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

by Russ L. Howard

  The boy lit off on his feet, darting to one side to give Crooked Jack a wide berth. Crooked Jack yelled, “Hail, Sur Sceaf, my lord,” cleared his throat, “although I am late here, I caught the Herewardi harrier who was just arriving as we were setting up camp on the eastern shore.” Crooked Jack put down the satchel of letters he had received from the silver harrier. “The circuit rider reports the Roufytrof has sent three emissaries to visit your camp. They wish to communicate a concern with you when you arrive at the break in the forest called Irminsul. According to the harrier, this bag contains the letters and pigeon messages sent to you while you were gone.”

  “Where is the harrier now?”

  “He’s back at my camp, resting and havin’ a bit to eat.”

  “I had expected Long Swan and the other emissaries to have arrived here long before now. Do you know why they chose Irminsul instead?”

  “The silver harrier only told us they would meet our train in six days time,” Yellow Horse reported. “All he knew was that one was a white master, the rune singer, Long Swan, I presume. The other two come from the Stonyford Strong Hold. Evidently, Long Swan had urgent business in Witan Jewell and is thus and therefore much delayed.”

  “It is well, we shall prepare. I knew something important must have delayed him when he was not here at the DiAhman. It is not like Long Swan to miss any appointed meeting.”

  Sur Sceaf took his leave, took the satchel and headed back to his camp. But as he made his way around the lake, he found only Taneshewa occupied his mind.

  * * *

  It was the seventh day of the Moonth of Leaf Fall, the Holy Moonth, or the Moonth of Equal Day, when Paloma took her bride-sisters and Redith to Shepherd Hall in their carriage. Each bride-sister had dressed in their finest chartreuse silk gowns with their long lavender scarves wrapped about their necks. After leaving their carriage for the steward to park, the six of them entered the Shepherd Hall silently.

  The foyer was crowded, mostly with women, who murmured comments as they passed into the hall itself. As soon as they passed the threshold, Paloma felt the eyes of Clotilde bearing down on her. Glancing over at her, Clotilda glared at her and Redith. Clotilde would surely gloat if she brought Sur Sceaf to ruin.

  How in Baldur’s name, did things get this far? Paloma wondered. She was determined to not let her ire get kindled. If only they could know the Sur Sceaf I know.

  As they made their way to their seats, they were greeted by Mahallah, and her bride-covey. Paloma was delighted to see Mahallah’s bride-sisters, dressed in the same colors, blee, and hue as her own bride-covey to show a spirit of unity for their man. She noticed in the north valley where Pyrsyrus normally was seated that most of the space was empty, save for twelve chairs now occupied by twelve jurors.

  As they took up their seats, Redith leaned into Paloma for counsel. “Something feels very dark in here. It’s like we are walking into snake-infested grasses. We can’t see the snakes, but we sure hear their rattles. Remember, Clotilde would go to any length to make her son king. Even this.”

  Paloma glanced across the hall where Sur Spear sat silently upon his golden swan throne. According to Mahallah, he had recused himself from any comment, allowing the Rabbi Judge to take complete charge of the hearing. Twelve jurors had been selected with six from other Herewardi settlements and six from the Rogue Tribe of Coquille.

  Rabbi Amschel came into the hall carrying papers, parchments, and scrolls. He took up his place on the dais and then saluted the king.

  At a signal from the Rabbi, the formally attired bailiff announced, “Sur Sceaf, being in the mountains will be tried here in absentia with Long Swan acting as his proxy. The charge is abandonment of mother and child after seduction and promise of marriage.”

  The bailiff returned to his post in the north valley. The Rabbi struck a bronze gong with the mark of Hrus in its center. “This court is now called to order. The bailiff will read the name of the first witness.”

  Gal Fawkes made her way from the west valley to the area on the left of the dais where a chair had been positioned for her.

  Although Paloma was eager to dislike her, she was forced to admit that the girl seemed a sweet enough child. As she recounted in a demur voice the reason for this charge, tears streamed down her face. She told her story in a way that was almost believable, but half way through her testimony the girl kept glancing toward Clotilde as a child glances toward a parent who has been coaching them.

  She was followed first by her mother and then her father, both attesting to her chaste life under their roof.

