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

by Russ L. Howard

  Sur Sceaf declared, “Young bloods, Mo-Fa Ludwig died in the Battle of Salem which was a siege by the Pitter legions that lasted for over six moonths some nine winters ago.”

  Elijah stabbed the earth with his staff. “It was six months of pure hell. Little work got done, no food, poor water, and constant and persistent attacks by day and by night.”

  “A battle lasted for six moons?!” Redelfis exclaimed with mouth agape.

  “It surely did,” answered Sur Sceaf. “The fyrd of Rusyrus along with a host of Quailor went to the rescue of Starkwulf of Zamora, whom you would likely only know as The Wose. Both Rusyrus and Ludwig were slain and are now holy blessed martyrs to the Herewardi, just as Chanting Drum and Tah-Man-Ea are revered by the Sharaka.”

  Redelfis shook his head, “And yet, I perceive that Flying Wolf, is not revered by all the Quailor.”

  Before Sur Sceaf could answer, Mendaka said, “It is true that most do not believe in warfare, but necessity has driven a number of them to change their thinking. I assure you, Ludwig’s actions are a source of contention within their community to this day. Do I have that right, Brother Elijah?”

  Elijah nodded, “Thou dost, but thou art also correct that a new day has come. During the Battle of Salem, we were compelled to fight for our wives and little ones. After the horror of the battle was long over, some of the dycons began claiming that Ludwig had hijacked their original purpose of remaining non-violent and tried to ignore and re-write this chapter of our history. Eventually, they formed what is known as the Retrenchment Society. Which they said was to atone for the bloodletting that had been committed in an effort to restore the Quailor to the status quo and God’s acceptance.”

  Redelfis inquired. “You have mentioned Retrenchment several times, but I’m not clear on its meaning.”

  Elijah scrunched his lips. “It means to get everything the same way it used be.”

  Ilkchild looked disgusted. “That’s called stagnation. Without warfare we are doomed to lose. Even with warfare, we may still lose. We’re already grossly outnumbered. That is why it would behoove every able bodied man to pick up the sword or be called a coward for there to be any hope of defeating the evils of the Empire.”

  “There is a difference between being a pacifist and coward, son.” Sur Sceaf told him. “There are those who believe in our cause, but not in the shedding of blood. They can be just as involved in defeating the enemy as we are without the necessity of lifting the sword. We have need of those who can work the fields, administer to the wounded, and manage our flocks.”

  Mendaka cleared his throat. “We do not condemn those who believe their God disapproves of war and they don’t condemn us because we believe in the necessity of war to rectify injustices.”

  Chapter 7 : Hartmut

  Hallo, hallo! Who goes there,” came a crackling old voice from behind an overgrown lilac bush just under the hoary arms of the cork oak.

  “No need for alarm, Lila,” Elijah said as a frail elderly lady emerged slowly from behind the bush. She was beyond aged, stooped, shuffling with great difficulty, dressed neatly in traditional grey with her sparse white hair tucked under her tiechl. The only indicator of life besides her slow movements was a fire that burned in her deep grey eyes.

  “Who is it, ye say?” the voice asked again.

  Sur Sceaf instantly recognized that elderly tone through its crackle. It seemed that Lila had not been the one to pass on. “Lila Stobie, it is I, the young Lord Surrey, with Elijah come to see the old homestead.”

  “Oh Lord, my God, Ludie’s grandson.” She exclaimed as she walked over with open arms for a hug. “Thou hast grown so big, my Buble. Such mighty shoulders and arms, chust like thy Opa,” she cackled a laugh and hugged him. “Built like a mule, thou art. I ought to put thee to the plow, boy.”

  He was happy to see that she was still possessed of the same feisty spirit he remembered. “Lila, I’m a war horse, not a work horse,” Sur Sceaf said as he stepped back for a closer look at those bright grey eyes. Though her skin was vastly wrinkled and parchment thin, it still had the faint color of the last autumn leaf. “It is such a delight to see you are still alive. By all the Holy Martyrs, if you don’t mind me asking, Lila, how old are you now?”

  Lila said a bit testily, “Nine and ninety winters I am. I’ll be one hundred on the twelfth day of the Dark Moonth, our December.”

  Elijah interjected, “We have promised her a great party on the trail. We celebrate her as the eldest amongst us.”

