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

by Russ L. Howard

  They were from far flung white tribes to the east who wished to join the exodus of the three tribes. Sur Sceaf hadn’t had time to investigate the matter further the night before, but had arranged with Deep Voice to be introduced to them that morning and was quite anxious to vet them.

  The morning sun was shrouded with a gloomy fog that formed a low ceiling over the Valley of DiAhman. As Sur Sceaf approached the Sharaka wagons, Chief Deep Voice hailed him. “Os Frith, Lord Sur Sceaf, let me place Chanting Drum and Snake Asker in charge of lining up the Sharaka and then I shall take you to meet the Presters and Hickoryans.”

  The camps of both the Presters and the Hickoryans were located over on the east shore of DiAhman. When he arrived at the Prester Camp, he was surprised to find neatly packed wagons and around thirty young men dressed in black pants with white tunics. He remembered this attire from his days with Mendaka and Wose in the Rockies and the Montan when they had made a brief visit to Salmalhuer. The Prester were strict adherents to a faith similar to the Quailors, but possessed additional Holy Books which set them apart from the other Christs. As he and the chief approached, a middle-aged, muscular tawny-haired man stepped forth and introduced himself.

  “Greetings Chief Deep Voice, I suppose this to be the Lord Sur Sceaf with you.” Without waiting for Sur Sceaf to speak, he rushed on to say, “My name is Rip the Prester. And I want you to know, it is a great honor to be able to accompany you. I have been asked by the prophet to come here as a personal goodwill ambassador of the Prester Nation, in the Tops of the Mountains.”

  “And what is it these prophets wish to know?” Sur Sceaf asked.

  “They have asked me to ascertain how we may aid one another in our stance against the Pitter Empire. They are very concerned about the great number of legions passing around our lands.” Rip took a quick breath before saying, “On a personal level, may I tag along with you to learn Herewardi ways, as quickly as possible.”

  “Why your interest in Herewardi ways?”

  “I have been a long time man of faith until the path of my faith petered out. Merchants shared many tales of the Herewardi and I found I had to come and see for myself that your beliefs perhaps could give me the answers I seek.”

  Sur Sceaf waited to see if he had more to say, before replying. Finally Rip raised his eye brows and appeared to be expectant of an answer. “Your presence would be welcome, Rip. I should like to know more of the Prester Ways and perhaps even work out on an alliance. But tell, me, up unto this point I assumed your people preferred to remain isolated in your Mountain Stronghold of Salmalhuer and I have not known them to be wanderers, or to trade far at all.”

  “Most are not travelers, my lord, and it is true we have preferred being isolated.” Rip smiled. “After the fall of the Amerikan’s the world went mad and we sealed ourselves off from them. Now it is time to come out of our shell and I want to be the first.”

  “Have you authority to negotiate an alliance?”

  “In truth, I had found myself at the top rungs of Presterdom, only to discover we had become a self-promoting fraternity that panders to a tattered remnant of truth. Though I have many friends among my people, and sat myself, in the high places of the synagogue, I left my community on a quest to find truth. For I no longer believe as I was taught. I no longer believe that we are the sole dispensers of truth. The Brethren declared to me that they thought it was time I leave, but asked me if I would perform one last valuable service to Presterdom by meeting with you and ascertaining how much we have in common and if any sort of alliance might be reached. Therefore, I am come to see how the unity of you three tribes is working. Many merchants claim Herewardom has the greatest freedoms. Those who accompany me feel much the same.”

  “It is good. Here, you shall find, for the most part, we are all seekers of truth.”

  Clusters of young Presters pressed closer to meet and observe Sur Sceaf.

  Sur Sceaf noted the men were muscular and hardy looking, but did not possess weapons. And if they possessed any weapons they were not visible. He inquired, “What about your families? Are you married? Are you fighting men? Do you wish to settle among us?”

  “All, but a handful are married. We didn’t want to expose our wives to the trek without firsthand knowledge of what lies ahead. We are fighters, but travel with few weapons so as not to incur the suspicion or wrath of the Rogue Bands. And as for the settling, all that, my good lord, will depend on whether we can verify the reports we have heard of your good government, fertile lands, and freedom promoting laws.”

