Going Snake scrunched his face, “You mean to tell me, it means all that? What if they didn’t kill the dragon?”
“I swan swear.” Swan Ray raised her arms to the square. “And if they do not slay the Dragon it will turn on them and devour them.”
“Does that mean eat them?”
“It sure does.”
After going through a series of cards, Swan Ray saw that Going Snake was starting to fidget and look off to his playmates who were standing nearby waiting for him to finish.
“Going Snake, why don’t you go play with your friends and Ahy and I will talk?”
The boy darted off and grabbed his hound on the way.
“I am sure you heard of the tragic news of the Pitter attack in Salem.”
“Yes, we’ve heard the sad tale and we share the grief they must feel.”
“I am come to explain that we have postponed the dinner this evening and instead ask you to join us for breakfast three days from now. You see, Lana just received the horrible news that her sister, Verushka, was slain by an unkindness of Pitter hell-rats and the whole Quailor camp is in mourning.”
“I had no idea it was that personal,” Taneshewa said. “How has Lana taken it?”
“Hard. It is very, very hard for her. Surrey has been giving her comfort, but grieves heavily himself for his little neices, especially Isabelle, who was so dear to his heart. He holds Lana and sings hopeful songs to her. He said the Columba Rogues reported that many of the Quailor were likely already taken prisoner and hauled off by the time they arrived. So there is hope some few may have survived. Lana had not seen her sisters for thirteen years because her parents disowned her when she married Surrey. Then when they finally accepted her back in their family, Verushka died.”
“Dat da way some seasons end,” Sagwi reflected.
“Sur Sceaf has sent spies out to ascertain if any of the captives could have survived. Our Lord has spun the bullroarer, which is the Herewardi way of summoning ancestral and familial spirits to gather around their loved ones and render assistance and comfort from the heavens.”
Sagwi looked sad-eyed. “We, Sharaka, be doin our dancin and chantin. Dhen we place our loved ones on dhat burial platform ‘spending dhem between Heaven and earf. What ju Herewardi do?”
“Oh,” Swan Ray said, “some folk bury their dead in a grave, others build a funeral pyre, but most of the princes and royalty are placed in a large dolmen with their wives.”
“What on earth is a dolmen?” Blooms Alone asked.
“It’s an arrangement of large stones in which the dead kings rest while their spirits go to the Elven Halls. Then they inscribe on the stones the accomplishments of the person that tales of their deeds may follow them. It is believed they will one day rise again in a resurrection with their wives. When they arise, they go into the stars to become Elves and to make new worlds very like this one.”
* * *
Taneshewa worked all that day to fashion a spirit doll from dried corn husks, buckskin, spun flax for hair, and beads to give it to Lana in her hour of grief and pain. When the doll was finished Sagwi contributed some Quailor cloth from an old blanket for the doll’s dress. She rapped it in a soft rabbit pelt. It was a dreary drippy day so she wore an oiled skin cape to keep out the rain. Half way from her tipi to Pyrsyrus’ tent, she caught the sound of Lana’s heart wrenching sobs coming from Swan Ray’s tent. She slowed her steps trying to decide if her unexpected visit would be intrusive or not. Still undecided when she reached the tent door, she heard Lana cry out,
“She never had to die. That’s what makes it all the worse. Surrey, I know thou didst try as hard as thou couldst, but I wish I had followed my instincts and kidnapped as many of the children as I could.” Her voice choked on a sob. “We both sensed that Verushka wanted to come with us. It’s going to be all I can do, to keep from clawing out Rudolf’s eyes when I see him. If I have to stand next to him, thou mayest have to restrain me.”
“I understand how you feel. I had similar thoughts myself. Even your father was stoney faced when he talked about Rudolf, I think if he were a younger man, he would do him some bodily harm.”
“Ludmilla blameth it all on Fromer. She thinketh he should be shunned for what he did, but Habraham said there is no precedent for such. Though why not set one?”
