“Ahy,” Going Snake said, “Sur Sceaf is going to go fetch an elk that Redelfis shot over at Woondigo Pass, and I am going with him tonight.”
“You should be very honored.” She forced enthusiasm into her voice. “Most boys are not invited to miss their bedtime and do such a manly task until they have completed their vision quest.”
“I know, but Sur Sceaf says I am a little man and that if I were Hyrwardi, I would be hooded for all my skills.” She saw him hold his head high. “And some day he said, I can have one of his white horses like White Fire.”
He hung at her heel telling her how much he wanted to be just like Sur Sceaf someday. Finally, she had heard enough praise of Sur Sceaf for one day. “Tell me later Going Snake, I have to take care of my beading now,” she said as kindly as possible before stepping through the tipi’s open flap and flushing him off with her hand.
Inside her tipi she quickly picked up Sur Sceaf’s merino shirt from the floor, brushed it off nicely, folded it, and then took one last whiff of its honey scent, before feeling disgusted with herself for having given in to the urge. Then she walked back outside the tipi and motioned for Going Snake to come back.
Going Snake stopped brushing the stallion and ran back to the tipi. He arrived panting from his quick sprint and looked up at her with expectant eyes. She realized what a pleasant child he always was and felt somewhat guilty for cutting him short on his story.
“Going Snake, this shirt belongs to Sur Sceaf. Would you be a dearling, and please return it for me.” She said in a low whisper as she handed him the woolen shirt. “And thank him for me.”
“Would you still be angry at him, Ahy?” Going Snake asked.
“Now that should be no concern of yours, you nosy little chipmunk. Get along with you.” Then she fanned him away once again.
* * *
Sur Sceaf caught a glimpse of Taneshewa as she came out of the tipi to give Going Snake his shirt. He was still knocked off balance from his surprise encounter with her. He continued to cinch his saddle and adjust his empty packs that they would fill with elk meat. Slyly, he stole glances at her. She was moving in a great hurry with a skin bucket in hand down the path of the Unequa Stream, presumably to draw up some water for the night. Her fists were tightly drawn. He wondered, if he dared pry open her clenched fist, would he find her squeezing the nugget of golden love they both briefly felt for each other in that first moment of their engagement. Or was she clinging to the ball of icy resistance he was now feeling. In either case, the gold would shine when she relaxed those fists and the ice would surely melt under the heat of such fiery passions.
He relished the way she moved in the bright campfire light like no other woman he had ever seen. She was confidant, bold, feminine, and all charged with an innate sexual energy. Her tight-fitting buckskin accentuated every sensuous curve in the streamlined body he craved to touch. He could feel the steam rising in his blood and could not refrain from watching every movement of her hips as they parted a path through the tall ferns to the stream. Inside, his heart was like a beehive of emotions ready to swarm.
“You sure like lookin at her, don’t you,” Going Snake observed, handing Sur Sceaf his shirt which he quickly stuffed in his saddle bag.
“Whatever do you mean, little fellow?” Sur Sceaf asked, putting on an innocent face.
“When my mother and father look at each other like that, they always send me on an errand and they tell me not to come back too soon,” Going Snake revealed.
“Looks like you’re itching for a dunking in the stream, Little Man,” Sur Sceaf said with a smile and a wink. “Come on, we better finish packing for Woondigo Pass before Shell-Toad eats all the elk.”
As Taneshewa came stomping back up the bank, he gave her a warm smile. She gave him the dangerous look of an angry she-panther and swiftly turned her head. His attention was drawn away by his name being called.
It was Little Doe. “We are ready to tell the girls the story of Red Bird before Redelfis gets back with the mule. Shall we get started?”
“Certainly. After I just had my eyes clawed out by that panther once again, I’d love to hear a relaxing story.”
“What panther?” Three Doves asked.
“Oh, it was nothing,” Little Doe said. “He’s just joking about Taneshewa.”
Dancing Feather pled, “Little Doe, will you tell us the story of Do-tsu-wa, now?”
Sur Sceaf and Going Snake took their seats on the tule mats near the campfire.
