The Bok of Syr Folk Page 3

  “Indeed, my lord,” the master builder said, “I confess I struggled with the temptation to toss you off the wall more than once. Only the knowledge that such an act would delay progress stayed my hand.”

  “So now we add contemplated murder to your long list of sins.” Sur Sceaf laughed heartily. “I cannot promise never to question you again, master builder, but when I do, I shall be careful to pose my inquiries well away from the cliff’s edge.”

  “A wise decision, my lord,” Muryh acknowledged before returning his gaze to the horizon.

  As the sun’s rays edged closer to the target saddle, a buzz arose with the men and women who were granted the honor of manning the ropes. They took up their positions and tightened their grips. All eyes rested on Muryh who would give the final signal. To Sur Sceaf’s delight, Muryh had secured him the position directly beside him on the scaffold where the view was nigh perfect.

  Newly fashioned, the thick rough ropes smelled of fresh hemp, reminded Sur Sceaf of his childhood when his father’s old stable master used fresh rope on the lunge lines for training the horses in the round pens. Now, as then, his excitement was barely contained. He found that he was holding his breath and exhaled slowly. How he wished he could share this moment with his wives and children, but the risk of an accident was too great to take such a chance. He would have to remember the details and report it step-by-step to them.

  On another scaffold above, stonemasons waited, ready with their mallets to guide the stone into its proper niche.

  Suddenly, his eyes still on the sky, Muryh extended his right hand. “Get ready, men,” he shouted. Sur Sceaf gripped the rope tightly, his gaze fixed on the Master’s fist. Quickly Muryh’s arm slashed down.

  “Now men! Heave!”

  As one, those manning the ropes braced themselves and began tugging on the ropes as they cinched tightly around the keystone. Sur Sceaf’s rope grew taut, creaking under the stress of it all. Inch-by-inch the keystone rose from its platform. When the stone was halfway up the wall a rope snapped and the frayed ends unraveled at the end like whirling, hissing vipers.

  “Watch out below!” Muryh shouted.

  Beneath the four-ton keystone, workers scrambled out of the way to safety. The remaining ropes creaked, but held.

  Muryh shouted directions, ordering one group to pull while others held their ropes taut. Slowly the workers maneuvered the huge piece of sculpted marble into place over the eastern arch. As it was edged and lowered into position, sweat dripped from Sur Sceaf’s brow, burning his eyes. His muscles tightened to hold the rope while Muryh shouted further orders. “You mallet wielding masons, plumb that stone flush or all your sons will have widows for mothers.”

  Another rope snapped with a loud ping and the attendant hissing whirr of its cords.

  Muryh’s face darkened as he turned to his chief engineer, his eyes as troubled as the sea under dreadfully stormy skies. “Damn it! Sur Child, there’s too much strain on those ropes. Did I or did I not tell you to make sure those ropes were soaked overnight?”

  The young master apprentice turned first stark white then glowed like a hot coal from embarrassment. “Fa, I...I thought it would be cool enough this morning, and that we wouldn’t need to soak the ropes.”

  Muryh shouted, “It’s not about temperature. Damn it! It’s about strength. A wet rope is ten times the strength of a dry one. It is basic physics! What the hell did they teach you at that academy? You better pray the rest of these ropes hold young man or I’ll send your ass back and strip you of your engineering apprenticeship and return you to the status of an entered apprentice mason. If you had more brains and fewer wives you might make a great builder someday.” Then turning calmly to Sur Sceaf the old builder winked.

  Sur Sceaf motioned for another worker to take his rope so that he could get a closer view of the mallet wielding masons skillfully bringing the stone flush with taps and blows.

  Below, workers were still scrambling to get ready for the next step. From the corner of his eye, he could see Muryh relax with the utmost look of satisfaction on his face, his previous tirade entirely forgotten.

  “It’s settled!” Muryh sighed. “Cut the ropes!”

  With the keystone now anchored firmly in its seat, Sur Sceaf had to allow himself the pleasure of feeling the reality of it. He climbed the scaffolding and traced the eye in the center of the two wings on the keystone with his fingertips. The marble was warm to the touch and almost pulsated with life.