  Although she was hunched over, leaning heavily on a walking stick, and taking deep wheezing breaths, she appeared surprisingly spry and mentally alert under her exterior. “Oh, thy grandfather would be so proud of thee,” she said. “Once Redith left the home to me, my granddaughter, Evangeline and her husband, Hartmut, took over your family home. Many people here judged me, for even though I never knew your Opa in bed, I was to be his third bride. Hartmut and Evangeline came to live with me and help me with the upkeep. Redith was such a sweet dear to have considered me her bride-sister all the same. I do hope she yet lives?”

  “She lives with me, Lila, in the land we will all be going to,” Sur Sceaf replied.

  “Oh no! Not me. These old bones wouldst be shaken to pieces by Hartmut’s wagon. I’d as soon ride a bull or be drug behind a horse than to get in that bone rattling wagon of his.”

  A closing door caused them to look toward the house, where a tall dark-haired man stood. He wore a well-worn black hat and had the traditional Athenian beard of a Quailor. He approached them with his head turned cautiously.

  Sur Sceaf grinned. “Hartmut Hegele, is that you?”

  “Tis none other than I, Hartmut. And who art thou, if not a hairy version of Surrey the Horse Tamer himself.”

  Sur Sceaf hugged Hartmut and slapped him on the back. When he stepped back, he noticed the premature greying around the temples and wondered why his old friend was so early to greying. From the deep lines around his eyes and forehead, he deduced that his old friend was under some great stress.

  Hartmut asked after a moment of intense study, “When didst thou grow thy beard?”

  “Well, I sported a royale before I left here, but beards are recommended for anyone on the War Council.”

  “Thou art truly a blessed sight! Thou art. I have not had a friend thy equal since thou didst leave us.” Hartmut laughed out loud. “I remember how we went swimming, nigh naked, in the town pond on a hot summer day, the same year Thomas Lawrence drowned. Caused more than an uproar with the dycons and my father caned me as punishment for my heathen behaviors. Forbade me from associating with ‘that young heathen lord,’ until I reminded him thou hast Quailor blood and he decided that thou wast only half bad, and possibly still worthy of redemption.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed. “That story has many wings. I still hear versions I don’t recognize, particularly from Lana Durer. You had those baggy, red, linsey-woolsey long johns on and I had but a loin clout.”

  “That’s a lot more flesh than most Quailor girls are used to seeing.” He gave a friendly punch to Sur Sceaf’s shoulder. “You might as well have been naked.”

  It was clear Ilkchild and Redelfis were piping in an ear to the conversation and perking up to hear all his youthful secrets. “Hear me, young bloods! Don’t let these tales give you any ideas. We have no time for youthful hijinks in our mission.”

  Hartmut continued, “Poor Lana bore the brunt of it all when her parents learned she was at the pond with us that morning. Ol’ Man Durer said thou hadst to be demon-possessed to swim naked like that.” Hartmut laughed. “Oh, the crazy days of youth; sadly nothing like that hath happened since thou leftest us.”

  Elijah twinkled, “Surrey, thou wast like unto a firebrand cast into dry grass. Thou didst set the dycons to meeting every night, but Fromer was too fearful of Ludwig Hollar to openly address dealing with his favorite grandson. But I’m sure Fromer hath never forgotten thy antics, nor that thou didst persuade thy cousin, Schmo Hollar to
spend a summer at DiAhman with thee. When word got back that he married a Sharaka and had gone wild, the dycons went crazy over building fences around anyone who knew thee.”

  Sur Sceaf frowned, “Fromer? Fromer Muckenschnabel. The one you and I used to refer to as Old Mosquito Beak. Oh, yes, the one who always lurked in the shadows when you and I would fish or swim. Didn’t know the first thing about stalking. We always knew he was there.”

  “That’s right,” Hartmut said, “the self-righteous Mosquito. Who only came to marriage by arrangement of his parents to the homeliest girl in all Quailordom.”

  Elijah nodded, “Unfortunately, Old Mosquito Beak has now garnered much power and influence in the Dycons Quorum and is a devout Retrencher and tithe-monger of the worst order. He was the one who was most opposed to the plan of the three tribes until he, himself, became victim to the Pitters. Turned him right around. Though he doth continue to encourage others to be more strict than himself.”

