Sun Cryer said, “That could not have been long ago that your people left the Taxus, for my grandfather told me that many Herewardi fled to him for shelter in his generation.”
“Once again, you are right. There was a scattering of our seed as the Pitter pressure mounted. Although the majority of Herewardi fled to safety under the wing of the mighty Apache Ndee in the White Mountains to sojourn in their lands, Leofric and Sur scouted the West Lands for a new home. They found several possibilities, so the Herewardi Tribe split up into clans and formed the Seven Kingdoms. Some went to the Kalifornias, some went north to the Sand Wand Islands and others into the Kanadas. My clan, under Leofric and Sur finally found their home at their current stronghold in the Umpqua where Sur Spear was chosen as king of all Herewardi and he designated Witan Jewell as their see from which he ruled. There, we suffered no attacks from the Pitters until Lord Sur Sceaf’s generation and he expertly delivered us the victory there at Frink Glen and Woon Stone. It seems to the Pitters, the Umpqua was a wild landscape covered in wide dense forests that made the Pitter commissar Thuryridamus, younger brother of Hryre Seath, to shiver with fear in the Battle of Woon Stone, with which you all are all too familiar.”
Sun Cryer said, “The name of Sur Sceaf is spoken in our councils even today as the deliverer of the Sharaka Nation. He was the shooter of the destroying arrow which, shot from two plow-lengths, broke the Pitter’s ‘broken cross’ banner sending their eagle to the dust and caused the Pitter war chief to flee with his legions like frightened coyotes.”
Taneshewa couldn’t help but be impressed. Many braves had tried to repeat that feat, but none could do it.
All eyes turned to Sur Sceaf. Dancing Rabbit declared. “It is an honor to have you amongst us, Lord Prince Sur Sceaf.”
“On the contrary,” Sur Sceaf said, “the honor is all mine. I found a great friend in Mendaka and I have heard only the bravest of tales of Sun Cryer’s wars in the North and how he provided a corridor of safety for the fleeing Jywds.”
Dancing Rabbit said, “Once again, Chief Onamingo has shown great wisdom in having us learn the ways of the Herewardi, that we may know how valuable you will be as our allies.”
Long Swan declared, “The Herewardi consider Chief Onamingo the greatest of the brother leaders to Sur Spear. We Herewardi believe the Sharaka and us have many more things in common than different. And certainly our goals are the same. We wish to live as free men and women exercising our own sovereignty and beliefs unmolested and free to raise our children in the peace and prosperity all men and women deserve.”
“Your words are wise and beat the drum of truth to our ears.” Dancing Rabbit turned to look at the talking chiefs of the Buffalo Nations. They all nodded.
* * *
On the second day of Long Swan’s visit, the brothers rose early before dawn. Long Swan made some oatmeal for breakfast, and they drank the goat’s milk kefir with it. After a morning splash in the lake the two retired to Sur Sceaf’s tipi. Scanning to make sure there were no prying eyes or ears, he tied the flaps together for added privacy. Long Swan took Sur Sceaf in the royal embrace, and whispered the communiqué from the Elf Moot into his ear.
“Thus sayeth the Roufytrof. The High Priest Elijah von Hollar of the Quailor has sent a letter to Sur Spear stating that both the High Priests Quorum and the Dycons Quorum have given their majority approval of you as the leader of the three tribes. There were only two dissenting votes. One dycon named Muckenschnabel said he remembered your antics of swimming naked as a youth and felt the three tribes needed a leader with far more dignity than that. The other dissenting vote came from a friend of Muckenschnabel’s, Knighton by name. Hollar pointed out that you were the grandson of Ludwig and that in the Herewardi culture swimming in a loin clout does not constitute nudity. We await your acceptance by the Sharaka. When that news arrives from the silver harriers, we will send out Lord Pyrsyrus and his fyrds to assist you in the migration of the tribes to Witan Jewel. Thus endeth the communiqué.”
After the message was delivered, Long Swan broke the embrace and Sur Sceaf stepped back. “That was good news, Feather. I only wish I could have been a more sober man in my youth. More like you.”
The two men began to dress for the day.