  As he climbed back down to the scaffold below, he uttered, “Isn’t it a beauty!” Noting the proud smile on Sur Child’s face. “By the gods, Muryh, you and your sons are unequaled as builders. How did you know those ropes would hold?”

  As he and Muryh leaned back on the scaffolding to rest, Muryh said, “I knew because I operate under the theory that what can go wrong will go wrong, and so I always take care to prepare for the worst. Over the years I’ve found that caution always saves time, money, and lives. Caution in this case means I ordered more ropes than the engineers felt were necessary. And as a lesson to my son, I deliberately had extra wetted ropes there so I could instruct them in the importance of being meticulous in their planning and execution.”

  He glanced down at the ground where Sur Child was being congratulated by some of his fellow apprentices. “Sur Child and these apprentice engineers are still green and stuffed full of book knowledge, but they haven’t developed the habits of having checklists, checking and double checking each item on the list and moving with caution yet. That will come with time, but until it does, it’s my job to make sure their inexperience doesn’t kill someone. As I build this temple, you are busy building the structure of the kingdom. See that you build it as wisely and cautiously as the rising of this structure so that it may stand forever, because I promise you, at least one of your lieutenants will likely fail you in the most needful of moments.”

  “Most sincerely, I appreciate that you took so much caution,” Sur Sceaf said with a wry smile. “So, I’m sure, do the men who were diving out of the way.”

  Muryh removed his hat and wiped his brow with his trademark red kerchief. “I have faith that Sur Child could be a great builder if he weren’t so much into the multiplying of wives. That’s why I limited myself to having only three.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed. “I’ve already lost count of Sur Child’s wives. At least he’ll be providing his quota of Herewardi warriors.”

  “Problem is he thinks more on his wives than he does the glory of building. I will provide rock walls and he can provide the sons.” He put his hat back on and shouted down to the workmen below. “Start removing the underpinnings...”

  A blast of the trumpets from the crenelated walls of the fortress interrupted their conversation. One of the engineers said, “That’s an emergency blast. Shall we stop the work?”

  “What now?” Muryh said, “Damned all these interruptions.”

  “Unless it’s an invasion,” Sur Sceaf said, “it’ll just have to wait.”

  A near breathless tawny headed messenger boy, all clad in the green of a beetle, came racing toward them. At the foot of the scaffolding, he skidded to a halt, his face red, and his breath coming in gasps.

  Sur Sceaf looked down from the scaffold at the green beetle, recognized that it was Asser, son of Elf Beard, and shouted down, “What is it, my lad?”

  Asser took a moment to catch his breath before gasping, “My lord Sur Sceaf, a band of Quailors are craving an audience with you.”

  Sur Sceaf frowned. “Can it not wait? Can’t you see, Asser, we are engaged in an important activity here.”

  “My lord, you be judge. It seems there were several deaths in the night.”

  Sur Sceaf turned to Muryh. “It appears, master builder, you must continue this without me.”

  He hastened from the scaffold and followed the green beetle to a band of ten or twelve Quailor men standing stiff and silent beyond the roped off work zone in their traditional black garb and hats. He recognize
d his bother-in-law Rudolf first, standing with others, all appearing bereft. Upon seeing Sur Sceaf approaching, Rudolf took off his black hat and blurted out, “Surrey, it was horrible. The troll killed them. Menschens kinder, Gott im Himmel, they’re all dead.”

  “Slow down! Slow down! Tell me who is dead, and how and when did it happen?”

  Sur Sceaf noted Rudolf’s drenched hair and emotionally charged face. He appeared like he had aged twenty years. “The whole Knighton family is killed; Mutter, Vatter, drei kinder, only Linney surviveth.”

  Sur Sceaf searched his memory and came up with an image of a thin man with sharp features and sly weasel eyes. He was, if he recalled right, Fromer’s chief ally in his campaign to undermine Elijah’s authority as chief high priest of the Quailor. Despite his less than admirable character, Linney didn’t deserve to suffer such a horrendous loss.

  “I’m sure this is difficult for you to focus on, but please, just start at the beginning and tell me how they were killed.”

