The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  Muryh appeared to be mollified, “By the gods of Herewardom I have been sent by your father to raise the halls of heaven for you, my lord, that you might sup at the hearth of the gods. And as for you, Xelph, you explorer-bees can fly from flower to flower over the whole island in your explorations and I will be happy to not see your complaining hide in my quarries anymore. I don’t need you and don’t give a damned. Me and my ants shall build a beacon to shine from sunrise to sunset here on Godeselle long after you and your leaves are all blown away by the winds of change.”

  Sur Sceaf shook his head, knowing full well both men were of greatest value to him and would probably never agree on anything. He turned to Long Swan and with an inner sigh of relief, commanded, “Record in your log that Rabbi Amschel and the Elders of the Jywds have signed the Terms of Confederation and now are to be afforded the full rights and support of the Syr Folk Commonwealth.”

  Long Swan pulled a pad of paper out of the deep pocket of his white robe. “It shall be done, my lord. I wanted you to know I have Govannon fashioning some golden plates so that I can fulfill your command to write the Sacred Laws of Howrus on a Golden Tablet to be entrusted to the Roufytrof’s safe keeping. For the language of our fathers has begun to slip from favor, and only with the strong grip of the House of Howrus will it be preserved that generations may speak to untold generations in the same tongue.”

  Sur Sceaf was pleased, “So let it be scribed. So let it be shaped.”

  * * *

  After Sur Sceaf had gone over the plans of the new Commonwealth of Syr folk with the Rabbi and the Jywdic elders, he invited them to stay at his manor at Neorxnawang for as long as they wished. They accepted his invitation with alacrity. The Rabbi expressed his eagerness to see his daughter and grandchildren again. He sent the steward for a carriage.

  When they arrived at the manor, the master of the household, Buckley escorted the elders to the guests quarters while Sur Sceaf walked the Rabbi to Milkchild’s apartment. After enjoying his wife’s surprise and excitement at her father’s unexpected visit, Sur Sceaf excused himself and headed for the sheepfold where he expected to find Ary. On the way he noted with some satisfaction how well his farm was taking shape under Ary and Alfheah’s stewardship. The hay mows were full, the corrals were tight, and the gardens looked well-tended. Ary’s bee yard with its neat rows of hives and skeps was impressive and he was particularly pleased to see Xelph had put in an orchard.

  When he neared the sheepfold he spotted some of the older children were engaged in practicing with staves. Ary and Brekka were busy fending each other off when Brekka caught sight of her father and signed ‘halt.’

  Brekka ran to his side and flung her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, Fa. I came close to beating Ary this time.”

  Sur Sceaf put his arm around her shoulder and together they walked over to Ary, who leaned on his stave trying to catch his breath, “I’ve never taught anyone to fight with staves who was able to pick it up as fast as she can, Fa. She is going to make for a fierce warrior just as she boasted at the mead table.”

  “Father,” Ary said, “were expeditions approved by the council and if so, am I going? I heard the Roufytrof has approved the plan for the exploratory expeditions as submitted and has authorized the resources.”

  “I don’t know. What will your mother say about you leaving four betrothed women behind? Wouldn’t you rather marry those four beauties soon? Spend the next year under the feathers of your bed before trekking through the wilds. I think your mom and the bride-sisters are already preparing for your wedding in Albespiene.”

  “No chance of that happening.”

  “You know I was already married to Paloma at your age and your mother was ready to give birth to you. And by the by, at the same time I was already starting on my second wife, even as she was urging me to take a third. Personally, I’d rather face the Pitter Empire than Paloma of Malcolm’s wrath, any day.”

  Ary looked away for a moment before admitting. “I want to marry so much it is like wanting to plant corn in spring, Fa. The ground simply is not ready nor warm enough for my seed. Mother can’t understand this. Unless I feel the spirit of that special woman who can govern my other four wives with the same tact and warmth as Mother does, I shall not plant my seed. It would just sprout and then be cut down by the frost of their incompatible personalities. Each one thinks she should be the faery-mother, but I don’t agree. The ur fyr demands that I wait.” He sighed. “Believe me I have looked at all the maidens in the land and I do not see one fit for the job of faery-queen at this point. At least not with the mix I have already chosen. It is a very painful paradox. I have been off to the earth wood several times in prayer and the only answer I ever get from the gods is to wait.”

