The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  A conflict arose when Jon Dee Lee paid his workers different wages than is customary among the Herewardi. The matter had to be settled by the Righter, Chief Onamingo, who ruled in favor of equal pay for all workers. Finally, it happened that Sur Spear wrote that he was sending treble the above workforce and decreed that there should be four shifts working around the water clock, day and night, to speed up the building of roads, enclosures, and fortifications over all the settled portions of the isle.

  * * *

  The Daleth Tent had been erected in a sacred oak grove, its trees laden with misteltwig. It stood on a designated hillock just outside the walls of Godeselle. For the past week Ysys had received instructions from the lady Paloma and Taneshewa on the rites within the tent. It was much the same as the instruction of the sages and the sisters.

  Ysys’ fear that she would be treated like an outlander had disappeared within two days after her arrival, and now she felt perfectly comfortable in Herewardi society. Becoming accustomed to living in the grand palace of the king had taken a bit longer. The lavish furnishings in her chamber both delighted her eye and pampered her body. The bed was especially pleasing, with its pallet of goose down and its intricately carved headboard featuring two winged swans sailing together. One of the delights of her sojourn there was when Long Swan conducted her to the deep blue Lake Redith, where she got her first glimpse of the beautiful bird from which her husband’s name was derived.

  Finally the day of her Herewardi wedding came. Seated in front of a mirror framed in gold, she combed her hair before drinking her daily measure of ka. She had been in Godeselle long enough that the staring had ceased. No one thought her green skin a particular novelty anymore unless they were newly arrived settlers. She was grateful for Sur Sceaf’s wives, who coddled her like a sister and gave her of their rich wardrobes, dresses of the finest silk and warm woolens for the chill evenings. She had also gotten used to the large stone buildings and towering stone walls which came to feel like strong arms holding back some unknown, but looming, danger which she sensed, but still could not grasp.

  Her observations of the wives who called themselves sisters was so different than the relationships between women she was accustomed to. Of the wives, Paloma and Faechild were the most similar to her, with their lovely blond hair. As she studied her own features she imagined her hair and skin color would probably be similar to theirs if she continued the practice of ingesting the ka. It tempted her to refrain from ingesting the greening substance, but somehow she felt she could not give up the use of the Ka. It was like a vine that ran from her forefathers and mothers through her, and bound them in a continuously living plant that blossomed and fruited all through the generations.

  Now, according to her instruction she was to be made Herewardi, to become royal seed and grafted into the Herewardi tree. Oh, yes, it is indeed a beautiful tree with great leaf and fruit, but oh how many thorns it has. She had watched the young men in mock battles, and tournaments. These were intensely frightening. The flashing blades and bloodied bodies of the young men brought back vivid images of her ex-lover’s throat slit and his gasping for air through the blood of his cut throat. Her father was correct when he said, the Herewardi, and by extension, the Syr Folk, were a people of blood. Taneshewa had read to her of their blood drenched history, how they had been rooted out of every place they ever lived, but never without a fight. How is it, she thought, I am come to marry a predator? Despite their high culture, in some ways they resemble the dangerous beasts of the forest. Like the teeth of the tiger feared by all Chartreuseans, their knives are killing sharp, and like the tiger’s claws, their spears are long and deadly. And the red coats, who Long Swan calls their warriors are the most intimidating of all. Although I must admit, they are pleasing to look upon, like the tiger with its beauty and strength.

  Yet when she thought of her love to Long Swan, all her fears faded, and she remembered his kind tenderness towards her, his powerful intellect teaching her things as great as those she’d learned from Zschamillah. She found many of the same attributes of Zschamillah in Paloma; the kindness, the intelligence, and willingness to be helpful. Early that morning the charming young redhead that looked alarmingly like Zschamillah had stopped by and gifted her an ornate sharp knife. She offered to teach her how to use it, not for eating, but for self-defense. She said every Herewardi woman should know how to defend herself. At first Ysys was appalled at the maiden’s suggestion, but then she thought, maybe if I had had this knife with me, Ashim would not have been able to put me through the hell of the marshes. Then she considered the extreme kindness of Sur Sceaf’s wives and the wonderful fabrics and beautiful clothing they had.

