Witan Jewell

by Russ L. Howard

  Ilkchild glanced at her, then said, “That’s right, my lady. I did not weigh the meaning of my words. Please forgive me.”

  “I will under one condition. That you and I find time together for you to fill me in on what Surrey’s family is like.”

  “Consider it done, my lady.”

  Surrey said, “Let this be a lesson to you, lad, when dealing with your own ladies. Weigh your words carefully when in their company.”

  Ilkchild saluted and rode off on his golden palomino.

  Surrey turned to his brother, “I appreciate your concern for me Brother, but let’s try to keep our personal lives personal.”

  Long Swan sighed, “I can see this must be. Pyr once warned me that I must not be so direct with my words among the lady folk, a lesson that I sorely need to learn as well.”

  Sur Sceaf nodded. “My lady, I am escorting Long Swan to the front and giving him instructions on what to report to Father before we arrive. I’d like for you to get a horse and I’ve also come to ask you to join me by noon, so that we may ride into Witan Jewell together.”

  She rested her hand on White Fire’s neck and said, “Yes, I’ll have Going Snake fetch me a paint.”

  “Good. I also wish for you to sit with me at the moot fire, which will take place shortly after we arrive. I want everyone to know you are my newly betrothed and I want my people to know you are under my wing so that they give you the deference you are due.”

  “Meny explained that a moot fire is your version of a council fire.”

  “And like the council fire, it is a great honor to be invited. None may enter the hall without being vouched for. Besides, it will give you a better understanding of how things work in our kingdom.”

  “I’d like that. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “I will always think of you, Ahy. And I swan swear that I’m committed to making you as comfortable as I can in my world.”

  “I’ve been pondering Long Swan’s words. He said I wouldn’t be able to surmount you.”

  “What of it?”

  “Surmount! There’s a double meaning in that word. Mount Sur—Surmount.”

  “Oh, oh! I get it now.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You little she-devil, I’ll see you before noon.” Snapping off a salute he rode up the line with Long Swan in tandem.

  Chapter 2 : Witan Jewell

  Sur Sceaf led the Quailor and Sharaka bands down the Deer Creek through the massive black oaks that abounded and shrouded the trail with their long hanging mosses, mistletoe, and lichen. The excitement to see his wives and children was mounting. All fields, farms, and homesteads were familiar, other than the fact that some fields had been rotated from growing grain crops to pasturage for sheep and goats. Several fields had been plowed much farther out than they were the year before and several woodland areas had been fenced off for the herds of wisents the Herewardi enjoyed husbanding.

  The sun was out, but patches of fog and mist hung about the trees and in the hollows, yet that same strange cloud hovered overhead.

  Sur Sceaf called a halt at noon in order for those who were to attend the moot fire to gather at the front with him in their finest attire. He wore his red surcoat which had been freshly cleaned and brushed by Lana, and his shimmering sword and royal sash. Riding alongside him was Taneshewa, mounted on her white and red spotted overo mare and dressed in her beautifully beaded white dress. Behind them rode Long Swan, Onamingo, Mendaka, Rip the Prester, Hartmut, Shug Moss, Margot, Fromer, Habraham, Elijah, and of course the Thunder Horse, all of whom Sur Sceaf had chosen to accompany him to the moot fire so as to introduce the leadership and major personalities of the three tribes. It was optional for the men to invite their wives if they chose. The twelfth person attending would be King Pyrsyrus who would sit in his own valley along with his wives and children.

  A short distance behind the leaders rode the young blood fyrd, followed by the train of emigrants. As they traveled slowly along the well-worn road, the Quailor were sounding the bullhorns used for signaling an event of great import. These horns echoed through the hollows like thunder.

  As they crossed a large bridge over Deer Creek they entered the outskirts of Hrusburg. The Herewardi citizenry were signaling with their fires on braziers, heralding the arrival of the trekkers. Sur Sceaf hailed those he recognized and returned their greetings. Most were shepherds, farmers, yeoman, and a host of merchants.

