There was a period of long silence yielding to open expectation, when a large heavy chief wearing buffalo horns rose and spoke in his gruff voice. “Sur Sceaf, I am Dusty Bull, chief of the Bull Clan and am come here out of the Tahlequah with Onamingo’s Tribe. I heard much of the great white warriors called the Hyrwardi and saw them pass through our lands on occasion. They are not trashy acting, like most of the other White Tribes. In Tahlequah the word of Onamingo was always known to be true. If he has chosen you to be our war chief, then I and my people shall follow you.” He also signed ‘Chief.’
Onamingo claimed the floor. “Dusty Bull, I have chosen Sur Sceaf, not only as war chief, but also as peace chief and subordinated myself under his command. He will be building a stronghold for us at Ur Ford. It is most important we follow his directives in all matters.”
Dusty Bull frowned. “Then it would be nice to hear what feats he has accomplished as a peace chief.”
Mendaka rose from the group of spirit chiefs and looked at all the chiefs in turn before speaking. “You all know Sur Sceaf is my blood-brother, and I know him well. I am proud to have him as my dearest friend. I have lived in his house and he in mine. His is a great house of many rooms, large crops, a great sheep farm, and the best horse stud anywhere in the West. He also has six wives and thirty-three children. He is well liked by his own people and all respect and love him. Many come to him for advice in matters of growing crops, managing flocks, breeding horses, and on issues of law, marriage, and settling personal disputes. Take me at my word; he has no equal as a peace chief.”
As Mendaka resumed his seat, Dusty Bull commented once again in his gravelly voice, “Forgive me, Mendaka of the Snake Clan. You have convinced me. Any man that can handle six wives and not sleep on the roof is qualified to be a peace chief.”
Laughter shook the lodge along with a sudden buzz of conversations before quiet was again restored.
Snake Horse then rose to speak. “Sur Sceaf, I have been acquainted with you since the Battle of Frink Glen. I have seen with my own eyes that you are like a brother to Mendaka. I have found it a truth, that you do have the Sharaka Spirit. This makes me feel at peace with you. I, too, value the counsel and wisdom of Chief Onamingo. I, being of the Snake Clan, pledge my people’s full support.”
Fat Elk claimed the floor once again. “It is pleasing to me to see one voice come out of a council fire. As chief of the Elk Clan, I too, give my support to you.” Fat Elk was the last of the talking chiefs to speak.
Onamingo took the floor once again. “I, Onamingo, son of Tah-Man-Ea and Sasa-Mingo, chief of all the four clans and their surrounding clans and called the Red King, say this. Lord Sur Sceaf, chief of the Hyrwardi, the Sharaka, and the Quailor, you have been examined and found worthy by the chiefs. You came here under the tongue of good report. We now proclaim you to be chief of chiefs of all Sharaka nations, clans, and septs attached to me, but it is our custom that you must also be examined and confirmed by the voice of the people.”
Sur Sceaf stood. “Great Chiefs, I am honored and humbled by your expressed confidence in my leadership. If accepted by the voice of the people, I pledge to lead you to safety and prosperity to the best of my ability. As my first duty, I shall lead you to the mighty Stronghold of Witan Jewell where we shall over winter before taking up our inheritances along the Coast Lands.”
Onamingo declared, “The hour grows late, we must leave for a special feast and the beginning of the ceremonies. Tonight, during the pow wow, we will share what we have decided with the people, as is our custom. Then, on the morrow, we shall gather together once again to hear the vote of the people.” He lifted both arms high. “Let us go down.”
The chiefs replied in chorus, “We will go down.”
As the chiefs arose and waited for Onamingo to precede them, he gave Sur Sceaf the show of his hand to exit first as the prospective chief of chiefs.
Outside the lodge the drumbeats gave primordial comfort to Sur Sceaf. A warm breeze ruffled his cravat and cooled the sweat on his brow. He walked to the chief’s ground on the east side of the council fire and took the chief’s black mat, confirming to all eyes he was to be the chief of chiefs. Onamingo and the other chiefs joined him and sat upon the ground before the Mountain Spirit Dancers. Dancing Rabbit aided by her friends, supportive as always, had dishes of hot venison, corn, and bread brought to them by young maidens who smiled at the honor.
