The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  “No! She’s a lady knight. Born to fight and nothing you or anybody else tries to do will deter her from her fate.”

  * * *

  That evening, the young blood commanders gave a full accounting of the great grass beast hunt to Sur Sceaf. A homecoming feast was prepared in Godeselle hall to honor the fledgling warriors. Torches burned from all the stone walls and sconces of whale oil giving added light to the enormous festive chamber. Vast tables of meats, corn, and mead provided great fare. None of Sur Sceaf’s wives chose to attend, but instead boycotted in support of Lana and Swan Hilde, who were still indignant that their children had not been sent back from the hunt when they had been discovered. No amount of explaining was about to soften their resolve.

  The young bloods told of their experience with much boasting and none too little exaggeration, stirring Sur Sceaf to laugh and revel in his own youthful hunts. The seasoned hunters laughed along with him. They, like Sur Sceaf, remembered their youthful hunts and the camaraderie that it had infused in them. A communion that only such bloodsport or battle could ever forge.

  Between gulps of mead, Old Grokking had the invited guests and senior leaders mesmerized with the description of the struggle to bring down the beast. Wiping the mead from his mustache with his sleeve, Old Grokk stood before the festive board and declared loudly, “Lift your mugs high and fill them to the brim. It warms my heart to take mead with young bloods and old bloods alike that we may bind old and young, and thereby boast and tell tales of our shared experiences of the hunt. You young bloods were all very good hunters, but it was the brave copper headed lass, Brekka, daughter of Sur Sceaf, and of Lana’s hearth, who brought the beast to the ground and stole my praise this day. Lord Sur Sceaf, she is a true blood. She has inherited the blood of courage. I think it’s time we start building her a fyrd to command.”

  Looking delighted Brekka lifted her mug and boasted, “Someday I will be a greater hunter than all my brothers, mark me now for you hear it from my own lips. I will be the slayer of the Pitters. I shall be known as the greatest Pitter slayer of all time.”

  Aelfheah laughed, “She should blush at her lack of humility, but by the gods, she is a better and far more worthy boaster than I myself who nearly had the wind permanently knocked out of me.”

  Sur Sceaf pondered her boast and stewed on its meaning, wondering if it was indeed of prophetic hue.

  Brekka looked to her brother for confirmation. “Isn’t it true Ary?”

  Ary’s face brightened, “It is the tradition of the Herewardi that after a successful kill, it is expected that the hunters boast of their strengths and skills in the mead hall. None can deny you are worthy of such boasts, sister. You are a fire-faery. You out shined us all, Fire Locks!” Ary smiled and raised his mug for a toast. The other young bloods toasted, following the example of the master of the tournament, who after all, was the king’s champion.

  Then Elf Beard glanced at Sur Sceaf across the table and in an apparent twinge of guilt said, “I am so sorry, my lord, to have brought the wrath of your wives down upon you. I’ll bet there will be hell to pay in the bedroom for the next half-moonth. I honestly did not know the little faery-imp had stowed away until it was too late and I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to control the little feist. I judged it was better to carry on as planned rather than interrupt this important of a hunt. Brekka has a will that is all her own. The same with those twin hellions of yours. Damn it, Surrey, if I had dogs like that I’d be beating them near to death!”

  Sur Sceaf raised his glass to his old mentor. “Grokk, you of all people should know, wild colts make the best horses. I am glad my young ones had this experience despite having to face the unified wrath of my wives. There are times when man’s world crashes with woman’s world. It’s all part of the gods’ plan. Do you want to come home with me tonight to defend that difference?”

  “Hell, no, I’m sure Lana has enlisted the support of my wives as well. I’ll be havin’ my own fires to put out tonight.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed and slapped his old comrade on the back. “Take heart my friend, experience has taught me that even the most wifely storm will eventually blow over.” He grinned. “I have my ways of making amends.”

  * * *

  As Taneshewa walked through the large swan doors into the hall at Neorxnawang, Brekka and Milkchild were too busy comparing fragments of books from the ancient Amerikan civilizations to notice she had entered. It was nothing new, for they had poured over endless volumes of lost lore from the ancient Amerikans for hours at a time for the last several moonths.