  The sun intermittently broke through the fog revealing the Herewardi manors scattered throughout the landscape of rolling hills. Shortly past the old manse of Hrolf the goldsmith they came upon a large ancient harrow stone embellished with runic writings in lines under the sacred hole at its top. Next to the harrow stone stood a psalmist garbed in a yellow and brown harlequin outfit. He played a fiddle with so much passion and skill that many of the passing women wept. Each mile post the train passed the deeper and thicker the Herewardi crowds became. Cries of “Os Frith!” arose along with “Hail Sur Sceaf, Lord of the Three Tribes.”

  The massive plank gates of the fenced town of Hrusburg lay open to them. As Sur Sceaf passed through the gates straddling Deer Creek, trumpets blasted from atop the city walls signaling his arrival. Here the crowds were so thick that they surged out into the streets forcing the trekkers to worm their way through the streets of Hrusburg like a long caravan.

  With a smiling glance at Ahy, he said, “Welcome to a Herewardi city, the mercantile town of Hrusburg, where all the trading and business of the Herewardi takes place. This is where I sell my excess wool and where my wives love to come to spend their money.”

  Taneshewa was astounded by the array of colorful sights and sounds of the Herewardi world. Instead of a settlement of tipis, this was a city of wooden homes, stores, and shops.

  There were more people dressed in colorful clothing than she had ever seen in her life. Everyone was lining the streets and yelling words of welcome. Friendly smiles and waves came from all quarters. Many yelled Sur Sceaf’s name out loud. She told herself to sit erect and smile so as not to make a fool of herself. The masses of people were frightening to her. Feeling overwhelmed with the press of the crowds, she kneed her horse closer to Surrey.

  The street was lined with apartments and townhouses of the burgher class. Tall and square, they were painted many colors, reflecting personal taste.

  “It’s like you live in boxes and we live in circles.” Taneshewa told Sur Sceaf. “It was always easy for Mother to catch me in the tipi with no place to hide.”

  Sur Sceaf grinned. “Were you a naughty little girl?”

  “Well, I didn’t think so, but apparently my family did. What about you? Were you a naughty boy?”

  “Of course. The worst! It runs in our blood and even though we had places to hide we always had a mother or a nigh-mother that could find us. If not them then one of my father’s many skalds.” His eyes crinkled at the corner. “I swear, Pyrsyrus’ mother, Ledaflaed, was impossible to elude. I can’t wait for you to meet her and Father’s other wives, my nigh-mothers. I have a love for all of them and I think you will too.”

  She almost wished he hadn’t said that, because now it brought her panic back. Another layer of Herewardom to deal with. “I hope to meet them too, but I hope it’s not all at once. How many are there?”

  “Don’t fret. He only has sixteen wives. No one expects you to know or remember all their names.”

  She was digesting that when a young woman dressed in a leaf green dress stepped out from the crowd and approached her with a warm smile. The woman offered her a bouquet of purple flowers and cheerily said, “Welcome to Hrusburg, my Lady Taneshewa.”

  Confused, Taneshewa looked to Sur Sceaf who nodded. She took the bouquet with one hand, smelled it, and said, “Thank you. I do not recognize them. What are they called?”

  The girl said, “Yule roses.” And then stepped back into the crowd.

  Ahy looked surprised. “How do they know me? And what flowers bloom this time of year.”

  “News
travels fast among the Herewardi. Keeping a secret is almost impossible. Besides, I instructed Long Swan to announce our betrothal. I’m sure my bride-covey must have pounced on Long Swan when he went back and forth from camp to Witan Jewell and now they have spread the word far and wide.”

  “I guess it’s the same in our village. Gossip flies on wings of lightning.”

  They rode without speaking for a bit. The cries were so loud her ears were ringing. Sur Sceaf smiled unceasingly, waving at the many people who knew him. They turned a corner where signs of varying colors lined the road: Black Smith, Farrier, Woolens, Armorer, Tailor, Barber.

  “By the Thunder Beings how many people live here, my lord?”

  “Approximately, forty thousand merchants called burghers here about,” Sur Sceaf declared, “and around ten thousand yeoman on the outskirts. Many more in the off shoot communities which lay scattered and tucked throughout the thousand valleys of the Umpqua.”

  Onamingo rode up next to Surrey. “Judging by the clothing these folk wear,” he said, “there must be lots of trading in this market city. Do the other Herewardi settlements trade here as well? Will we be able to trade here?”

