Sur Sceaf chuckled to himself, walked over to where White Fire was tied, and brushed him down, then blanketed and saddled him. “It won’t be long, my brother of the wind, till you are back in the grasslands of Namen Jewell. The tender grasses will soon be returning and you are going to be put back in with some new girls. Then you’ll be happy. Won’t you?” White Fire nickered.
As Sur Sceaf mounted and started riding down the line of wagons, Ilkchild and Redelfis rode up. “All’s loaded and ready to roll, my lord.”
“Tis well, Ilkchild. Tell Mendaka to take the lead and I will ride up and down the line today. I need to get a feel for how things are working out.”
“It shall be done.” Ilkchild said, saluted, and rode off with Redelfis. He was pleased that the two young bloods seemed to have formed quite the friendship.
As Sur Sceaf rode down the line along the Quailor train, he ran into Elijah, who saluted and said, “All is well in the high priests camp, my lord.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Sur Sceaf returned his salute. “Brother Elijah, how are you reading the response to the Booger Dance?”
“So far, most report they thoroughly enjoyed it, but I haven’t heard from the dycons yet.”
“I’m pretty sure, you will.”
“It’s nothing new. I deal with it any time there’s a change.”
Sur Sceaf moved on. As he came upon Hartmut’s wagon, he turned back to ride beside the driver’s seat. He and Hartmut exchanged greetings, but Hartmut appeared tired and weary. “You look worn out, my friend.”
Hartmut gave a long sigh. “Chust a little worn around the edges. Couldn’t sleep last night. Too much going on inside my head.”
“Well, let me know if I can help with any of that. If you like I can find a driver for you today.”
“No, no. It’ll be alright once we’re along the trail aways. Fresh air and sunshine always do wonders for me.”
“Well, be of good cheer. Too bad we can’t take a skinny dip in one of these mountain pools. That’d pick you up right fast.”
“Like we don’t have enough problems with Fromer.” He paused momentarily. “Say, is that a hint I need to bathe?”
“You’re good for another moonth.” They laughed. “I assumed the Mosquito Man was upset with the Booger Dance.”
“It’s worse than that. Upset doesn’t come close to what he’s feeling.”
“What are you saying?”
“Last night he came to my wagon, slavering like a wild dog. I don’t know exactly what he’s up to, but he tried to get me to join his vendetta against Elijah and I’m sure, I am not the only one he’s approached.”
Sur Sceaf was not surprised. “I assume you told him to go bury his head in a marmot hole.”
A glint of humor appeared in Hartmut’s tired eyes. “Worse than that, Surrey, I told him I was the one who donated the suit that Mendaka wore as Mosquito Beak.”
Sur Sceaf laughed. “Sounds to me like I need to call a council fire with all the leaders, and I’d like very much for you to attend. We need to put this grass fire out before it sets the woods aflame, if you catch my drift.”
“I’m for that. Just let me know when and where.”
After once again reminding Hartmut to call on him if he needed a break, he passed the dycon’s wagons and deliberately called out greetings. Some returned his greetings while others deliberately diverted their gaze. He took heart that there were at least more friendly than unfriendly. Finally, he reached Onamingo’s wagon. Seated in the driver’s seat, next to Onamingo, were Dancing Rabbit and Little Doe who all waved and greeted him cheerfully.
He was about to ride along side when he spotted, Taneshewa and the little girl Three Doves walking behind a wagon. It was the first time he had seen Taneshewa wearing buckskin pants. As always the sight of her made his blood run hot. Her sleek form was overpowering but he reigned himself in. The two girls were discussing what the Umpqua Valley must look like from the descriptions Redelfis had given them.
Taneshewa smiled at Sur Sceaf. He smiled back and dismounted. Leading White Fire, he walked along side with them.
“Did they all kick you out of their wagons today? Is that why you’re walking?” Sur Sceaf asked.
“No, I just wanted to help the kids get going and give my sister a much needed hand. Sis’s back with Herman, the Quailor Giant. Her tire broke and he is fixing it. He is so helpful.”
