“Thanks, I shall treasure it and this moment.” Then holding it up for Sur Sceaf to see. “Thou dost not think Fromer could take offense at this, dost thou?”
“Fromer be damned. He wears offense on his shoulder.”
“Oh, yes,” the Rabbi uttered, “it doesn’t matter what culture one comes from there are always bloody zealots that make it hard on all the rest of us. I suppose eventually their voices will drown in their own ignorance.”
The handmaids brought the steaming golden brown goose and pumpkin pies to the table and started carving pieces for the guests. Another handmaid brought oysters, clam chowder, and sourdough bread to the table and the third brought in some Red Hrusburger Wine.
“As you see, we have modified kosher law considerably. Everything has to make sense to us now. The lore master, Aegthejiof once said to me, ‘Life is finding the equilibrium between faith and reason and focusing your passion and compassion to bring about its realization’.” Turfrida touched the Rabbi on his arm. “Amschel, would you start the dinner?”
Amschel stood up and lit the middle candle on the pure gold menorah. “Sur Sceaf you are as this candle we call the shamash,” holding up the middle candle, “you shall light the Schekinah or as you say the Ur Fyr in all the other tribes.” He then lit the other seven candles and placed the menorah upon the mantel of the fire place. When he returned to the table he placed three braided, beeswax candles in silver candle holders before them and lit the three wicks so that they burned as one bright flame. “Baraukh atah Adonai, hamau’dil bein kodesh l’chol. Amen.” Then in English he said, “Blessed art thou, Lord, who separates between sacred and secular. Amen.” Then he raised his hands and said, “Let’s eat and speak of many things, of the sea and whaling, and oil and sailing and whether the deep has monsters or not.”
Mendaka reached for some of the pumpkin pie, “Perhaps the sea will open us all up for a new understanding of one another and the vastness this world offers.”
“Certainly!” Sur Sceaf said. “The sea is our oyster. We need only find the pearl.”
“Who is that wind whipped man in the brown leather cape out the window?” Ruth asked, straining her eyes to see. “And what ever is he doing with that crazy stick?”
Sur Sceaf quickly leaned forward for a better view. “He’s pounding the ground to see if it’s stable enough to support a heavy structure.”
Then Sur Sceaf laughed. “Believe it or not, that is the Master Builder, Muryh. It looks like he’s already sizing up the town and taking notes on the terrain. That staff he has is used for measurement. Its head has the letter ‘G’ on it symbolizing the Star Mark of the Great Bear from which all things on Ea-Urth our measured. Look for this place to do some growing. He’s planning some major capital works here.”
“Well, he better not destroy my view.” Turfrida raised a finger. I chose this place because of that view of the bay and Mount Hrum. I don’t care where he builds as long as he leaves me my view.”
“Yes,” the Rabbi offered her an affectionate grin. “She liked to drove me crazy figuring out just the right placement for this house. In fact she refused to marry me until my builders broke ground, said there would be no canary without a nest.”
Everyone laughed.
Turfrida blushed. “I admit I do love this house, but of course I spend a lot of time with my bride-sisters in Avaroth as well. I come here to mingle with my people any chance I get. Lately, Ruth has been accompanying me here and I’m mighty pleased with her company. Her brother, Jesse ben David has newly entered the Skaldic Academy in Maiden’s Head and he comes often to visit. If you will allow me to indulge myself, my nigh-son has made us very proud. He excels in the law and his studies at Maiden’s Head.”;
“Shall, I invite Muryh in?” Ruth said. “He looks like he could use a good meal.”
“No, no, no, he is too intent on his work. He’s angry enough that I’m going to distract him from building by insisting he go whaling with us. If we bring him in here, he’ll spend the whole time chewing my head off.” Sur Sceaf opined.
Long Swan offered, “We’ll probably pass right by Avaroth in our whaling adventure and the Master Builder will love the homes they’ve built there.”
“Where is Avaroth?” Elijah asked.
“It is just south of here, about ten miles.” Turfrida said. “Avaroth is the first place Amschel settled when he came out of the Rockies.”
