Ahy appeared deep in thought before slowly conceding. “I admit, when you put it in that light, it does seem right enough.”
Hound’s Tongue said, “My wife, Deer Pony, would eat me alive if I brought another woman into our tipi.”
The two talking chiefs laughed. Then Boar’s Tooth added, “If this is the practice of your people and it is the will of the women to join themselves to one man, I can see no harm in it. But if this practice is so good, Swan Lord, why have you not taken a wife? Is it because you prefer the company of he-shes?”
“No, I do not prefer the company of he-shes. I find every aspect of women most delightful. I simply have remained unwed because I once loved a woman deeper than I thought it possible to love anyone. She cleaved my heart when she broke our vows the day before we were to marry and eloped with my best friend. Since then I have had a heart that cannot heal. Nor can I find any remedy.”
Sur Sceaf was all too keen to realize Taneshewa was infected by the same dilemma as Long Swan. He saw from Ahy’s face that she was startled by his brother’s admission and thus probably still harbored some sort of tainted love for Standing Bull. Odd how strong some unnatural affections can be.
Dancing Rabbit raised her hand for the floor. “Does anyone else have any questions before we go over the Mountain Scrolls with Mendaho?” She scanned the Lodge. “Seeing none, I shall call for the vittles to be brought to us and let Meny and Long Swan go over the ancient words of our chiefs.”
“I have another question about the Pitters.” Boar’s Tooth cocked his head to one side and said, “I have fought the Pitters. They are not good warriors, only constant and endless, but they have gobbled up nation after nation like a snake gobbles bunnies in the grass. How can they have so much success?”
“Another excellent question,” Long Swan commented, “which I believe my brother, Sur Sceaf, is better able to address.”
Sur Sceaf thought for a moment. “We too, have pondered this over the span of generations, Chief Boar’s Tooth. You are correct. Unlike the Vardropi, they are not great warriors on the field of battle, which is why they often pay the Vardropi as mercenaries to join with them. The skill of the Pitters lies in the games of the mind. They systematically subdue the people they conquer by convincing the defeated that the Pitters are superior in all things. First off they set up a Dominiker class from amongst any people they subdue. Little by little, all those who resist bowing to their authority are crushed or silenced. Their success comes after their victories in subduing race after race, degree by degree with their systems of trickery and subjugation plucking one feather at a time until the subdued have no feathers left to fly with. The end is always slavery.”
Long Swan interjected, “According to the Bok of Yster, it is by this trickery of the mind, the Pitters convince the gullible and deceive the innocent into submitting to their spiritual abuse. They re-write history and convince those they conquer that they had to do so to save their souls. Indeed, it is a very cunning plan. When they put on the mask of supreme authority, they rob even the proudest tribe of their dignity and ultimately reduce them to serfdom.”
Sur Sceaf resumed, “Exactly right! They teach if you just work harder, give more tithes, and do more service, and never question their authority, you will be saved in the kingdom of their god, Angrar. But in fact, this convoluted idea of Heaven simply means you will be kept in a dark box the duration of your mortal life and never develop any spiritual wings of your own. Such are the teachings of the Dark Elf Devils, as we call those who control the forces of evil and dwell in the Principalities of Darkness.”
Long Swan followed with, “Yster taught Sassia we should beware of anyone, friend or foe, who claims they have ultimate authority, for they are like a prostitute who claims she is chaste. But nobody, NOBODY, has ultimate authority over free men. Not even the gods who know these higher truths.”
Hound’s Tongue nodded. “It is as the Thunder Beings taught us, fear those who say they know the truth and follow those who say they seek it.”
Dancing Rabbit posited, “But what is truth? You see the Herewardi have a very different truth than we have.”
“Truth differs by tribe,” Sur Sceaf declared, “Corn requires lots of water. That is its truth. Cactus requires little water. That is its truth.”