Long Swan shook his head. “No one should think of me as a model. I had my heart broken in my youth and nearly died from my wound. I was compelled by my own wounds to retreat into my studies and I fled to the coast to avoid having to see her parade with my unfriend, Saxwulf, but Surrey, there is still not a day passes that I don’t grieve the loss of love for Faehunig. I don’t seem to have the resilience or capacity for rejection that most people possess.”
“There has to be at least three women that rejected me. Not every egg is fertile, my brother. Not every woman is receptive.”
Long Swan chuckled. “Perhaps it was not you they were rejecting. There are few women that could bear the scrutiny or power of your faery queen, Paloma.”
“And yet she is the crown of my life. Without her my bride troupe would fall into disarray.”
Long Swan acknowledged, “True enough. There is no woman as firm in our faith as the Lady Paloma and she is the surest of Elven blood in all the Seven Kingdoms.”
After pulling on his boots, Sur Sceaf, stood and looked his brother square on. “You are a good man, Long Swan. Soon a woman, a pearl of great price shall come into your life. I saw this in my scrying as clear as the rising of the dawn star Earendil. To be sure, the Norns have woven a strange fate for us. But I am convinced they did not intend you to hold onto the woof of bachelorhood this long. It is contrary to the ways of the Herewardi Gods.”
“I wish for myself it were otherwise.” He pulled his robe over his head. “Every woman I’ve embraced since Faehunig has felt like an empty shell in my arms. My heart has turned to stone and though my manhood does not sleep, my heart blocks its use.”
“I thought I suspected a spark of interest from you when you looked upon Mendaho,” he said fastening his scramasax to his calf, “she certainly had eyes for you.”
Long Swan pulled on his boots, “Truth be said, she is a remarkable beauty and we seem to be on the same plane of intelligence. But I’m still not ready. It would be unfair to her for me to imagine Faehunig every time I kissed her. I could not do that to her.”
“Well, you’re going to be seeing her today. Remember she’s bringing the Mountain Scrolls. And if I know Meny she will be armed for bears.” As he untied the flaps, he said, “Remember she’s opened this meeting for anyone who wants to attend. Don’t be afraid of the hard questions.”
Long Swan pulled his hood up over his head. “Surrey, you have lived among these people before. Your mother is one of them. How am I doing communicating with them? Do you have any recommendation that would improve my presentation?”
“So far none. Just remember to always be yourself. No one spots a phony like a Red Man. They are grounded in truth and have no pretentiousness, so always tell it just like it is. They are for the most part a pure-hearted people whom the gods do greatly favor. You will come to love them.”
By the time Sur Sceaf and Long Swan made their way to the long lodge, two talking chiefs, Meny, Taneshewa, Sagwi, Dancing Rabbit, and Little Doe were waiting inside. Sur Sceaf could tell instantly that this was meant to be a casual and informal meeting just by the way everyone sat in a large relaxed circle.
As soon as they had pierced through the lodge door, Meny rose up from the circle and said, “Please, come in. As promised, I’ve brought some of the Mountain Scrolls, Long Swan.” She placed one of the ancient parchments in his hands.
Sur Sceaf knew that eager look on Long Swan’s face. He was like a treasure hunter uncovering a chest of jewels. Quickly he said, “Meny, can we save the scrolls until we have dealt with the questions you might have, for if Long Swan gets even one peek into those ancient writings, we shall not be able to tear him away until lightning strikes.”
Long Swan laughed. “Surrey
knows me too well.” He gave a forlorn look to Meny, and carefully returned the fragile scroll into her hand before taking a vacant place in the circle. “Where do we start?”
As Sur Sceaf also joined the circle, Dancing Rabbit answered, “Hound’s Tongue and I just had a question about the Pitters.” She darted a glance at the powerful brave sitting across from her.
Hound’s Tongue nodded, “I have often killed the foul Pitter rat packs that cross our land. When I examined their dead, they have the makings of being a man like us, but there is something twisted about them. Those teeth in the front of their mouths, their strange smell that stings the nostrils, and their fidgety movements all tell me they are not of the blood of man. So what are they? Smoking Thunder, the Cheyenne medicine man says they are children of the devil-dogs.”