  “My lord, I know thou hast warned us not to settle outside of the allotted zones, but we of the Retrenchment Society decided under Bruder Fromer’s advisement that it would be best to live more remotely so we would not be influenced by the mingling. There is a great fear that we are swiftly becoming more and more ‘elbisch’ by living here in the midst of you heathens.”

  “What!” Sur Sceaf felt a rush of anger. “Damn it, Rudolf, there are other ways to reduce the mingling. You didn’t have to settle outside of an allotment. It is not only dangerous, it is unlawful. What irks me is you knew it was unlawful and you did it anyway. Has the past taught you no lessons?”

  Rudolf hung his head. The others looked equally shamed. “Yes, my lord. We have been living west of Quailor Town for two months now. And n-nothing happened until now. It’s chust that the Heiner boy took sick with purple spots all over him and Fromer said it was albdruck or elfshot which cometh from living too nigh unto the Herewardi.”

  Sur Sceaf took a deep breath and fought to contain his fury. “By God Rudolf that is complete and utter non-sense.” He enunciated slowly allowing every word to sink in. “You must learn to rise above darkness. Men like Fromer use ignorance, shame, and fear to control people, that he may mold them to his own designs. Face-of-Stars examined the Heiner boy and said he had cat scratch fever. So that should settle the matter for you. And you of all people know very well that those lands are still unexplored and not safe for travel or settling. Only the best of hunt masters are allowed in those parts, and, despite their efforts to rid the land of dangerous beasts, they have reported there is much more to be done before those lands can be pronounced safe. Particularly in that sector you all were hidden away in.

  “The hunt masters have discovered safer places to settle in the south which are under advisement even now. All we asked for was a little patience in the transition. When we make the woods to the west safe you can move out as far as you damned well please, but we’ve warned everyone to stay close and together for now. This could have all been avoided if Fromer would have only stuck to Habraham’s allotments and not made himself such a damned quaelgeist. ‘Oh Father in Heaven,’ Sur Sceaf prayed aloud, “why must I chastise these fools when I feel only to grieve with them. You need to know that in the wild, lady nature does not give second chances. She’s an exacting queen, who only honors the strong and the ready at best. She is a loving wife to those who honor her, but a bloody, cruel, and ruthless mistress to those who don’t.”

  Rudolf flushed crimson, “I know! Too late, I understand.” He shook his fists to heaven. “Mein Gott, forgive me once again. I am a born fool.”

  He looked so bereft that Sur Sceaf felt his rage leaving and compassion replacing it. “You said it was a troll. Tell me exactly what happened, my friend.”

  “Yesterday, Linney went to stay with Fromer in Quailor Town and so the Knightons asked us to help slaughter their pig. So we did.” Some of the other men nodded agreement.

  “Helping one another is our way,” one of the dycons muttered in a dispirited voice. “Brother Knighton helped me build my chicken coop.”

  Sur Sceaf nodded. The communal spirit and willingness to extend a helping hand was one of the attributes he always admired in the Quailor yeomen.

  “Go on,” he said to Rudolf.

  “Once the sow was gutted and dressed, we took it to the Knighton’s cabin for cutting and wrapping. It was late, so we all decided because it was so chilly, we could let it hang there and resume our labors in the morning.”

  Sur Sceaf had a bad feeling, guessing immediately what they had done wrong. “What did you do with the offal?”

  “We chust dragged it out into the woods and left it. Then I washed up and returned to my cabin to put the girls to bed. After the children were tucked in and had gone to sleep I heard a roar that made the walls of my cabin to shake. The roar was followed by an explosion of timber from the Knighton’s door being broken off its hinges.” He was too choked to speak. Rudolf paused to catch his breath. Finally he said, “All the men ran to help the Knightons, but we didn’t have anything except axes and knives to fight such a vicious troll with, and I couldst see through the wind hole that it was eating Sister Knighton alive, tearing off her limbs while she screamed for help. Thank God, the children were already dead. The vision is too horrible for me to describe.” Rudolf gave a gut wrenching groan. “It was one of them grass beasts. Then I remembered Sunchild telling me how they killed a grass beast with use of fire. So I ran for oil and we poured it over the Knighton’s cabin whilst the beast raged within not willing to desist from devouring the corpses and paying us no attention at all. We grabbed our torches, sure that the Knightons were all dead, and we hurled our torches on, in, and about the cabin which caught fire and leaped in devouring flames...”