  “What about Siegel’s daughter, Myrhunig?”

  “Fa, she has the face of a cow and ankles like an ox.”

  “I didn’t know looks was the only thing you were after.”

  “Now you’re just being plain mean. Suffice it to say, I know what I want and it’s not here yet.”

  Sur Sceaf was both amazed and proud that his son was maturing in both wisdom and common sense. How different it had been for him. It took quite a while for wisdom to catch up with him and sometimes he wondered if he didn’t have a lot more to learn before he was as wise as his father and older brother.

  “There is nothing more difficult than waiting, but like your namesake, the eagle, you must wait for the perfect moment to strike. Not everyone is as fortunate as I was to locate the perfect faery-queen fresh out of the stall. And it is a very painful process to reconfigure a bride-covey because the first wife is inadequate to properly fulfill the faery-queen role. You have only to look at Fa Bro Wycliff to see how contentious his household is. There is a constant struggle because of Gwyn who does not assert her right to be faery-queen. It’s no wonder your cousins plead to spend so much time with us.”

  While he was talking with Ary, Brekka had slipped away to begin another battle of staves with Aelfheah. She was barely holding her own. Each time Aelfheah scored a point, she growled and redoubled her efforts.

  Sur Sceaf chuckled at Brekka’s fortitude, then resumed. “From the way you weigh things of such great import, Ary, I can see you have been made by the seed of Hereward. As for Paloma, such is the complex relationship boys have with their mothers, and believe me, wives can sometimes sound just like mothers. I only promise you that marriage is worth it. As for choosing a faery-queen to govern your flock, trust in the ur fyr, and a choice bride will appear soon enough. Believe me, it is trying to happen. I’ve explained to you that like the wolf thins the wild herds so that only the fittest survive, so also a wise husband chooses only the fittest of brides for his flock. I was joking about Myrhunig to test you. You will acquire the wolf’s tooth in this endeavor and your flock will be a healthy one. Be patient and while you are gone, I’ll work on your mother to trust your judgment as to when it’s time to marry.”

  Ary looked shocked, “Holy Woses! By mother sky, you won’t be going with us, will you father? But then, I guess, I forgot you have the kingdom to oversee and govern now.”

  Sur Sceaf glanced towards Aelfy and Brekka, still sparring. Now his eldest daughter was getting the better of her older brother. The cracks of wood against wood were coming at a progressively more rapid beat. Aelfheah gave a yell as Brekka tapped his knuckles followed with a swift stave to the groin. Sur Sceaf winced as Aelfy fell to the ground in a heap.

  Ary stifled a laugh, “Another one hits the dirt. Told you, Fa, she’s good!”

  Sur Sceaf pondered Ary’s former question and said, “No, Ary, I wish I could accompany you, but from now on, I will have my adventures through my sons and my brothers. Completing the building of the temple and my administrative duties will consume all of my time. I feel so pressed these days, like all time has been compressed and somehow I must accelerate the translation of my visions. Although my soul is not content with this quiet idleness of domestic duties
where there is too much to complete in too little time and I dream of days of adventure, I must govern my people instead. It is the yoke of the blood line you shall one day bear.”

  Ary said, “But father, mother said that the gods have chosen you for this greatest of missions and that is to bring about the downfall of the Pitter Empire and that we must all do what we can to aid you in that work. She also said, that Redith has prophesied that I am to follow you in this.”

  “Redith has shared that with me as well, but she’s also warned me that circumstances can alter any vision.”

  “You mean like finding this island altered the original master plan.”

  “Precisely! Let’s walk over to the sheep paddocks. I wish to see that new lamb you told me about. You know, the Romeldale.”

  When they arrived at the nearest paddock, Ary was eager to show the results of his breeding program. “Fa, I want you to examine the wool on this lamb.” He stepped inside the paddock and closed the gate behind them. As Ary grabbed the lamb he held its neck between his knees and parted the wool. The lamb’s wool was filled with black and brown pims displaying tri-colored wool.

