The Bok of Syr Folk Read online

  Russ L. Howard Library for House of Howard Publishing

  The King of Three Bloods:

  Book One: The Sire Sheaf

  Book Two: The Frightful Dance

  Book Three: Witan Jewell

  Book Four: The Isle of Ilkchild

  Book Five: The Bok of Syr Folk

  Book Six: The King-Queen

  Book Seven: The Scynscatha

  Book Eight: Brekka

  Book Nine: El Yid

  Book Ten: The Evil Ennead

  Book Eleven: Rebirth of the Elven-Gods

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  Copyright © 2019 by Russ L. Howard

  Cover Art: Deranged Doctor Design

  Formatting: Deranged Doctor Design

  Publishing: House of Howard Publishing

  ISBN: 978-1-945130-09-0

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

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  Acknowledgments

  I extend my gratitude to Paula Riggs whose tireless editing spanned seven years, much of which required her to endure my corny jokes, and to her husband Carl who had to endure the many blood drenched battle scenes in the book. Much appreciated help came from Jeff Day in preserving my sanity through dealing with my hated computer and for computer and technical assistance above and beyond waking hours. Particular thanks to Susie Stokes for her exquisite artistic talents and formatting despite her own busy schedule, and she, too, gave endless hours of technical direction. I give praise to my beloved wife whose constant feed-back and aide has always inspired me, and to my son, Adam, who gave continuous encouragement and deeply thought out opinions when asked. I thank my many children and my devoted friends who repeatedly asked, “Is it done yet?” Unto them I say, “Here it is.”

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1 : Godeselle

  Chapter 2 : Tolerance Takes Root

  Chapter 3 : The Troll Hunt is On

  Chapter 4 : The Hunt for the Grass Beast

  Chapter 5 : Frithspottum

  Chapter 6 : Explorations from the River to the Seas

  Chapter 7 : The Blues

  Chapter 8 : Xelph’s Expedition

  Chapter 9 : The Green Men

  Chapter 10 : White Lightning and the Blue Ceruleans

  Chapter 11 : The Chartreuseans

  Chapter 12 : Xelph Caught in the Twisted Briars of Love

  Chapter 13 : Long Swan’s Struggle

  Chapter 14 : Juan Carlos de Sajones

  Chapter 15 : Against Her Will He Took Her

  Chapter 16 : The Jaguar, the Flaco, and the Tortuga

  Chapter 17 : Turtle Duck Arrives in the Thick of the Tumult

  Chapter 18 : Come Together

  Chapter 19 : Wose Inserts Himself

  Chapter 20 : Developments in Godeselle

  Chapter 21 : Retaliation Against Herewardi Allies

  Chapter 22 : Rip the Prester’s Conversion

  Chapter 23 : The Internal Workings of the Kingdom

  Chapter 24 : Jon Dee Lee’s Young Blood Road Crew

  Chapter 25 : The Dragon’s Hoard

  Author Biography

  Chapter 1 : Godeselle

  Long Swan’s Log: It is the Dark Moonth when merciful Ullr, the Winter King, rules in the Heavens and turns his scepter over to Odhin. The year is 584 HSO, as reckoned from the death of Hrus-Syr-Os, the beginning of the Rule of kings in Herewardom. During the first moonth on the isle,King Sur Spear surprised everyone by visiting the isle and proclaiming his son, Sur Sceaf, the Hringir or High Lord of the Isle of Ilkchild, denoted by the passing of the Great Gold Signet Ring, the God Ring into his hand,which he had delivered to Sur Sceaf before his arrival at the isle. The former king has now assumed his position as Weardean of the Roufytrof, the Council of Wizard, so that Sur Sceaf commands all things temporal and Sur Spear all things spiritual. So far everything is moving ahead as planned by the provisional government, the Council of Three Tribes, and now that a constitution is drawn up, the government has been solidified as the Confederation of Syr Folk.