“Everyone is capable of recognizing truth,” Long Swan said. “It is only lies that need to hide under the cloak of assumed authority. Especially if that assumed authority is concentrated in one body or one government as the Pitters demand. And of course they are that central authority. The gods have put a light unto our feet to lead all of us to truth. The test of true spirituality is that nothing and no one should lie between you and the Ur Fyr, the Herewardi word for spirit medicine and the light of conscience which allows us our free choice.”
Meny offered Long Swan a warm smile. “This has been most enlightening and well spoken. Now it is all too clear to me how and why the Hyrwardi are an affront to the Pitter Empire. The Hyrwardi are a flight of fire swans and the Pitters are nothing more than a bunch of raucous crows. If any tribe is given free choice, I am convinced that they would surely choose the swan way. That is why the carrion crows band together to destroy it.”
Dancing Rabbit claimed the floor once again. “My lords, like Meny, I agree this has been a very beneficial and informative discussion. I believe I have detected the rumblings of several hungry stomachs. I also heard the warning whistle of Horse Knuckles outside the lodge. It seems she will soon be bringing the food for our midday repast.”
* * *
As Dancing Rabbit had delayed the study of the Mountain Scrolls until the participants were given repast, Taneshewa took the opportunity to make another visit to the Thunder Horse’s camp, seeking for further enlightenment on her heart’s predicament.
When she arrived, she found Thunder Horse sitting on his favorite sun-bleached log staring at a flowering buckthorn bush adjacent to his tipi. As soon as he spotted her, he signed, ‘Be still.’ Approaching slowly and softly, she realized he was keenly intent on studying a profusion of butterflies and bees of all sorts busily gathering nectar and pollen from the delicate white blossoms.
After a moment studying her with those dark penetrating eyes, he asked softly, “What is troubling you now, Taneshewa, that you should come twice in one moon?”
She cleared her throat. “I have been wrestling in the dust, Spirit Chief, just as you counseled. I spoke with Meny about the ways and history of the Hyrwardi, and I have listened carefully to the words of Long Swan and Sur Sceaf in the long lodge. I am getting a clearer picture of the way they worship and live their lives. But the more I learn, the more questions I have. I have never been so repelled and so drawn by anything in my life, as I have to this Hyrwardi white lord. Has he cast some sort of spell on me?”
Thunder Horse gave her an approving look. He pointed to the flowering bush and said, “Come, sit by my side, and let the Great Spirit speak to us through this bush. For I feel the Spirit’s presence in it. And now I can understand why the gods drew my attention to this particular bush. It carries a message from the gods for you.”
She sat upon the log, bleached by the sun and worn smooth by its frequent use. Thunder Horse had once told her he favored it above all places when seeking guidance. When he first arrived in these mountains his spirit was drawn by this log. It was a holy place frequented by good spirits. That is why he placed his tipi nearby.
“I don’t understand, a message for me, Spirit Master?”
“Yes, Ahy, a message for you. Perhaps, more than one. The Great Spirit is trying to show you the path you chose before you came to this world.”
“In that bush. The Great Spirit speaks from a bush?”
“He speaks in many ways to those who have ears to listen and eyes to see. If you but read the rhythm of nature, you will find an answer to most of life’s riddles. It is the nature of man to think only in terms of our own experience and to mold our beliefs in the narrowest of forms.
It makes us feel safer in thinking that we are right and that our traditional path is the only safe path, and therefore, another’s path must surely be dangerous. In order to remain safe we keep to the same tried and true narrow path. The path leads into a box canyon from which we can see no new landscapes or horizons.”
Taneshewa chewed on the thought for a moment. “But another path might lead to a place of thorns and thistles. You tell me I am destined to marry a white lord, but you failed to mention that in marrying him that I would have to fight six other women for the love and attention from him.”
“Is it just your reluctance to share the bush with other butterflies and bees when the bush clearly has an abundance for all. Look with clearer eyes. These flutterbees share in the bounty of the bush and none complain of shortage.”
She struggled to grasp his meaning or to make any sense of it. “But if there are too many flutterbees on the bush doesn’t that mean each gets less?”