  Deep Voice declared, “You will find all these things here, as have we. We have proven the Herewardi in days that are past and they have never been found wanting.”

  “Thank you for your witness, Chief. Your words are similar to the words of our old friend, Rabbi Amschel ben Levi. He has encouraged us, in letters, to investigate, and then join your commonwealth to lend our strength to it.”

  Sur Sceaf found the mention of his father-in-law a definite positive. It meant Rip would be coming under the tongue of good report and the recommendation of the Rabbi went far in vetting him. “I commend you for your caution, your thoroughness in exploring for your wives and your people. We welcome all sincere allies in the defense of our freedoms.”

  “Chief Deep Voice, would you see to it that these Prestor folks take up their positions in front of the Sharaka and the Hickoryans to the back.”

  Rip nodded. “Best not to put two cats in the same bag.”

  Sur Sceaf said, “Exactly! Rip we shall talk more. Now I wish to further vet the recent arrival of Hickoryans.”

  As they walked farther west, Chief Deep Voice explained, “These Hickoryans are led by a woman with skin as dark as black walnut. They’ve already traveled a way with us and were for the most part vetted at the outpost of Tumalo. They call themselves Wagoneers, but I could see that all their wagons were fashioned of green wood and recently made at best.

  The Hickoryan Camp was loosely organized but clean. People were coming and going, eating breakfast and some playing fiddle while a few of the maidens danced. Some of the older women were hanging blankets stretched on ropes between two trees for airing. Children were busy shucking corn for the animals. He noted particularly that there was one corral filled with horses of superior quality and flesh.

  Next to the corral stood a woman dressed in a colorful flowered dress and a broad brimmed drover’s hat atop her head. She was busy feeding an apple to a chestnut mare and talking away to the animal.

  Chief Deep Voice said, “That’s the woman. First, I thought she was painted. Heard tell of Black Folk but I had never seen one before.”

  At the sound of their approach, she turned. Her broad face with high cheekbones was lit by an affable countenance. At first he thought her plain, but when she flashed her big smile, he realized she was beautiful in her own unique way, bright eyed and alert.

  “Hey there, Chief! Is this the Big Boss you’re bringing to meet me? Has he come to check us out to see if our dogs can hunt?”

  Sur Sceaf grinned. He immediately took to her open and free speaking. She seemed a woman without guile. “I have seen dogs that don’t hunt, but you have the eye of a hunter. Well, I am not that big, but I am the boss. The name is Sur Sceaf.”

  “Mighty glad to meet you Sur Sceaf. Or should I call you, my lord, the way these folks say.”

  “Which ever makes you feel more comfortable.”

  “You can call me Margot Green. I am the Big Boss of these here Tensee Hickoryans.”

  Grinning Sur Sceaf offered her a courtly bow. “As one Big Boss to another, I am very pleased to meet you, Margot. We have need of news from the Tensee. We have heard dire communications of Blacks being separated into Labor Camps in that region. Whatever news we can glean from the East would prove most valuable.”

  A couple Tensees walked by with their caged fighting cocks, mostly black-breasted reds, and smiled as they nodded.

  Her expression turned serious. “My lord
, if you are Black, Tensee is no longer the place to be. Most Black women are being rounded up and sent to the labor camps down in Jaw Jaw. And the Black men are being sent to Wymouth, a well-known penal camp to work the bamboo plantations for the Pitters. But this is happenin’ all over the place. It appears, them Devil Pitters don’t want Black Folk around anymore, but they be just as mean to the white folk ‘ceptin they don’t separate white men from white women like wif us Blacks. It’s hell for everybody there unless you’re Pitter or Dominiker and theys know how to make you feel it. We managed to get out of there before they be comin for us. But none of us are true wagoneers or drovers, we walked and rode to Redmond pickin up the skills as we went. Most of our horses are yearlings and not yet broken properly. Redmond was the first folk that would sell us wagons and cattle. We brought plenty of horses with us and believe me, they were worth their weight in gold. We traded horses. But those wagons have been nothing but trouble the whole way through the high desert.”