  Lana and Taneshewa had described what their transitions to becoming Herewardi were like. Each of us has our battles to fight. What was it Taneshewa said? That it was all worth it. I am ready. I will be Herewardi.

  That night she would enter the Tent of Darkness, and though she had been instructed in what to expect, she was nervous. She yearned to be made one with the one man her heart belonged to in every way. She was sure that after she passed through this rite that happiness would weave through the path of her life.

  Putting down her mirror she walked over to the robe she had fashioned for Long Swan with Taneshewa’s and Faechild’s help. It was of white silk and they had emblazoned on the back a golden long swan, a staff with two entwined serpents, one going up, the other going down, and swan wings erupting from the top with a round spherical shem crowning it. She ran her hands over the silken fabric and felt the warm vibrations the silk emitted. Though she had never seen a garment so refined, she was very proud of her workmanship. She returned it carefully to the trestle table and then held her Saxon-green wedding dress up to her bosom and walked to the mirror. She was anxious to wear it during the bridal procession that would follow the rite.

  * * *

  Long Swan sat at the rudder of the swan bark. The white ship head plowed through the silvery moonlit waters of Lake Redith, its sail catching in the gentle breeze as it skimmed across the surface of the star studded lake. At the prow, Ysys stood like a goddess in her beautiful green dress, which now shone silver in the moonlight. After they had passed beyond the sight of all the wedding party, Long Swan let the bark coast, stood up, and hugged Ysys. Occasionaly a fish splashed out of the water to catch a damsel fly. Loons sang around the banks of the lake, and a chorus of frogs reverberated from the shores.

  He smiled. “Oh happy day! I did not ever think to wear the wedding robe of a groom, nor did I ever think to be so moved in my heart and soul as I am with you, my beloved Ysys.”

  Ysys looked up into his eyes in the moonlight. “Nor did I ever think to be so at home and comforted in the arms of a man as I feel with you.”

  As a flock of waterfowl hit the air, they kissed. Long Swan laid upon the soft furs of the bed Sur Sceaf’s wives had made for the bark and gently pulled Ysys on top of himself.

  * * *

  Long Swan’s Log: Ydalir Day, the twenty second day of the Blood Moonth, HSO 585, in which the yew is venerated. Banishment for a year and a day is enforced on anyone who cuts down this tree, oldest of woods, during this moonth.

  My marriage to Ysys is the high mark of my life. Most of my family was there. Sur Sceaf gifted me with a manor next to his, built according to the plans I had discussed with Jon Dee Lee. Today, Ydalir’s Day was the first day we emerged back into society. It was especially gratifying when Chief Eyf declared, he was happy to call me his son.

  At our wedding, the scop sang out in the ancient tongue, “Os gesette sigehrethig sunon ond monon.” “God set up in triumph the sun and the moon.

  I wore antlers which Sur Sceaf replaced with his crown upon my head. And he clothed me with a lord’s robe of otter, edged in rich ermine, and embraced me. Paloma placed a queen’s crown on Ysys, and a rabbit skin robe over her shoulders. Then she placed kat skin gloves upon her hands. While twelve white clad virgins unveiled an obelisk and labyrus before them
.

  The High Lord Sur Sceaf proclaimed, “There is no higher honor in Herewardi society than marriage, for it is the foundation of the heavenly galaxies. You may go with the blessings of all your ancestors, who are here gathered on this sacred mound this day. Let Robin Goodfellow lead you to the fruits of your honeymoon. Be fruitful, prosper, and multiply, for those who pass through the omicron are holy. They are no longer who they were, but now who they are. Haem! Shape it so.”

  * * *

  Inside the mason’s tent Muryh, Jon Dee Lee, and Sur Sceaf went over their plans for expansion and the many capital projects awaiting construction. Outside the temple in the morning light, laborers were busy shaping and hauling marble stones for the extensive courtyards. The steady chink of hammers echoed through the alleys and chambers of Godeselle, giving an air of music to the atmosphere that relented neither day nor night, like the musical hammers of the dwarven race hidden deep in the Ea-Urth.