“Yes, Chief Hound’s Tongue, your shaman, Smoking Thunder is right. Our writings tell us they are not fully men, but bear the seed code of rats and wolves in their blood. So calling them a devil-dog is not far off, though they are a different race than the ones called Dogmen or the Night Dogs. All have had their seed codes tampered with and are not fully human.”
Hound’s Tongue exchanged looks with the talking chief next to him. “What dark magic could do such an abomination?”
Long Swan frowned. “It was a magic the Evil Generation possessed and passed on from the age of corporate government that held little sacred and were hopelessly paranoid of each other. Unfortunately, we do not know how it was done or why. What we do know is that they are empty of all natural affection and have no regard for human life much like a wild animal wouldn’t.”
Dancing Rabbit, who once again seemed to be facilitating the discussion, directed her gaze at the talking chief to Hound’s Tongue’s right. “Boar’s Tooth, you came because you said you had some questions.”
Sur Sceaf recognized that he had encountered Boar’s Tooth in the Montan. He was a skilled warrior and a mighty hunter.
“Yes, Swan Lord,” Boar’s Tooth said, in the staccato accent common to the Montan, “it concerns me as to why the Pitters continue to grow in numbers faster than any other tribe that I know of. It appears to me they increase even faster than your tribe. So that even with your practice of many wives which I am told, is done to produce many children, they still replace armies with ease.”
“An excellent observation, Chief Boar’s Tooth,” Long Swan answered, “The Pitters mature twice as fast as we do. By eight winters, they are of marrying age. Usually, they have one or two offspring, and are sometimes known like bobcats to eat one or both of their offspring, but every forty-five to fifty years the bamboo plantations they cultivate in the swamps of the Southern Lands below the Firginias come into fruit. When the Pitters eat this bamboo fruit their population explodes. They begin having litters of eight to ten offspring and they no longer cannibalize any of their kits.”
Meny interjected, “I knew there was something very wrong with them. Lord Long Swan, all tribes resent the Pitters, but why out of all the tribes of Panygyrus do the Pitters strive so much to bring an end to the Herewardi?”
“It is true that they bear a particular hatred for us. Methinks it is because of our Forty-Four Laws which gives us the keys to their destruction, that every man, woman, child, and tribe has their own right to live as they choose. They were very aware of this from the beginning and have grown more determined after Howrus began freeing their captives from the labor camps. Also their god, Angrar, has made it a holy obligation to seek out and destroy the Herewardi above all.
“Nowadays, our spies inform us that the Pitter Empire hopes to put enough pressure on us to crush the natural fortress of the Umpqua. But we are resolved that they shall never take us again. There is no safe place to flee anymore and we shall either defeat them here, or be pushed into the sea. We have successfully and repeatedly beaten them in battle after battle, and yet like the rising tide they back up, but gradually roll into our territory ever higher and higher and more and more numerous. It may yet be we shall be forced to flee again.”
Meny raised her hand and looked in Long Swan’s direction. “I have read these Forty-Four Laws written by the swan lords of old from the Bok of Howrus and given to the great prophet named Elrus. They are very well thought out. I can attest that they would be a blessing to any people, who chose to adopt them. I am willing to share my copy of them with anyone who cares to read them.”
Hound’s Tongue raised a hand. “I should like to borrow your copy of them, Mendaho. The talking chiefs shall read them together and discuss the words of the swan lords in council at the crater.”
“Then I shall bring it to you this afternoon, Chief Hound’s Tongue. As Lord Long Swan told us last night the Forty-Four Laws are the sacred charge of the Roufytrof.”
“Pray Tah-Man-Ea,” Taneshewa said, “this all is too much to take in. I’ve forgotten, what is the Roufytrof?”
“It’s the sacred governing body of the Hyrwardi like our Council of Chiefs.” Meny enlightened. “Sometimes they are referred to as the Folk Moot. It is composed of forty-four members, all of whom are godhi or gadija, priests or priestesses, and they represent what the Herewardi call a ghost government.”
Long Swan said, “You may have also heard of them being referred to as the Elf Moot.”
“I seem to remember the skalds talking about them, but I can’t remember. What do they do?”