  “It’s no wonder,” Deep Voice shook his head, “Margot, those wagons were made of green wood. Everybody wants wagons to move in. It’s not because the Redmond Rogues were trying to cheat you. There’s such a shortage that they can’t build ‘em fast enough.”

  “But that don’t explain the wheels.” She led them over to a wagon that was missing a wheel.

  A group of curious Hickoryan men crowded around the person who had tried to fix the wagon. The tall Black woman rolled the missing wagon wheel out in front of Sur Sceaf and Deep Voice. “What is wrong with my wheel? The metal tie that goes on the rim keeps coming off. It appears to be too big for the wheel, but it didnt start off like that.”

  One of the Wagoneers, as they called themselves, said, “I done repaired this damned wheel on my wagon three and six ways to Tuesday and the tires keep comin off.”

  Sur Sceaf nodded, “You must soak these wheels and alternate--.” He broke in mid-sentence, a powerful feeling of awareness filling his being. As he lifted his head, his heart leaped. He spun around and exclaimed aloud, “Taneshewa!”

  She stood directly behind him.

  “My lord,” she said beckoning him with her eyes. Margot stepped back as Sur Sceaf let go of the wheel.

  Dressed in a simple buckskin dress, Ahy looked even more beautiful than he remembered her. He put forth his hands and took hers in his. “Ahy, it thrills me to see you!”

  She smiled and the gloom of the morning lifted. His eyes could not take in enough of her. There was a strong yearning to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he refrained.

  Taneshewa exclaimed, “By mighty Tah-Man-Ea, I am so glad to see you live, my lord! Mendaka told us of your near death. Everyday you were gone I prayed you would be safe. I even dreamed I was saving you. My gods did not fail me.” She ran her hands down her sleek frame. “Forgive my looks, I was all night delivering a baby and now must go to assist my mother in the last minute packing. But nothing short of a forest fire could keep me from first seeing you. I have missed your face, so much.”

  “I could sense you were praying for me. It kept me alive. But you? You look tired, though even more beautiful than I remembered.” He smiled. “Was the baby born safely?”

  “Yes, its a boy. They named him Smiling Snake and he is adorable.”

  “There’s much to tell and much to hear. We’ll get together as soon as we can. Thank you for coming by. You’ve made my day sunny.” As she pulled away he felt a strong urge to follow. He squeezed her hand gently before letting her fingers slip out of his, unable to quit staring at her beautiful form as she merged into the bustling throng of Hickoryans. He turned back to Margot and the others. All eyes were riveted to him like he was an actor on a stage.

  Smiling broadly Margot said, “It would seem you need to soak something else more than wheels, my lord.” Although her comment raised laughs from the other Hickoryans, he thought he caught her drift and smiled.

  Sur Sceaf acted as if there had been no interruption. “As I was saying, alternate your wheels and soak them. Then they will stay tight within the rims.”

  * * *

  Experience told Sur Sceaf that the journey and migration to the Stronghold of Witan Jewell would be arduous and tedious. Mostly because of the vast woodlands that needed to be covered, the narrowing trail in places, and the slowness of the livestock. Then there was the need to make the trek before the winter rains struck. All of this pressed him to avoid any delays.

  In the interest of harmony Sur Sceaf had the dog soldiers buffer the zone between the Quailor and trailing Sharaka. A band of Mendaka’s elite dog soldiers patrolled the rear. The contrast between the Quailor’s somber black buggies and the vividly decorated Sharaka wagons could not be more dramatic. The Sharaka traditionally painted their wagons like their tipis with paintings of snakes, lighting bolts, hands, or horse tracks artistically employed on their sides. A few had paintings of manitous standing antlered among the stick figures of their tribe. As the bands of Sharaka poured into the exodus, he was grateful the day was approaching when the three tribes would live as one in the safety of Witan Jewell, for ominous clouds of Pitter hordes were appearing in the east. Something in the Empire was astir.

  The Prester ambassador, Rip Porter, along with his fellow ambassadors, Heber and Willard, rode at the fore of the trek with Sur Sceaf and took the opportunity to ply him with questions about the daily life among the Herewardi. At about two points of the medicine wheel, a Quailor wagon broke down when an ox suddenly collapsed. Because of the narrowness of the trail the train had to be halted. Sur Sceaf invited the three Presters to follow.