  Sur Sceaf explained to Muryh, “These roads are being built to be the mirror image of the big dipper in its four seasons which are, in a true sense, a reflection of the ur fyr. As you see on Jon Lee’s blueprints, they will all converge at the Great Falls of the dragon’s back where the mighty stone bridge is currently under construction and where I intend for a large stone omphalos to mark the assigned geographical center of this isle. The stone quarries are at capacity and I have started more quarries towards the south lands. Also kilns for brick making are being set up throughout the settlements. The freed slaves of the Pitters, the youth crews, and the Hickoryans are performing much of the road work.”

  Jon Dee Lee began. “We are operating the road construction from the village by the Great Falls which we have named Hockney-in-the-Hole and have named the surrounding valley Shenandoah after our homeland. Our people are slowly learning what it is like to live in a truly free culture. Some of us embrace it well but unfortunately there are others who could not give up their old ways and cannot accept Onamingo’s decision for equal pay. With Habraham’s permission I have sent them back to the main land to assimilate with the other tribes of Panygyrus.”

  Muryh stated frankly, “No offense, Jon Lee, but Sur Sceaf, I fear we are placing an awful lot of trust in these slaves and other refugees that have not been fully vetted. And to place them in the crossroads of the land seems like an insane risk. Habraham should have consulted with us more on such an important matter.”

  “He consulted with me. At the time you were too busy with the temple. So I had him discuss the matter with Jon Dee.”

  The Hickoryean laird said, “After my discussion with Habraham, I personally vetted each one of the slaves and the young refugees, many of whom are Hickoryan. I assure you Muryh, my concern for the safety of the Syr Folk is as great as yours. To that end, I have tasked my foremen to look for signs of disloyalty or criminality. On the recommendation of one of the foremen, I excluded two of the refugees who were asking suspicious questions.”

  “I can confirm that. They were placed on Turtle Duck’s crew where they can be kept under close surveillance and do no damage.”

  “What about the rumor that I heard about a Hickoyan man who raped one of our maidens and was allowed to live? Is the rumor true? Because, if it is that only strengthens my concerns that such blatant culture differences will lead to friction in a place we cannot afford to have friction.”

  Sur Sceaf cleared his throat. “It is true that the son of a high ranking Hickoryan man, Lester Lambert Jr. raped a Herewardi girl of a mere fifteen winters named Leda. Two Sharaka braves, White Hawk and Snorting Bull, heard her screams and captured her offender in the very act. Had they been Herewardi they would have put him to death on the spot, but because they were Sharaka, they took him as a prisoner back to Hockney-in-the-Hole. Jon had him held in irons for trial. However, when the Herewardi elders arrived from Wool Folk prepared to slit his throat, then and there, Jon forbade them.”

  Muryh immediately challenged Jon. “And what pray Gods, was your reasoning?”

  Jon sighed. “I admit that the boy’s father is a friend of mine and a good man, but even if he was not, I would still make the same decision and here is why. In our culture, if a man have an only child it forces the judge to show greater lienency in rendering a judgment, that the man not be left childless and his line die out. It is not that we shall not punish him, but that he shall not be put to death. I did my best to explain this to the Herewardi Elders, but to no avail.”

  “So, the rumor is false? The elders put him to death, right?”

  “No my friend, we are no longer governed solely by Herewardi Law. We have some bending to do. The matter could not be worked out between the Herewardi offended parties and the Hickoryan’s who hold the perpetrator and therefore it has been sent to the Righter Onamingo. In fact the hearing is set for next week.”

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf sat upon his seat of honor overseeing the hearing of the conflict between the elders of Wool Folk and the Hickoryans of Hockney-in-the-Hole. At the ninth point of the medicine wheel the door to the judicial chamber in the stone hall opened, and the powerful spirit chief, Onamingo, took up his seat behind the bar. To his left sat the offender, Lester Lewis Lambert the Lesser, with his family. Behind him on the benches were dozens of Hickoryans. On the chief’s right sat Leda with her parents and the two Sharaka witnesses along with the elders and heorls of Wool Folk. Other supporters crowded on the benches. The jury consisted of three Hickoryans, three Sharaka, three Quailors, and three Herewardi who sat in an elevated jury box against the wall opposite the door.