  Hartmut had a gloom settle over his face before changing the subject. “Surrey, thou gavest me the greatest of all gifts when thou didst give me that milk white horse, Titus. Fromer called it a devil horse because Titus was so showy and spirited. But what a joy that horse was to me. It oft made me wish I was Herewardi. Thou didst have such a way with horses, not to mention with women. Sad that Titus is gone.”

  “Whatever happened to Titus, he should only be seventeen or thereabouts? The Sleipner breed usually lives well up into the twenties.”

  “Wist thou not that my older brother, Fritz, died in the Battle of Salem on that very same horse, alongside thy grandfather. T’was a Pitter Pike that brought him down. Of all the horses I’ve ridden, Titus had the smoothest five-gaited ride. Lila could have ridden on our trek with us as smoothly as dandelion down on air if he was still alive. She’s convinced herself that she can’t make this trek. It’ll be the death of her, she says.”

  Lila shook her walking stick in the air. “Worry not for me. I’ll fight those Pitter hellions if they come in my house.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Had enough of them with the death of thy wife, my dear sweet Evangeline, and my beloved Ludie.”

  Sur Sceaf was speechless for several moments before he managed to say, “I’m so sorry. I did not know of this. How did Evangeline die?”

  Hartmut took his black hat off and gazed down at it as if reluctant to explain. “That God damned Fromer took a group of women and children on a berry foray without enlisting the security of a fyrd. The Pitters surprised them and captured the women and children. When Evie refused to cooperate, they killed her. For the others, it was fortunate that the Wose arrived in time to rescue them. He slew the Pitter captors and even freed Fromer.” He held back to capture his composure before declaring, “I as good as died that day. Now I have little will to do much of anything. If it weren’t for Lila, nothing would get done around here. I’m seriously thinking of remaining here with Lila. My whole world lived here, it’s not likely I shall ever marry again, and I don’t want to leave the last fragments of Evangeline here alone.”

  Elijah said, “Hartmut, can you really think that is what Evangeline would have wanted?”

  “No, she would not have wanted that, Brother Elijah. But she would also not want me to leave her mother here to die alone.”

  “Actually, I was about to ask Lila for a favor.” Sur Sceaf said, turning to her. “Lila, we urgently need your help. You are an experienced midwife. Would you ride in the birthing wagon and assist the young ladies in birthing? Elijah has just shown me the wagon and explained the manner in which it has been adapted for the comfort of the mothers and babies.”

  Her face lit up. She glanced at Hartmut before explaining. “Oh, Sur Sceaf, thou wast always so thoughtful. That would please me greatly. Seemed like nobody had any use for me here. Even Hartmut won’t let me cook anymore. Might as well curl up and die like a squirrel in a tree. Well, these hands have pulled more than their share of screaming babies through the gate of life. Thank you, my dear boy. I would love to be useful.”

  Hartmut shot a surprised look at Sur Sceaf.

  “Brethren, may I call your attention to the fact it is time we start back,” Elijah declared in a reluctant tone. “We must not be late for the meeting with the dycons. They’re the only faction that still needs convincing.”

  “So good to see you again Lila. Farewell till we see you on the exodus Hartmut,” Sur Sceaf saluted.

  “Oh! Thou must come to the Ineffable Tree Ceremony on the morrow at high noon.” Hartmut said, “They will be digging up the time capsule planted by the first of all patriarchs. Who knows what may be found? What message could he have sent us from the distant past?”

  Sur Sceaf said, “We’ll be there. Until we see each other again my friend.” He saluted.

  * * *

  Even though they had hurried back to the town center they arrived with just minutes to spare. The meeting hall was a wooden building with bleak unadorned windows and door. As they walked up the stairs they were met by a young man of twenty-four winters, whom Elijah warmly embraced and gave the brotherly kiss. He declared. “This is my heir-apparent, to be the next chief high priest upon my death. This is Franz.”

  They swiftly introduced one another.

  Franz said, “I’ve been waiting for you Brother Elijah to convey the mood of the dycons. They seem cooperative, but intent on having as little contact with the other tribes as possible.”

  “Let me guess, Fromer thinks we’ll be polluted by exchanging services.”

  Sur Sceaf exchanged looks with Mendaka. “Sounds to me, like someone is very insecure in their religious beliefs if they think anyone can be so easily dissuaded from it.”

