“Besides,” Sur Sceaf said as he pondered, “perhaps your question is pre-mature.”
“How is that?” Hroar inquired.
“This evening the Sharaka have planned to have their Booger Dance here at the Woonstone. That will give us a far more accurate reading of just how open the Quailor are to other cultures. We’ll use the Booger Dance as a gauge to ascertain whether or not they will be accepting of our differences.”
“It is good,” Hroar said, “I’ll attend this Booger Dance and assess the matter for myself.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Alcuin said, “sit yourselves for some mead and bread. We have many instructions from the Forty-Four to go over with you. And Long Swan has a report of how the Gal Fawkes affair went down.”
Sur Sceaf remarked, “The Train should be rolling into Woonstone in two more points on the medicine wheel. Will we have sufficient time?”
“Time enough,” Long Swan said, “I should tell you Surrey that the Wose was just here not an hour ago. When I told him we were to meet with you, he got up and left for the wood. Said he would not infringe upon you performing your duties and neither would he be bored by the same. Said he’ll meet you when you least expect, in one of your more leisure moments.”
Sur Sceaf shook his head, “Damned! I wish he’d let me be the judge of whether he’s infringing on my duties or not. I am looking forward to meeting him.”
Long Swan teased. “What! You missing your shadow so soon?”
“Let’s get down to business so we can tap that mead.”
After several discussions on building the Navy and the amassing of supplies, the swan masters threw back their hoods and Long Swan said, “I’ll pour some mead and we can talk. But first I’m sure you’re interested to hear how the hearing with Gal Fawkes affair ended.”
“It has tried my soul since I first learned of it. How could she have made such an accusation? I only helped her find shelter in a rain storm.”
Long Swan said, “Apparently no good deed goes unpunished. These are the times when one must turn to the Norns and pray for luck. First, I should tell you, most people believed in your innocence. I mean, the Herewardi, for the most part knew Redith could not scry wrong. Nevertheless, it must be said, Clotilde had compelling evidence against you. Enough to require you to pay wergeld for the offense. But happy day, a corsair fisherman from Charly’s Harbor arrived on the day of Rabbi Amschel’s departure and revealed that Gal was impregnated by a man named Jig, who still wishes to marry her. It was all too clear that the girl was disparate and had been used as one of Clotilde’s many puppets in order to promote Melyngoch in your place. Fortunately, it was evident, Melyngoch, though interested in your position was not about to be party to the lie.”
“That speaks well to him. He and I, I mean you remember were all friends at the Academy, but Clotilde is ever the viper. Thank you for all your efforts in my behalf Long Swan. May the gods bless you for it.”
* * *
Long Swan’s Log: It is the twelfth day of the Moonth of Leaf Change, the Holy Moonth, and the time of creative light or Ur Fyr, in the Great Year of the Eclipse, 583 H.S.O. I have finally met Lord Sur Sceaf, gave him a box of taffy on a goose biscuits, which Faechild bid me take unto him with her letters. I duly confess that I have already sampled the wares and found them most delicious for one must not muzzle the ox that treads the mill.
I have now joined Sur Sceaf as his chief scribe to assist him in fulfilling his commission. I am here at Irminsul, the God-Pillar on the Umpqua River, home of the site of the Woonstone Monolith. This sacred pillar is believed since its first discovery by Sur to be the World Pillar that holds up the sky.
We three emissaries, myself, Alcuin, and Hroar, are acting in the capacity of representatives of the Roufytrof to ascertain if we must postpone the entrance of the Quailor into Witan Jewell during the Elven Fair or permit them to enter our High Holy Days and partake of the core of our culture. Which few, if any have ever been exposed to. We don’t know what their reaction would be.