  It has been a busy and eventful year indeed. It is the time of the winter solstice when during the Feast of the Winter King, stock is taken of our progress. The original image of a great city, shown to Lord Sur Sceaf by the stones is now rapidly becoming reality. The Ram’s Head Fortress needs only the finishing touches, the Syr Folk palace is moving toward its final stages of completion, and the groundwork has been laid for the keystones to be placed in the mighty temple of Godeselle. Roads are being completed, water works erected, and a revolutionary sewage system has been built by Master Builder Muryh and his engineers. So far three settlements— Hockney-in-the-Hole settled by the Hickoryans, south savannah by Herewardi cattlemen, and Ullrstammen by the Quailor, all outside of Godeselle have been approved and are swelling rapidly. The Sharaka have set their sights on the lands far south which are as yet unexplored.

  Not a day passes without waves of new settlers and immigrants pouring in from the main land of Panygyrus. After King Sur Spear’s mandamus that each settlement shall deliver up eight tenths of its work force and resources for the building of the isle, progress has been moving at an acclerated pace. The king also mandated that each new arrival render one year’s indenture of service.

  Hickoryan craftsmen from all over the main land have joined the cause. New bands of Red Men, and particularly, the various clans of Cherokee from far off Tahlequah, have heard of Thunder Horse’s prophecy, and have arrived with the intention of eventually settling the land southward.

  Godeselle has become the most densely populated Herewardi city in the past five hundred years. A city that rose to splendor in less than a year, so great was the momentum, motivation, and the wise planning of the High Lord Sur Sceaf and his councilors.

  Naval Commander Pyrsyrus, has built a marvelous port at Troll Landing and developed his Pyringean pirates into a formidable fighting force, which is rapidly growing in numbers. The pirates have proven their skills on the open seas and recently began conducting raids to the south, bringing back much boodle from Pitter zongas and trading vessels, which may be used to purchase building materials. The young Jywd, El Yid in particular has distinguished himself in more than one raid in his sea stallions and won the favor of Pyrsyrus.

  After the attack of a surprisingly swift Mexus pirate vessel, all of our ships have been staffed with well-armed and well-trained fighting sailors aboard to now ensure safe passage. The captain of the Merchant Marines, Turtle Duck, now runs the whaling industry with fifteen whaling ships of experienced crews, composed of a mix of the three tribes and Tlingit whalers as his lieutenants. He and the other captains are having excellent success, and King Sur Spear, is extremely pleased that this vital part of the campaign to defeat the Pitters is going so well. Indeed, demand of whale oil and products such as ambergris far exceeds the supply. The whale oil is now rendered out at sea and sold only from the Port of Ur Ford by Rabbi Amschel or through Karl Throckmorton’s pedlar trains and caravans.

  Thus spirits were high as forty thousa
nd Syr Folk gathered to celebrate the Feast of the Winter King, which took place outside the walls of Godeselle in what has come to be called the Pageant Bowl, a massive amphitheater built into what had been a large quarry which now provides multi-tiered seating, perfect acoustics, and a large grassy staging area for just such events. Anticipation was high among the spectators, especially so among friends and relatives of the young bloods participating in the tournament sports, who were vying for the honor of becoming the Hringir’s champion. It was an honor greatly coveted, as the champion is considered the greatest warrior in the land, which also entitles him the right to sit at the Hringir’s side during ceremonial occasions for the following twelve moonths. This year many Hickoryan, Sharaka, and Jywdic young bloods participated for the first time.

  Verily, it was a colorful sight to behold; the young, superbly fit warriors and their equally groomed and fit horses, resplendent in gay and colorful finery, fiercely engaging in mock battles, designed to test both skills and courage, until one final champion emerged triumphant. The young bloods had trained hard to unseat the previous king’s champion, Lord Arundel. All fought hard, and competition was fierce with the final battle between the Hickoryan, Ruhm Lee and Lord Arundel. The two young bloods were tied in the scoring as they went into the final contest of archery. It was close, but once again, the Lord Arundel with his excellent archery skills won the Magnolia Wreath and became the King’s Champion for the second time.

