The bride-sisters, with the exception of Shining Moon, who was changing the baby’s diaper, clustered tightly around Elka.
“Oh, that is such bull shite!” Swan Hilde expressed vociferously. “I don’t know one person who would believe that crap. Do you?”
“Well, apparently Clotilde believes the girl, because she has forced a meeting with King Sur Spear, so she can file a case and public hearing against Surrey.”
“How ridiculous,” Milkchild said, “Sur Sceaf has never dallied with a woman before marriage and he has always come to us bride-sisters for approval of any new wife.”
“Has anyone ever even heard of this girl before? Does she live on the coast with Clotilde, that she should fain such interest in her?” Shining Moon asked. “And to make this accusation while our lord is doing the bidding of the Roufytrof and is not here to defend himself. That is a low blow. We all know our lord would never commit such a criminal act.”
Paloma pulled her eyebrows together. “Well, I smell a fish. Something isn’t quite fitting here. We must take the day off and go into Witan Jewell to find out what substance there is to these accusations. Clotilde and this Gal Fawkes must not be permitted to sully the reputation of our noble husband. I won’t stand for it.”
* * *
Elijah finally exited the meeting house and came quickly to the tulip tree where Sur Sceaf, Mendaka, and the young bloods waited. The tulip tree was near the now deserted iron mongers shop. It was close to four on the medicine wheel. The remnants of the midday meal in the gathering tent had been cleared away. Young maidens swept the floors and washed the tables while the young men headed for the farms to do their evening chores.
Elijah was breathing hard when he arrived. “Woo, Fromer can be so damned widerspenstig. Can’t he? Tis the nature of little men, you know. But thou puttest him firmly in his place. And Sur Sceaf, I have to tell you, the high priests were never seen to be as delighted as when thou didst.”
Sur Sceaf almost felt sorry for Elijah. The high priests were composed of men in their latter years with no stomach for conflict or confrontation and Elijah’s opponent, Fromer, had personally groomed most of his dycons to be his enforcers and henchmen. It was a rigged fight at best. “That long pointy nose tells me he is probably probing into everybody’s business, to the point of being quite intrusive, I should imagine. The malignant bastard should never have been allowed to garner this much power over a whole community, Elijah. You must have seen this coming.”
Elijah shook his head. “Thou art right. Thou hast perceived how much he irritateth me and hath slowly sucked my authority from me over the years. Honestly Surrey, he’s like a mosquito of the soul. This hath been going on since Fromer was a young man. I should tell thee, Fromer expected to be picked by Ludwig as the next chief high priest because he was ten years younger than I, but instead I was chosen to be Ludwig’s successor. While my brother was alive, Fromer wouldn’t dare challenge me. Even after his death, Fromer wore two faces for several years. He forever smileth at me and then invariably condemneth everything I say or do behind my back or some other indirect route. To hold any opposing view to his maketh you instantly a proven sinner and an apostate in his eyes. Now he is so rooted through his conniving that chust about the entire community knows that to doubt meaneth you are out. So most fain allegiance to what he preacheth for fear of being branded an apostate.”
Redelfis looked disgusted and could not help offering his unsolicited opinion. “And did you notice his hands were so tiny and girl-like. I doubt he has ever hunted. He would starve unless the women took pity on him.”
Mendaka suppressed a grin. “You don’t need to be making comments like that boy. The little man can’t help it. He was born that way.”
“Which only means, this community gave him authority he was not qualified for,” Ilkchild postulated. “And Elijah, you need to be less timid. Grab this fool by his balls and show him you are boss.”
“Perhaps so,” Elijah said, “My timidness doth not extend to other people. It’s only Fromer. He’s smarter than I and talks faster. I can never collect my thoughts fast enough to withstand him. You have to admit, combined with all his other short falls he is indeed quite unpleasant. Between us only, he reminds me of the Schnallygaster in our children’s books.”
“What on Ea-Urth, is that?” Ilkchild looked aghast.
Sur Sceaf laughed, “A Schnallygaster is a monster that comes out of the river in the dark of the night covered in slim and algae to steal children. A lot like the werewolves in our history books.”
Ilkchild said, “Well, frankly, he reminds me more of a cave troll. It’s like my brother, Arundel, used to scare me with.”