  “Of course.” Sur Sceaf declared, “Now we trade as far north as the Tlingit and Snowmen, and as far south as the Guatemala.”

  The Rogue Chieftain, Shug Moss declared, “Holy sturgeon, I should have asked for more gold monies. This place is simply wallowing in riches.”

  It took some time to pass through the settlement of Hrusburg and out into the countryside. Here many of the people were going about their normal daily activities, but as the caravan approached, the people waved and greeted them cordially. Children stood and waved from the large platforms up in the trees, the flaches on which skalds held classes.

  At about three miles past Hrusburg, on Garden Valley Road, Sur Sceaf called for a halt at Baldur’s Wind Mill, where a large water basin was formed for weary travelers to partake from. Sur Sceaf said that they could rest there at the top of the hill, give graze to the livestock, and tighten loads for the last hill. A large sign warned that travelers should check their wagons’ brakes before their descent.

  Marking the outermost boundary of Witan Jewell, were the large round stone towers built. They rose out of the mists below, tall as trees, with smoke threading from the nearest one. They were grey with lime, almost white with long skinny arrow slits for archers.

  Onamingo stared in awe. “So these are the towers that Pyrsyrus said Muryh the Builder built. They are most impressive!”

  After all brakes were checked and the livestock permitted to graze, Sur Sceaf signaled to continue down the road.

  When they reached the floor of Garden Valley, many more of the towers could be seen, standing like sentinels.

  “How many towers are there?” Taneshewa asked.

  Sur Sceaf announced, “There are forty-four. Each tower marks a star’s position at a particular season. Altogether the towers operate as one grand cosmic calendar to mark the seasons, the holidays, and calendaring of Herewardom.”

  Taneshewa reached into her saddle pack and pulled out strips of pemmican which she offered to her companions.

  Margot thanked her and pointed with the pemmican, “What great grazing? I’m wondering what keeps the livestock safe from rustlers and thieves on such open range?”

  Sur Sceaf turned his head to look at her, “Actually, Margot, among the Herewardi, thievery is not a known vice.”

  “No thieves? I ain’t ever been anywhere there wasn’t a thief or two. Even had a brother steal from me once.”

  “Among the Herewardi we have no reason to steal. Most of the increase of cattle and sheep is held in common. That’s why we call ourselves a commonwealth.”

  Hartmut who was riding between Margot reported to her and Shug, “It is said by outlander merchants that a virgin can pass from one end of Hrusburg to the other at Witan Jewell, on the darkest of nights and never fear molestation. It is also said by outlanders that an old man can pass through the darkest shadows of Witan Jewell with a wheelbarrow full of gold and never fear a robbery. But it is also told that the Herewardi justice is very swift and exacting should any outlander violate their laws. Even so, there is one law for outlander and Herewardi alike.”

  Sur Sceaf nodded. “It is just that we Herewardi are taught to govern ourselves. Elrus taught us to be personally responsible, to never be harmful to others and to always be helpful to others without regard to their personal status, wealth, or position.”

  Shug asked, “I know the Herewardi have no thieves, but what happens to the outlanders who have greasy fingers?”

  “On occasion, strangers have taken that which was not theirs and have learned that they had to pay, through labor, twice the value of whatever was stolen. Our legal system is not based on crime and punishment, but upon efficiency, justice, mercy, and restitution.”

  Fromer puffed up, “It’s obvious the Herewardi have no concept of sin. Thievery must be openly condemned through a public whipping as punishment for transgressors and as a warning to others who may be tempted to steal. Let me tell you what I do to thieves. I caught a group of striplings stealing a berry pie once. I stripped them down bare bottomed, and to this day they bear the scars from the caning I gave to them. You can bet they will never steal another pie.”

  The Rogues and Hickoryans laughed. Sur Sceaf just shook his head.

  Margot jerked a piece of pemmican off with her teeth, “What if someone harms you or attacks you?”

  “It depends on intent and the level of malice.”

  “Malice! If someone assaults you, that is harm.”

  “That’s why we have judges and a jury to weigh such matters.”

  “If someone attacks me, I’ll cut their liver out.”

  As they crossed the Umpqua River at a low ford, there were numerous boys pulling in nets of fish and young girls filling the baskets with the catch.