“I can’t speak to Fromers level of guilt, but I can say, there is nothing you could do to Rudolf that he will not do to himself. I am still here with you and my heart suffers with yours, my dear. It grieves me to see your pain. Verushka will be greatly missed. I shall miss her and may the gods have mercy on little Isabelle where ever she may be.”
Taneshewa had just decided to deliver the doll another time when she came face to face with Face-of-Stars.
“Oh, were you just leaving?”
“Actually, I was about to deliver a gift and felt I might be intruding.”
Face-of-Stars says, “No, no! Lana needs all the friends and comfort she can get right now.” She held up a vial of medicine. “This is to help Lana rest and calm her nerves. Why don’t you take it in to her?”
“Well, if you really think this is no imposition.”
Star placed the vial in Taneshewa’s hand, folded her fingers over the vial, and opened the tent door. “Yohoo! Lana, I brought you a vial of medicine and a visitor.” She gave Taneshewa a little push forward.
“Forgive my intrusion. I heard of your loss of your sister and her children and I wanted to help you carry this grief.”
Lana said, “Please, please, come in.”
Taneshewa stepped over the threshold and Star closed the tent door behind her. Lana was sitting in a chair with Surrey standing behind her stroking her hair gently. Her face was splotched with tears. Lana’s normally rosy skin was sallow, willow green, with bags under her eyes and a look of heaviness in her face. Surrey looked worn down and exhausted too. His eyes were heavy lidded and blood-shot. He was still wearing the same clothing he had on the day before when they met at the river. Likely, he had gotten no rest at all.
She placed the vial on a table and said, “Star says this will calm your nerves and to take it when you are ready for sleep, but not before.” She took a few more steps closer, reached into her cape and withdrew the rabbit skin bundle. “Please accept this spirit doll to remind you of Verushka’s presence. It is believed by my people that if you place some cloth of hers or hair of hers on the doll, its spirit will open a channel for talking to her in the spirit world.”
Lana reached for the doll with both hands and drew it to her bosom.
“Taneshewa, this meaneth so much to me. I still have a woven bracelet that Veru made for me when we were children. I brought it to remind her of the pledge we made that we would always help one another. I will attach it to the doll and when I am alone, I will tell Veru all the things I’ve wanted to share with her all these years and was unable to do because of all the turmoil that separated us. How foolish it is for people to put up barriers for the silliest of reasons. When a tragedy like this striketh, it strippeth away all the prejudices, pretenses and intolerance that people build between each other.”
Taneshewa looked at Surrey, who said, “Hindsight makes us all, wise. If people could only see each other through the eyes of love instead of through the fear that forces us to view each other with suspicion and mistrust.”
“Love can only grow in the soil of trust. Without it, love withereth and dies.”
* * *
The sky was the color of a widower’s tears. The mournful sound of a dirge filled the Quailor camp. Lana and Surrey arrived together at the Grief Walk. The Quailor had gathered in an open savannah near the river. In the center, the priests had laid a ceremonial quilt and placed items of remembrance on it. It was also upon this quilt that the living would lay their stones until a pile was erected symbolizing the memories of the fallen. Those who had direct ties to the victims slowly circled the stones three times, joining in the dirge as they walked. Mourners added their own st
one of grief as they passed speaking aloud the name of the brother or sister who had been slain. Many added more than one for their martyred loved ones. The Grieving Quilt was lined in a black border which the women had stayed up late into the night to finish. Each family that had a personal attachment to them had brought a piece of their family’s quilt to add to it. Lana broke into tears at the sight of Isabelle’s red-haired doll, its grey dress spotted in blood, lying atop a piece of her personal baby blanket that her mother had made. It was the only trace they found left of the child. As she glanced at Surrey, his muzzle was drawn tight with a pulse in his temples.
As leader of the ten families that had stayed in Salem, Rudolf stood solemnly by the pile of stones, accepting the tokens and expressions of grief with stiff nods. To an uninformed stranger the perambulations must have appeared like a bowl of black and grey marbles moving sunwise around the growing pile of stones, but to Lana, it was all too familiar. She had taken the Grief Walk three times, twice for members of her family and once for the esteemed martyr, Ludwig von Hollar. After circling three times the mourners would lay stones on the pile before dropping out to allow for others to join.