  As she approached the work table she overheard Milkchild say firmly, “I know what it says Brekka, but that doesn’t mean it’s real. These Amerikans were active storytellers and full of all manner of exaggeration. I just can’t believe any man could go to the moon or the other planets. We have to show proof of all the data that relates to them or the Roufytrof will discount all of our work as fable and laugh us out of the moot hall.”

  Brekka shook her head, “It can’t be any more clear to me, Milkchild. They made voyages to the moon and to a world they called Mars, probably the moving star we call Tyr. They even started processes to shape those worlds in the image of this world, so that future generations could live there. For all we know they may even be living there now. In one passage I studied, they called it terra-forming.” Looking up, Brekka caught Taneshewa’s eye and said, “Nigh-mother Ahy, when did you come in?”

  “Just a few moments ago,” Taneshewa said. “It sounded like you were saying men went to the moon and other worlds up there,” she pointed upward.

  “That’s exactly what she claims,” Milkchild said with raised brows, “sounds farfetched at best, doesn’t it?”

  Taneshewa considered it carefully before answering. “Actaully, no Milkchild, it is not anymore farfetched than us traveling across the great deep in sailing vessels taller than trees and longer than a whale. I had never seen a belly ship until I boarded one. If you had told me they existed I would have laughed at you.”

  “In truth, you make an excellent point. I must give it more thought. But how did they get to the moon or Tyr? Did they somehow float there or sail there? Can one float on air? They were after all more advanced than we are.” Then she grinned, “Speaking of belly ships,” Milkchild said. “That belly of yours is starting to say someone wants out. Are you feeling well?”

  Ahy laughed, “He’s like a little buffalo in there butting at my ribs, so that’s a good sign. Isn’t it?”

  “That’s a very good sign.”

  “Can I feel your belly, mother Ahy?” Brekka asked.

  “Give me your hand, dear,” Ahy said as she placed Brekka’s hand over her belly. She immediately burst into tears.

  “What is it dear sister?” Milkchild asked. “Tell me what the matter is. Are you in pain?”

  “No, it’s just that when Brekka touched my belly it reminded me of my friend, Meny. She was always feeling my belly to see how far along I was. Now that she’s been taken by the escaped Pitters, she must contend with the robber bands. One can have little hope I’ll ever see her again.” She couldn’t refrain from sobbing, feeling the grief balling up in her throat and chest. She waited until she was composed again and felt the comfort of Brekka’s arm over her shoulder.

  Brekka said, “It’ll be alright mother Ahy,” Brekka soothed. “We are all praying for a miracle that Hartmut will bring her back to us soon. He can handle a few robbers. Just be patient. Fa asked Fa Mo Mo Redith to scry their whereabouts, but nothing came. Redith said, ‘It means the gods are concealing them from evil scryers’ as an added shield in their journey back.”

  Taneshewa felt comfort from Brekka’s hopeful spirit and encouraging words. “It’s just when I saw you working on the Ancient Amerikan manuscripts it reminded me of how intensely Mendaho loved working on them. I think I came here today wishing I’d see her sitting next to you, stooped over her books just like the old days.” Once again she had to fight against
breaking down.

  “It’s alright honey.” Milkchild said. “We can’t give up on hope. Surrey has told me many times that the Tree of Hope yields a sweet fruit to those who cultivate it.”

  Taneshewa wiped the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. “As soon as I heard Hartmut had taken off into that hellhole of Pitters at Copperopolis to rescue his love, I knew all was lost. And even after we got a pigeon that they had escaped, there is just little hope a single Quailor would ever be able to rescue her. It’s just impossible. It would be easier for a bloody sheep to outrun a band of coyotes than for a gentle, peace-loving Quailor to take her through the many robber bands that pillage the Sacramen valley.”

  Brekka took Taneshewa by the hand. “Mother Ahy, you must love her dearly. I tell you this from my heart, when I took Mendaho’s hand and gave her a reading, the gods showed me that she had a future filled with great love. Don’t let circumstances blind you to the woven fate the Norns have decreed. Mendaho shall surely live.”

  Milkchild nodded emphatically. “Redith has told us, that after Brekka has given someone a reading, she remains eternally spiritually connected to that person. Trust me now when I tell you that Brekka would know if something bad had happened to Mendaho.”