  Sur Sceaf said, “Remarkable! I can only imagine how these three wools will spin together into a natural tweed. Well done, son!”

  “Thank you father, I’m sure the women will be pleased with the fiber.”

  “My son, there was another reason I wanted to speak with you alone. Because, in all likelihood, you shall take my place, just as I shall most likely take Sur Spear’s place, I wish to share my vision with you and point your mind in that direction. I believe the only way to accelerate the process of overcoming the Pitters is to rear up an enormous army of righteous warriors. This is one of the reasons your mother is so anxious for you and Aelfy to marry and begin producing offspring. The Council of Women and the Syr-Alphim are all examining ways to increase our numbers.”

  Ary nodded, “I only wish we could persuade the other tribes to practice the principle of multiple- marriage, Fa, but I know that will never happen. Perhaps the Terms of Confederation will add the numbers we are going to require to meet the might of the Pitter Empire.”

  Sur looked over at the sheep grazing on the lawn of the manor. “If we can’t persuade them to take more wives or other tribes to join our confederation, you younger Herewardi will be required to take on even more wives than has custom.”

  “You mean like Sur Child?”

  “Yes, he is a good example. Only then can we meet the numbers of our enemies. If we don’t strike within the twenty three years before the next bamboo bloom, the Pitters will hopelessly out breed us which would lead to our certain doom.”

  Ary smoothed the wool back over on the lamb and released it. “Well, I always heard Sur Spear say that a man could have between seven and sixteen wives and still serve all their emotional and physical needs, but if we increase the numbers of wives far beyond twenty six, there will be many unmet needs? And wouldn’t that be unfair to the wives?”

  “Perhaps that is so. But in a life and death struggle where the very roots of a free society are concerned, we are often required to make great sacrifices. In a warrior society such as ours, the women often meet each other’s emotional needs even more than most husbands could.”

  Ary said, “I don’t know Fa, it seems to me you are only asking the women to make the great sacrifices?”

  “That’s very perceptive of you son and that’s one of the dilemmas I’ve been wrestling with and have been discussing with your mothers. It’s a question I shall have to give to the Council of Women to determine. But right now, of more immediate concern is where to find more wives for our young men. If we do not find a new source of young wives outside of our own culture to meet the rising Pitter horde, we are going to be forced to take up expanded concubinage, a practice I do not altogether care for. But the numbers are simply demanding it! The problem really is, can we find men good enough to have that many wives. Most of the men from the other tribes, if allowed would only take more wives for lust sake. That can never be the fundament of any great society, for virtue alone is unconquerable. We have demonstrated there is a better way.”

  “Fa,” Arundel comforted, “had I not pushed Northern Lights to run beyond his capacity he would not be the champion race horse he is today.”

  “An apt analogy, perhaps I can borrow it if the occasion demands.”

  “Feel free,” Ary said, pleased.

  Chapter 6 : Explorations from the River to the Seas

  Long Swan’s Log : It is the the Moonth of Bird Song. Jester’s Day has passed with many a great trick played upon unsuspecting “fools.” It is now the Sacred Day of Horse Racing in the year 585 HSO. As planned and approved by the Roufytrof, Sur Sceaf called for the sending forth of the two exploratory parties to secure and claim all the unexplored lands south of the Dragon’s Back for the Syr Folk. A warm spring ushered in their departure. Mendaka is taking his men south on the east side of the River Mahallah. The Quailor high priest, Elijah von Hollar is accompanying and assisting in finding and mapping additional areas suitable to settling. Because Jesse ben David is going as scribe with Mendaka’s party, and I am scribe to Crooked Jack, it has become necessary for Sur Sceaf to appoint the wife of Jesse, Devorah, as his personal scribe in my absence. Govannon accompanied by his apprentice, Herman the Kettle Maker, is going with Mendaka’s party to survey the land for precious metals.

  According to Sur Sceaf’s orders, Xelph, the plant lore master, is to be acting commander under the shadow leadership of Crooked Jack and Elf Beard, and lead his expedition by taking his men south on the west side of the River Mahallah.

