The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2)

by Russ L. Howard

  A young red-haired girl with eyes more blue than the waters of the Elk Spirit Crater greeted him politely. “My father has sent us to offer more bagels and I brought some sour doe bread just for you.” She offered him the basket of bread.

  Mendaka said, “We thank you maids again and the lad, as well, for your hospitality.” From the way the maidens were darting glances at Ilkchild and Redelfis, he could tell they hoped to linger, so he chose to divert them. “My dog soldiers would love this bread, so we’ll let you get along to your labors now.” Turning to the two flirtatious young men, he simply said, “Get back in the tipi. We’ve got business to tend to.”

  He noted the girls’ disappointed faces as he pulled down the flaps.

  Ilkchild reopened the flaps and smiled at the young maidens, “I don’t see where any business could be more important than talking to these lovely young ladies, Dak.”

  The girls giggled and then moved on.

  After the girls were out of earshot, Redelfis exclaimed, “Did you see the fine breasts on the one that handed me a bagel. They were begging to pop right out into my hands.” The boys chortled and elbowed each other.

  Snake Horse winked at Mendaka, and, speaking in his mellifluous voice, said, “Seems we are going to have to line these young stallions nostrils with bear grease and pennyroyal to keep them from sniffing out these Quailor mares, Chief.”

  “We weren’t doing any harm.” Redelfis protested. “We just wanted to get to know them.” Redelfis carried the basket over to the keg of ale.

  “Sit with me, young bloods,” Mendaka removed the plug from the top of the keg, lifted it up and poured a generous measure of ale into the four mugs. “Redelfis, break out some honey for us to dip our bread in while we sip at our ale. The chuck wagon won’t be serving beans and beef for another hour. That is, I don’t want to go wait in line.” Mendaka passed the first mug over to Snake Horse. “You must understand, lads, the Quailor do not take to the mingling of young men with young women, except under the oversight of their parents or leaders, because they fear mischief will, and it often does, come from it.”

  Ilkchild looked shocked, “You know I am true to the law of chastity of my people, Mendaka. I would never touch a maiden in any unlawful manner. It is not in me. I know how delicious they are, but I think I know where to draw the line. One does not pick fruit until it is ripe.”

  Mendaka handed Ilkchild a mug. “I know that, Ilkchild, and I’m not going to stop you from talking to the maidens on the exodus, but while we’re still in their land, let us honor the way they do things. These girls are very different from the girls either of you know. You’d be dancing, singing, and playing sports together, but the Quailor will have no part of that. They would perceive it to be the play of devils. Have you noticed there is no one left on their streets now? They’ve all headed back for their homes, save for these flirtatious girls and some few of the shopkeepers. The only laughter you’ll hear is that of our peoples. Now drink, for Tah-Man-Ea’s sake, and enjoy. It’ll be the last you see for a long while.”

  Redelfis returned with the honey, and joined the others, cross-legged on the floor. “Father,” Redelfis asked as he accepted the mug Snake Horse passed to him, “How will they react when they see us dancing in our loin clothes with women?”

  Mendaka pulled off a chunk of bread, removed the lid from the wooden bowl and dipped it in the honey. “I’m sure it will be a shock to them. But Surrey and I have plans to ease them into tolerating it.” As he savored the taste of fresh bread and honey, he realized what an appetite he had actually worked up.

  Redelfis slurped the ale, swallowed, and said, “This drink is the best thunder water I’ve ever tasted. Why have I never had it before? It’s the stuff you and Sur Sceaf were pining for, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Son, this is a special drink made out of fermented barley, then spiked with dwale and henbit. It is for one time, single, special occasions only. Never, under any circumstance, drink it alone, or more than one day in a moon, and never in large amounts for it can destroy those who embrace it too much. But, by Tah-Man-Ea, ain’t it the best thing that ever ran across a tongue?”

  “Redelfis,” Ilkchild motioned, “don’t drink it all at once. It is best to drink it slowly and savor it.” Ilkchild took a swig then looked wide-eyed at him before cracking a bagel open. “But Mendaka, you warned us about honoring the customs of the Quailor. Do you not realize all the young bloods in Xelph’s tent are two tipis down and the girls are surely heading there next.”

  Mendaka frowned. He had forgotten about the young bloods. “I’m sure Xelph will warn them of the same,” Mendaka said. “He knows the Quailor customs all too well.”