  Taneshewa felt a ray of hope. “Is that true, have you sensed something you are not telling me?”

  Brekka looked up at the ceiling, “Allow the gods to show us the fruits of hope. Though her trials be great, Mendaho still lives.”

  Chapter 5 : Frithspottum

  Long Swan’s Log: It is the fifteenth day of the Moonth of Skipping Lambs, the Day of Water Sprites and Nymphs, the signaling of warmer weather ahead and it is the year 585 HSO. At the end of the Mud Moonth Sur Sceaf had retired into the earth wood to fast and pray for guidance from the gods on how to expand the kingdom from the core of Godeselle out.

  Upon Sur Sceaf’s return from the earth wood, he called a great council fire of the Folk Moot in the moot chamber of Godeselle Hall with a mandamus for attendance by all summoned. At the council fire he announced, ‘I shall introduce the practice of wyrd, which is the art and power of civilized living, a secret long kept by the lore masters of the Elder Moot. Wyrd is the key to harmony and unity at every social and natural level to make us one in unified service to the Commonwealth. Wyrd is like the starter in Quailor sourdough bread. It will make the whole loaf rise. My plan is to start with skaldic teachers placed in every settlement, who will go forth teaching and to teach.’

  He then appointed committees composed of members from all three tribes and tasked them with developing sporting and cultural events of interest to all three cultures and to create clubs for the youth of the confederation to join together so as to learn from one another and have proper cultural exchange at a more meaningful level.

  Sur Sceaf’s greatest inspiration is to expand our confederation beyond the three tribes to any people who subscribe to the Terms of Confederation, thereby uniting many more tribes in the common endeavor to unseat the Pitters. Ambassadors have been sent out to the Hickoryans, the Presters, the Columba Rogues, the Jywds, and all the nations of Redmen throughout the main land of Panygyrus beyond the immediate vicinity of Syr Folk influence.

  * * *

  As Sur Sceaf sat in the upper council chamber of the palace going over maps with Mendaka, and drawing proposed settlements with his quill, he thought for a moment, then he dipped the quill in the inkwell and made criss-crossed marks to show where enclosed settlements or the frithspottum, would go.

  His steward, Cen-Elf, knocked, opened the door, and announced, “Rabbi Amschel, El Yid, and a delegation of seven Jywdic elders crave an audience with you, my lord. The Rabbi apologizes for not having made an appointment.”

  He laid down his quill on the gleaming kauri wood table. “I’ll see them. Show them in, Cen-Elf.” He shot an excited glance at Mendaka.

  Rabbi Amschel came through the door first, knelt and gave a swan salute. He was followed into the chamber by his son, still in his pirate uniform, followed by the black clad Haredic Elders. Sur Sceaf was surprised to see that Sunchild was also with them.

  Rabbi Amschel spoke first, “Lord Sur Sceaf and Chief Mendaka, we are come for clarification on the offer to join the confederation as a sovereign people.” He looked about the room. “I see Master Muryh is out just now. I was hoping to see him. The Terms of Confederation is an offer we feel would be wise to accept and we wanted to be the first people at your door to petition entrance into the confederation.” The rest of the Jywds nodded their agreement.

  Sur Sceaf nodded back, “It is good. I knew I could count on you. I’m grateful you see the wisdom in this expanding confederation. Though you would have had our protection all the same, of course, being an active member of the confederation will give you much more of an active voice.”

  “Between our settlements we assessed the amount of troops we could contribute.” Rabbi Amschel smiled, “We have come up with four Jywdic fyrds.”

  Sur Sceaf allowed his pleasure to show. He leaned back with a sigh of joy. “Your quick response is duly noted, my good friend. Who have you chosen to be the commander over the Jywdic fyrds?”

  Rabbi Amschel looked out under his fur brimmed hat at the Jywdic elders with him. “Initially we had hoped for Zeru-Herewardi--” he shot a quick glance at the pirate standing to his right “--but he informs me he is already committed to serving you in the Pyringean pirates and very much wishes to remain in naval service.”

  “That is why,” El Yid stepped forth, swung back his black cape, and in his deep gusty Jywdic brogue said, “I am recommending my first lieutenant, Sol-Om-On Sunchild.”