Elijah said, “Obviously you are Herewardi and he is Jywdic, how did the two of you ever get together?”
“Amschel and his followers were led to us by the merchant, Karl Throckmorton. I’d never seen anything like them. Long beards, black clothing and hats, but I took an instant liking to Amschel who seemed to likewise favor me.” Turfrida smiled and glanced at her husband. “Didn’t you, my dear?”
“As God is my witness,” the Rabbi said, his grey eyes sparkling.
Surrey could see, his sister’s husband clearly adored her.
“Amschel and his people stayed a year in Witan Jewell after which Father assigned him the allotment south of Mount Hrum. We were married in the following summer.”
Elijah forked another piece of goose from the platter. “I understand from what I’ve learned that the Jywdic people believe as the Quailor do, in one gott, and in the mythical place of Ur-Ru-Shalem.”
Mendaka said, “That one god must be very busy taking care of so many different people. It seems awfully odd that that one god lives in a place that doesn’t even exist anymore.”
The Rabbi grinned, shook his head at Mendaka and said, “You mean like the Thunder Beings who live in a place no one has ever seen?”
Mendaka turned to Sur Sceaf. “Help Sur Sceaf, you know I am out of my depth with these philosophical discussions.”
Surrey grinned. “Oh, so you start a fight, and want me to finish it for you. Is that it?” He laughed and gave Mendaka a friendly slug on the shoulder. “One thing I have learned in my travels is that there are more similarities in our beliefs than in our differences. All of our gods have a similar essence and arouse similar emotions and motivations we would otherwise lack.”
The Rabbi stroked his beard. “Most Jywdic peoples do believe in the One God, but our holy books say the Elohim made man. Elohim means the Gods. So even we get confused. Abraham called God El Shadai and Moses called him Jahweh.”
Sur Sceaf fingered the runic dreydl. “The differences in faith usually breed conflict and the similarities tend to bring us together. Perhaps we should honor that we are all people of faith, and spend our energies working to find common ground upon which to build our new tolerant society in a way that builds us all up.”
Turfrida proclaimed, “Well, it certainly has worked for us here in Ur Ford. Though not without some heated discussions. Take for instance when our first son, Sunchild, was born. The Rabbi wanted to circumcise him, but I wouldn’t allow it. Howrus taught that you shall not mar your bodies nor cut your flesh. Finally, Amschel decided the individual mothers should determine what the best care of a child should be. So none of my children are circumcised unless they chose it. Believe me, no boy old enough to know what is going on is going to chose that.” They all laughed. “And as you see Zeru-Herewardi embraces the Jywdic faith even though he celebrated his behoodment. He’s his own man and has cut the corner of his beard. He insists it makes him no less of a Jywd than his father.”
Elijah turned to Ruth. “What about thee, my lady, didst thou circumcise thy boys?”
Ruth choked, “I haven’t even thought about it yet. We’ve only been married for three months. But my other four bride-sisters have all circumcised theirs.”
“Forgive my ignorance.” Elijah said. “I did not know the Jywdic people had plural wives like the Herewardi.”
The Rabbi offered, “Well, that was the influence of my dear wife, Turfrida, but in reality it is found in our most ancient records as a common practice. And I have found that it has connected me well to the primal forces of life. My wives give me a tota
l view and balance that I could get in no other way.”
Mendaka smiled. “I now see the root of my problem.”
“Oh, what is that, my friend?” The Rabbi asked.
“I should have made my first wife a Herewardi.”
Sur Sceaf said, “You made your choice with Little Doe and it was a good choice.”
Mendaka chuckled, “Tis true, she’s at least ten wives all packed in one.”
The handmaids came in to pour more wine and offer ale to any who chose.
Turfrida said, “I see that the Builder has finished with his measurements. He’s looking very possessively on my view. I wonder what he thinks he can put there. Surrey, you’ve got to promise me he won’t build there.”
Amschel laughed. “You can see how much she’s invested in her view.”
Surrey offered. “If you continue to ply me with your good vittles, I might just be able to limit the size of buildings he plans on building there.”
“I will hold you to that, Brother.”