My two fellow brothers of the Stonyford Order of the Roufytrof, Alcuin and Hroar, imparted our instructions to Lord Sur Sceaf. Our brother Pyrsyrus, an anointed king, is also here with Lord Sur Sceaf. We have concluded we will be able to ascertain the Quailor’s readiness to tolerate diverse ways by how well they will receive the Sharaka practice of having the Booger Play, to be held tonight. The Booger Play includes a dance designed to teach the Sharaka People how to adapt to different peoples and places. It contains skits expressing their fears, which helps them process them in a visual form. The entire experience should be both joyful and spiritual. The participants are highly invested in their performance and take great care in fashioning the masks worn during the skits. I have attended a few and Sur Sceaf has attended many of these, and indeed, will be a participant in this upcoming one. The four of us brotheren are looking forward to seeing this ritual performed and also see our brother’s Sharaka seed code come into full play.
By the behest of Paloma, I have informed, my lord, Sur Sceaf, of the first verdict of the slanderous attack Clotilde of Charly Harbor wrought against his name in his absence, and the favorable outcome of the same, through his vindication by the girl’s final confession. Though resolved fairly, the form of the trial caused the Herewardi people to cringe under the new yoke of the Rule of Law and Constitutionalism and has greatly increased their fear of joining with the outlanders. Still, the Roufytrof feels the trial has invested the other tribes with more trust and greater involvement in the Council of Three Tribes when they saw that not even a royal lord is above the law.
On a personal note, the five of us, brothers all are we, discussed why our brother Melyngoch’s mother was so callous as to denigrate Surrey in her effort to use her son as a pawn for promoting her own interests. The general consensus was that Clotilde has never been anything, but disruptive since her one child was taken by the flux and the other with the fern. Even though Melyngoch survived these plagues, we are not so sure it was to his advantage, for she hovers over him and poisons his ears with lies and resentments of her own making. We agreed that we were mystified by our father’s behavior toward her, in allowing her free reign in Charley’s Harbor while working her slanders throughout the land. Sur Sceaf concluded that Father must still love her and felt that her grief at the death of her children had set her on her current deviant course.In any case she has garnered the hatred of our father’s other wives and shall remain an outcast always.
The many points of cultural conflict are starting to appear in unexpected ways, but Sur Sceaf has already overcome a host of barriers. Sur Sceaf reported, for instance, that the Quailor have already lodged complaints about the Hickoryans dancing and playing music, and the Herewardi engaging in cockfighting and games of chance on their Sabbath. Sur Sceaf directed the Hickoryans to do their dancing and music far off and all cockfighting was screened from public viewing. The gods forbid they should see the stallion fights on the equinox.
So much rests upon Sur Sceaf’s shoulders. The Roufytrof is more than ever convinced their selection of him was their pre-eminent and pre-ordained choice. It appears the Norn Sisters do favor him.
On an interesting sideline, Sur Sceaf’s Destroying Angel, the Wose, arrived here at Irmunsul with Hroar and Alcuin from the high desert, but waits up in the wood for an opportune time to meet with his lord, Sur Sceaf, to whom his fealty has been duly and truly sworn. The Wose has been communing with the Ochoco Tribe to the east beyond the Stink Water and they report many strange Pitter rat packs are entering their lands through that pass.
* * *
Long Swan put down his quill, closed his log and tied the leather thongs, before placing the journal in his rucksack. He followed Alcuin and Hroar to the Booger Dance explaining to them what they should expect. Sur Sceaf had already left for the staging area of the Booger Dance. A lover of pageantry, Long Swan was eager to enjoy these Sharaka theatrics and from his Academy days he knew nobody could put on a better show than Men
daka.
* * *
The sun slid through the tall trees and disappeared beneath the horizon. Large old growth timber occupied the backdrop of the staging area, behind which was the gushing, roaring stream of the mighty Umpqua River which gained more and more muscle the closer one got to Glide Garth and finally watered the vast Umqua Valley. Above the large amphitheater twinkled stars, but no moon yet. Smoke hung in the upper canopy of trees like blue gossamer threads out of which the towering Woonstone would point to the belt of Orion when it was time for the Booger Dance to commence. The play was to be performed on the broad plain at Irminsul, opposite the Woonstone. It was on this plain that the final battle scene, which had begun at Frink Glen ended with the crush of four Pitter legions belonging to the Evil Spirit, Sanangrar. Both the plain and the surrounding slopes that had once been torn by the hooves of the warhorses, and was once splotched with the blood of the wounded, and the dead, was now covered with grasses, scattered trees, and instead of the war cries, screams, and fires, the entire area was filled with laughter of the survivors of that horrible conflict. In the distant hollows the cattle could be heard lowing. The medicine men and spirit chiefs were busy drumming to summon the Thunder Beings into their holy ritual.