  “That would be fine,” Snake Horse said, “but Xelph has gone Wyrt Cunning. He’s searching out new plants so he can take them back to Witan Jewell for study.”

  “Oh, buffalo shit! A man can’t even relax for a moment. Why is Xelph never there when I need him? Boy’s probably the smartest one out of the whole lot of you and yet he’s always off doing the dumbest of things at the wrong time.” Mendaka let out a weary sigh, “Snake Horse, would you go tell those young bloods, that I command, hands off.”

  Snake Horse finished his ale, got to his feet, and said, “I’ll put the fear of a Woondigo in them. That is if the lasses aren’t already with child.”

  Mendaka growled in jest. “Get out of here before I kick your ass!”

  Chapter 8 : In-Laws

  It was moving into evening as a cozy fire burned in the fireplace near their table and Sur Sceaf delighted in Lana’s animation as she described to her parents life with her beloved children in Namen Jewell. It gave him great pleasure to note that the sadness and apprehension Lana had had been replaced with a new, bright sparkle.

  “And then there is Brekka.” Lana smiled. “She hath red hair the same color as mine, but favoreth her father in her facial features. Were she not built like a lady, thou wouldst swear she is a boy, for she can best many of her brothers in a fight, except Ary, and his friends in the game of staves, and she wieldeth the sword like a warrior. Since she was eight winters she hath gone on night hunts with the boys, and hath brought an elk down with one throw of a knife from five man-lengths.” Lana glanced over at Sur Sceaf who grinned. “Her father thinketh well on her skills and courage, but the truth be known, it all frighteneth me.”

  Lilith looked wide-eyed. “That is one spunky madchen, perhaps she’ll settle down when she doth marry, but it remindeth me of the time Peter Distel found a panther cub and gave it to his goat to suckle. Eventually it waxed into a full-grown panther and ran off into the wild never to be seen again. That girl of yours soundeth much like a panther cub.”

  “Oh, I hope not, Mama.”

  Elijah puffed on a pipe full of Salem tobacco. “Well, I remember Lana was quite the spunky girl, herself. Remember the time she boxed the ears of the boys on the hay wagon? Ha, ha!”

  Lana gave him a teasing look. “That is because they were getting too fresh.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed.

  As the dinner of sour kraut and pork progressed, Sur Sceaf noticed everyone had grown much more at ease. He put down his fork and said, “Brekka’s mother has only painted you one side of her. She’s also going to be a beauty like her mother. The boys are already lining up for her. Of all my daughters, she is the most nurturing, and yet the most like the warrioress, Myra-El.”

  Lilith had a puzzled look on her face. Lana explained, “Myra-El was a female warrior from Herewardi history. The skalds say she slew Pitters in droves and that upon the mere sight of her, whole legions would flee the field.”

  The puzzled look on Lilith’s face changed to one of apprehension. “It wondereth me, wilt my granddaughter be able to abide our peace-loving natures. Will we be too mild for her?”

  Sur Sceaf directed a smile at his mother-in-law. “Have no care, all of our children have been taught to tolerate and celebrate the uniqueness of all peoples.”

  Lilith didn’t look co
nvinced. “I chust can’t wait to meet them all and take them in mine arms to hold them. I chust want to squeeze them to death.”

  A knock came at the door.

  “Who on earth can that be at this hour?” Friedrich wondered aloud.

  “Thou shalt not know unless thou answerest the door?”

  Frowning, he rose up, wiped his mouth, put down his napkin, and walked over to open the door. When the door was ajar, he peeked out and exclaimed, “Pray tell, my daughters, what bringeth you here so late?”

  Sur Sceaf stood to greet two tall redheads in their usual Quailor garb, who entered in with worried looks on their countenances. He could not remember which one was Verushka and which was Ludmilla, so similar did they appear now. Then it dawned on him, Verushka was the taller one. He thought, she looked like an older version of Lana, and Ludmilla like a much younger version, with their milk white complexions besprinkled in freckles and they even had the same heart-shaped faces.

  Friedrich closed the door. “You are chust in time to meet your sister; our prodigal daughter, sweet Lana, is here. Come, join us for some fresh shoo fly pie.”

  Ludmilla appeared nervous. “Hartmut did tell us thou wast here. So we com-plotted to see thee.”

  Verushka led into the conversation. “I had to come anyway, to tell Vatti something important.”

  Lana hugged her sisters and said, “Verushka thou wast pregnant when I left, and now thou art pregnant when I return.”

