Witan Jewell

by Russ L. Howard

  Arundel bowed, took her hand and brought it to his forehead in what she now realized was very much the traditional Herewardi greeting. He had the same green eyes and thick brown hair of Surrey and it was Surrey’s smile he beamed her way. She found that she liked him immediately.

  “I have probably heard more about you and one of your sisters than all the rest of the children put together. Your father must favor you.”

  Surrey interjected, “Well, of course I do. I favor all my children. I have to because they out number me.”

  “I hope Alfheah passed on my apology for being late. I just didn’t want you to have to wait for the inspection of the farm and so I made sure all was in order.”

  “You are always reliable. Elwod was just apprising me of your labors. Well done. I am sure my flocks have increased under your hand.”

  “You can believe they have, Father.” Arundel turned as a young red-haired maiden suddenly popped up.

  She swiftly embraced her father. “Brekka, my dear, I’m so happy to see my girl again and I want you to meet Taneshewa, who I am courting.”

  The young maiden’s hair was like molten copper and shone even in the interior lighting like fire on a hill. The girl was clearly Lana’s daughter. She had her father’s green eyes and her mother’s same dimpled smile and sunny nature, and that same impish gleam in her eyes as Surrey.

  “Very pleased to meet you, Lady Taneshewa.” Brekka said, “My mother has told me that I will like you very much and she is right.” As she returned her greeting she caught sight of Aelfheah still lurking a few feet away gawking like a hungry crow directly at her. As soon as their eyes met he winked at her. She quickly looked away.

  Arundel said with a twinkle in his eye, “We were very concerned about Fa, as in recent years he has only kept the company of the elders and it seemed like he was getting that mossy, dusty, and covered in cobwebs look that older men tend to take on. It’s good to see him washed clean by such a fresh young spring as you.”

  Surrey grinned, “I can still box your ears in a game of staves, lad, so keep it civil.”

  “Careful with the challenges, Fa. I’ve improved.”

  Elwod turned to Taneshewa and said, “The last time Ary challenged Fa to the staves, Ary bit the dirt and then claimed he tripped.”

  “Oh, we are talking about the famous ‘Ary tripped and couldn’t stay in the rink with Fa’ again are we.” Ilkchild said as he grabbed Arundel by the shoulders and gave him a big hug. She recognized the two girls by Ilkchild’s side were the two that had so warmly greeted him upon their arrival and assumed they were the two brides-to-be he had talked so much about on the trek.

  Ary declared, “I should have known. Where the braid-headed lasses are, there I would find Ilkchild.”

  “Good brother, I searched everywhere for you,” Ilkchild said. “Where were you? Someone said you were babysitting those damned bees you are so obsessed with.”

  “I had to round up the sheep and goats and Elwod finished the roundup for me so I could tidy up the bee yard in order to be here.”

  Elwod interjected, “You’d think with all that experience coddling bee queens, he would have chosen a faery-queen for his own hive by now. Wouldn’t you?” Elwod laughed.

  Ilkchild boomed, “Ah hah! So you have not yet chosen a wife from any of the lovely ladies here in Witan Jewell. Is that it?”

  “I’ve chosen three, maybe even four, but will not marry till I have had some traveling experience and adventures such as you have been privileged to have. You damned lucky dog.”

  “As much as we would have loved to have had you along, it’s apparent our father needed you to man his stewardship in his absence. I’m sure you are aware of this. But soon, Elwod will be able to take over your stewardship and then we can all be free to have adventures together. Just be grateful you have a living father and an inheritance,” Ilkchild said. “Mine was robbed of me by the gods.”

  Ary warned, “Ssh! Do not tempt the Wyrd sisters.”

  Whenever Ilker spoke of his father’s death he looked lost, even though his words expressed anger.

  The crowd pressed in closer to get refreshments. The Quailor had moved closer. Ahy was pleased to see Meny, but repulsed by the sight of Fromer who was fixated on Ilkchild and his prospective brides. Ev-Rhett darted by soon to be followed by the sticky fingered Russell who was threatening to wipe his greasy hands on him.

  Ary glanced at the adoring girls looking at Ilkchild. “Your life is flowing smoothly enough for you, my brother, and although I am envious, I am not jealous, for our friendship runs too deep for that. For some reason, the gods just wish to test me longer.”

