The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  As he passed into the great hall, the steward admitted him into the king’s chamber, he found Sur Sceaf standing at a table reviewing the maps Flammalf made of the isle. Two of the famed Beauceron pups sat at either side of him as silent sentinels. Sur Sceaf greeted him heartily in the traditional Herewardi manner before waving him to a chair across the table. The lord settled into a chair opposite and offered up a questioning look.

  “My lord, let me tell you what business brings me here. I am come to petition to become a member of the white horse order. Having met several prominent men of the order, I have come to recognize the order as the glue of society. I have learned that it is more important to listen to what is being said than to who is saying it. When I dwelt among the Presters, I never met a god that I liked. They all seemed so petty, cruel, intrusive, and demanding and yet I rose to the top ranks of my faith. Only to find that rankism does not support the tenets of my inner self. I knew no true god would treat his people that way. Only in the Elder Faith have I found a god of love, understanding, and inspiration. Only amongst the Herewardi have I found gods that could withstand and even welcome all scrutiny, and, who do not require blind obedience or mindless service without questioning nor demand I give up the better parts of my true nature. I was a fool to believe the first law of heaven was obedience. For, if you ask me, unthinking obedience is nothing more than the doorway to spiritual slavery. After a long study during my sojourn on the isle, I feel now that I am Herewardi in my heart and wish to be a member of the white horse order of your people. I have the Rabbi to thank for that. Rabbi Amschel enlightened me on so much. I am told that one must ask to become such, for you do no proselyting. Nor do you recruit in that order. According to the Rabbi, the order permits all good men to know of all the hidden wisdom whereby one may live as the Herewardi do without being of Herewardi blood themselves, thereby effectually granting us the right to be of whatever persuasion we already are. Will you receive my petition?”

  “You know you may belong to the order without surrendering your inherent faith, Rip. Our order is a handmaid to all of our religions. It need not supplant it nor was it intended to.”

  “Why would I want to continue in the path of error?”

  “Because we have connections in those paths and if one pulls up roots too fast you may damage the roots of other seedlings surrounding you in the process.”

  “I pulled my roots up a long time ago, Lord Sur Sceaf. The damage that I did was done long ago. If I have to pretend to believe their dogma any longer I fear it should rob me of my integrity.”

  Sur Sceaf appeared pleased and did not hesitate in his answer. “Before I receive you, Rip, permit me to explain a few things concerning the order. First there is what we call ‘every man’s right’ or ‘folk right’ whereby every member has the right to pursue his or her own interest whether in government or in religion and that no authority in heaven or in the world exceeds the authority of the heart or spirit of a person. There is only one authority within inner space and that is the authority of the self. ‘Greater is he who is within us than those who are without us.’ Those of the white horse order are all men of faith, but within the order none of us advocate any one particular religion above another. Members must follow the ur fyr, the light within, which may mean different things to different faiths. We have so designed the order so that all men may agree upon its philosophy and have common ground upon which to join.”

  Rip took a moment to reflect on what the lord had explained, and nodded. “I can embrace that philosophy with all my heart, having never been granted such liberty in my former religion which had come to intrude so much on my interior space that I often felt caged and bound by its dogmas. The truth be said, I feel like those who were charged as keepers of the flame, so jealously and zealously guarded it that it smothered the spirit of life within.”

  Sur Sceaf smiled at him. “You are a seeker of truth, Rip, as are all members of the white horse order. I have found that truth is a perpetual march wherein your experiences move you to a greater truth until you eventually outgrow the old truths. Surely the greatest holy book has not yet been written. It is as yet unwritten and remains to be discovered by true seekers. Elsewise we would all be sedated with the boredom of priests and their petty priesthoods and heresies against the human spirit.”

  “I have found it to be so,” Rip admitted. “Men who call themselves elders, but have no knowledge of the holy writings, nor any soul experience of their own, whatsoever, and yet continue to parade as authorities while wallowing in absolute ignorance and self-righteousness.”

  “You must live your own reality, Rip, and not someone else’s.”