  Mendaka scratched his head. “That may be true, but me thinks this Fromer is more interested in maintaining his power over others than he is in leading his flock to safety. Thunder Horse used to say, ‘Little ponies try to keep the stallions away by prancing and nipping’.”

  Franz opened the door on the right hand side. Elijah led the way in. The interior featured bleak unadorned windows, simple pine wood furniture, and four wooden tables forming two squares with chairs arranged on three sides at the far end of the room before the high place of the dais. A single empty chair had been placed on the dais between the dycons and the priests. At the tables on the left sat the twelve high priests and at the other sat the seven dycons. Elijah motioned for Sur Sceaf and Ilkchild to take four chairs from those lined up against the wall. Everyone stood to honor the chief high priest, Elijah, who acknowledged them with a neck bow before walking with firm strides to his chair in the high place of the meeting house, where he turned and faced the room.

  “Be seated, brethren,” Elijah said in a formal tone, taking off his hat. Sur Sceaf, Mendaka, and the boys joined him. He noticed that a change appeared to have come over Elijah, perhaps as if Elijah felt empowered by the presence and authority communicated by the chief of three tribes.

  The seven dour faced dycons reminded Sur Sceaf of a row of crows perched on a fence. Not one of them smiled. In fact, four of them looked both conniving and designing. Twelve wizened men sat at the other table most of whom were approaching dotage, four of whom it could be said were middle-aged. These were the high priests.

  “Brethren of the Ordnung, permit me to introduce our guests, the Lord Prince Sur Sceaf, Chief of Chiefs of the Three Tribes, Son of Sur Spear, King of the Herewardi, and I might add, Sur Sceaf is the grandson of one of our own brethren, the much esteemed martyr, Ludwig von Hollar. Seated on my left is his chief lieutenant, Mendaka, the spirit chief of the Sharaka, son of Thunder Horse, and he is the commander of the dog soldiers you saw riding about today on their beautiful horses. Accompanying them are their sons,” motioning with his hand, “Ilkchild and Redelfis.”

  Elijah turned to the table of the twelve. “These are my high priests. As you see they are composed mostly of the passing generation. When I die, Young Franz shall take my place and appoint younger men to be the high priests. The High Priest
Quorum leader is Brother Habraham. He will be acting in my stead on several occasions as needed.”

  Habraham smiled.

  Elijah turned to the dycons who had tracked Sur Sceaf with only their eyes as if nothing else on their bodies worked. “These are the seven representatives of the Seventy Dycons, whom we simply refer to as the Seventy.” They were dressed in their formal dark attire and wearing their wide-brimmed woolen hats. “And the leader of the Dycon’s Quorum, Fromer Muckenschnabel,” he indicated with his hand the short possum faced dycon sitting across from Habraham. “He represents those who strictly adhere to the Quailor Laws as set down in the Book of Martyrs. Thus he clings tenaciously to the old ways of plainness and simpleness in all things and pursues the constant policy of Retrenchment. He advocates the orthodox religion mingled with the philosophy of the martyrs as the only true religion.”

  Fromer took off his hat, revealing a thin covering of hair and said in a thin, high pitched nasal voice, “That’s right, I am proud to be a strict adherent to all rules and regulations the revered Quailor martyrs have set down before us and refuse to have any of them questioned for value, merit, or veracity as they come from the unquestioned authority of those who were slain for their beliefs. All save these few,” he pointed to Elijah, Franz, and Habraham, “have been converted to our ideas of Retrenchment.

  “Although Elijah sayeth I have disdain for the will of the people, it is only because I enforce the laws of God. It seemeth some in this community think the rules can be bent for their own convenience. God hath called me to set things right in this community.”

  Sur Sceaf stood erect, “Brethern of the Ordnung, let me emphasize, the purpose of our binding pact or agreement is to survive the coming storm. The Herewardi and the Sharaka do not seek converts. There is room for all belief systems, as long as one does not harm another. As the chief of chiefs of the three tribes, it will be my policy to honor your right to worship as you chose. It is also my policy to require you to show the Herewardi and the Sharaka the same deference. I promise you, I shall rule without fear or favor. One of the founding principles of the three tribes is the concept of sovereignty. That includes the right of each belief system to express itself so long as it does no harm to another. Although I have been authorized to speak for the Herewardi and the Sharaka, I prefer to defer to Mendaka on any questions regarding the Sharaka and their interests.”