  “Do you realize,” Ilkchild exclaimed, “I will be married on this coming Fifth Sabbath, in five moonths time? You could be marrying at the same Sabbath with me, and our kids growing up side by side as you and I did.”

  “That would indeed be great, but not yet. I know I am not ready for marriage and it would be unfair to my brides to do that.”

  Ilkchild got a devilish look on his face. “You realize you are only a half of a man until you’re married.”

  “Yes, but when you are married...you’re finished.” Even Ahy joined in their laughter.

  Brekka inserted, “In the meantime, I shall keep Ary all for myself.”

  Ilkchild chuckled, “No doubt you will whip this boy into shape for marriage with all your pestering questions.”

  “Tell him,” Elwod said, “who you have chosen for your bride-sisters, Ary.”

  “I have chosen none other than your sisters, the twins, Elfhava because of her womanly charms and Ilklilith because she is so feisty, testy, and smart.”

  “Oh no!” Ilkchild let out, “You are surely blind. Ary, they are just a bunch of snot nose brats.”

  “Methinks you do only look with the eyes of a brother,” Arundel said. “For a third wife, I am likely to choose the lovely Dina.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “She’s a lynx from the Arap tribe whom Paloma newly took in as our hand maid.”

  “Oh, how convenient for you.” Ilkchild teased.

  “It was convenient. I admit, but we have much in common.”

  “And the fourth?”

  “Her name is Macbah, a Jywdess, whom I have taken to studying with. Not only does she challenge my brain and fire my blood, but she sings like an angel. She’s even a cantor in the synagogue of Ur Ford.”

  Ahy was puzzled, “Arundel if you have already chosen your four brides then I am trying to understand, why delay the marriages?”

  Arundel gave her his disarming smile before glancing at Surrey. “My father has taught me that a henhouse must be a balance between laying hens and setting hens. So far I only have laying hens and I am still seeking a setting hen to properly govern them.”

  Ahy was even more confused. She found it maddening that the Herewardi always spoke in allusions. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

  Ary grinned, “A laying hen is one that is only interested in laying the eggs whereas a setting hen does the hard work of hatching and nurturing the chicks, overseeing the covey.”

  Intrigued Taneshewa turned to Sur Sceaf and posited, “Which type is Paloma?”

  “A laying hen, but it’s only because her responsibilities to the whole community sap her strength from setting.”

  “That surprises me. And what is Lana?”

  “A setting hen.”

  She frowned, “Am I to be a laying hen or a setting hen?”

  Surrey smiled big, looked into her eyes, “I am sure, my dear, you will be a dual-purpose hen.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Cupbearers and milkmaids passed out fresh horns of mead and refilled those that were empty. Pyrsyrus walked up and held out his horn for a refill. “They sure don’t chose brides like we used to, Surrey, do they? I found it was usually wiser to find them one at a time.”

  “Time has sped up, I suppose. I think this generation senses we are near the beginning of times, the
dawning of the gods.”

  “We should know in less than twenty years.”

  “It is as it must be,” Arundel said. “I feel in order to keep the peace, I will have to find a wise woman to be the faery-mother of my clan. Anyone of those four I choose would offend the others and my young tribe would disintegrate into chaos or conflict. You see, I realized I shall have to find someone whom none can find fault with to be the faery-queen and then take the others to be her bride-sisters should she find them companionable.”

  The cupbearers threw a large fatwood log into the fireplace sending a flurry of sparks up the chimney. Ladies backed away from it so as to keep sparks off their dresses. It was drawing nigh unto midnight and those people who had early morning chores began to file off for their homes while others began assembling in the park outside the home. Ahy could feel her energies waning, but made a valiant attempt to remain engaged in the conversation.

  Pyrsyrus finally said, “Taneshewa, my ladies and I are returning to the inn. They have requested having breakfast with you in the inn on the morning of the second day. I will be meeting with Sur Sceaf at the Ram’s Den, but shall join you afterwards.”

  Taneshewa said, “I’d very much enjoy that.”

  “Then it’s an appointment we shall not miss. Until then, farewell, my lady.”

  Pyrsyrus and his band walked out and Sur Sceaf and Taneshewa followed them out the door. In front of them groups of Herewardi took off for their homes. Some lit their lamps and sang, ‘Happy Wanderer’ as they moved on down the road.