  “Well,” Rip said, “I can tell you, deep soul-searching, prolonged agonizing prayer, and thinking, has brought me to submit my petition to belong to the Order of the White Horse.”

  “I can tell that it has,” Sur Sceaf said. “The ur fyr burns brilliantly in you and I shall tell you I’m happy to receive your petition.”

  * * *

  On the night of the new moon, Rip was presented as an initiate during an occasional moot among a grove of towering agathis trees. Blindfolded and stripped of all clothing save his loin cloth, he was conducted by Rabbi Amschel and attended by Redith into the darkness of the deep wood. Rabbi Amschel carried an amadou ember in a crucible from a council fire. Slowly, bye and bye, the ember faded till the three of them found themselves in an impassable darkness.

  Slowly and distinctly Amschel intoned, “Here you stand in the darkness of this world, subject to the forces of black chance, and the murky wood. The ember of truth you carried with you has given all it possessed.”

  Redith took his right hand. “Here I have found an honest seeker of light in the dark wood. Let us use our light to show his feet the way to a moot of light. Should you ever find yourself in the dark with no visible god, then there is a light within you.” She placed a flaxen rope around his bosom. “Let that light come from within you, bright enough to light the dark outer world, for to seek that light is to find it.”

  The Rabbi took Rip’s other hand and placed it on the rope that led to the moot tent. “Rip, since you are uninformed of the forest ritual, I shall do the speaking for you.”

  As they approached the tent door of the occasional moot, the voice of Onamingo rang out. “Halt Traveler! Where do you come from?”

  Amschel spoke for Rip, “From the deep wood.”

  Onamingo quizzed him again: “Why are you neither naked nor fully clad?”

  Amschel responded, “Because I am a poor wayfaring man, who seeks further light and knowledge and fellowship with likeminded men and women, to have the veil of darkness lifted from my mind’s eye, and to pass over and through the abyss of ignorance into the land of light, knowledge, truth, and intelligence as a core of elite men have done before me.”

  “That which you seek, when revealed to you, must never be shown to anyone else in the world except those who are duly and truly initiated as you were. Do you agree to this?”

  Prodded by Amschel, Rip responded, “I do.”

  The rope was removed from around his chest and then he was blindfolded. He felt some anxiety, but knew this was the time to drink knowledge and absorb light, and that it must be a time to trust and learn, so he yielded his will.

  He, as the candidate, was then led out of the tent. The intense heat of a bonfire licked at his skin. He was spun around until he was totally disoriented, then a coarse rope tightened around his ankle. His friends supported his and laid him back. The rope tugged his foot upward, suspending him upside down over the bonfire. The sounds of a running stream trickled near the blazing fire.

  “Are you willing to plunge through flames, into the abyss, the depths of rebirth, and then find your way back out to the shores of truth?”

  “I am,” he said, trusting that every member had passed safely this way before.

  In a heartbeat, the rope from which he dangled over the bonfire released and he swallowed his heart in fe
ar of being consumed by the flames below. But instead of flames he was engulfed in the depths of a refreshing pool of water.

  Rising out of the water, he heard Onamingo say, “Divest yourself of your last garment and blindfold before you step ashore. Your conductor will release you from your bonds and clothe you in a new garment. Another will then give you the items you will require for the completion of your sacred journey. Now come forth anew!”

  As soon as he removed the blindfold, he saw not a bonfire as expected but a sheet of flame moving on the surface of the water down stream. Muryh removed the rope from his leg before handing him a white robe. Then Redith handed him a hefty sheepskin bag.

  After he had been thus prepared, Onamingo said, “The unwashed has now been made clean and is prepared to make the next step. Where will you go now, my good man?”

  Once again, Amschel answered for him. “I am seeking a moot that abolishes all rank, race, sex, and privilege and treats all by the same law. I am joined to my race by my blood, but I seek to be joined to other peoples and other tribes by my spirit.”

  “Why to a moot that abolishes rank, race, sex, and privilege?”

  “That I may meet with equals in a meeting of the minds and hearts so that worldly barriers do not affect my spiritual union with like spirits.”