  Melyngoch was called on next and rendered his testimony that he had indeed watched Sur Sceaf deliver Gal to their home, and tendered her the most genteel of care, having placed his own cape over her to shield her from the rain.

  Clotilde remained standing to give her testimony, her hands curled in front of her, putting Paloma in mind of the claws of a praying mantis ready to seize its prey any moment. She repeatedly licked her lips as she told her extent of involvement.

  Redith whispered, “That woman is nothing but a gila monster. Watch in any moment she’ll infect this court with her venom.”

  Clotilde seemed to be feigning outrage as she declared, “I even examined the poor girl’s frock and it appeared to be wet with a man’s seed. I don’t think a few drops of rain would have made it that wet. After all, remember she was wearing Surrey’s cloak. Shouldn’t that be evidence enough?”

  The assemblage raised a loud murmur and the Rabbi had to strike the gong for quiet. He nodded again to the bailiff, who called on Long Swan as the next witness. The white master stood in his robes and was every inch a dignified and impressive lore master, the epitome of honor and respectfulness in the Herewardi community. He rose to render his testimony, and in his resonant and decisive voice, he recounted the sterling character of Sur Sceaf. “I have here,” he held up a long scroll, “the testimonies of those who know Sur Sceaf and his many kind deeds and character. The testimonies number nigh one hundred. Many of those giving praise are women. I have here in my hand the testimony of Sur Sceaf’s skaldic master, Aegthiof, who recounts, ‘Sur Sceaf was a man of impeccable moral character. He was chaste in all his ways and always diligent to do the right. He is an upright and exemplary man.’ And he went on to quote a half dozen more character references before he concluded by declaring his absolute belief in Sur Sceaf’s innocence.

  Finally, Paloma was called upon to give her account of Sur Sceaf’s character. She swallowed hard and felt more nervous than she could ever remember. The touch of Redith’s hand on her gave her some courage, but she was a basket case and her nerves were frayed from the shame that had been unduly heaped upon her family and her man in particular. As she made her way to the witness chair amidst the mumbling from the audience, she felt her face flush. Whether from anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.

  Forcing confidence in her voice, Paloma gave a lengthy account of their life together and how every bride attested to his sterling character. She told that there was never any hint of dishonor before their marriage. She caught herself weeping twice during the delivery and emphatically declared, “I know my husband as well as I know myself. Despite the vile accusation which is no more than an attempt for aggrandizement and a despicable attempt to use this poor girl for self-advancement, I know in the deepest recesses of my heart, he is not the type to partake of any woman that is not his own. He is a man of Baldurean fidelity.”

  Paloma felt her face flush deeper. She had wanted to give the best account she could, but when she looked at the faces of some of the jurors she realized she had over done it. She rejoined her sisters.

  The rabbi explained the points the jury was to consider and the testimonies of the witnesses, before asking the bailiff to escort them to an ante-chamber where they were to find an evidence based decision of guilty or not.

  Paloma and her bride-sisters retired to a Flach and sought to pray for Sur Sceaf’s name to be preserved. After the praye
r closed, Paloma declared, “By the Seven Stars of the Heavenly Door, this is now in the hands of the Elves of Light. For, the gods know, we who believe in Sur Sceaf, have done all we could.”

  Finally, after their prayers and mutual assurances they came back to a long wait to hear the verdict. The jury sat for perhaps an hour more and then returned with very somber looks on their faces.

  Rabbi Amschel struck the gong for quiet. “Have you the verdict?”

  “Bev Taylor, a woman of Coquille, declared. “We have, your honor. We find Sur Sceaf to be the likely father of the aforesaid child.”

  A roar went up from the crowd, some cheering, but most were very downcast. None too few Herewardi murmured angrily. The Rabbi struck them down with the gavel and all got hush.

  “That being the case, I must rule as per the law and call for Sur Sceaf to either accept Gal Fawkes as a full-fledged wife, or to pay her wergeld, support, and upkeep for the remainder of her life. So help us God and keep us strong.” He struck the gong and the assembly spilled out of the Shepherd Hall like a pot of scalding water boiling over.

  Paloma was dazed.