“What do you see as the first step?” Amschel asked while breaking bread, “Seriously, Surrey, it’s clear our small community is going to grow. I teased Turfrida, but she does have a point. Those of us who live here, love our community the way it is and being inundated with strange folks and cultures is frightening.”
“In point of fact, Rabbi, we will honor your community. Believe me, it is as our Longfather Elrus taught, we put people above buildings. Your community may remain as it is, but we shall build up around it a mighty city-state. Even Turfrida shall keep her view. Muryh will eventually develop a schematic for the building of a palace, a fortress, and if I know him, eventually, a temple. Of course, we will ask for community input and nothing will be done to infringe on your ideas of community without your approval.”
“Yes, that is what Sur Spear conveyed to me.”
“I have granted permission for the stationing of numerous fyrd’s here and that will greatly impact your community until we can establish a fortress. Every armed man will be an asset until this city-state is complete, but our ultimate goal is to make this community thrive. That will further our cause more than anything else.”
“That I can help you with,” Amschel proudly declared. “With the pleas of all the merchants for more whale oil and the influx of new settlers, this community is already reeling in excitement. Even your brother, Melyngoch, the son of that succubus of your father’s, Clotilde, has sent spies here to see what you are up to. How lame is his mind, to think that he imagines we would not recognize them as strangers?”
Sur Sceaf sighed, “I fear his jealousy of me will ultimately result in loss of blood.”
“How much worse when it is that of a brother,” said the Rabbi.
Long Swan cradled his wine glass in the palm of his hand. “I would not worry too much Surrey. There are enough Herewardi elders and heorls in Charly’s Harbor who are loyal to the king to keep him from over stepping his bounds.”
Sur Sceaf tightened his lips. “The wisdom of the elders is no windbreak against Melyngoch’s obsessed and conniving mother.”
“Before we finish dinner,” Long Swan said, “Surrey I must report, I have not come up with a suitable scribe for Ur Ford while I am out at sea.”
“Surry,” the Rabbi said, “I must charge you to leave Long Swan here. We need to have accurate records of all our dealings and negotiations with the Rogue tribes while you are at sea. We simply cannot do it without him. He deals better than any of us with the outlanders and as you know, his stomach does not take to the sea.”
Sur Sceaf considered. “I’m sorry, the stones say he goes. I would suggest Elijah as a substitute, but he is coming with us as well. Maybe we can send back to Charly’s Harbor for Beoelf.”
“I don’t think so,” Long Swan said, “that would just give Melyngoch an excuse to elbow his way into all the affairs of Ur Ford.”
“Can you think of anyone else with advanced scribal skills without dividing yourself in two?” The Rabbi asked.
“If I may be so brazen, my lord Sur Sceaf,” Ruth demurely raised a hand, “If you recall, we had spoken of my brother, Jesse, who is as I mentioned, a top notch scholar currently studying at the Skaldic Academy in Maiden’s Head.”
“I do recall, he sounds very much like Long Swan at that age.”
“He is but seventeen, but Amschel can vouch for his uncanny scholarly abilities and his skill as a chronicler. Even as a child he could sit and argue law with the best of the rabbinical students. It was he, who discovered the teachings of Amschel’s Yeshiva here on the coasts from our cousin, Khur-Om for whom he acted two years as scribe.”
“It is true, I had forgotten that he was Khur-Om’s scribe,” Amschel said. “He is indeed skilled beyond anyone I’ve known and I think Jesse would do quite nicely. It would be a good fit.”
“Tis well,” Sur Sceaf said. What do you think, Long Swan?”
“He sounds too good to be true. I would have to visit him at Maiden’s Head and determine his skill level.”
“An excellent suggestion. Take Yellow Horse, he’s an excellent judge of character and will discover faults that you and I can’t see. If he’s worthy, fetch him from Maiden’s Head. Then join us here before we launch in three days.”