  After a short intermission the festival continued with the sacred Winter King’s ceremony. The Hringir, Lord Sur Sceaf, a former King’s Champion himself, sat in a place of honor with his wives and children and all the tribal leaders to observe the sacred Winter King ceremony.

  This ancient and spectacular pageant tells the story of family—a family that in time became a race comprising various tribes, a race that in turn became the Herewardi nation who struggled to protect the original royal bloodline descending from Hereward, which, in turn, became instrumental in bringing about a confederation of the free peoples of Panygyrus. It is a bloodline, which existed long before Hrus-Syr-Os and stretches back far into the Folk Mouth to the legendary Hereward and, thence, farther back into the mists of history to Longfather Odhin and those descendants of the Star Seed.

  * * *

  Three distinct nations, the Sharaka a nation of red men, the Quailor, a nation of pious and peace–loving yeomen, and the Herewardi, a nation of warriors sworn to protect their royal bloodline, all united in the Confederation of Syr Folk on the newly discovered Isle of Ilkchild in the Great Western Sea of Aurvandil. All three tribes are ruled by the king of three bloods, Sur Sceaf who has built the city state of Godeselle perched high on the cliffs overlooking the sea. He was presiding over the Tournament of Knights in the great contests of martial arts held annually for the selection of a champion.

  Still wearing the Magnolia Wreath, Ary joined Sur Sceaf under the canopy bearing his beehive crest. As a former king’s champion, Sur Sceaf sat in a place of honor with his wives and children and other tribal leaders. Because this was the first time his seventh wife, Ahyyyokah Taneshewa, had seen the pageant, Sur Sceaf acted as an interpreter.

  On the staging area the white-haired Winter King, portrayed by an actor in long goose grey robes and barley wreath crown rode his magnificent white steed at the head of twelve swan maidens clad in hooded white robes. In the background a small orchestra accompanied the procession with dramatic music, mandolins, drums, horns, and flutes.

  Following the ancient ritual of the Ur-Way, a huge horse had been fitted with antlers. Every inch clothed as a monarch, the Winter King dismounted in one fluid motion, walked up the

  steps of the mistletoe, ivy, and yew bedecked stage. With the greatest of solemnity, he bowed gracefully to Sur Sceaf, who responded with the dropping of a swan feather, signifying the opening of the day’s pageantry.

  A hush fell over the assemblage as the high priestess called the haligwaecca, crossed the stage gracefully in her aubergine robes, carrying the Sacred Grail.

  Taneshewa leaned closer and whispered, “Paloma is much more regal than this actress.”

  Sur Sceaf grinned, “I could not agree more, but Grunswheig is doing remarkably well.”

  With great ceremony, she presented the gleaming cup to the Winter King, who drank deeply before placing the grail on the polished yew wood of the ceremonial altar called D’If.

  The haligwaecca then fastened the Golden Torc about the Winter King’s neck, symbolizing that the Winter King had become the living representation of Hrus-Syr-Os on Ea-Urth.

  Ahy whispered, “The martyred father of the Hyrwardi nation.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed softly, “You learn fast.”

  She patted her swollen belly. “I have to, if our soon to be born son is to learn his heritage.”

  “What if it’s a girl?”

  “Impossible, no girl could bash my ribs with her head like this young ram is doing in me.”

  After the Winter King was anointed with yew oil, a puff of black smoke introduced two dark sinister figures representing evil emissaries of the Pitter Empire came on stage costumed as man-sized feathered crows. Where the tail feathers of a crow should have been, hung long rat tails. After fastening a noose around the neck of the Winter King, they led him to the altar showing that the king must be willing to die for his people, just as the Ram of God had done by hanging on the Tree of Death for nine days.