  “I have ten children counting this one.” Verushka placed her arms around her swollen belly for emphasis. “And how many children hast thou?”

  “I have eight,” Lana said proudly. “Four girls and four boys. Aelfheah, my eldest, is sixteen and the youngest, Ethel, is two years old.”

  “And I have seven. Three strapping boys and four sweet maidens,” Ludmilla said. “Are thy children with thee? We’d love to meet them.”

  “No, I have left them in my bride-sister Paloma’s care, in Namen Jewell. I didn’t want to subject them to the trail. Especially, since I knew my family was coming back with us and you would meet them again.”

  Ludmilla turned and said, “Lord Sur Sceaf, I was greatly surprised on the day my husband, Walter Shanks, you remember him, the doctor, returned from the meeting house and announced that thou wast chosen to be the leader of the three tribes.”

  Sur Sceaf smiled, “I was a little stunned myself.”

  Ludmilla laughed, “Especially in light of the teufelchen thou wast in thy youth.”

  Elijah choked on his smoke, “Teufelchen! Sur Sceaf was a full grown, wild devil, but no matter how much mischief he ever got into, Ludwig always said the boy had a pure heart.”

  Lilith said, “Sit down now, sit down, so we can all talk and have some hot pie.”

  “Ludmilla, of course, I remember Walter, though he was ten years younger than I. I remember the time he stitched up my leg with sheep gut string from his mother’s violin after Hartmut gigged me when we were spearing bullfrogs out of the Horst Pond. So he did pursue his medical studies?”

  “Yes, he’s Doctor Walter Shanks now.”

  Friedrich showed his pride. “And he’s a good one, highly praised. He saved Reinhardt Schmidt’s arm after it had festered, and had the green sickness. All the older doctors said it had to be amputated. But enough of this blood talk. Let’s get to the shoo fly pie.”

  Verushka smacked her lips. “I’ll have two pieces, Mutti.”

  Lilith motioned to Friedrich and said, “Wouldst thou get some fresh ewe’s milk from the icebox for Verushka.”

  Friedrich sorted through the icebox. “Where is it?”

  “Ach, du lieber Gott. Muss I den es finden! Jesus, Joseph, and Mary es ist dahanna.”

  As Friedrich returned with the ewe’s milk, Lilith took it and poured everyone a glass. Verushka raised her eyebrows. “Oh, Mutti, thou knowest I do not like milk.”

  “I know, I know, but it’s for thy baby dear. Not for thee.”

  Lana asked, “Verushka, when art thou due to deliver this baby?” Lilith cut the pie and passed it on to Ludmilla to distribute.

  “In less than a month.”

  Sur Sceaf saw an opportunity and quickly said, “Then you’ll probably be one of the first to use the new birthing wagon.”

  “No! Sadly, not. My husband sayeth we shall not be going on the trek.”

  Lilith dropped the pie knife. “So it’s settled. You are not going with us?”

  Verushka shook her head. “Mutti, this is not of my choosing. Thou knowest that.”

  A concerned look overshadowed Friedrich’s face as he drew his brows together. “It is a source of great sadness that Verushka’s husband, a dycon of Fromer’s making, hath decided that they will be amongst the ten families who stay behind in Salem. Some of the dycons are already saying their names shall be recorded in the Book of Martyrs. But I do not think the Lord honoreth a suicide as a martyrdom.”

  Lana gasped, “Verushka, this cannot be! It is a sure death sentence thou hast taken upon thyself. Thou canst not survive here with the Pitters coming.” Lana shook her head. “Dearest Sister, thou must come with us. If there is ought I have learned from living with the Herewardi, it is that Gott protects those who protect themselves.”

  A wave of sadness fell across Verushka’s face as Ludmilla placed her hands over her shoulders for comfort.

  Verushka said, “It will be of no use to warn me, Sister. My husband, Rudolf, hath determined that ‘Gott will protect us,’ as he says, ‘and not under the wing of the godless pagans’.” She cast an apologetic look at Sur Sceaf. “He was nurtured by Fromer’s teachings, and I fear, in his zeal, he carrieth them even further.”

  Sur Sceaf interjected, “And yet, Fromer has no plan to stay. How does he explain that?”

  “He had questions about that as well, but Fromer said, it was Rudolf’s calling to remain while Fromer’s calling was to keep the community from disintegrating into disbelief as they sojourned among the heathen.”