Chapter 19 : Troublesome Night Visions
Jesse ben David had just finished breakfast in the mess hall and now he sat anxiously outside the door of the scriptorium awaiting Heimdall for permission to study the books and scrolls contained there. He had heard that the Herewardi possessed some of the most ancient of Jywdic texts on Kabbalism, but that was not why he had come there. He had come on a quest to be able to study a very special book. Ever since he had arrived in Herewardi realms, he hungered and thirsted for knowledge of their kingdom. Yesterday when he was in class on the flach by the cliffs, his instructor had spoken of how critical the Battle of Frink Glen had been, and how it was a dangerous turning point in the Herewardi history, for it marked the first major attempt of the Pitter Empire to penetrate the kingdom of the Herewardi in the Umpqua Lands.
He strummed his fingers on the solid bay wood bench trying not to display unseemly impatience. Suddenly, down at the end of the dark hallway he saw a tall white caped figure approaching him with a candle in hand. As the figure walked directly to him he could see the godhi under the hood was relatively young, perhaps only in his mid-twenties.
“Jesse ben David,” spoke a baritone voice.
“Yes, I am Jesse ben David.” He looked up into the chiseled face of the man holding the candle.
“I am Heimdall, master of the scriptorium. Your request to view the books of the scriptorium has been granted based upon the rune singer, Long Swan’s recommendation. I charge you to realize that you are on very sacred ground. These records are to be more treasured than gold and silver. Handle them carefully and with all due reverence. Use these,” he handed him a pair of white gloves such as he noticed the man himself was wearing. “You will wear these gloves before handling any books or manuscripts of the scriptorium.”
As he was donning the gloves, the young master unlocked the large thick yew wood doors with the intricate boar head carvings on each. The room opened to pitch darkness until Heimdall successively lit several candelabra. The immensity of the room came into view with row upon row of bookshelves, and rows after rows of scrolls and manuscripts, relics, and cultural treasures. A superbly carved naked marble statue of the God Baldur with a winged helm loomed over him. He couldn’t help thinking, Man I wish I was built and hung like that. Placed around the open room were finely polished bay wood tables with bay wood benches and at the other end of the room a nude statue of the Goddess Idunn with apple in hand displaying the most perfect breasts he had ever layed eyes on. One well tooled desk sat against the wall beneath a large golden horn and that was the direction Heimdall pointed him in.
After Jesse thoroughly took in his surroundings he looked to Heimdall. “What is that huge horn for?”
“That is a
horn that the Wizard Govannon, made for me when he resided here and taught alchemy, metallurgy, and the art of overcoming living darkness. The great wizard charged me to keep it safe, for he predicted that someday I would have the honor of giving the blast inaugurating the final battle that would usher in the dawn of the Elven return to Ea-Urth. He instructed me not to blow it until such time.”
“Then it is a grand prize indeed.”
“It is a great honor, that you, a non-Herewardi, are even permitted to enter the scriptorium and to view the horn.” He pulled back his hood and smiled. “Now tell me, my young scholar, what would you care to view?”
“I am curious about the origins of the Herewardi Kingdom and I wish to learn everything there is to know about it.”
“That would take you more than a lifetime. I inherited this post from the rune singer, Long Swan, and I am still reeling from all there is to learn. But perhaps you should start with the Bok of Elrus.”
“Right now, I’m focusing on the more recent history. My instructor said I should read ‘The Bok of the Battle of Frink Glen.’”
Heimdall walked over to the third row of shelves and returned with a large book, bound in calf leather and wrapped by leather strops. “Here you have it, but I must say, this is a very curious request from a non-Herewardi. Perhaps when you are finished with your study, we could have a meal and some ale together and discuss the things you wish to learn from it. I’d like to get acquainted with you and share ideas. Besides, I confess, there are some Jywdic books I should like your opinion on.”
“Oh, can you name one.”
“The Book of Jasher.”
“I can help you with that. Rabbi Amschel and I were reading a passage from it only the other day.” Jesse paused, hesitating about asking, but decided he’d give it a try anyway. “And perhaps you could tell me more of Long Swan and Sur Sceaf when we meet.”
“I’d be delighted. Long Swan, is a colleague and dear friend. Unfortunately, I only know the lord Sur Sceaf through his deeds, although we have met many times. I have heard he has an impeccable taste for beautiful women.”
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