Three Doves said, “Can you believe, he lifted the whole wagon himself. He’s stronger than any ten men. Some of my friends think he’s scary, but I keep telling them he’s very nice.”
Sur Sceaf smiled. “I agree with you, and he’s very helpful.”
Sur Sceaf wondered what the reaction to the presence of a Sharaka woman would be in the Quailor Camp. “Ahy, since you’re dressed for riding, would you care to ride up and down the line with me?”
Her eyes lit up. “I’d be delighted,” she replied, turning to the young girl, “Three Doves, go ride with your sisters in the wagon and when your mother returns, tell her I’m riding with Surrey.”
The child darted off, dodging ox droppings as she went.
Taneshewa smiled, threw her hair back, while Sur Sceaf mounted and extended his hand for her. He heaved her up as she swung around behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. As he trotted off she laid her cheek against his back.
Taneshewa said, “Every time I’ve seen you riding up and down the line, I’ve imagined what it would be like to ride with you.”
Her warm breasts pressed firmly against his back forced him to try and divert his mind. He relished the way she laid her head gently against his shoulder. And when she spoke to him, her voice was like the sweetest of bird song. Those who noticed her on the back of White Fire, waved as they passed. She whispered, “The gossip birds will be alighting in my camp tonight.”
As they came upon the Tensee Hickoryans, they were hailed by Margot. “I see you got your little woman with you today. Looks right cozy up there to me. Ain’t nothin’ like having your lovin arms around a handsome buck like that, girly. Is there?”
Ahy laughed and nodded.
“You got a name?”
“I’m sorry, Margot. This is Taneshewa, daughter of Onamingo.”
Sur Sceaf slowed to walk along side Margot. “Margot, any problems I need to know about in your camp today?”
“No siree, Boss Man. Couldn’t be better. This here country is a lot more like the lands we come from than that high desert stuff, but we’s still havin’ trouble gettin’ used to them crazy oxen. Ain’t nothin’ like a horse is. Them big ol’ bullies are just down right dumb and clumsy and ain’t their shit messy as hell.”
Sur Sceaf laughed. “No, you’re right, they’re not anything like a horse, but they hold the load a lot better going down hill and most of this trek is downhill from here on.”
“So, you two married yet?”
Taneshewa smiled. “No, just getting to know each other.”
“Well, I’d say you got a good start on that. The way you try to climb into this here buck, I can see there is real fire betwixt and between you two. And you’re a right pretty couple to boot. Wouldn’t surprise any at all, that you two will be sharing the same blanket before we get into Herewardi Land.”
“Guess that depends on how well we get to know each other.”
As they rode by the Hickoryan wagons, Ahy said, “She sure was nice.”
“Yes, she’s the chieftess of the Tensee Hickoryans. They call her Boss.”
“It ain’t often that we see Black Folk up here in the mountains. Actually, I’ve never seen one up here. Last time I saw one was a poor man running from a Pitter rat pack, who was brought into Tahlequah. I was about eight then.”
“Yes, they are fairly rare. My friends, Khem and Annie in Witan Jewell are Black. They’ll be pleased to meet Margot. Khem always feels so alone. He says, ‘Being Black is like being the only chicken at a duck pond.’ I hope that soon changes for him.”
&n
bsp; It was late morning. The cool mountain mists shrouded the old growth timber as they rode on, stopping to visit randomly from time to time. Sur Sceaf moved the people at their own pace when they trekked so that the children could follow effortlessly. The elderly were gently led or rode along in wagons. Drummers kept the pace comfortable with their inspiring rhythm. Sur Sceaf answered all of Taneshewa’s frequent questions. More and more, he came to believe, the events of the Booger Dance had created a more trusting spirit that pervaded most of the conversations and interactions. He even noted that Quailor children growing progressively more deaf to Fromer’s admonitions and were seeking occasion to mingle with the Sharaka when the opportunities presented.