“Yes, it is that time now, isn’t it.” Turning to Sur Sceaf, Little Doe said, “This is a story the Thunder Horse has told my children many times, Surrey. You will probably recognize it. Please suffer me to tell the story of Red Bird. It will help them understand, in our way, who you are and how our two peoples have always been friends since the time of the Beginning of Tribes in the day the Nations of the Amerikan Empire broke under the wrath of the gods.”
Grateful for anything that would divert his thoughts away from Taneshewa, Sur Sceaf said, “Please proceed, I would be delighted.”
Little Doe unfolded the story in sing song verse. “It is the story about a young girl called Do-tsu-wa. The Hyrwardi would call her Red Bird and her brother Coon Boy and their little sister, Sagawis. Many moons ago, Red Bird and her brother allowed themselves to be captured by the Pitters so they could be put in the same labor camp as their young sister, who was being held captive there. Their intention was to rescue their little sister who had been kidnapped by a traitor and sold to the Pitters. While in the Pitter encampment at Wymouth, they were beaten, pressed into forced labor, and fed very little, but the Black Folk inside the camp helped them and they managed to find their sister.
Dancing Feather said, “You mean there are people who are black?”
Little Doe smiled. “Sure is, Surrey has one of them as a friend. Don’t you Surrey? Name is Khem.”
“Yes, I do. I’ll have to bring him the next time I come.”
“One day, when Red Bird was washing clothes by the lake, a shape shifting swan called Sasa the Traveler appeared unto her and he said, ’Let us meet on the Autumnal Equinox and I shall lead you to safety in paths unknown to the Pitters. Then, if you mark well the direction I flee in, that is the way back to your people when you escape. It is the way I go.’ Then the Sasa Traveler, also called the swan, beat the waters with his wings. When the waters were again still, he showed Red Bird a vision of her mother reflected on the surface. Her mother was crying in her tipi. Her father was burning sage and imploring Grandfather and Grandmother God to bring their captured and lost children safely back home to them, for they knew not where they were to be found. Red Bird wept and yearned for freedom and to be with her own clan once again away from the wrongness of the Pitters and the labor camps in the depths of the murky swamps.
“Red Bird immediately got her brother, Coon Boy, and sister, Sagawis, to make their escape on the appointed day. They ran through the wooded swamps in the direction that the swan flew, always staying nearby. After three days of travel, they were very hungry with only berries to eat along the way and smelled the cooking odors of a camp. They decided they would go and beg some food—hot meat and hot bread. Upon approaching the camp, Red Bird could read the spirit of their tribe. It was a dancing bear spirit who said, ‘This is the Clan of the Bear People, and if you eat here, you will grow fat, and never see your people again, who live with the White Swan People. Move on!’ So the children fled and ran in the direction the swan had flown towards the southwestern sun.”
Sur Sceaf noted Sparrow Hawk’s daughters were glued to the story as Little Doe continued, “The following camp they came to had the smell of venison filling the air. They licked their chops and intended to go beg food from the camp, when they were met by a wolf spirit who greeted them dancing, ‘This is the camp of the Wolf People and if you eat here you will always forage far and wide with them and shall never come again to your own people who live among the Swan People, for we suffer none to leave us
.’ So once again the three took counsel and fled south and west in the direction that the swan had flown.
“Next they came to a village where they could smell and see all manner of fruits, breads, and meats that looked like lizards, snakes, frogs, and eels. They were so hungry that they wanted to eat and were ready to eat anything. As they sat down on a large rock to strategically plan their entry into the camp, the rock moved. Coon Boy pushed the rock to the side exposing a hole. Out of the hole, came a large, naked and poisonous, dancing snake spirit. The snake kept getting bigger and extending itself until it was as big as a moose.
“The snake spirit hissed and said, ‘This is the Clan of the Snake People. If you eat here we will eat you, for we suffer none who join us to leave us.’ Then it began to aggressively approach them and hypnotically locked its eyes on them as it coiled about them. Red Bird worked her way through the coils and cunningly spoke to it as its coils writhed about her body, ’Oh mighty, Uktena, with your copious venom, whose scales glitter like the coals of a fire, you are way too large to ever have come out of that little of a hole. There is no way you could ever have fit in there.’ The snake, Uktena, became proudly angry and to prove he came out of that hole, he roared with flames bursting from his mouth and nostrils as he squeezed back into the hole. Coon Boy quickly rolled the stone back over the hole and they once again took flight, this time, towards the northwestern sun.”