  Then in the autumnal Moonth of Equal Light, known as the Haelige Moonth, the commander of the Merchant Marines, Turtle Duck, is to meet our two exploratory parties in his ship, the Overo, on the autumnal equinox at the mouth of the delta in the south. Turtle Duck will take Redelfis, son of Mendaka as his scribe in his ship. Captain Makah will take the map maker, Flammalf, in another ship, the Sea Wylf, and finish mapping out the west coast of the isle, first by exploring the large omega shaped bay spotted in the northwest of the isle and then down the west coast to return.

  Meanwhile, in Godeselle, the trimming and decoration of the Great Hall is being carried out under the aegis of the lady Paloma and other select prominent ladies.

  At the same time the exploratory parties are heading south, Shug Moss of the Columba and El Yid of the Jywdic Tribe will be busy training their new recruits for the Pyringean pirates.

  * * *

  The day following Mendaka’s launch of the expedition to the South Lands, Ary arrived at the gates eager for the departure of Xelph’s expedition. He had arrived early at the fortress gates so as to better organize his gear. He was not surprised to find Xelph there before him, intently staring at the ground. As he drew closer, Ary realized his friend was studying a colony of sugar ants scurrying over the hard-packed earth.

  “Studying ants now as well as plants, are you Xelph?” he teased.

  Xelph glanced up and grinned. “No, I mean, yes. Fascinating busy little fellows, aren’t they? They remind me of working in the stone pits.”

  “Well, now you are free as a honey bee, my friend, and you can visit any flower you like.”

  “You just said it all!” Xelph lifted his head with an enormous smile on his face. “Did anybody ever tell you that you have an uncanny ability to read souls, Ary? I just wasn’t made to be a beast of burden in one of Muryh’s damned dust pits.”

  Ary laughed. “Yeah, Fa told me how happy you were when he released you from quarry duty.”

  “Well, I admit I might have rubbed it in quite a bit with Muryh, but the man is a real slave driver. He has this schedule--”

  Xelph was interrupted by a shouted greeting from Brekka, who ran up to greet the two of them. Following closely behind were her mother, Lana, and three of Ary’s four fiancées.

  He had not seen his future brides in several days as he had gotten caught up with his flo
cks, preparing them for his long absence. Every time he was with his fiancées, it reminded him of how eager he was to wed. His lustful body never ceased to remind him of his natural need to wed, but the ur fyr cautioned him that it was not yet the season for marriage.

  As lovely as always, Ilklilith gave him a kiss and whispered, “Farewell, my love. Return to us soon.” He in turn gave her a warm hug.

  Her twin, Ilkhava, then hugged him and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, “Don’t keep us waiting; be safe. We will pray for you.”

  Dina the Arap then stepped forward, hugged Ary and kissed him goodbye, “Oh! I almost forgot,” she said, handing him a pine needle basket full of dainties, “Here’s your favorite fig cakes I baked for your journey. Think on me every time you eat one. And here is a message from Machbah. She is sorry she could not be here to see you off.”

  “Thanks, Dina,” Ary told her warmly. He glanced at Xelph, who was eyeing the basket with hungry intent. “Forget it, my friend.” Ary said waving his hand for Xelph to back off from the basket of goodies. “These are my tokens of love and for my mouth only.”

  Xelph assumed a wounded expression. “What ever happened to the Herewardi custom of sharing?”

  “Well, it does not extend to personal fig cakes! I can tell you that much.”

  “I’m sure, thou canst wear him down, Xelph. He chust needeth to take a bite out of one first to think on Dina’s love,” Lana said with a fond smile for Ary. “He trieth to hide it, but Ary hath a very generous nature. Chust like unto his father.” She tiptoed to kiss Ary’s cheek. “Please be careful, my dear and worry not thine heart about thy brides. My sisters and I already consider them part of our flock.”

  “Thank you, Mother Lana,” he said before giving her a hug.

  Ary spied some of the other young bloods heading up the path. He knew it was time he turned his thoughts to the journey ahead.