  “Woo-eee, there’s surely a lot of beautiful wenches here,” Shug Moss said with a sly note to his voice, “must be those virgins Hartmut was talkin’ ‘bout, but I didn’t expect them to be fishmongers. Still ain’t seen any of those wheelbarrows full of gold, though.”

  * * *

  As they passed the harvested fields, they came upon manor after manor till, upon cresting a hill, they saw in the distance the powerful fortress that surrounded the Shepherd Hall, all be-canopied by fog. The hall was a massive timbered lodge situated on a slight rise above a fertile and lush valley. Between the wagon train and the fortress stretched another large valley of grasslands all the way to the confluence of the two Umpqua Rivers or Rivers Fork as the Herewardi called it. Wicker fenced fields held distinct horses and sheep, keeping the stock pure and unmixed, under the Order of Enclosure. Many of the fields laid prepared and empty for the Sharaka herds.

  The scattered homes of the yeomen were spread across the valley. With their straw roofs and whitewashed walls, they looked like bee skeps dotting the fields. Busily working, the yeomen were the backbone of Herewardi society. Without them, all functions of the civilization would fail. They gathered in from their fields and woodsmen came out of the forests to hail Surrey home and to witness the grandest immigration any had ever seen.

  An enormous wooden structure stood before the trekkers, surrounded by impenetrable hedges of hawthorn and madrone.

  Surrey declared, “There is the fortress wall that surrounds the realm of Sur Spear, high lord of the Seven Kingdoms of the Herewardi. Here, he will be host to the Quailor and Sharaka settlers until they are all allotted their inheritances on the coast in spring, at which time we should like to invite your people to join us, Shug.”

  “I shall have to contemplate that. Our usual villages are no longer safe and of course you know we are a democracy so the matter will take some time to decide.”

  “So has this all been set up for us?” Onamingo said, “It looks like your father has everything laid out, just as promised. Those barns full of hay will be most welcome.”<
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  The massive gates of the fortress opened and the first riders came pouring out, trumpets sounding.

  Mendaka said, “Well, it looks like they’re planning a special welcome for you, Brother.”

  “For all of us.” Sur Sceaf said.

  The fyrd rode out with swan and magnolia banners whipping in the wind and horse’s manes ringing with bells. The whole land appeared magical under the mist of a rising fog.

  Upon the road called Umpqua-on-Main they were greeted by Elf Olf, the commander of the fyrd and the two chief stewards, Fringle and Friddle, and their cadre of silver stewards just behind them.

  “Os-Frith, Sur Sceaf,” Elf Olf declared, “I am come with orders from the high lord to escort the settlers to their assigned camps, while the silver stewards will escort you and the dignitaries to the moot fire.”

  “Greetings, Elf Olf. I thank you for your care of my settlers. I will ride into the fort with my companions and the stewards. Crooked Jack, Snake Horse, and Franz will assist you with the dog soldiers and settlers in establishing their camps. We have placements mapped out which have been surrendered into the care of Crooked Jack. I charge you to accept our designs as the most harmonious arrangement.”

  Elf Olf said, “So mote it be, my lord.”

  The fyrd under Elf Olf led the settlers into the nearby plains already set up with barns, corrals, outhouses, firewood, and wells, while the two chief stewards escorted Sur Sceaf and the invited dignitaries up into the fortress.

  The chief stewards stopped at the gate and Friddle said, “Everything is ready, my lord. It is the high lord’s wish that you have some time to settle in before the meeting is called to order in the Shepherd Hall. Sur Spear has arranged for you to take repast before the folk moot in the antechamber of the hall. Permit me to escort you there now.”

  Pyrsyrus said, “My lord, I will join you after I get my fyrd settled and collect my wives.” Before Pyrsyrus left them, he winked at Taneshewa. “It’ll be alright. You’ll see. There’s nothing to fear.”

  * * *

  Long Swan’s Log: I, Long Swan, being one of the Forty-Four of the Roufytrof, do set my hand this sixteenth day of the Dark Moonth, in the year 583 H.S.O., to render a report to the high lord, King Sur Spear for and on behalf of my lord Sur Sceaf as his scribe. It has been four days since the Ghost Moon.