“That same day they came upon a great lake on which sat Sasa the Traveler-Swan with his mate and their cygnets. Sasa spoke, ’Where shall the Swan People live? Shall he make his tent in the sky? Shall he live underground? How long shall he be hunted by bear, wolf, and snake to be like foxes in a chase? And like the wild deer to flee before the Pitter’s mace? Take your rest here till I again come for you, to lead you to a safe and chosen nest where none shall come to hurt or make afraid. It is a place where I shall spread my wings over you forever.’”
Judging by the children’s faces, Little Doe was a very good story-teller. They were enraptured, with their eyes fixed on her. They wriggled closer to hear better. Dancing Feather clutched her knees and listened intently and Blooms Alone twisted a piece of leather thong with anxious fingers. Going Snake’s eyes were as big as plums.
“After many days of encampment on the great DiAhman Lake, the swan brought Coon Boy a horse of many colors, whose hooves made the ground sound like thunder. All three of the children mounted the horse and gave it its head. As it happened, the overo horse had come from the camp of their father, where the swan told them they should find their parents. The horse carried them to the south shore of the DiAhman Lake where their parents were in their summer camp on the silent Unequa Stream. Red Bird then told their parents the tale of their long journey back home and how they were led by the spirit of the Swan People.”
Going Snake said, “Coon Boy is my grandfather. Isn’t he, Mother.”
Sparrow Hawk’s girls all laughed as each decided they must be the one called Red Bird. Little Doe said, “It is true you girls may be a Red Bird of a sort, but the Red Bird, I speak of here is my cousin, Redith and the Coon Boy, you now know as the Thunder Horse. Sagawis is Sagwi and Sasa the Traveler or Swan is Sur Spear, our honored guest’s father.” She paused to stare at Sur Sceaf. “So now you know the story of Red Bird and how we came to be at this place and are yet to gather once more under the Swan’s wings.”
Sur Sceaf could see the girls had a new impression of him as they came over and hugged him.
Redelfis arrived with the mule. Sur Sceaf and Going Snake mounted to ride to the Woondigo Pass with him.
Chapter 7: Meny the Scholar
As Taneshewa put away the clean clothes she had retrieved from Little Doe earlier, she heard a, “Yoo Hoo,” the familiar call of Mendaho.
“Come in, Meny, you can help me straighten up this mess.”
Mendaho stepped inside and let the flap fall behind her, “Well, it looks like you were wrestling with a bear or maybe tossing with some wild lover in here.”
Taneshewa laughed. “No lover, just an old shirt.”
Mendaho said, “Speaking of lovers have you taken the time to see that gorgeous white man I described to you last night? He reminds me of Hereward. All bearded and bold.”
“Is that another character from one of those moldy old books about the gods you’re always reading?”
Meny picked up some of the folded clothes and laid them on a shelf before plopping down next to the fire. “Oh Ahy, don’t you remember I told you this story before.” Meny gave a whiff. “It’s too smokey in here.”
Ahy grabbed the center pole and moved the flap at the top of the tipi so the wind would draw the smoke out. “You told me so many stories with so many strange names that they are all mixed up.”
“Hereward is one of my favorite story people. He was the first Herewardi of the last age. To the Swan People he is as important as our Tah-Man-Ea.” Meny lifted her eyebrows and grinned. “Truth to tell, Ahy, from the pictures I’ve seen of him, I’d like to worship that God, up close and personal.”
Ahy gave a disgusted look. “If you are referring to the white lord, then stand in line. He’s already married.”
Meny blinked. “How do you know? Have you met with him.”
Ahy picked up her beaded purse and placed it in the basket of beads then sat next to Meny. “Oh yes, I met him down by the lake this morning. Tried to seduce me with the golden threads of his sweet voice as if he were single. Did you know the god you speak of is Sagwi’s nephew, Sur Sceaf?”
