Chapter 8 - Village III
Arroch could hear more men outside in the main hall, since the time they were lounging in the hot bath hall. The men were enjoying their first horns of wine and mead, and the wisest of them would be having small breads and morsels of cheese, to better enjoy more wine and mead all night. Yet, not so much as to ruin their stomachs for the boar.
It was hard to believe that Wulfgar, the king's own wolf, was here and was said to be waiting for him and his men. That was a rare fortune. The wolf sent for his Heyermannen, he didn't seek them out. He even more rarely took any interest in who a Heyermannen chose to give his iron sign-coin to, beyond a cursory examination of the man for any quality.
But, Arroch had been slow to finally become a Heyermannen, and he had only attracted two childhood friends to his band. His choices had been watched over. Wulfgar and the king did not approve of a Heyermannen lightly handing out his iron coin again and again to just any man. A Heyermannen who quickly gave out his coin to every friend and relative, well, he wouldn't be a Heyermannen very long at all.
That was the worst insult, for Wulfgar or the high king to not approve of a decision. Either could take and keep the iron coin that bore the mark of the Heyermannen, and have it melted down. Arroch had chosen two of his childhood friends. A great talker and a man of some reckoning and even a tiny amount of scribbling, which was rare indeed up here. And, a man who was well known to seemingly not have the ability to lie; and was also said to therefore have some inborn ability to detect a lie. Both had been approved, and Arroch was very slow indeed to hand out his iron coin. All three of them had to want a man to get that next coin, and Ryeamund was the first one they had all thought a wise choice.
The men were getting progressively louder. Stories were beginning to be told and boasted of. He didn't have to be out there to know it, the intermittent roaring and drumming on the tables was all too obvious. He stopped in the kitchen briefly, just to smell the meat and the bread.
The young woman, Eira, that had ogled Ryeamund's musculature was there, filling a tray with small squares of smoked cheese from the RavinLunden. He asked her for a chunk, and she smiled and gave it to him. "Aye, Ox… they toast your new oxling. Do you not want to go and enjoy the fruits of your wisdom? In front of Wulfgar himself."
"Aye. As of the last moon? I am less concerned with rolling in toasts. I am… I have more weighty matters on my helmet."
She eyed him quizzically.
"Arroch. They say women are wiser than men, upon some matters. Does my ox, from my village, want something other than smoked cheese?"
"Aye, Eira. I saw you and your women, staring at my new ox. In the bath."
"And, what of it? He is a beast. We are trying to reckon what his sons will look like. And, in truth, what fun it might be to make those sons."
"Tell me woman. You and the girls, have ye told Bear or the other men, what the beast looks like when he is in the hot pond? He is not so tall."
"Oh, that. Arroch, just ask me these things plain. The truth? It would be great fun to see the Bear on his back, if only for sport. I am sure, each of my girls would wish that. In truth… I would wager coin that many of the bear's own cubs would enjoy such a sight. We women? We have our own wisdom… and, I tell you. A man that has no equal, is quite a burden. So, to answer your question? No, I am sure the women will keep it to themselves."
Arroch smiled.
"Thank you, Eira."
"Ox. What are you up to? You are here in the kitchen, meddling in the affairs of the women. It is not like you. Are you trying to provide entertainment?"
"Aye. Yet, entertainment… of a certain kind. Eira? We are kin, we did grow up in the same village. As did the Bear. We both know well the Bear's way… as soon as a coin comes off of a man's neck? There is the Bear. He ever seeks to mark the man up. Because he is a fool with a sword, he always seeks to use his hands. The man has already hinted at it, within but a moment of meeting my new oxling."
Eira smiled sly.
"Yet… there sits Wulfgar. A rare thing, for the king's own wolf to feast with us. He has gifts, for you and your men. That coin is as good as back on yer own neck, and you reckon this easily."
"Aye. Now, the matter is this. Have you seen, my oxling is a quiet man?"
"Aye…"
"Yet. If a woman were to put some words, in a man's ear… while he is in his goblet… well, I am sure it would be an easy matter."
"In any man's ear? Or the Bear's ear. The Bear, as ye well know, will be in his goblet already. His tongue is already quite loose. He will seek entertainment, at the first chance."
