shallow over the road in a small race, Redelfis remarked, “Brother Elijah, how is it, the houses are all of a sudden much farther apart and of a longer nature, sand colored stucco with the supporting timbers exposed and painted dark brown like the ones in Hrusburg?”

  Elijah chuckled. “That is by reason of their having once been Herewardi homes, which must have several apartments for their wives, thus necessitating a larger structure. Let me show you Sur Sceaf’s grandfather’s house, which was given by Redith to the Family Hagele when Redith left to live in Witan Jewell.”

  “Here we are!” Sur Sceaf said, “This is my Mo-Fa’s home where Paloma, Lana, and I lived with Mo-Mo and Mo-Fa. It has three large apartments, a large central kitchen, and a cistern fed by rainwater right into the kitchen. See there on the front gable is a hexad, which Mo-Fa said, was the symbol of sacred marriage. It had been newly built when I lived there and Mo-Fa was considering taking another wife, the widow, Lila Stobie, but he died before that could happen. It is called the schwarze sonnenrad or sun wheel.” He paused staring for a moment. “By Baldur, I remember painting it as if it were yesterday. Mo-Fa took great pride in it. He said, that to him, it embodied the best of all cultures.”

  Elijah laughed, “I remember you painting that sign, Surrey, and almost falling off that roof. Had your shirt off and all the young maidens were down here distracting you.”

  Sur Sceaf saw Redelfis elbow Ilkchild and knew they would now take that as permission to fraternize with the Quailor girls. “There’s the old grey cork oak Mo-Fa and I used to sit under. And Redith delighted so much in that garden with her peonies and roses. I would pick purple peonies for Paloma and pink roses for Lana. It was such a happy time for us. In those days, we were at the center of the sun wheel and all the heavens turned for us.”

  “Too bad, the roses and peonies appear to be neglected,” Ilkchild declared. “I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained, their gardens are so neat.”

  “That is because this is a grieving house.” Elijah exchanged looks with Sur Sceaf.

  Sur Sceaf thought, Poor Lila must have died.

  “How old were you when you lived there, Fa?” Ilkchild inquired.

  “Near your age. The Roufytrof recognized I had the gift of seeing, and so my Fa had me go live with Redith where my gift could be better watched over and directed. It’s why I lived with my grandparents in DiAhman and here for several years.”

  “This place is very special to you, isn’t it.”

  “It is a choice place. It brings back such fond memories. I remember Lana had me go out at night and pick a quince off that tree there and cook it for her and we’d sit together on the porch listening to the hoot owls late into the night and smell the fragrance of the night blooming stocks while Polyphemus moths visited the tobacco plants. GrandFa loved an occasional chew and he used the tobacco to de-worm his livestock. It looks like a lot of the flowers have been replaced, and here, here is the stone seat beneath the magnolia where Redith would teach me to divine through her ink well and later with some proven seer stones father gifted me.”

  “Shush!” Elijah whispered and held a finger to his mouth. “Someone might be listening and accuse thee of practicing the witchcraft.”

  Choosing to ignore the comment, Sur Sceaf pointed at a monolith half hidden behind the old oak. “But I do not remember that large moss covered obelisk over there by the oak.”

  “Yea, and verily that is where we buried thy grandfather,” Elijah told him. “The Herewardi engraved that large stone there to mark his rest. He was a good chief high priest. I will never be able to fill those shoes. He had such a way with all people.”

  Sur Sceaf shot him an approving glance. “But you will, Elijah.”

  Sur Sceaf walked through the tangle of weeds and perennials to the tombstone and the others followed. The obelisk towered over him by at least another man length. Sur Sceaf felt where the mossy fingers covered the stone. He etched the letters with his finger tips while he read out the inscription, ‘Here lies our distinguished brother from the Quailor Race, Ludwig von Hollar, the Quailor chief high priest, known as the Flying Wolf to the Sharaka, a sovereign master of the White Horse Order, and an honorary member of Rusyrus’ fyrd. He died in the service of the Quailor, Sharaka, and Herewardi people, a man beloved of all races and beliefs. He is not here, but has gone to join his fathers in the halls above’.”

  Elijah said with a reverent look on his face, “When the Herewardi built this grave, multitudes of Quailor came to deposit flowers here until the third year when the dycons forbade the Shriners from coming here, saying that it was idolatry to have such a shrine and said it was a pagan practice to honor the dead so.”

  “Please forgive me, Brother Elijah,” Ilkchild said, “but I am curious about some of your beliefs.”

  “Speak up, young man, unlike some of our dycons, I have no fear of questions.”

  “Well,” Ilkchild said, “You Quailor follow a religion that seems strange to me. I don’t understand why you deny yourselves the special gifts and tools, like scrying, prophesying, the use of the Ur Fyr, and personal visitations from holy beings. All of which the gods have given mankind to light their feet through this dark
vale of tears. It seems self-defeating to me. I would think that would make life much harder for everyone. Kind of like plowing with a stick when one could have a well fashioned plow.”

  “Forgive me, Ilkchild, I did not intend to disparage the Herewardi beliefs when I warned Sur Sceaf about speaking freely. But there are those in this community who are always looking for fault, blasphemy, and anything resembling witchcraft and devilry. They see it in everything innocent. My instincts always put me on guard.” Elijah looked down at the ground and drew in the dust with his staff. “After my brother’s death, I had all the dogma of religion squeezed and crushed out of me by the millstone of reality. I saw then that the zeal of belief blinded me to seeing the real dangers of life in this world. From that moment on, I only listened to my inner voice, what you folks call the Ur Fyr, and learned that truth can withstand any scrutiny. That is why it disturbeth me that Rudolf doth not know he is blind by relying strictly on the dycons interpretations of the Holy Books. My inner voice then told me to scrutinize everything before accepting it as truth, like throwing it all in the fire and taking out only what remains. I am now a seeker of things that prove true by personal observation and experience. Nothing more. All the rest is just a role I play on the stage for the benefit of my people. For no man standeth alone, and I, like a fish, must live in the pond of my community as Ludwig did. Even though Ludwig preached against the horrors of war, he said, there cometh a time when God expecteth us to take a stand for him and for his innocent people, a time when man must wield the blade for the right.

  “This obelisk stands tall and strong like Ludwig, a constant reminder that there cometh a time when we must discard our structured beliefs for a nobler cause, that of defending the innocent. Ludwig is witness that it is a greater evil to do nothing and allow the slaughter of innocents than it is to kill a wicked enemy.”