The sun had not yet set as they ate the ritual repast. This was a time for quiet reflection and expectation. The Mountain Spirit Dancers flashed their colorful feathers, while their ankle bells tinkled in an ancient rhythm as they twined and twirled in the Dance of the Ancestors. Sur Sceaf started to feel his Sharaka spirit responding, weaving into the themes of the dancers. He cheered along with the others while the dancers finished with a crescendo of drums and a flourish of color.
There was a short pause before another group of dancers consisting of old men, very young children, and women came onto the dance arena. The drummers began pounding hard sharp notes. The flutes played shrill tones accompanied by the piping tones of deer whistles. A short man wearing a pig’s head mask charged and made threatening gestures to the children who fell to the earth and rolled, while old men ducked, and women dove to the arena floor repeatedly. Sur Sceaf recognized the dance as one he had not seen in fifteen winters. The staccato movements and the jarring notes of the flute brought back memories of things he would have rather were forgotten.
Frowning, Onamingo turned to Sur Sceaf and said, “I do not recognize this dance. But I see that it seems to be disturbing to you.”
“It is the Duck and Dive Dance. It portrays the betrayal at Frink Glen by the traitors, Walker Pig and Yggep, when they raked the innocents with arrows and spears. The dancers are showing how the Sharaka had to duck and dive the arrows of the Pitters to escape before I arrived with my fyrds. When I attempted to catch up with Walker in the Arid Zone before the Poisoned Land, he abandoned the children he had captured and caged so as to slow down our pursuit. As we closed in on him, he fled to the dark realms of the Poisoned Lands, where my arm could not reach.”
Onamingo nodded his approval. “It is good to put our history into dance. Though entertaining, it provides a strong lesson to the next generation and this pleases me much. Mendaka has done well here. Such horrors must not be forgotten if they are not to be repeated.”
The dance entered Sur Sceaf’s soul. His heart was thudding hard, affected by the dark memories of that battle. He shuttered to think that if his arrival had been delayed by even an hour, all the Sharaka would have surely perished that day, for he and his fyrd had championed the day and his war arrow sent the enemy into crazed flight. As he feasted on the venison, he pondered how many lives had been lost through unmerited trust in the Rogue Tribe of whites called the Balmors, led by the wicked Yggep and the sinister Walker Pig. Rats in rabbit’s clothing, they were. He became so immersed in deep thought that the dance ended before he knew it.
It was soon replaced with a springy youthful dance called the Merry Dancers, or the Dance of the Valkyries as the Herewardi called them denoting a time when the two cultures had drawn close together. Many of the maidens joined in with merriment and light airy movements.
As he watched with interest, he saw Taneshewa and Mendaho join the dance. Mendaho was dressed in a fiery red beaded buckskin and was her usual playful self. On the other hand, Taneshewa was a maidenly vision, as graceful as a feather in the white buckskin dress she had been adorning with klackers she had made on the day they met. She was moving to the drumbeats with tantalizing motions that reminded him of a honey bee before its hive. He was unable to tell if what he was feeling about her was natural, pre-earthly, or both, but the more he was in her company, the more the feelings of intimacy grew stronger, as though they were as deeply and mystically bound to one another in ways as intricate as the Herewardi knot. Had not the Ur Fyr witnessed it to him on their first encounter? Then as he scanned the surrounding onlookers
, he glimpsed Standing Bull glaring at him from the shadows, a sardonic sneer on his black painted face. Who needed a skin walker when Standing Bull was there? The two were equally sinister in reputation. I do not like that man, Sur Sceaf thought.
He quickly averted his eyes from the scowl and looked back at the dancers. Once again, he watched Taneshewa dancing in the circle with her nieces, and sweet Meny throwing her arms wildly. Everything about Taneshewa seemed to be beckoning him, but he reminded himself that he hadalreadybeen cut off at the knees by her. The next move was on her.