As Lana made her first circle, she avoided looking at Rudolf. Part of her wanted to attack her brother-in-law for his stubborn zeal, and the other part of her was sorry he would be carrying these horrendous burdens of guilt and responsibility for the remainder of his mortal days. Every time he looked upon his three surviving daughters, he would wonder if they blamed him for the loss of their mother, sisters, and brothers, needlessly killed to satisfy the dogma created by men who dared to speak for Gott.
Lana searched the circling bereaved for her family before she located them on the other side of the Quilt. They nodded to her with a devastated look on their faces. Her father appeared to have aged several years. Instead of joining in the dirge, her father stared fixedly at the blood spattered doll, biting his lips in order to contain his wails of grief. Her mother’s hair hung out of her tiechl in disarray, something Lana had never seen before.
Seven out of the ten families that had remained behind in Salem counted at least one member lost. Two families had been entirely wiped out save for grandparents. The perceptible spirit of irreversible loss was so oppressive Lana had to deliberately suck for air as the wails and groans of her people ascended throughout the crowd.
Lana’s hand shook as she laid her stone on the quilt next to the doll, but she could not give voice to the names as her throat tightened beyond speech. Some of the names could be heard above the dirge song, others were too soft or broken to make out, but when Lana heard the name of Verushka, Ana, and Isabelle spoken by her mother she could not hold back the flood of tears any longer. When her father invoked the names of the boys, a gut wrenching groan forced its way out her throat. She felt Sur Sceaf’s comforting grip on her arm as he held her closely to his side. The strength of his enveloping arm gave her reassurance, but at the same time she had an overwhelming sadness that Verushka did not have a man that regarded her counsel or wishes as anymore than a lack of faith in his unyielding dictates. For the first time she agreed with the Sharaka. All this loss was for a Paper God. She thought on the meaning of all those stones heaped up before them. So many unnecessary losses and the price paid by the innocent who were not allowed a voice.
The Quilt Walk lasted for several hours. The sky was still drippy wet, the air heavy, chill, and unusually dark for mid afternoon when Elijah stepped out into the clear space between the mourners and the observers dressed in the formal white robe of the chief high priest’s office with the addition of the black sash of mourning, he appeared worn and nearly exhausted himself.
As the last rock was placed on the quilt sounding the final death knell, and the harbinger of the end of mortality, he held his hands up for silence.
“Men and brethren, Lieber Geschwistern, and tender mothers, we are gathered here this day to pay our belated respect to those who died in Salem as martyrs at the hand of a foul Pitter rat pack. As you can see, grief is stacked on grief before the eyes of us all, burying the token of a sweet child’s doll, so symbolic of the vulnerable and innocent in this world, and a witness of why we seek the shelter of the Herewardi wing. The slain were once lively stones among us. Now they are no more. The cruel hand of an untimely death has overtaken them.”
Lana pressed her fingers against her mouth to contain a sob as he continued.
“We are grateful, oh Lord Gott, that some survived and can once again enjoy society with us. We are grateful that this pile of stone isn’t even larger. We pray thee to comfort those who grieve and we pray that those who have been taken away from us may one day again rejoice in returning home to us. If not here then on that distant shore of the Eternities. They will now rest from their mortal labors and lay this vale of tears and sorrows aside. Grant them peace in the Heavenly pastures above. Amen and amen.”
The entire congregation repeated, “Amen and amen.”
Elijah turned around to face the Grieving Quilt. “We will now hear from Brother Rudolf, who took upon himself the mantel of high dycon of the ten families. Brother Rudolf wishes to say something to the Community of United Brethren.”