After riding for a stretch, he stopped several times to mingle and get a feel of the general mood of the train. Naturally, the closer they got to Witan Jewell, the mood of the fyrd members grew ever more cheerful, particularly the mood of those with new brides. Many had family members there and others were looking forward to the tournaments that were to be held during the High Holy Days of the Autumnal Equinox. The closer they got, the more serious the practice tournaments got.
Just before they reached the Quailor train again, Sur Sceaf took a detour up into a wooded glade. He dismounted and lifted Taneshewa down from White Fire. The horse turned and snorted, before lowering his head to graze. Sur Sceaf looked into Ahy’s deep blue-grey eyes, the windows of her soul, before saying, “I’m sorry, I haven’t had more time to spend alone with you.” He took time to draw her sweet scents in as he strove to make this moment last. It was as though they were totally engulfed in a warm bubble of Ur Fyr. The way her body was melting into his, he knew Taneshewa was feeling the same. After several warm kisses and before the heat kindled too much between them, they remounted and headed back for camp.
Sur Sceaf would often stop, let Taneshewa ride astride on White Fire while he would lift the little ones on his shoulders and help their mothers carry them for a spell. He taught the older children to sing marching songs. “Got a bee on every flower, honey, dearling. Got a bee on every flower and it won’t be long before we spy the tower, honey, oh dearling of mine. Go to your left, your right, your left. Left, left, left, right, left,” and so he taught them to wile away the hours and bear their burdens cheerfully along the trek.
Yet when he came upon the dycon train again, the sight of Ahy riding behind him garnered several disapproving glares from those who had earlier greeted him in friendly ways. He decided to ride on up the line rather than provoke a direct confrontation. Hartmut hailed them once again, as did Elijah.
He turned to Taneshewa as they approached the Sharaka train. “Ahy, in three days it is the Quailor Sabbath. When as you know, we halt the train. What would you say if we took a picnic basket up into the wood? Just the two of us. Have some alone time.”
* * *
It was one point past high noon when the wagons came to a halt for the midday break. While others cooked their meals, Hartmut decided he had wrestled in his head long enough. He was going to go ask Mendaho if she had overheard his conversation with Fromer on the night of the Booger Dance. As soon as he had seen his suit folded neatly on the seat of his wagon, he suspected that was the reason she put it there without saying anything. In fact, he was finding her curiously intriguing and was looking forward to their next encounter.
When he came upon Sagwi’s wagon, Sagwi was busy preparing the meal. Mendaho sat in the shade of the wagon, preoccupied with teaching Going Snake something about some colorful cards. She looked up at him and then back down at the cards, deliberately choosing to ignore his presence. He decided to wait and watch, thinking perhaps it was considered rude to interrupt. In many ways, she reminded him of Evangeline, so caring and patient with the boy.
The boy pointed at him, “Did you see the man standing--” Meny grabbed his hand and turned his finger down. “Ignore him.”
Going Snake looked back at the next card. “Mendaho, they are so beautiful.” He held the card up with his small hand. “This jester is dressed in all kinds of colors, but Yellow Horse only wore white in the Swan Dance. Mama said he was a jester, but he doesn’t look like this.”
“I have read that in olden times jesters were as honored as our spirit chiefs. What this jester on this card is wearing is called a harlequin suit, if I remember right. Yellow Horse was performing a sacred dance and because the swan is white, so was he. Jester’s are jokers who make us laugh but they are also teachers, entertainers, and advisers.”
The boy paused a moment. “Oh, so they are like our tricksters? Like Schmo Hollar?”
“In a way. Our tricksters are mostly for fun. But jesters are sacred to the Herewardi.” Mendaho smiled. “It is said they were the first to enjoy freedom of thought and expression, which they then taught to mankind because mankind could only learn truth in jokes in those days. Plus, they are allowed to say anything they want. They can even make fun of the Herewardi chiefs without getting into trouble.”
“Wow! I wish I were free to say anything I wanted.”
“And what could you say that you don’t already say?”
“I could say bad words in front of Mom, and tell Redelfis to clean his own damned fish.”