  On the porch Sur Sceaf and Ahy encountered Milkchild sitting together with Hartmut and Mendaho.

  Milkchild looked up at Sur Sceaf and smiled. “My lord, I was just meeting with Taneshewa’s friend, Meny, and discovered she has a lot in common with me. I’ve invited her to assist me in sorting through the old records the fyrd recently brought back from the Arid Zone. Ones the Half-King and Wilona thought we could make use of.”

  “Well, I’ve known Mendaho since before I married Shining Moon. She was ever hungry for knowledge. She has a sharp mind. You can expect no less from the keeper of the Mountain Scrolls. I’m sure she can be of great assistance to you.”

  In the back ground the revelers were singing, “Vallerie, Vallera, Vallera-ha-ha-ha-ha. Beneath god’s clear blue sky.”

  Hartmut jumped up and said, “Well, Meny, are you ready to go?”

  “Yes, I am, but when can I meet with you, Milkchild?”

  “Come around noon on Leof-Day.”

  Sur Sceaf turned to see Taneshewa yawning. “We better get you to your room in the inn before you go to sleep on us.” He took her arm and tucked it under his.

  “I’m sorry for the yawn. It has been a lovely evening and I want to meet with you and your company.”

  The musicians trailed out of the house still playing merry tunes as they made their journey down the road to Hrusburg. After saying a final goodnight to his parents, Surrey led Ahy out of the house in company with the Quailor guests, Margot, Rip, and his friends Onamingo, and Mendaka. Together they traveled as a troupe to the ale house with Ilkchild and his friends leading the way.

  “My goodness,” Taneshewa said, “Ilkchild is, once again, the center of attention here, too.”

  “He is always the center of all the Herewardi braid-heads.” Surrey told her. “They give him no peace. He’s much like his father, Ilker, was. The cock of the rock.”

  Ethelflaeda shewed the other girls away and introduced her friend, Godgifu, as a prospective bride for Ilkchild’s consideration.

  “Taneshewa,” Sur Sceaf continued, “Did I not tell you at the party, Ilkchild is like an intoxicating unity of manly parts, with a keen fiery spirituality, and the profound gentleness of an Elven prince?

  Sur Sceaf turned his attention to the youth. “You kids all need to be turning in. Ahy and I will see you on the morrow.”

  They waved good bye and parted ways.

  In the dark, a bull wisent bellowed and snorted in the wooded background as they came upon the inn.

  Sur Sceaf looked into Taneshewa’s face and said, “When I am gone to the coast, I will think on you always till we meet again.”

  He hugged her and smelled her perfumed hair against the warmth of her cheek. Then kissed her good night slowly, reluctantly releasing her hand as she looked back with her enticing smile and stepped seductively into her room at the inn.

  Chapter 7 : Oracular Divinations

  Long Swan’s Log: The year is 583 H.S.O. It is the Half-Moonth of Jara in the Dark Moonth, the second day of the Quailor and Sharaka sojourn here in Witan Jewell. At the break of dawn, I rode through the Quailor camp and noticed one of the first things they had done was to erect a prayer tent. They were gathered for early morning services wherein they gave thanks for the lord Sur Sceaf and their deliverance. Sur Spear placed their camp near ample pasture land with ready wagon roads to and from the livestock enclosures. The Quailor arrange their camp in squares of twelve tents, three facing each of the four directions so that they are a series of blocks right down the line, and patterned after the arrangement of their homes in Salem. Neighbors there are neighbors here so as to minimize transplant shock. I observe a most efficient system worthy of emulation.

  I then rode into the Sharaka camp and found that they had easily erected their tipis into clusters of circles. One of the first things they did was establish their lacrosse field for their little wars as they call them. Sur Spear placed the Sharaka along the Umpqua River where there is an abundance of wild game in the riparian woodlands, and nearby fields. There is also ample fishing, particularly during the salmon and steelhead runs.

  The Hickoryans, the Presters, and those of the Rogue Nations are placed eight miles to the north at the confluence of the Calapooya and Umpqua rivers by reason of all their cattle. So far there are no problems. The Hickoryan leader, Margot Green seems quite capable of keeping things running smoothly. Margot and Shug have struck up a friendship. I suspect because they share the same sense of humor and daring.