“Mendaho said it, the Roufytrof directs all the affairs of the Herewardi.”
Taneshewa’s eyes lit up. “Lord Long Swan, Meny tells me about a book you have about women.”
Sur Sceaf was delighted that she was showing such genuine interest in the Herewardi and answered, “It’s a book about the history of Herewardi women. The Bok of Yster or Ystery as we call it. With your keen mind, I think it would be a book you would enjoy Taneshewa. It talks about our Council or Clan of Women known as a swannery, and tells how the women must have the final say in matters of marriage and warfare. It also describes how some women were great warriors, some great scholars, and tells about their inventions and struggles. But most importantly, the Ystery explains the laws governing the harmony of wives as given by our Goddess, Yster, and how the Goddess revealed the path of harmony to Sassia the Seeress, who was one of the wives of Howrus. It explains that when a woman marries a man of multiple wives that she is also marrying all of his wives in order to be one with them.”
Taneshewa had a puzzled look as she turned to Sagwi. “Sagwi, didn’t you tell me that this Sas-sia was one of our longmothers?”
Sagwi frowned, “I’s told you that Sasa was one of our foremothers, not no Sas-sia.”
Taneshewa laughed, “I just thought maybe your accent was off.”
As the sun climbed into the sky, the long lodge grew warmer. Long Swan pulled his hood down over his back. “The names do sound alike. In fact, Taneshewa, Sasa was of Cherokee blood and also one of the wives of Howrus. Upon Howrus’ death, Sasa feared the Herewardi would be obliterated by reason of the great hatred the Pitters bore for them. Thus she fled back to her tribe in the Southern Mountains at a place called Quallah. Her children were the seed flock for the Sharaka Tribe.”
“See dher,” Sagwi pronounced, “I done told ja, we be of da same blood as da Herewardi. Why’s yo dhink we done had so many chillun wif blond hair and blue eyes?”
Taneshewa appeared astounded. “That’s where I got these blue eyes? And why Sparrow Hawk has green eyes. And, by Tah-Man-Ea, Redelfis with his fire hair is an absolute throw back.”
“Dhat’s right.”
Long Swan smiled. “As a matter of fact, Taneshewa, the Sharaka were originally called the Syrafa.”
Sur Sceaf interjected, “Sagwi could teach us all much more from the Folk Mouth.”
Long Swan nodded to the hag. “I should defer to you, my lady.”
Sagwi blushed. “Ain’t much good at ‘splainin what’s I’s knows.”
Little Doe glanced at Taneshewa and then drifted her gaze towards Sur Sceaf before asking,
“Long Swan, there was much talk among the women. We would like to know, how do you Hyrwardi make this practice of many wives work? Do the women all sleep together? I mean how does it work, this bride-sister thing?”
Sur Sceaf noticed that Taneshewa shot her an annoyed look.
“In truth this practice has changed over the years as we worked out the knots that caused conflict and unhappiness. We discovered that not all men are fit for multiple marriage. As a safe guard there are seven appointed women known as the Haligawicca, who must approve a marriage before it can be consummated. By various means and questions these women determine what men are worthy of more than one wife and may even require the candidate to undergo a trial period before petitioning to marry again.”
Sparrow Hawk said, “I like the sounds of that. The women in our village would be well served by such a practice even if our men only marry one. So many of our young women fall into traps that older women can see so clearly.”
Taneshewa said, “You didn’t answer Little Doe’s question, do the women all sleep together?”
“No!” Long Swan said emphatically. “That was tried and quickly discontinued. Each wife has her own quarters over which she has full control and dominion. As also each has her appointed day with her husband determined by drawing sticks moonthly. But the wives sometimes trade the sticks to determine whose turn it is with their man.”
Sur Sceaf said, “They sort of rotate us around.”
There was a round of laughter and he was pleased to see that even Ahy joined in, only to have her smile quickly turn to a frown.
“But are they all happy with that?” Meny asked.
“Though I am single and do not elect to marry,” Long Swan answered, “I have observed a large majority of my people to be quite content with this arrangement. If they are happy, who has the right to change them? Just as we have no right to change the way other tribes live. Doesn’t that seem right to you?”
The Sire Sheaf Page 19