* * *
As soon as the dance finished, Meny and Ahy left the floor and found an open place to cool off in the evening breeze. Ponderous drumbeats announced the arrival of the shamanic rituals. The crowd backed away, leaving a wide open, interior space, into which the six shamans poured in in their colorful regalia. As Head Shaman, Thunder Horse called on their ancestral spirits for their help, aid, and assistance in their on-going fight against the Pitter hordes. He then sprinkled bull’s blood in the four directions of the heavens while representatives of each clan chanted their prayers for prosperity. As the drum beats gradually faded, Thunder Horse led the other shamans back to the sidelines.
A buzz of anticipation arose as a clutch of braves carrying baskets of black sand and grit began forming a black sun in the center of the arena. Confident maidens with colorfully decorated gourds shook them to the beat. The drummers returned to the arena and began beating out the rhythm of the Lover’s Dance, the introduction to the Custom of Pairing between a brave and a maiden, thus making their intentions to marry known to all. On the third day of the full moon after the pow wow these couples would come before their clan chief and declare their promise to each other. The actual wedding would take place at a time of their choosing.
As the older people and children made way for the young blood dancers, Mendaho asked, “Ahy, I’m going to dance, are you?”
“Just for the fun of it,” Ahy replied with a half-smile. “I love dancing, but I don’t know that I will offer my moccasin to anyone.”
“So, you haven’t made up your mind. That means it’s open season on Surrey for me.” She grinned. “I’d better make sure my leather thongs are easily untied.”
Ahy shot her a sharp look. “You can’t be serious, Meny.”
“Well, either you’re interested in Surrey or not. What is it?”
Taneshewa glanced towards Sur Sceaf, who still sat next to her father in the Chief’s Circle. “I guess, if you’re interested and I’m not interested. So go ahead, give it a try.”
As the rhythm of the drums changed, signifying the beginning of the dance itself, young braves rushed into the center of the circle and began dancing in place by stomping their feet and swaying side-to-side. The rhythm changed again. Meny and Ahy rushed along with other maidens to form an outer circle. Once it was complete, they danced sun-wise around the expectant braves.
As she danced, Mendaho spotted her young friend, Ha-O-Zinne, slipping inside the circle of braves to touch the black center point with the tip of her moccasin. The maidens cheered by trilling in anticipation until she selected one of the dancing braves, Chihene the Ndee. All the maidens came to a halt as she pointed to him with that same foot, signaling an invitation for him to pair with her. The trilling grew louder as she presented her untied moccasin. With a grin he knelt down to tie it before the two exited the dance.
The maidens began circling again until Chic-Noy-Hay broke into the circle to touch the black spot. Her choice was Crawling Bat, who appeared startled, before breaking into a big grin. One-by-one maidens entered the circle and chose a brave to offer her moccasin to.
After several dancings and pairings, Mendaho drew close to Ahy in front of her and said, “Last chance.”
Ahy turned to look at her and said, “It’s your call. You decide if you can swim in a flight of swans without getting your feathers waterlogged.”
Her heart quickening with excitement, Mendaho passed through the braves to the center point where she touched her moccasin. She exited the circle and headed directly to Sur Sceaf sitting on the black mat. When he looked up at her with an uneasy smile, she presented her untied moccasin. “Surrey, will you tie my moccasin?” She noticed a shocked look cross Onamingo’s face followed by a frown of concern.
While the other talking chiefs watched with keen interest, Sur Sceaf picked up her foot in his hands, a sign that he was not altogether rejecting her. “Mendaho, you are truly the fairest and brightest of all maidens, but rather than tie your moccasin, will you walk with me?”
Disappointed and marginally embarrassed, she stepped back and waited until Surrey got to his feet. With a smile he took her hand, and drew her to the crater rim, an action that meant, ‘Not yet,’ in the Sharaka culture.
As they made their way towards the path leading up to the rim, Mendaho recalled all she had read about Hyrwardi culture. Above all things they held courtesy and thoughtfulness in high esteem. But she also knew that there would be nothing unlawful in their Forty-Four Laws about his tying her moccasin as it also signified the desire to develop a relationship which could still lead to marriage if both so chose.