  “What have you brought to this moot?”

  Amschel took the sheepskin bag and presented it to Onamingo, before declaring. “Some seed, some wool, some honey, and some scions to beautify ea-urth and make it fruitful.” He handed the bag to Onamingo.

  “Have you brought nothing else?”

  The Rabbi responded for Rip. “I bring my own writings and my own visions. I have also brought faith, hope, and true love.”

  Onamingo then turned to Redith and addressed her directly. “Who is that person that you lead to this moot?”

  “He is a child I found wandering, neither naked nor clothed, and lost in the wilderness of this world.”

  “What does he seek?”

  “He seeks fairness, evenhandedness, enlightenment, companionship, and freedom that he may see as a seer the past, the present, the future, and to properly discern the hearts of men.”

  “Let him enter through the omicron of the tent door on the first step as a free man. Instruct and remind him that he must never reveal the sacred secrets of the White Horse Order to the vulgar, unwashed, or profane of mankind without facing the incrimination of this order. The penalty of which is to be trampled under the steel hooves of a white horse.”

  There was a pause as he passed through the omicron.

  Onamingo cleared his throat. “For the Seed of the Woman is our greatest secret. It is this: Womankind is the most powerful force in the world, but neither above nor below man. It is to our advantage that many who wish us ill believe that womankind is insignificant and no danger, all the better to keep the enemy ignorant of her true power. Any man that has the ability to humble himself enough to understand and embrace this unique balance will be worthy of exaltation and ride upon the back of the white horse. Those that do not will pass through our lodge as ignorant and profane as they entered and are members of our order in name only. Those who do not make straight the way of the Seed of Woman shall find themselves standing in outer darkness and shunned by this order.” Onamingo paused to let that charge sink in then he turneded to Redith. “Now, invest him with the peep stone and the working tool of a seer. Anoint his head, his eyes, his arms, his feet, and his loins. Henceforth, you shall need no leaders, for you shall be even handed with all men, have your own religious experience, your own revelations, and the companionship of true friends in an atmosphere where promise and danger freely cohabit. No man may ever lead your heart again, for it must be led only by the pure spirit of the ur fyr, which the almighty of the almightinesses has sent down to us. Wherefore, you have no need to be taught by any man. The Elder Moot shall now be your home among friends. For this place is a union of diversity where the whole represents far more than the sum of the parts.”

  A torch was lit, allowing Rip to see Sur Sceaf, Elijah, and Khem sitting on three chairs before him.

  Sur Sceaf declared, “Reveal to our initiate the lost word or Seed of the Woman, give him the royal embrace with all its signs, counter signs, and tokens, and invest him with the holy anointing of yew oil.”

  At the conclusion of the moot ceremonies, all assembled sang a hymn led by Jon Dee Lee which ran, “If we fail, we fail together, but if we succeed, we succeed forever. Freya spin the right. Freya spin the right.”

  As the hymn died away, Sur Sceaf rose to declare, “May the gods of the heavens and ea-urth grant you your every righteous desire. May they break the teeth of your enemies before you and may they grant you joy and rejoicing in an endless posterity. So mote it be.”

  * * *

  Long Swan’s Log: The thirty-first day of Winterfelleth, the Hunter’s Moonth, or Halloween 585 HSO. One of the High Holy Days of the Elven Fair when Robin Goodfellow sprightly runs through the wildwood and frolics on the dolmens and the mounds of those of king’s blood. A time of pageantry when the Herewardi, like the trees, put on their colorful attire and imitate the Elven-Folk, from whom we declare our holy descent.

  Food for the feast is being gathered and prepared by cooks and their helpers. Yeomen have harvested their crops and dunged the fields. The harvest has been put in, honey collected, and the excess animals are being fattened for slaughter. The men of the mark are gathering madrone and fatwood for the bonfires. Bee keepers have provided the purest of wax for the golden-yellow ceremonial candles. For the last moonth the musicians, choreographers, and players have been rehearsing for the pageant. Pumpkin, barley cakes, and corn bread odors fill the crisp autumnal air. Honey mead, ale, bee-ur, hot cider, and spiced drinks are ready to fill the mugs and horns to overflowing.