  One of the crow creatures symbolically ran a silver sickle across the king’s throat, while the other ripped and smashed clusters of grapes apart, and tore blood red scarves from his sleeves and legs signifying that his body was being torn asunder. Then they ceremonially pulled a large black shroud over the body of the king to denote his three days sojourn in the realms of darkness and death.

  Sur Sceaf was fascinated by the expressions of the spectators as they watched the action with rapt attention, even the Herewardi who had witnessed this pageant many times before. It was gratifying to realize how intrinsic their Herewardi history was engrained in their seed code. For the other tribes, watching the dramaturges of the pageant was educational and helped them understand why the Herewardi need to remain true to their past and not let down their guard.

  On stage a white robed swan maiden with a fleet of six bride-sisters, went over to the fallen figure of the Winter King to gather the torn pieces of his broken body. They reverently placed them in a nearby grave and marked it with a sprig of yew, the deeply rooted never dying tree, symbolizing eternal life. The swan maiden searched on and about the Winter King’s body. From the deep pockets of his grey robe, she retrieved the Golden Obelisk along with the Golden Torc and placed those two sacred emblems at the head of the Winter King’s grave, along with a scroll upon which he had begun writing the Forty-Four Laws which the Longfather Howrus later perfected and finished.

  From off stage came an ivy clad green king, representative of both spring and the next generation. This was further magnified by a mere man-child, bedecked all in Saxon-green with a magnolia wreath about his head, done to signify the rebirth of the Herewardi nation in their journey through the wilderness. The green man, as the folk mouth called him, retrieved the obelisk, torc, and the sacred scroll from the king’s dolman. These jewels he carefully placed in a pure white lambskin bag and disappeared into a thicket of hawthorn where the swannery followed him.

  While in the thicket they encountered a beast resembling a mix between a rat and a wolf that pursued them across the staging area. Periodically, the green man and the swan maiden, along with her fleet would stop to give battle. At which point the audience waved swan feathers above their heads and shouted “Hrus with us!”

  Sur Sceaf leaned closer in order to be heard over the shouts of the crowd. “The thicket symbolizes the deep wood, death, and the future.”

  Ahy looked upset and wide eyed. “How can this be a future anyone would desire?”

  “Be patient. It only betokens the end of one age and the birth of another.”
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  Just then the Syr-Alphim, called the Roufy-Trof, marched onto the stage and announced the beginning of a new age. With great ceremony, a member of the Roufytrof, chosen by lot, calmly led a large horned white ram to the stone altar. Sur Sceaf had selected one of the finest unblemished rams from his personal flock for the sacrifice. With a dramatic flourish the Roufytrof representative drew his razor sharp knife and slit the ram’s throat. Ahy gasped. Sur Sceaf put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

  “The ram represents the Ram of the Gods, or the Sun,” the priestess explained, “willingly offering and sacrificing himself for his people.”

  The Syr-Alphim prepared the ram for roasting by dividing it into twelve pieces, then salting it and laying it ceremoniously over the Altar. Simultaneously, the green man took a torch made from orange ribbons to symbolize fire and touched it to the pyramid of yew logs representing the primal fire or ur fyr burning in the hearts of all men, unto which all must look for enlightenment in this world.

  Heimdal blew the ceremonial ram’s horn, alerting the fyrds stationed at the four points of the medicine wheel to light all four bonfires on the tree of life. When all the solstice fires with their logs laid out in a flaming medicine wheel were lit, the green man pulled the white lambskin bag from the tree and unveiled the Golden Obelisk, holding it high for all to see. Raising his voice to be heard over the thunderous applause, he said, “The golden obelisk symbolizes our fecundity and fertility. This year the Feast of the Winter King differs in that it has Quailor, Sharaka, Jywds, and Hickoryans as observers. It is my intention to pull back the hood on the Elder Religion and heathenism so that the non-Herewardi members of the Syr Folk may not fear that which they do not know and show that all of our truths are hidden in plain sight.”