Mendaho gave a throaty laugh, tousled Going Snake’s hair, and said, “I suppose you could. It’s every child’s dream. There’s more to being a jester than just saying anything you want.” She shot Hartmut a cold glance as if he was pestering her. “In short, the jesters represent the champions of free thinking and tolerance to the Herewardi, something other people, particularly in black hats don’t allow.”
Hartmut felt a smile spread across his face and he was shocked to see how learned Mendaho truly was. He had not expected it from such a pretty woman of the wildwood, but there was so much he did not know outside the strictures of Quailordom. The mere fact that Meny was ignoring him attested to the fact that she had heard Fromer railing on her people.
“And this card with the fyrd members tied to the ground, what is it?”
“Good observation, you could tell they are fyrd because of their red coats. But look at the card carefully. What else do you see?”
The boy screwed up his face as he stared at the card. “They don’t have beards.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“They’re young bloods, like Redelfis and Ilkchild, but I did see Ilkchild has the makings of a beard.”
“This card represents the two young martyrs, Russell and Ev’Rhett.”
“Does that mean half-man and half goat?”
Meny laughed and Hartmut smiled within. “No my dear, a martyr is someone who laid down their life for others.”
“How are they dying?”
“They were strapped down over an anthill of fire ants.”
“Ow! What a horrible death, Meny. Ants give me the creeps!”
“You may learn much of the Herewardi ways from these cards, Going Snake.”
Hartmut thought, Why don’t my people open themselves up to this kind of knowledge. Here the Sharaka are admiring the Herewardi and not feeling the least bit threatened by them, whereas, the dycons would be feeling like they were being seduced into evil if they found these cards.
Mendaho continued, “These cards are made in the Academy for instruction and Sur Sceaf asked your father if he thought you were ready for them. Mendaka said you were, and that you would be a good student. These cards will prepare you for the teachings of the skalds.”
Going Snake flipped to the next card and pointed his small finger at it. “Who is this man sitting on the backs of four other men and wearing an antler headdress with a ball of fire in it?”
“Ah, yes, this card represents what the Herewardi call the Exalted Man. It is a free man, fully in possession of the Ur Fyr. He sits on the backs of a prophet, a priest, a warrior, and a king,” she pointed to each figure on the card, “which symbolizes that his conscience is wholly above their influence.”
“Conscience? Is that like a club or something?�
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“It means your spirit thinks for itself. It’s what tells us if we are doing right or wrong. Someday you’ll come to understand.”
Going Snake elbowed Mendaho. “Why’s that man still standing there?”
Mendaho turned and looked him straight on. “Oh, Black Hatter, since you won’t leave us savages to our play, what is it you want?”
“I have an important matter to clarify with you.” Hartmut sheepishly declared.
“I know, I know, you will never lend your suit again. Well, believe me, I won’t be asking for it again.”
“No, it’s not that. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking that you may have overheard the conversation between Fromer and me.”
“Well,” Mendaho said as she stood up, “Don’t you know, we savages hear everything. It’s the benefit of being vermin, you see. You develop the skill to hear and feel.”
Hartmut felt his face burn. “Mendaho, please believe me, I am so sorry that you were present at the ignorant rantings of Fromer.” He held his hands palms up. “Fromer is an ignorant fool. He’s a damned hypocrite. He believes he is entitled to say anything he wants, no matter how hurtful or injurious to others. But he would deny others that right. He’s about as petty, vindictive, and vicious as they come and is so smug in his self-righteousness. Please believe me, I do not in any way share Fromer’s obscene beliefs about other cultures, and the Sharaka in particular. Your people are very refreshing to my eyes.”
Mendaho relaxed a bit. “I’m sure we both have plenty of strange feelings about each other. Hopefully, you will start a new habit among your people to not be so condemning of others so we can learn from one another. I never thought words could hurt me, but I guess it just depends on the context.”
“In point of fact, I am going to make it a goal to learn more of your ways,” Hartmut said, as he found himself staring into Mendaho’s face, marveling not only at her beauty, but also her hungry, astute mind. He bowed, tipped his hat, and left.
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 31