“On the contrary, each one of these things that creep and fly needs something different from the bush for its sustenance. Just as each of Sur Sceaf’s wives seeks something unique from their joining with him. As you can see here, there are mason bees, bumblebees, honeybees, and butterflies, all on one bush, and look, there are even wasps, yellow jackets, and hornets. Unlike the battle we witnessed in the dust, here on this bush, there is complete harmony. The various pollen and nectar ultimately enriches the whole land. Here, because of their diverse needs, they have all found common ground. Nature wants harmony for the good of all and to the exclusion of none. Just as Nature has created this bush to provide a happy life for all of these flutterbees, so that harmony is maintained despite their differences, so also have the Hyrwardi found a way to allow the happiness of each wife on the bush of one man.”
She watched as a swallow tailed butterfly, having drunk her fill of the sweet nectar, took flight, only to alight on her moccasin. She thought, Is this a sign from the gods? Will their blessings be upon my path if I choose Sur Sceaf?”
As if in answer, the bright yellow butterfly took flight again to circleoverhead and then alightdirectly on the wizened owl painted on Thunder Horse’s tipi.As she stared in disbelief, at what could only be a message from the gods, the butterfly flew off.
Thunder Horse smiled, “Yes, the gods have spoken through the bush and the butterfly. It shall be for you a sign that your path to the Swan World would be blessed if you so choose it.”
Taneshewa felt a rush of conflicting feelings. “Oh, Thunder Horse when I am with you, you make my heart’s desire so right, but when I’m alone and think of all the changes I’d have to make, and how Sur Sceaf doesn’t have to make any changes at all, it feels so unfair. No matter how I try to convince myself that the Hyrwardi ways are lawful and acceptable in the eyes of the Great Spirit, I can’t make the leap to Sur Sceaf’s tipi when it covers the six brides who came before me. Then there’s the thought, what if he takes others after me. Then I would have even less time with him and my heart aches for his six brides. I’ve got to be the youngest and that’s got to hurt. And all those children. Who could possibly find time for all those children? Some have got to get lost in the stampede and I don’t want it to be mine. Can you see how it all becomes too messy in my mind?”
“Nature loves messiness, Ahy. You are a midwife. Consider how messy the birth path is. Who would have thought that someone as beautiful as you had been formed by the seed of a boy and separated from the guts of a girl? Yet here you stand, emerged from all that mess in a holy and beautiful form. You are the image of the Mother Goddess.”
“But the Mother Goddess is the only wife to Father God.”
“That is the way the tale has come down to us. But in the Mountain Scrolls there are writings which allude to other goddesses.”
“Even if that is true, Spirit Master, from what I learned this morning, it seems to me that Sur Sceaf and his people all elevate themselves above everyone else as if they were some sort of perfect people. If I want to be with Sur Sceaf, as his wife, I must think the way they think, and act the way they act. It makes them sound very much the same way Sur Sceaf describes the Pitters.”
Thunder Horse heaved a sigh. “Until this moment, I never realized you were such a hard headed woman. Not that there is anything wrong with that, only that it puts me in mind of my sister, Sagwi. She too was hard-headed. She rejected the Herewardi young blood, Elf Beard, who was a fine man in every way that’s important. She gave him up for the same reason, and instead married Hat’s Loss, a good man, but unable to answer the hunger of her heart or body.”
Taneshewa reflected on the deep sadness she sometimes detected in her dear old friend. Sagwi had said, she mourned a lost love, but now Taneshewa understood the reason. “Are you saying I might feel the same way if I reject Sur Sceaf?”
“Of course I am. The future is not carved into stone. Perhaps if you ask Sagwi, she may say she wishes she had chosen a different path. As for your objections to what you see as pride in the Hyrwardi, it is true the Hyrwardi are more prideful than most tribes. But your comparison to the Pitters couldn’t be more wrong. The Pitters wish to crush all other cultures whereas the Hyrwardi wish only to empower them. Now that is a horse of a different color. Is it not?”
She felt her face heat up with embarrassment. She had to admit she was exaggerating.