  Sur Sceaf interrupted “Did the fire burn the beast to death?”

  Ello Gutwein shook his head, “No, the troll came running out of the fire alive, smoke came off of it like its pelt was smoldering and made off over the cliffs and down into the marshes by the sea. As soon as the sun rose, we left our homes with only the clothes on our backs. We can only assume it yet lives and we durst not go back to retrieve our belongings.”

  Sur Sceaf felt his breast stirring with anger again, but subdued his passions enough to say, “Get all of your goods out of that settlement and into Quailor Town immediately. I’ll send the master hunters to assist. Bring your belongings and livestock into Godeselle until we cleanse the land of all these trolls.” Sur Sceaf turned to the green beetle. “Fetch your brother, Forkbeard!” He turned his attention back to the Quailor. “We’ll send you an armed escort to move into Godeselle. This thing may now have developed a taste for human flesh.”

  “But, my Lord, where will we live?” Rudolf said, “We have no kin or friends in the city. And everyone knoweth Godeselle is already too crowded and bursteth at the seams.”

  Sur Sceaf knew he must take the pains to kill these plaguing beasts once and for all, widen the curtains of settlement, and complete the building projects in Godeselle. He had already authorized the exploration of the unknown lands, but had put off the departure date until after the keystone had been placed. Now it was clearly time to launch the expeditions. Were the gods prodding him with this tradgedy?

  He gave an assuring look to Rudolf and explained, “Tonight we will grieve our dead. I am only sorry such a tragedy has compelled us to launch the expeditions and to eradicate the trolls before we are fully ready. I promise we will find you a suitable place to live. But in the meantime, this land must be made safe before we can expand any further. It’s past time we do some troll-hunting.”

  Chapter 3 : The Troll Hunt is On

  Long Swan’s Log: It is the fourteenth day of the Mud Moonth, Vali’s Day, Vali being Odhin’s son who avenged Baldur’s death, in the year 585 HSO. In direct response to the massacre of the Knighton family on the day of the setting of the winged keystone of the east, several hunts were to be conducted by the young blo
ods. They were organized by Sur Sceaf, Elf Beard, and Forkbeard as a first line of business. Sur Sceaf had Elf Beard, the hunt master and horse marshall, select one newly formed wolf pack and one experienced wolf pack of twelve young blood warriors to accompany him on this expedition. Since many of these young men had just turned twelve, the age of initial training, Jackie Doo was called to instruct them in raummaukin and glima, which is the art of fighting like a God. He is training them in line of command, and reconnaissance, but all were conscious that their primary goal was to rid the land of any and all dangerous trolls. With the help of the hounds it should prove to be a great trial for the young bloods.

  It is known that the wyrm-kats, seemingly creatures half-man and half-jaguar tend to live in small colonies in the caverns or in the deep wood. For the most part they run upright, like a man and only come out at night to hunt. Indeed, Elf Beard has opined, they resemble slender men with cat heads and tails. He wondered they had not already abandoned this area. Redith, the seeress, has declared they are transhumans and, therefore, an abomination left over from the Evil Generation of the Amerikans. Some people who have seen them in the night prowling about the settlements have even taken to calling them the jaguar-men and many a mother fears to let their children go outdoors at night to get water or gather firewood, lest the were-kats eat them. Upon Sur Sceaf’s orders, shutters are always kept secured every night to avoid their encounter, and most cabins have large dogs for extra protection. Even so, chickens and small livestock often become prey to the marauding packs of man-kats or ketten as the Quailor call them. Sightings are becoming more and more frequent.

  For this reason Elf Beard plans to eliminate them, due to the continued threat and harassment to the inhabitants of Godeselle. Once they are eradicated, the hunt master is to turn his attention to the slaying of the grass beasts that dwell deep in the Surwood Forest.

  The Roufytrof announced to the populace that this time is to be known as the Purging of the Trolls. Sur Sceaf has begun forming bodies of law writers, since it has become too much of a struggle to govern and judge the matters of so many people and still keep the goals of the confederation moving forward as one.