  Sur Sceaf was pleased with the recommendation, knowing he had proven Sunchild in more than one situation, and like Zeru-Herewardi he was half Herewardi, but unlike Zeru, he lacked flexibility.

  “El Yid has made a wise choice, Rabbi. Sunchild has shown me his metal in several situations and he has trained in a Herewardi fyrd where, I’m told, he excelled. Nevertheless, I’m going to have to work on his rigidity.”

  The Rabbi laughed, “Why he’s as one tracked as a snapping turtle.”

  Sunchild’s long golden hair, peyos, and beard framed a reserved smile, “I am most grateful Lord Sur Sceaf, Rabbi, and Zeru. I hope to make a name for our people that will cause Pitters everywhere to tremble when they see the Lion banner of Jywdah waving before their gates.”

  Mendaka gave the boy an encouraging smile, “This is very good news indeed. Four additional fyrds will strengthen our ranks considerably and allow us to strike more places at once.”

  The Rabbi seemed gratified at the enthusiastic reaction. “Very well,” he said, “Where do we sign the Terms of Confederation and when do you want the Jywdic fyrds?”

  “The fyrds…yesterday!” Sur Sceaf winked at the Rabbi, then nodded at his steward, who took the cue and went out to get the Terms of Confederation. Sur Sceaf explained, “These terms will help in uniting many and diverse peoples against the common enemy of us all, an enemy, who up until now, could only be resisted. And still can only be resisted until our ranks reach the turning point. I presume that to be close to a great year, which would be approximately, nineteen years from now.”

  A few moments later the green-clad steward entered the chamber with the large vellum and gave it to Sur Sceaf. Sur Sceaf unrolled it across the table, “Rabbi, you and the Jywdic elders may examine it and sign here when agreed.”

  The Rabbi and the elders leaned over the table. Together they examined the Articles of Confederation, meticulously discussing and sometimes even arguing over various points of law as was their way. Sur Sceaf chuckled at their love for detail and precision with words, while Mendaka resumed planning frithspottums along with him. Dak pointed to an area on the map just southwest of Godeselle. “This would be a good area for the Quailor to farm...”

  Rabbi Amschel said, “Oy weh, already!” Then took the quill, dipped it in the inkwell and signed his name. “We’ve all been over this before. It
’s just like the copy they sent us. Sign it already.”

  Each elder stepped forward in their black gabardine coats and fur brimmed hats to place their signatures and marks on the vellum. Rabbi Amschel declared, “This pleases...”

  A rap at the door interrupted them. The steward opened the door once again and there stood Xelph and Muryh arguing with each other, and Long Swan ignoring them both.

  Xelph had just jumped up a few inches to emphasize his point, “No more damned quarry work!”

  Sur Sceaf laughed and turned his attention to Muryh. “It seems like you two are ever at odds with each other. Once again, it would appear I have put two fighting cocks in the same cage.”

  Muryh flushed red when he saw the Rabbi. “Did you send Xelph to me to say we are going to be altering the interior of the temple?” The master builder looked as though he was ready to explode.

  Sur Sceaf hid a smile. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

  “It’s just that I would have liked to be the first one to know rather than have this gloating son-of-a-bitch rubbing my nose in it.” Then remembering his decorum, said, “Oh Rabbi, so good to see you here.”

  Long Swan went straight away into a side conversation with Sunchild and Yid.

  Sur Sceaf confronted Muryh, “Since you weren’t at the correlation meeting this morning, I sent Xelph to tell you of the changes.”

  “Oh, because I am busy building you a temple and you knew how much of a pest I find him. Is that it? Especially in my busy morning schedule these days. I built that temple to be an exact replica of your signet ring and I designed the inner chambers in honor of the various Herewardi gods and now you send this leaf collector to tell me it’s gotta be changed.”

  “That’s right master builder. I want you to redesign the interior of the temple, so that it has four divisions, one for each of the three tribes and then one for all other tribes, for although it is a temple for the Herewardi it shall not exclude the other tribes. You won’t have to redesign the upper chamber. It shall remain for the swan lords of the Roufytrouf and the elf moot for their usual functions.”