As though he sensed her thoughts, he said in a gentle manner, “This much I can promise you, from what the gods have revealed to me, you will not be brought low by the Hyrwardi, no. And this much too, I can promise you, if you follow your heart and marry Sur Sceaf, you shall be exalted like a queen amongst them. Generation upon generation of Hyrwardi will rise up to sing praises to your name.”
Taneshewa was taken aback. “Does that mean I am destined to accept this life with him, even if I don’t want it?”
He turned to her, took both her hands into his and looked deeply into her eyes. “Ahy, haven’t you been listening? You have the choice. The gods have given you that right. The revelation that the gods bestowed on you only relates to what may be. The choice, my hard headed princess, is still yours and always will be.”
* * *
After the talking chiefs had all left the long lodge, Meny set her feet to the path that led to Surrey’s tipi. She had a troubling dream in the night concerning Long Swan and wanted to catch him before he left for his return journey to Witan Jewell.
As she approached Surrey’s tipi, Surrey was busy inside sitting cross-legged with one of Long Swan’s writing desks in his lap. She assumed he was probably writing letters to his wives and would be sending them back with the lore master. Long Swan, on the other hand, was blowing the ink dry on several papers and placing documents in his leather pouch.
“Os Frith!” She said.
They both replied in unison, “Os-Frith!”
She asked, “Lore Master, may I have a word with you.”
“Yes, of course.” The tall handsome man smiled as he laid his work aside. “Meny it is, isn’t it?”
She returned his smile. “I was troubled by a dream I had last night. It repeated itself three times and it concerned you.”
“Well then, we must hear it. Mustn’t we?!” He wrinkled his brow. “Please enter and unfold your night visions before me. I have long ago learned to hearken to messages coming from beyond the veil.”
Sur Sceaf said, “Should you want privacy, Meny, I can excuse myself and go elsewhere to write.”
“That won’t be necessary Surrey.” She assured him as she studied the trappings of a lore master, noted his exquisite golden pen with feather attachment, and the curiously beige paper he wrote upon.
It was apparent both men were very intent on hearing. So she didn’t bother with the usual pleasantries of greeting, took a deep breath and began. “I was walking upon a strange land which seemed both familiar and foreign to me. You were walking down a dirt path with a friend who looked Sharaka, but had hair the color of spun gold. Your path led to a woman-flower. For I d
o not know what else to call her since her skin was the color of leaves and she was more pretty than a magnolia flower. In the dream, a dark cloud came over you and your friend. Thunder roared in the heavens as the two of you fought like panthers over the woman-flower. All at once, a vile and evil serpent sent its coils around the woman-flower and was about to devour her when the friend you had been fighting smote its head off with his blade. Out of the serpents neck flowed a burning acid that sent mice and vermin throughout the land. The dream closed with multitudes of Sharaka, Quailor, and Hyrwardi weeping and fleeing the plague of vermin it released. I awoke feeling a terrible sense of dread.” Meny paused and waited for his reaction, even though his active mind was taking everything in. He remained silent as did Surrey. “Have you some interpretation for me, Lore Master?” She prodded.
He shook his head. “I am sorry, Meny. Nothing comes to mind. The dream is deep and the dream is true, the Ur Fyr tells me this, but I have no interpretation for it. It is sealed to my understanding. Sometimes it is better to just let the dream speak for itself. In time the answer floats to the surface as clear as lily pads on a pond.”
“Then I shall depart your company and leave you two to prepare for your labors. I have greatly enjoyed our discussions and I am sure you would enjoy seeing more of my Mountain Scrolls. I believe the gods will that our paths shall cross again soon.”
Long Swan smiled then took to scoring the parchment. “I took great joy in our meeting and discussions together. Perhaps after you reach Witan Jewell we can have discussions more frequently. I know Sur Sceaf’s wives Swan Hilde and Milkchild would be delighted if you shared the scrolls with them. They, too, have a thirst to enlarge their knowledge and understanding of peoples and the past. Even now, they are busy working on a project to discover who the Amerikans were.”
The Sire Sheaf (The King of Three Bloods Book 1) Page 20