  “O ye! O ye! O ye!” The Court Bailiff intoned in his rich baritone voice. “The most honorable righter and chief judge of the land is now presiding in court. All rise for Onamingo.”

  Onamingo rose up resplendent in his white buckskins and eagle feathers hanging from his braids, he opened the proceedings by declaring. “I ask all present to raise your right hand to the square and swear that you will tell the whole truth when questioned in this court of law and not willfully deceive in any manner under penalty of perjury. If you do so agree, all bow your heads and say, ‘I do.’”

  All said, “I do.”

  “Please be seated.”

  Just as the gavel was struck to be seated, Muryh walked in and joined Sur Sceaf.

  As he took his seat, he leaned over and whispered, “This case will determine whether we can live with the Hickoryans or not.”

  “We shall see,” Sur Sceaf whispered back before holding his finger to his lips for quiet.

  Onamingo looked directly at the offender. “Lester Lambert the Lesser, please rise.”

  The offender was a man of around twenty-two winters, sallow of complexion, face heavily pocked, with thinning, dingy yellow kinky hair. Sur Sceaf had noticed that since he had come into the room he had refrained from making eye contact with anyone. “Do you accept the charge that you did consciously and willfully plot to rape and then did so rape the young Herewardi maiden, Leda, so as to rob her of her virginity and dignity.”

  Lester looked sheepish, hemmed and hawed then said, “I, I, I guess, I do.”

  “Please be seated.” Onamingo waited til the Offender had taken his seat. Then turned to the injured party, “Leda, daughter of Eurobones, would you please stand?”

  The girl stood up with her mother holding her hand. She was a buxom young lady who looked older than her years of fourteen or fifteen winters she was a pretty young lady. Her body language reflected fear and anxiety. Her eyes shot back and forth between the judge and the offender. Sur Sceaf found it abhorrent that the poor girl had to endure these proceedings and was sorely tempted to pull his scramasax and slit Lester’s throat right there on the spot. Thinking on his own daughters, he hated that Leda had to accept the further indignity of this public court, but the proponents of the rule of law said the perpetrator had the right to trial by jury.

  “Leda, the man who just stood up and confessed that he did rape you, is he truly the one that raped you?”

>   “He is, your honor,” she half whispered.

  As though aware of the girl’s fear, Onamingo leaned forward and gentled his tone, as he asked, “Leda, since you are the wronged party here, what kind of justice would you propose?”

  Biting her lip, the girl glanced at her mother, who nodded encouragement. Her voice trembled as she answered. “Mr. Righter, I think he should be put to death. As is the custom of the Herewardi, he is a besmieren worthy of no one’s pity.”

  “Thank you, Leda. You may be seated now.” Onamingo waited until she had resumed her seat.”

  “I would now like to call for White Hawk and Snorting Bull to stand and give testament.”

  The two braves stood.

  “White Hawk, is the man that you and Snorting Bull overcame in the act of raping Leda here in this chamber and if so will you please point him out to the jury?”

  The taller and the older of the two braves, White Hawk replied firmly. “There he is, your honor.”

  Onamingo nodded. “Snorting Bull, do you agree that this man Lester the Lesser is the man you witnessed raping Leda?”

  “He is, my lord, I mean, Your Honor. There is no doubt about it.”

  “Thank you. You may both be seated. I will now call on Mr. Jon Dee Lee to represent the Hickoryan interest and Lord Kraki to represent the people of Wool Folk. Jon Lee, you may proceed with your interests.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” Jon said as he took the floor. “We Hickoryans are not disputing the guilt of Lester Lambert the Lesser. We merely argue in favor of a fair judgement. In our culture there is a clause which renders special merciful judgment for an only child that a man’s seed not be blotted out of the earth altogether. We asked the Herewardi elders of Wool Folk that in lieu of death, what it would take to satisfy them: imprisonment for a negotiated period of time, work in a harsh labor camp in the mines, banishment from the isle, or anything short of death, we can accept.”