Redelfis asked, “Speaking of strange creatures. Why does he, and so many of you, have a long beard and yet shave only your upper lip?”
Elijah grinned. “That showeth we are married men; unmarried men leave their mustaches. Although he is married, he hath no child, his wife is a pale, unhappy shadow of him, and most wonder if he is even capable of manly duties.”
Redelfis and Ilkchild exchanged looks telling Sur Sceaf that they had probably speculated about the same thing.
Ilkchild said, “It is probably a good thing he has only one wife to make miserable. Is it little wonder he advocates for monogamy alone?”
Elijah swatted at some midges. “In the meeting, I asked Brother Fromer what bothereth him so much about the Herewardi, since most of the Quailor have already found you to be most praiseworthy, if anything. His answer was, ‘It is their zeugungskraft and polygamy, meaning he did not like your fecundity and the practice of multiple marriages. He also thinketh you Herewardi are materialistic gold mongers filled with the pride and vanity of opulent and luxurious living. He is a true believer in the simple life.”
“Just because Fromer is a true believer does not make his beliefs true,” Ilkchild declared. “The world is far too great to be pinched into his tiny thimbles of perception.”
“A good observation, my son,” Sur Sceaf said. “I have found true believers to be the most dangerous of men.”
Elijah nodded, “To him the world is Quailor, and Quailor alone. Everyone else liveth in unenlightened darkness outside of Quailordom. Even in our own community, he passionately opposeth change, but this time, out of dire necessity he hath reluctantly acknowledged that it’s absolutely essential. This move will not go well with him, nor I fear for us, because of his contrariness and constant fault-finding, he will in all likelihood nip our heels all the way to the coasts.”
“Don’t worry, my friend. We have dealt with enemies far more dangerous than this pipsqueak, traitors and charlatans clever beyond Fromer’s feeble mind.”
Elijah framed, “Fromer hath his faults, but I don’t believe he could ever stoop so low as to betray us.”
“Well, for all our sakes I hope you are right,” Sur Sceaf said, “but I tell you this, in spirit, he has already betrayed the fundamental premise of the three nations and unless he makes greater efforts, either you or I shall have to have him removed.”
* * *
The sun was at the fifth point on the medicine dial, sending summer rays through the tree branches of the oaks lining Mount Nebo Street when Sur Sceaf, Lana, and Elijah approached a quaint and neatly kept white two story house. It was the home of Lana’s parents, Friedrich and Lilith Durer. The ancient oaks had grown even larger since Sur Sceaf stood there sixteen years before when Lana’s parents turned their backs on them, forcing them to be married at the home of his grandfather. Now these large oaks spread out their leafy branches loaded with mast, and he was once more before the door of his in-laws with that old unfinished business brewing in him like a forgotten pot of beans on a stove.
Squirrels snickered in the trees and raced around the trunk as the three of them climbed the stairs to the porch where a barley wreath fanisk hung over the door for protection. Sandwiched between he and Elijah, Lana looked pale and nervous as he gave her a gentle hug of assurance. It was obvious, t
hat she was subduing her fears. He pulled her tightly into himself with another reassuring squeeze.
“Just remember, Lana, we will face them together.”
Lana made a valiant effort to smile. “But what if they turn their backs on us and shun us as they did before?”
“Lana, we are so much more than someone else’s approval of us. If your family is accepting of us, it will surely multiply our joy, but if they reject us, then we are still one and as whole as ever. You and I are good people, and our world is full of promise whether they embrace us or not.”
Elijah gently patted her shoulder, “Fear not, the Lord’s will be done. This is all in his hands.”
Sur Sceaf smiled. “We have had this discussion before. Now, as then, I honor your belief, but I believe we are the authors of our own destiny and the gods have designed that it is for us to shape it so. But if your god feels so inclined to help us here, I would welcome any and all aid.”
Elijah said with a wink, “I’ll be sure and pass that on to God the next time we talk.”