  This week preceding the fair, family groups from the outlying areas have been streaming into the park, setting up camps. The air is festive, as the smell of burning cedar snakes through the camps, children play games and the adults gather to gossip and share tales. Merchants from the far settlements have come to ply their wares, while bards practice their verbal magic in song and in poetry amidst the moss draped oaks of Godeselle. It is a time of feasting, merrymaking, and story telling in the fumes of burning oak leaves and copal incense, for the Herewardi are the most festive of folk.

  I am to be married in the Rite of the Veil in the Secret Place, during this Elven Fair. Elven Fairs are held on every holiday and most Herewardi choose these times to marry under the belief that the air is filled with magical woodland and water spirits whose attendace is thought to infuse the honeymoon with dynamic powers.

  After our honeymoon, Ysys and I shall both be needed in the Suff Lands as ambassadors of goodwill. The Lord Arundel has been designated as the special emissary to the Queen of Ele-Anor-Ness.

  Chapter 23 : The Internal Workings of the Kingdom

  Xelph’s Log: The year is 585 HSO. It is the fifth day of the Blood Moonth, and the last day of this Elven Fair when all of Herewardom hangs effigies of Hryre Seath and lets the children stab at them with their spears, and set torches to them. All through the woods and park lands the fires of the burning effigies appear like a host of glow worms.

  Tomorrow, Lord Long Swan and lady Ysys will enter the Daleth Tent for the Rite of the Veil in the Secret Place. I have been commissioned to take over the journals in Long Swan’s absence. After his wedding, Long Swan is to honeymoon with Ysys on Lake Redith and then at Hallerton.

  Of most significance at this time, is that Chief Pita Blufre has granted permission for the Syr Folk to settle Cerulea with planters and to build forts. I am sure, most of our energies will be used in building up Fort Veil on the Isle of Isles, and we discussed how Pita would come to study the construction of the fort under Mendaka’s tutelage, in hopes he will start constructing them himself.

  Sur Sceaf could not obtain permission from Chief Eyf to build forts in Chartreusea, but he would allow f
or planters to settle. He agreed that if we could get Queen Zschamillah’s permission to build forts, then he would allow for it as well. He believed that building the forts would only serve to provoke the Pitters. It was, therefore, determined that the Lord Prince Arundel would act as a special emissary to the Suff Lands and will personally petition the queen for an audience in order to convince her of the dangerousness of the Pitter invasion.

  Lord Prince Arundel will embark as soon as Long Swan and Ysys have completed their nuptial flight. They shall accompany the prince by reason of the suggestion of Mack-Ka, who believes Ysys yields the most influence with the Queen Zschamillah.

  Sur Sceaf has enlisted settlers from the three tribes and the Hickoryans to settle in the sun door and will begin transport to Fort Veil, whereby, Mendaka will be in charge of setting up a system of plantation allotments.

  Sur Sceaf commissioned road crews to build roads between the settlements, so as to eventually connect the entire kingdom from north to south and from east to west with what Jon Dee Lee calls a medicine wheel highway, shaped like the Rabbi’s mazzaroth or what the Herewardi call Freya’s Distaff. One swirl of the solar cross will come out of Godeselle, while the second will come out of Apalala. The third highway will come out of Arym Gael, and the last and fourth swirl will come out of Moon Door. This will be done so that Sur Sceaf might be as Muryh named him, ‘Lord of the Four Quarters’. The four swirls will conjoin at the center of the land at Great Falls where Jon Dee Lee governs his Hickoryeans from Hockney-in-the-Hole.

  Jon Dee Lee, the Hickoryan builder, painstakingly enlisted all available excess labor to build these roads. Wherein, he has enlisted the teenaged boys unto this end. For laborers are few due to the extensive building projects going on in Godeselle, and the many capital projects Muryh is engaged in. Because Jon Dee Lee has raised such a mighty workforce from the youth, Muryh petitioned Sur Sceaf for permission to do likewise so that his works too, might be accelerated.