  Lana retorted, “Truth is truth, and I only speak the language of love to thee. I know thou canst not know of the evil these vile Pitters are capable of. They come with hatred, blood, and oppression in their black hearts. And everyone of them hath a murderous spirit.”

  “You do not understand, Sur Sceaf and Lana. I already know all this. Even some of the other dycons tried to persuade my husband, but he relenteth not.”

  Ludmilla said sadly, “Lana, I have tried to dissuade her as have our parents, but to no avail. Rudolf is a good man, but also a proud and stubborn ass. One could as soon move Mount Nebo from here to Hrusburg than make that man budge an inch.”

  Verushka nodded, “He sayeth that Retrenchment is the answer and he is so set that no amount of reasoning will dissuade him.”

  “Then why can’t chust thee and thy children come with us?” Lana offered, looking at Sur Sceaf for assurance. “Let him die the martyr.”

  “It is written, whither my husband goeth, I will go,” Verushka parroted.

  Lana looked aghast. “Even if it meaneth thy death and the death of thy children?”

  “It seemeth by my husband, some covenants may not be broken, else we be consigned to hell.”

  Sur Sceaf could no longer hold his tongue, “Whether we be pagans or devils, those who go with us shall live to see a day of freedom and be free to be as Quailor as they like in their very own self-ruled community. But I assure you, if you stay here in Salem without any protection, you will never need to go to hell. For it will come to you.”

  Chapter 9 : Trouble at Home

  Long Swan’s Log: The Moonth of Long Light, the Door of the Year, as we call it, and the year is 583 H.S.O. It is moving into the long days following the summer solstice. It is a time when the Goddess Syn, decides who to include and who to exclude from the goodness of the land. Sur Sceaf is gone on his commission and at this time, is likely gathering up the Quailor and the Sharaka Folk to bring them here to sojourn in the sanctuary of Witan Jewell until winter passes. The la
st pigeon message came from Queen Va-Eyra reporting he had recovered from his injuries of the Pit and was underway to the Salem Viceroyalty. He is expected to start his return journey and is likely preparing to leave Salem now.

  For the past week the community of Witan Jewell has been greatly tested. A servant girl named Gal Fawkes from the Rogue Tribe of Coquille, has accused Lord Sur Sceaf of making her with child and leaving her to fend for herself, which under Herewardi custom bears the grave penalty of forced marriage or compensatory wergeld and thus casts a shadow over Sur Sceaf’s right to his commission.

  This whole affair has caused a great stir in the community, with the majority believing the girl does lie, for all who know my lord, know him to be a man of great moral disposition, pure in heart, and a will to do good to all men. For my part, I know it to be a moral impossibility for Sur Sceaf to have committed such a grievous sin, but under the Rule of Law we now operate under, no man is above the law.

  King Sur Spear’s eighth wife, Lady Clotilde, has made herself the champion of the accuser and is petitioning the king for a hearing.

  The Lady Paloma has become the champion of Sur Sceaf and called on Redith to scry the matter. Yesterday, Redith scryed that the child was not Lord Sur Sceaf’s, but neither did the Elves permit her to scry who the true father was.

  King Sur Spear has stated that by reason of Redith’s intense closeness to Sur Sceaf, she must recuse herself and her scrying must be counted as inadmissible in a court. King Sur Spear and the Roufytrof have greatly weighed the matter for a full day and have now chosen Rabbi Amschel ben Levi as a man known for his impartial judgments, who will act without fear or favor toward anyone. This could mean, if Sur Sceaf is found guilty, another man would be chosen as lord of the three tribes.

  Today Rabbi Amschel heard the evidence presented by the Accusers. Lord Melyngoch, Lord of Charly’s Harbor and his mother, the Lady Clotilde, have sworn that they did see Lord Sur Sceaf in the Moonth of Blood, bring Gal Fawkes to their door on the back of his horse. Gal Fawkes alleges she had been walking in the woods near Charly’s Harbor when she came upon a rider of unsurpassed good looks, who proceeded to seduce her and speak promise of marriage in her ears. She claimed that Lord Melyngoch identified this man to be the Lord Sur Sceaf, and that the girl’s mistress, the Lady Clotilde, has charged her to press the suit as no man is above the custom. Amschel has stated the witnesses are reliable, and thus there is sufficient evidence to try Sur Sceaf under the customs of the land in absentia.