Many of the older women they passed followed them with sharp eyes and whispers. As they passed the dancers, she saw Taneshewa watching. Her expression first looked like relief only to transform into something resembling sympathy as what she assumed must be a rejection.
When they reached the edge of the arena, Sur Sceaf led her up to a grove of white barked pines on the rim. Safely concealed from all onlookers, he steered her over to a fallen sun bleached log and bade her sit. He sidled up next to her and took her hand between both of his.
“Meny, you are one of the most beautiful spirits I know. I remember you as a woodland sprite, who had an unusual curiosity about the world and other peoples. In those days you used to bombard me with questions about the Herewardi. I was always amazed at your quickness of mind and depth of spirit.”
She felt complimented. “And you were the only one, Surrey, who took my need to know things seriously. I always appreciated that.” She laughed and added, “Even though I heard you had many wives, I still had dreams of being in your canoe.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother you like it does with Taneshewa that I have six wives.”
She shook her head. “For someone who has had to live as alone as I have, I like the idea of having six sisters and six friends, especially if they are attached to someone like you. Because if you chose them, I know we would get along and remember, Shining Moon is already one of my best friends.”
He appeared pleased. “Meny, I’m honored that you would think that way of me, and this much I know, we will always be deep friends. But, as you must know from your many studies of my people, we choose our mates under the direction of the Ur Fyr. The Ur Fyr bears no witness that we two should join in anything but deep friendship.”
Her disappointment speared deep, but she wasn’t about to be shaken off from her heart’s desire this easy. “I realize that I have not met my appointments with Mother Earth as so many maidens have. I did not marry in my season nor have I birthed a child and my days of fertility grow late. With you I could do both. Is there any way for me to kindle the Ur Fyr in you, Surrey?”
He remained silent for a long moment, then reluctantly said, “The Ur Fyr knows past, present, and future. It has chosen another path for you to walk, Meny.”
She looked directly into Sur Sceaf’s eyes and saw a deep sincerity. He was indeed a beautiful man both inside and out. He was a man who was guided by the light of the gods, and unshakable in his resolve to follow it religiously.
She sighed. “Thank you for your honesty, Surrey. Don’t worry about me. My heart has waited long for true love. A part of me hoped it might be you. Since I first met you, you were a fantasy that filled the void and kept me warm on lonely nights, but of late, I have feared there are no other men like you and I grow tired of waiting on the gods.” She offered him a sly grin.
“Besides, this will give Taneshewa the challenge she needs to examine her own heart.”
“I hope so, but she’s been very clear about her feelings thus far. In fact, I thought I had opened a sack of bobcats.”
She gave him a look of understanding. “I know what you mean. I’ve known her for a long time. She can be all teeth and claws when angry. Has anyone told you about the Standing Bull?”
Sur Sceaf nodded. “Redelfis said she had been sorely misused and betrayed by the scoundrel.”
“That’s right. That’s why she is afraid you would misuse her in the same way.”
He sat down next to her. “How am I to convince her that I am not like Standing Bull? That I would never dishonor her as he did.”
For a man that was always so confident in other matters, he was so unsure when it came to Taneshewa.
“You just need to be patient, Surrey. She’s a girl on fire. Her passion for Standing Bull burned way too hot and it nearly consumed her. Those burns will take a while to heal from. Take the time to let her get to know the real man you are and to see how different you are to Standing Bull and men like him.”
“I can do that, but there is no way I can change the fact that I have married six times before. Above all, that seems to be the insurmountable problem here.”
A discouraged look crossed his face. She realized that his love for Ahy ran deep and was pained to think that her friend had rejected him.
“Ahy can be very stubborn, I agree, but I feel in my heart that my friend needs a man like you. Now that I’m sure your intentions are totally honorable, I’ll do what I can to nudge her into your canoe. As you know, I’m not the most tactful person. So I must take great care to not be too obvious. Otherwise she’ll get her hackles up.”
The Sire Sheaf Page 22