The transformation of her brother-in-law was shocking, once a tall muscular man, with shaven upper lip and the fiercely burning eyes of a committed zealot, now appeared drooped, slouched, care worn and torn, by nagging sorrows oppressed. His clothes hung on his thin skeletal frame like that of a scare crow and his face looked haggard. In a hoarse tearful voice he said, “I want all of you who had a loved one perish at the Massacre of Salem to witness that this was all my fault. I am so, so sorry that my ears were so stopped up with religious pride that I would not hear sound reason. My dear Verushka even begged me to leave with the others, but I turned a deaf ear to her as well and for that I will be forever haunted.” Nearly overcome, he had to pause to choke back tears. “Devise any penitence you can possibly conceive for me. Make me your slave and beat me every day and I shall willingly perform it with all the energy of my heart. If I could but take it all back, but once the pitcher is broken all the wishes in the world cannot put it back together again. I pray that this may be a lesson,” he looked directly at Fromer, “that none should put the interests of religion above the interests of any of their loved ones. I have come to believe that the words of the Heilige Schrift may be used to manipulate others into actions unapproved by Gott. I beseech you to use my foul example as a warning post to never follow blindly any man without fully weighing the direction in your heart and mind first.”
Lana felt compassion swelling in her bosom for the man.
Elijah stretched his arms out to speak. “Lieber Geschwistern, Der Heiland requireth us to forgive one another. It would behoove us all to get rid of all our feelings of hostility and blame at this place and carry them no farther on our journey. This officially endeth our Grief Walk. Please return to your wagons now and pray, pray, pray for those who were carried off.”
Lana noted that a significant number followed Elijah walking to the wagons. She and Surrey returned with Lana’s family. When they reached the circle of wagons, the questions began to fly. Elijah and Rudolf were waylaid by the questioners.
Hartmut was the first to ask. “Who all died? I could not hear all their names during the memorial. Can we at least get a list of the survivors?”
Elijah raised his voice to be heard by all. “The priests are busy working up a list of those who lived and those who died, and those who are presumed to be missing or carried off. We should have it by tomorrow and we will read it off then, Brother Hartmut.”
Zrael squeezed both hands tightly to his shepherd’s staff. “What about my friends, the Gutweins?”
Rudolf answered for Elijah, “Sadly, I must report that the Gutweins are dead. Every last one of them. As are the Walners, I believe, and most of the Gmunders...”
“All dead?” Zrael’s friend, Walter Weiss, pleaded.
Once again Rudolf’s voice choked. “We
have to believe it is so. Though some of the Rogues swear they saw the Pitters riding off with some of the children bound over their saddles.”
“It is enough Rudolf. I will post the list tomorrow,” Elijah said. “We are only adding grief to grief and wallowing in what we do not know for a surety. I do not wish to give people false hope.”
Zrael was red faced and turned sharply as he pointed his shepherd’s staff, “I lay all this at thy feet, Fromer Muckenschnabel. These were my friends. Good and decent people. True believers. The path of fanaticism hath led these people straight to hell and the grave. Their blood is on thy garments as surely as if thou hadst laid a knife to their throats. You can’t put faith above reason, not unless Gott himself promiseth that protection. This was all thy Gott damned fault.”
Fromer puffed up like an adder. “Thou canst not lay this at my feet Zrael,” he declared angrily, “I pled for them to come with us.”
Linney Knight shot up like a shadow beside Fromer. “Thou canst not blame Fromer. He didn’t stay behind.”
But it was clear to Lana, most of the people were blaming Fromer. Most understood this martyrdom was the spawn of his fanaticism.
“Yes, but they were followers of thy teachings of Retrenchment, extreme pacifism, and teachings to not fight back or resist,” Zrael declared, “Canst thou not admit we’d all be on the stone pile tomorrow if we had followed the old ways of Retrenchment? That is clear enough to everybody here! Isn’t it?”
Elijah held his hands up, “Brethren, please, let us not let this event tear us apart any more than it hath already. This is neither the time, nor the place to be having this discussion; this is a day of grieving and remembering. Not accusing. I charge thee, Brother Zrael, hold thy tongue for the sake of our grieving. We all feel thy anger, but if given expression, it could catch fire and plunge us into deep hatreds and divisions we might never heal from. Our friends are exhausted and we need to sort this all out first. Let us not bring a quarrelsome spirit to this already grievous occasion.”
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 40