Sur Sceaf grinned, still unsure of the reception they were about to receive. It was like the prelude to a battle. He stood there forcing a smile at Lana to mask his own anxiety. Such shunning behavior and rejection of kin was unknown amongst the Herewardi for anything but the most heinous of crimes and certainly not when love was involved. It made him appreciative of the sacrifice Lana had to make just to become his wife. Standing there at the door of her shunners, he was overwhelmed with feelings of love and felt extra protective of her emotions. He whispered to her, “Whatever happens we will prevail together. I’m right here, my love.”
“You are my courage, my lord.” She attempted a smile.
Sur Sceaf took a deep breath and knocked on the wooden door, half hoping no one would answer. He heard heavy footsteps approaching. The door opened slowly to a tall balding auburn-haired man in traditional garb, a straight cut black suit without lapels, pockets, or collar. Lana’s father stood frozen, his jaw agape, stunned by the sight of his prodigal daughter.
“Papa,” Lana said in a thin voice, “It is I, thy daughter, Lana.”
A plea came from within the cottage. “Awh Friedrich! Awh Friedrich! Why standest thou there, at the door? Wer ist da? Who is it?”
“It is thy tochter,” Friedrich said, almost trance like, in a low tone.
“What? Who?” A chunky woman dressed in a grey dress and white apron with her braided hair up in a tight bun suddenly appeared behind the man.
Lana called, “It’s me, Mama.”
“Who?”
Friedrich said, “It’s Lana. Thy tochter, I said.”
“Let me cast mine eyes upon her Friedrich. How can I see her with thou plugging up the door like an old rooster?” Giving Friedrich a glare, she squeezed past him through the door with arms outstretched to hug Lana. “Oh my sweet, sweet baby. We thought thou wast forever lost to us. It so repenteth me that we ever shunned thee, my dear. It was just all too new for us to grasp at that time and everyone was so sure thy husband was nothing more than a lustful devil who was going to steal thy dainties and run.” Her mother pulled Lana past her father and into the house.
“Mama, I missed thee so much. I would often imagine you were at our dinners or with me in my labors.”
Elijah said, “Friedrich! I’m sure, thou wisheest to greet Brother Sur Sceaf, the grandson of Ludwig Hollar, and to invite him into our home.”
Pausing as if still in shock, Friedrich said, “Surely, I do, if that be thy wish Bruder Elijah.” Friedrich stretched forth his hand in a stiff handshake. “Herzliche welkommen!”
They stepped into a white-washed living room with bare plank floors. From the walls hung braided flax. On the floor were baskets of wool being carded. In the corner were a spinning wheel and a loom. Simple hardwood chairs and a trestle table covered with a patchwork quilt completed the furnishings. Packed apple crates filled with belongings lined the one wall in preparation for the exodus through the DiAhman and down to Witan Jewell.
Lilith pulled Lana by the hands and turned her head from side-to-side. “Let me see thee, my daughter. Yeah, thou hast fleshed out well and grown into a such a comely woman,” Lilith said as she spun Lana around. “I’ve thought on thee so many times I wondered what thou wast like as a wife and as a mother. Thou hast kinder? Noi? Hast thou any kinder, Liebchen?”
“Ja, Mutti, but I did not bring them with me.”
“Oh, thou must tell me all about them then. How many lambs hast thou on the ground?”
“I have begotten eight.”
“Gross Gott, I do hope we get to see the dearlings soon.”
“That can be arranged,” Lana said.
Lilith frowned tearfully. “Oh there is so much I need to know about thy lost years.”
Friedrich walked over to a chair in the corner and sat quietly as though he was still trying to process the surprise visit.
Elijah said to him, “Surely it would be nice to be asked for some nachtesse, I’ve worked up quite the hunger, Bruder Friedrich.”
Friedrich stroked his long beard and said gruffly, “We have so much catching up to do. nachtesse would be in order.” Then turning to Sur Sceaf asked, “Bruder Sur Sceaf, wilt thou stay for nachtesse?”
“Sicherlich! I’d be very honored to, Bruder Friedrich,” Sur Sceaf said, “I very much appreciate your hospitality. After all this time, I did not know if we would be welcome or not, but Lana sorely missed her family and I needed to bring her. I have very much wished for our children to know their gross vater and their gross mutter.”
“Opa and Oma! Das ist gut. I’m sorry. I’ll start speaking Wessex.” Friedrich smiled at Elijah and said, “This is good, mein freund.”