The fyrd fellars were stacking wood for ceremonial bonfires, before taking their positions among the Herewardi and Sharaka. The young blood fyrd mingled freely with the Sharaka youth and maidens. The Prester contingent sat with Margot Greene and her Tensee Hickoryans in front of the staging area. They were in a light mood and were imbibing their strange strong drink called bourbon. In contrast the Quailor had set themselves apart to one side. Sur Sceaf was sure they attended because Elijah and the high priests requested it as a show of support for the Covenant of the Three Tribes.
Darkness fell fast as it is wont to do in the mountains. The many campfires and torches illumined the staging area and part of the audience.
After some brief last minute coaching from Mendaka, Sur Sceaf walked over to where Pyrsyrus, and his wives were sitting with Lana and the Three Roufytrof observers. He scanned Onamingo’s family to see if he could spot his beloved Taneshewa.
“Wish me well, Lana, for I shall be courting Taneshewa this evening.”
“Art thou in the play?”
“I’m playing a booger.”
“This I’ve got to see. Me thinketh thou art still a child. I wish thee well, my lord.” Lana said with her bright smile. “I would suggest, my lord, that thy courtship begin with revealing that I am thy second wife and not married unto Pyrsyrus as she now believeth. Imagine, should she stumble into our tent whilst we were lying together in one another’s arms. It would do neither of us any good. And if thou dost wish to proceed slowly, perhaps we should sleep separately for the rest of the trek.”
“Lana, as always, I value your counsel. But there’s no need for us to forgo the pleasure of being together. She never comes to this end of the train during the night. So that’s no concern. Please, just bear with me a little longer. I have my reasons as to why I don’t wish to reveal we’re married just yet. I just think it would put a damper on everything if she knew at this point. Can you imagine how difficult it would make our courtship.”
She looked deeply concerned as she pulled a shawl over her shoulders. “My lord, what can thy reasoning in this be? Have it thy way, but sooner or later she will have to be told. Little Doe telleth me Taneshewa is a woman who disliketh surprises. She is a woman that has been deeply wounded by a man’s surprise revelation in the past. Methinketh, it is a dangerous game to delay telling her the truth. Besides there is so much I could do to persuade her.”
“It is because her trust was so abused, I need to go especially slow. It was all I could do to get her past the hurdle that I even had six wives. And even now, I am not convinced she has truly accepted it. Coming face-to-face with it this early, as endearing and lovely as you are, might tip the scale in the other direction. If I can say it straight, I’m scared to death of losing her, Lana.”
“That which a man fears the most oft comes to pass.”
“As always, you are most perceptive.” Sur Sceaf admitted with an embarrassed smile.
Lana returned his smile with one of her own and a kiss on his cheek. “Then, my love, I think I shall enjoy watching this unfold. With thy other wives, except for Shining Moon, they were all from our culture. For them it was an honor to be chosen. But Taneshewa may not be so inclined. I chust don’t think it will unfold much unto thy liking. I seeth a bumpy road ahead.”
Pyrsyrus said, “I am with Lana on this one, Surrey. I am eager to see how this will play out. I wager you it will be more entertaining than the Booger Dance. Speaking of which, they’re lighting the ceremonial fire right now. You’d better get to your place.”
Chapter 15 : The Boogers
Long Swan sat between Hroar and Alcuin behind the Tensee Hickoryans and their new friends the Presters, waiting for the evening to unfold. To the left of the Hickoryans sat the Quailor. Long Swan made it a point to sit where he could observe their reactions the best. Because Redelfis was granted the honor of becoming one of the young bloods and initiated a blood elf, he was given the honor of opening the ceremony by shooting a flaming arrow due east, symbolic of where the Elves originated. As the first drummer walked out into the staging area with a large red, skin-covered drum, he caught sight of Sur Sceaf and several other Sharaka players slipping into the darkened wood. The lord was carrying his mask and costume over his arm and probably was beginning to feel the butterflies in his belly about now.