  This morning I am to attend a special meeting with the lord Sur Sceaf at the Ram’s Den in the Shepherd Hall. I am presuming it is in regards to the threat of the plotted assassination of the lord Prince Sur Sceaf by the Pitters, but he indicates there is more news of importance not yet made known to me.

  As I was returning to Witan Jewell I met representatives of the Snake, Ochoco, and White Knives Clans arriving to meet with Sur Sceaf. I also saw merchants, seamen, and smugglers arriving in large groups from Charly’s Harbor, presumably to be somehow stitched into our alliance of tribes. I also encountered members of the Sire Sheaf, namely Hussa, Hwita, and Hunna, along with their wives Lilla,Ymma, and Holla, all who have come from the Eastern Lands beyond the Middle Sea. They report it has now become a great river leaving behind the many fertile marsh lands that only need to be drained to be available for settlement now.

  Hussa, Hwita, and Hunna agreed to meet in confidence later in the day with the lords and the Elder Moot. They will provide valuable information on the Pitter Empire’s progress and true intentions towards us here in the far west.

  This morning I shared breakfast with Surrey’s brides. All the talk centered on Taneshewa. Most bride-sisters found her congenial and personable. Paloma maintained that the questions she asked showed a lively intelligence and an ability to adapt well to Herewardi ways. My personal observation is that this woman is a perfect fit for Surrey. The gods have provided her at this time. I foresee she shall support him in the coming battles in a manner none of his other wives possess. She sits a horse like a warrior, her bow shot is deadly, and she wields a knife as well as any Apache warrior.

  Surrey has told me she instantly understands battle strategy like a commander. He has found his match in this valuable woman. But I must add this warning and caveat, that she must be accepted into the covey of bride-sisters in order to end all speculation and the conversation this morning favored that arrangement. There was one voice that was conspicuously s
ilent. We can only hope this voice does not swing the vote of the other bride-sisters.

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf was awakened by the crowing of a bantam rooster outside Faechild’s bedroom window. She stirred, but did not awaken. He smoothed her copious blond hair and kissed her forehead before leaving her bed, just as he had done to Milkchild and Shining Moon in the wee hours of the night. Not much sleep, but plenty of good loving kept him going.

  He dressed quickly in his teal suit. Grabbed a chunk of bread from the kitchen, put the cats out, and left the house quietly. He had instructed the stable master to have his horse Rekindler, pretty much still a colt, put to pasture, and White Fire ready for him by dawn. Mounting White Fire, he rode out of the stables into the fog that softly blanketed the meadow lands. Along the lane that led from his estate to his father’s, the clover laden pastures were filled with White Fire’s colts from the previous year, feeding together, having just been broken by Aelfheah. He passed milkmen heading to the market in Hrusburg with their fresh milk, kefir, and cheese covered with a canvas tarp. Cows lowed in the mead and sheep munched the dewy grasses as a cunning red fox jaunted down the lane sending a covey of mountain quail into flight.

  Dawn was just breaking when he arrived at the door steps of the Shepherd Hall where grooms were waiting. A groom took his stallion’s reins. He dismounted and walked up the steps, his boots pounding out a rapid rhythm. He hoped he wasn’t too late. The chief steward opened the door to him. “Good morning, my lord! Everyone is awaiting your arrival in the Ram’s Den.”

  He was not late, but apparently they had all previously arrived early. The Rams Den was located upstairs on the north end of Shepherd Hall.

  It was a well-built room with polished walnut paneling and an entire wall filled with scrolls, books, and maps. Many of which he and Long Swan had painstakingly poured over together, adding thousands of glosses, and comments in the gutters. A large glass window looked out over the park land where the wisents were busy grazing. In the center of the walnut paneled room stood a large, laurel-wood oval table with claw feet and hawthorn leaf motif along its edge. Around it sat numerous comfortable, upholstered, ox blood leather chairs his father and older brothers had crafted. The Den was both comfortable and informal. As he entered he saw Long Swan sitting alone at the scribes table his log open in front of him. He put down his quill beside his log, sat back, and smiled. Sur Sceaf took the empty chair between Paloma and Mahallah. Across from them sat Sur Spear, Pyrsyrus, Paloma, and Redith.