  Clotilde was smiling and coddling Gal while Melyngoch was at the throne trying to get Sur Spear’s attention. Sur Spear’s wives were staring angrily at Clotilde, Mahallah was in tears, and could not be comforted by her sisters.

  A thickset, orange-haired man with a pasty face, and dressed in Quailor-like garb, but for a fancy yellow sash, was asking Clotilde questions. It wasn’t long before she pointed him directly to Paloma and gave him a slight push off in her direction. She searched her memory, but had no idea who the young man was and decided the best course would be to hide herself amongst her bride-covey as he approached.

  Milkchild gasped out, “Pally, how can they call this verdict justice?”

  Swan Hilde drew her fist tight. “That little whore isn’t going to be my bride-sister. By the gods, we all know that baby is not one of Sur Sceaf’s. Besides, we wives determine whether or not another woman may join our covey. Let her live in Hrusburg, but never at Namen Jewell with us. As far as I’m concerned she can even stay with Clotilde. She may have won a judgment for her upkeep, but she’ll never win our approval. That decision is ours alone.”

  Faechild wept as she nursed her baby. “Redith read this matter. It was revealed to her from the River of the Ur Fyr, that the child she carries is not his. We all know the truth. Is there even one of us that can doubt our man?”

  Shining Moon declared, “Surely, you don’t ask that question in seriousness?”

  Paloma said, “Of course, she’s not serious. In times like this we have to form a united front, stick together, and comfort each other. This will be the end of Sur Sceaf’s commission. It’s time we circle the wagons and decide how we are going to cushion our man’s fall.”

  Redith raised hands to calm the bride-covey, “Sisters, fret not thyselves, I have scryed this matter and though dark to my vision. This is far from the end of this matter.”

  Before Paloma could ask for specifics, King Sur Spear approached to take Paloma in his arms and comfort her. “You know Sur Sceaf will yet shine, my dear. There is much at stake here for the future. This trial allows the other tribes to see that we are not above the law and grant no one special favor.”

  “May I be so bold, your majesty, as to ask, are you willing to sacrifice your son’s good name and future for the benefit of pleasing a hand full of outlander tribes whose loyalty in war is questionable at best?”

  “Never!”

  “But surely,--” she broke off as she saw Melyngoch approaching. She turned and felt fire and blood shoot from her eyes, but held her tongue out of respect for the king’s presence.

  With the worse timing possible, ignoring the state the bride-covey was in, Melyngoch bowed to the king. “My lord, I know that this must pain you to discover that Sur Sceaf is not the man you and the Roufytrof thought him to be. In light of that judgment, I assume the Roufytrof will demand that he be replaced as the leader of the three tribes. Here I stand, ready to serve in that noble calling and as you know, my record is untainted, Fa.”

  “Perhaps, son, you did not realize Redith scryed this matter and she declares the child is not Sur Sceaf’s. I too, see more than you know. And I know you try hard to do well, but your mother has blinded you with her counsel to what is really happening in the Herewardi community. I bid you remember, this trial was in absentia, and we have not yet heard from the man accused. Surely, you can grant us that much. I remind you, that this is just a provisional verdict and we will still need to hear from Sur Sceaf before making a final decision. Be patient, there will be plenty of important roles for you to play in the future.”

  Melyngoch was disappointed with that answer, but was not about to test the king. After murmuring a few more words of encouragement Sur Spear excused himself and went to converse with the Rabbi. Melyngoch nodded his head at Paloma, “I am very sorry you had to go through this. I hold no ill will toward my brother and I hope he can set his life right by accepting the proper judgment.”

  Swan Hilde doubled her fist and Paloma saw Redith’s hand go over it. Melyngoch turned and headed straight for his conniving mother.

  Paloma took hope that Sur Spear’s faith in Sur Sceaf had not wavered and knew the Roufytrof would stand solidly behind Redith’s scrying. Now she understood why Sur Spear had allowed this trial to go forward in order to strengthen his credibility among the non-Herewardi outlanders. Still, it gave her scant comfort.

  My main concern is the welfare and security of my bride-covey, husband, and family. To hell with the rest, and a thousand curses on Clotilde, the spider who orchestrated this.