  They rode back and found the wagon angled down a hill blocking the trail, with the ox lying on its side in the dirt laboring to breathe while the Quailor worked frantically to extricate it as it was forcing the other ox to lean into it.

  Elijah waved and returned to assisting in unyoking the fallen ox.

  “Does it have some form of illness?” Rip inquired. “If it’s the drooling sickness, wouldn’t you have to burn all the oxen to keep it from spreading.”

  “Twas a rattle snake bite,” Elijah reassured. “In the panic the oxen turned the wagon on its side. Had to get another ox for replacement.”

  Sur Sceaf said, “I’ll have the word spread by our beetles, so the children will tread carefully from now on. It’s quite a bit warmer down here and the snakes have not yet gone to ground for the winter.”

  Franz came down through the wood to get to Elijah. “Brother Elijah, this could not have happened in a worse way. On one side is a drop off and on the other is a steep slope loaded with thick tangle wood that even I had trouble getting through on foot.”

  Sur Sceaf said, “I have several fellers in my fyrds. They’ll cut a path through that wooded slope before you can say Jack Ev’Rhettson. Get that replacement ox ready and don’t waste that meat.” Looking to Elijah, he said, “See to it the meat gets sent to the refugees from Tumalo.”

  Several of the dog soldiers rode up to ask if they could help. Sur Sceaf sent one of them to tell Crooked Jack to send his fellers back here to hasten the progress.

  After the fellers arrived and Sur Sceaf directed them to their labors, the many hands of the Quailor assisted by dog soldiers and extra fyrd members quickly dragged off the cut timbers and brush to make way for the replacement ox.

  While they waited, Rip said, “Lord Sur Sceaf, we three Presters have learned some of your Herewardi ways from your Herewardi ambassadors, Brono and Atla, who sojourned for the past two years among us at Salmalhuer, but now, we see that their claim of Herewardi generosity is well founded.”

  “Generosity is the glue of society.” He said, then thought, If this man knows Brono and Atla and the Rabbi, he has passed my vetting.

  “I, for one am already impressed with the almost seamless way your tribes under your leadership interacted with one another to solve this problem. Most impressive.”

  Heber, a slender balding man with a barrel chest joined in, “I have to admit to some doubt. Br
ono’s tales seemed too fantastic. Their tales of the way your people live, as well as the letters we received from Prester scouts who left us and joined the Jywdic Folk in Urford is what aroused the curiosity of the prophet and the apostles. You should know, Rip was once an apostle himself.”

  “He told me so,” said Sur Sceaf.

  “Did he tell you he has wanderlust?”

  “I merely assumed that. I hope his wanderlust will be sated once he sees our thousand valleys of the Umpqua.

  “I am sure we will be impressed. You see both Rip and I are much like the Rabbi Amschel. We have grown discontent with the stagnation of our culture and our religion.” He took his wide brimmed hat off and readjusted it. “Our religion has become so watered down and lifeless. When Brono and Atla described the life and color of your heathenism we had to come see for ourselves.”

  “And I am sent with them to be their protector and see to it they don’t wander too far off from our faith.” Willard chimed in. “While we sojourned last night in DiAhman, we have heard much of the triumphs of your fyrds and dog soldiers, especially when they work in tandem. We have made it an effort to speak with many Sharaka and have heard, almost to the man, the praise of your determination to blend these three folk into one united force. We Presters are trying to do the same thing. By joining with the Jywds of Esdraelon and the Hutters of the Montan. But so far, all we do is talk and argue.”

  “All alliances would be of benefit to freedom loving people,” Sur Sceaf said. “There is always strength in numbers. With the mounting Pitter legions we are going to require the unification of all free peoples if we are to survive. If I can be of any service to you in gathering the information you seek, let me know. Your reference to Rabbi Amschel, as well as Brono and Atla, brings you under the best of recommendation. Soon we will be meeting with a lore master, and he will likely be able to present you with far more detailed and beneficial information than I will be able to offer.”