“This is good, indeed,” Elijah confirmed. “This wound can heal now. The house that was broken can be mended. The daughter that was lost is found. Let us slay the fatted calf as the Lord would wish.”
Friedrich said in his labor hardened voice, “Awh Lilith, get the sauerkraut and pork on. Throw on some corn and bake some apples. I will cut the wood for the fire, and, ja, und, thou must bake up some shoofly pie for thy guests. Lana, is it still thy favorite?”
“Always, Vatti.”
* * *
As Mendaka approached the square he saw the horses were all corralled and the Hickoryans were feeding them fresh hay. Pyrsyrus’ elaborate tents now stood in the middle of the compound with castle banners flying alongside the fire-swan banner of Sur Sceaf’s. His own tipi had been put up by Snake Horse directly adjacent to them. The Gathering Tent had its sides rolled down and secured. Young bloods played mumbly peg outside their tents, boasting about their knife skills. Zrael was busy putting up a tent by the sheep corral. The fyrds were lining up by the Hickoryan chuck wagon’s for their evening meal. His dog soldiers had erected their tipis directly behind his and were now sitting about campfires to tell stories. All seemed cozy.
Mendaka, along with Ilkchild and Redelfis, wove his way through the camp, greeting friends as he went. When they arrived at their own tipi, they greeted Snake Horse who was tossing some logs on a fire inside the tipi.
“Thanks for setting up camp for us, Snake Horse,” Mendaka said, “and many thanks for organizing the dog soldiers. Everything looks well ordered.”
“It was the least I could do. I knew you didn’t need one more problem to worry about.”
“I’m happy to see no one tapped into my keg of high desert ale while I was gone.” Mendaka shot a glance at his oaken keg, still untapped. Atop the keg sat four mugs.
“Are you kidding? I don’t want my hands cut off for touching your holy ale. But when you tap it, I wouldn’t mind a krug of it to wet a dry mouth.”
Mendaka laughed. “Consider it done.”
Ilkchild said, “Never open a keg without sharing. It’s bad luck. Jackie Doo says nothing offends the gods more.”
Mendaka laughed, “That is probably a Herewardi superstition created by young thirsty men and old geezers like Jackie Doo.
”
Snake Horse asked, “How was your tour of the town?”
“Got to meet some interesting people, Zrael the Shepherd, Hartmut, Sur Sceaf’s old friend, and a lady, old enough to have been here at the Creation.”
Redelfis said, “Don’t forget the giant at the forge.”
“Biggest man I ever saw,” Mendaka declared. “Arms like a horses legs. Hands like a bear. Face like a baby.”
Ilkchild interjected, “Their focus was way off, Snake Horse. We saw some lovely maidens passing out bread.”
Snake Horse grinned. “I got to see my own share of the Quailor today. They are a friendly lot though they couldn’t take their eyes off of us. They looked as strange to me today as the first time I saw them as a boy, when they would ride into camp with loads of colorful blankets to sell or trade. My mother still has one of their wool blankets which she uses every winter. They’re a lot less bothersome than most of the white tribes. I was used to the Herewardi children all joining us for a swim and at the campfires, but the Quailor children were kept so close they never played with us. Just stood in a line like a bunch of kachina dolls. My mother said it was because they feared the monster of the lake.”
Redelfis said, “You think the ones you met were strange. You haven’t met Fromer and the dycons yet. They’re more like attacking black birds when you go into the reeds of their nesting ground.”
“Hallo, hallo, inside the tent,” a pleasant female voice came from without.
Mendaka signed for Ilkchild to check it out while he passed around the mugs. Ilkchild lifted the flap, looked out, then turned back and said, “Mendaka, remember the girls I was talking about in town. Well, they’re here now.”
Mendaka and Snake Horse exchanged amused looks.
Ilkchild looked back in the tipi and winked at Redelfis.
“Alright, alright, this is highly unusual.” Mendaka moved to the tent door. “Let’s see what business they’d be upon here in our camp.”
As Mendaka left the tent, he counted the same six young maidens who had been handing out bagels earlier. He noted that the cart was now pulled by one strapping large Quailor boy instead of the slim fellow they had seen earlier.
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 15