  The thick-set, orange-haired youth she had seen pushing his way through the crowd appeared beside her. He had so many big freckles that very little of his white skin could be glimpsed beneath them. “Lady Paloma, I presume,” came out of his frog-like mouth, loud enough for everyone to hear. She noticed he held a large pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other.

  “Yes,” Paloma acknowledged coldly. She had no wish to speak with this ugly loud mouth, who had wiggled his way through her sisters to get at her, especially, someone who came to her at the bidding of Clotilde. “And who might you be?” She asked pointedly.

  “I am Hoth-Weard Ev’Rhettson. I write a news page. Perhaps you have read it, Hoth’s Kat Sheet, and I wondered if I might ask you a few questions.”

  “I think not. I could not endure the tedium. And you don’t need to shout, for Woon’s sake. I’m right here.”

  With a smirk on his face he focused his ferret eyes on her and declared even louder, “The people will want to know why your husband would be so unfulfilled at home to have to go out searching for strange women, and some say it is because you keep a cold bed. Is it true that you are always too busy to perform any of your wifely duties? Now that you know he lets the flap down on his pants anytime he’s away from home, do you intend to unhand him?”

  Swan Hilde was enraged and entered the fray like a Valkyrie. “See here you vile toad-faced wretch. You shall not address royalty with your malicious and evil-intentioned questions. If you only knew the heat between my husband and us it would singe that shit eating grin right off your face. I don’t know who you are, or where you get your information, but what you print is fit only for a compost pile. I wouldn’t even wipe my baby’s ass with it.”

  “Freedom of press, which has been granted under our new three nations status, assures me that I do have the right to ask what questions I will, my ladies, and I for one am going to bring your corrupt household down on you in the fury of my words and set your royal ass in the mud where it belongs.”

  The loud and stirring talk drew many observers in close to discover the source of such hot contention, in the forefront of which, were some of the worst gossips in Hrusburg.

  Paloma was uncomfortable with the verbal assault, but grateful at Swan Hilde’s indignation, all the same. Fury and indignation stirred her with the su
ppressed urge to strangle this toad of a man. Instead she followed with, “I tell you, my man is a goodly man and fully content with his wives. His very name should never be spoken by your foul breath, and if we were still governed by Herewardi Law, I would have you horse whipped here and now. So, be off, before I forget who I am, and set my son, Arundel, to gutting you.”

  The thick-set young man backed up with a mocking smile and smirk still on his face, and said, “Oh yes, Lord Prince Arundel, I hear things about him as well. Seems the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it.” With that, he ducked behind some nearby wives of Elf Beard and began scribbling furiously on his pad.

  Paloma’s face was burning with rage. She wished Sur Sceaf were here helping her fend off these vile attacks from all these queer people that were now forced upon her to deal with, people who had no sense of courtly decorum or decency, no concept of blood, or dignity. She yearned for the days when Herewardi Law bore sway and now detested all these ugly foreign people, who had come to live amongst them with their endless probing and accusing voices and their damned strange ways.

  Milkchild took Paloma by the arm. “Don’t worry, sister, Hoth is just a dog who vomits up a gossip sheet once a moonth over in Charly’s Harbor. I’ve read it. It’s just a trashy tattle sheet for gossips and magpies.”

  “Milkchild, the longer this Rule of Law takes dominion over us, and the more we mingle with foreigners and outlanders, the worse I feel about it. Sometimes I wish we could be like Pyrsyrus and just live isolated on a happy little isle where seldom a stranger’s foot alights. Would to the gods, I could go hide in some cave rather than face this humiliation.”

  Chapter 13 : The Way to Witan Jewell

  Bird song had not yet heralded the dawn on the south shore of DiAhman when Sur Sceaf rose, eager to coordinate the movement of the wagons and peoples down the final leg of the Umpqua Trail. After the initial grooming and chores, the fighting cocks that were tethered next to the Sharaka wagons began to crow. He went to the tipi of Deep Voice who was busy coordinating the movements of the Sharaka as Mendaka had directed him to do. Sur Sceaf wanted to inquire about members from several Rogue tribes and nations whom he had noticed would be joining their train. The night before, Deep Voice had informed him these people had arrived during his absence in Salem.