Meny’s face lit with an added excitement. “Sur Sceaf, you say! By the Thunder Beings, I never guessed, Surrey the Archer. He was visiting here the first summer I came here to live just after the Battle of Frink Glen. I thought I recognized him with his easy stride of an elk and the proud way he holds that head. The beard is what was throwing me off. He only had a strip of hair running down from lip to chin and when I teased him about it he said it was a royale, the mark of a prince.”
“Some prince! According to the Skalds at Tahlequah, they made the princes sound like honorable men,” Taneshewa said in disbelief.
“Do I hear mockery? Of course he is an honorable prince. Just ask any of the elders and they will say nothing but good things about Surrey the Archer.”
Taneshewa felt the blood draining from her face. “Surrey the Archer?” she said in a faint voice. “My gods, Mendaka and Little Doe talk about Surrey the Archer all the time. They called him the Shooter, I suppose because they said he shot the Pitter Eagle Standard down at the Battle of Frink Glen, an awful omen to those hell-rats. And he...he married Little Doe’s sister, Shining Moon. Little Doe said last year they had a child they named for Little Doe and that made seven babes.”
“Ahy, is something wrong; you’ve turned all pale.”
“No, I’m fine. How about some tea?” Taneshewa got up, turned her back on Mendaho and started making tea. She ladled some water from the buckskin bucket into an iron pot, crumpled some lemon balm and red clover and placed it over the smoldering coals.
Mendaho looked around, picked up some scattered strands of beads off the ground, then the skirt, “I know you, Ahy, whenever you’re upset you buzz around busily like a little bee so that you don’t have to talk about it. You’re making tea, you’re straightening up. Your tipi is always a mess and now all of a sudden you are tidying up. What’s going on?”
Taneshewa cast a guilty look down at a moccasin that had a hole in it she had just picked up and threw it back down. “You’re right, I am upset. Do you remember how I told you about the prophecy of Thunder Horse, that I should marry a white lord. The moment I looked into his eyes, I thought Sur Sceaf was the one. The icy fire of those green eyes burned all the way through me. In that moment all the dark spirits of Standing Bull fled my heart and I was filled with sunshine. Oh happy day! For the first time in a year and a half I felt so intensely wonderful. If he had asked me to join with him at that moment I would have. Then he dropped a hammer on me like a thunder
bolt by talking about his wife.” She frowned and exclaimed, “Wait a minute, he said his wife’s name was Faechild, so maybe it isn’t the same man.”
“It’s the same man alright. I think Faechild is number two or three.”
“Three!” A knot formed in her stomach...I...I just assumed he had one. By Tah-Man-Ea, it’s all very weird, I was trying to convince myself that maybe his wife had died and that’s why he was so flirtatious.”
Meny flipped one of her long braids over her shoulder. “No, no deaths that I know of. But he does have at least five other wives, ‘cause my friend, Shining Moon, is his number six. Little Doe thought her sister might be his last wife. Apparently, he’s been gone everywhere since the Battle of Frink Glen.”
Taneshewa frowned, “Apparently, he’s been home at least seven times.”
“I don’t know why you are so surprised. Didn’t the Skalds in Tahlequah teach you that the Hyrwardi take many wives to themselves?
Taneshewa felt her cheeks heat up and her knees felt like she had just been scythed to the ground. “Oh Meny, I was so bored by their teachings. I wanted to be outside playing and everything just seemed like a Nunnehi tale, almost too good to believe.”
“I know. They are like their totem animal, the swan. According to what I read in the old books the swan is a bird of both lust and spirit.”
“Oh, Mendaho, honestly, you read too much. What’s all that mean?”
“Well, it’s like you and Standing Bull. He came at you with only lust in his heart, but you saw it as love and responded in kind with your love. Now your heart hangs on a dead tree like mummified dry fruit. But your love to Standing Bull was out of balance. So it naturally collapsed and withered to naught. And still your tongue is like an iron latch, but your heart is more like some volcano under a snow capped mountain ready to blow. Standing Bull was not the real thing and now I see he’s poisoned you to all men.”
The Sire Sheaf (The King of Three Bloods Book 1) Page 14