Long Swan reminisced. This was much like theater days at the academy when he, Surrey and Dak had a great time writing and acting out plays.
What good times those were. I always had Faehonig at my side and Saxwulf was ever my dear friend right up to the time I was to marry. But alas, my world turned upside down and even now I feel such a twisting pain in my heart. How does my brother so easily win the hearts of seven women when I couldn’t even win my first?
One-by-one muscular Red Men in only their specially beaded loin cloths hanging all the way down to their ankles paraded out into the staging area. Each had painted their bodies and faces with shocking colors of warpaint. The red drummer’s drum was the largest and his face was black and white striped. Once all twelve of the drummers were on the stage, the drumbeat ceased. A voice from the dark called out, in deep resonant tones. If the earth could speak that is the voice Long Swan was sure, it would sound like. “He, who drums, is the hand of the Great Spirit beating life to his people, as it has come down from the stars since the dawn of man.”
A hush of anticipation fell over the audience. Long Swan felt himself leaning forward eager to see what would come next. He stroked his beard in anticipation. A quick glance at the Quailor showed very little reaction. After lifting his drum stick dramatically high the first drummer began a slow beat, which was swiftly augmented by the other eleven. Each of the drummers took up their drum and marched to the steady rhythm off into the wood where they continued the beat. Now heard, but unseen.
Out of the darkness a parade of booger dancers stomped out to the ponderous rhythm, one-by-one until there were five performers. Each wore a different mask, varying from the grotesque to the comical.
By the gods I love this, thought Long Swan.
It took him a moment to recognize Sur Sceaf, who was dressed in a red fyrd surcoat and large nosed, beaver-haired beard, exaggerated side braids that hung to his knees such as is often worn among the Herewardi, and a silly vividly red grinning smile.
They’ve captured every detail of a Herewardi warrior so well.
The Booger chief led the procession.
Alcuin leaned in to him and whispered, “I think this mask is an improvement on Sur Sceaf.
Long Swan laughed.
Hroar said, “I doubt very much his brides would agree.”
The Booger Chief stopped in the center of the stage, played by Deep Voice in a mask with a long spoon lipped mouth, shaggy bu
ffalo hair, and holding a warped spear. Then the Booger Chief called out in that dramatic baritone voice, “Who goes here?”
Sur Sceaf stepped forward, brandishing a sword, his red coat lit up by the many fires, the perfect caricature of everything Herewardi, “My Lord Booger Chief, I am but a poor white boy, sent out to lead all these squabbling tribes with their silly arguments to a place of safety.” He paused, turned around and around, looked up at the sky, and then said in a mournful tone. “But I am lost and have forgotten where I am supposed to take them. I even fell into a pit. I asked a Sharaka brother for directions and he told me, ‘never fear because when you go in circles you will get there sooner or later”.”
Laughter ripped through the audience.
“So I asked a brother Quailor if he knew where I was going and he said, ‘to Hell’ with all the rest of your damned heathens.”
Deep Voice said. “How did he answer the Quailor?”
Sur Sceaf quoted his lines. “Brother Quailor, I have six wives, workin on a seventh and I could use the peace.”
The audience roared with laughter, but for some of the Quailor, who glanced at one another uneasily.
Probably not used to self criticism, thought Long Swan.
When the laughter died down, the Booger Chief crossed his arms and continued. “Exactly, what is it, you want of me, Red Jacket?”
Sur Sceaf threw his arms wide. “Girls, girls, girls,” He cried in a wolf howl that pierced through the woods very close to the sound of an actual wolf. “Surely, you’ve heard we Herewardi men are a lustful lot.” He licked the Booger Chief’s arm from wrist to shoulder. And the audience went wild. “No matter how many wives we have, it is never enough. Give me girls! Especially those ripe red and lusty Sharaka maidens.”
The Booger Chief said, “Oh! We have plenty of comely maidens,” he turned to the audience, “What say you maidens, is his big nose large enough to hide your treasures in? And when it is hot, he can cool you just by breathing.”
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 27