"Aye, that ear. The matter is… the Bear will take my man's quiet ways? For cowardice. Were the Bear to declare him a coward? To seek his sport with him? Well, I can all but guarantee, that ye women will see what ye long for."
Eira smiled at Arroch.
"And… the Bear and his cubs. They have looted yer coin purse, many times, have they not?"
"Aye… I would loot the Bear's purse, if only the once. I may not see another chance to do so. I would do it well the one time, Eira."
Eira clapped the flour off of her hands, and turned to face Arroch. Smiling her sly smile.
"Oh. The odds of it. I see where our conversation is leading us… and tell me, Arroch, what will ye and yer oxlings be doing with all this coin?"
"In truth? Theyer is going to buy a few pigs for Little Rye. Sooth is going to buy a few goats for Little Rye. My idea, perhaps a small piece of dirt, upon which the man could put his pigs and goats. Hmm?"
"Arroch! You and your oxlings, you are going to FarsenGeften your man? My, has not the Ox changed much in but the couple of moons since he went upon his merchant errand. As a child, you thought only of yourself. As a Heyermannen? You thought only of you and your men together. This… is a new Ox, I tell you."
"The oxling's father? Was worked to death, into an early grave. His mother? Could not afford proper midwifes and chose to die, rather than see him cut in two to save her own life. The man has nothing. He was on course, to be starved and worked to death as surely as his father."
"Then? He bargained with us, to be brought up here, to get out. For but the promise of a few pigs, and a small lease. I tell you, this oxling did not even know we were Kingsmen… he thought all far north-men wear armor, as in the old days. He knew not who he was trying to impress. Upon no account, he charged out and put himself in front of Wulfgar, who he knew not, but that he was another north-man. The man then took one, maybe two trophies, and ran the third off. He did Wulfgar's job for him, and the job of all his men with him. All? For no profit."
She eyed him up.
"So. Aye, Eira. I would see such a man well taken care of. He will accept nothing, so, me and my men will FarsenGeften him."
"Arroch. You are not such an Ox anymore, are you then. You well know, I do live with my uncle. He is into his grays. His sons? All are off now. The farm? He seeks to sell much of it off. It is too much with no more sons to work it. Now… the men? They are sly with their coin. They would wait. They know if they wait, the bargain will go down."
"Eira. You spend too much time with the old women, and you are wiser for it. We want dirt, and your uncle has too much of it. All would enjoy seeing the Bear on his back, if only the once. You… have three women and yourself, and many bear cubs in their goblet."
"So. We bargain?"
"Aye. If this goes well, and I all but know it will… I will ask Wulfgar to wait to lift the coin. My man? Is always quiet. The Bear? Will come for my oxling, when Wulfgar lifts that coin. You and your women? Your words, if chosen wisely, will raise the odds, that our coins will do more work."
"And… my uncle and his dirt?"
"Well, if I find enough coin, and you women get the odds up… you have my oath, I will bargain ye Uncle up, not down."
Eira smiled again. She was coy as all hell when she sought to be.
"Well. Ye know well I work here. I have nothing to spend my coin on, I eat and drink for free. As does my Uncle. My Uncle cares for me, though he does not have to. I would see him paid back for his kindness."
"Aye, but ye coin, it must be here, ye know the custom with wagers and coins."
"Ox? I keep my coin here. If I want to buy me or my uncle anything in town, why would I walk home, then back, then home yet again?"
"Eira. Ye trust me to wager yer coin?"
"Aye. Ye men do say, 'fortune favors the bold', do ye not?"
And with that, she went into the pantry. Arroch heard many things shuffled about on many shelves, until he heard the jangling of coin. Hard coin. Eira brought out her coin bag, and thunk-ed it down on the wooden cutting board.
"Silver?"
Eira smiled.
"Aye, some of it."
"And, the rest be copper, no doubt."
"Aye, some of it."
"Gold coin?"
"Aye, some of it. Now… the girls will do this, for naught but the mere chance of seeing the Bear on his back. The teasing from his bear cubs will be only half as great as the teasing we women will give him. He is a burden. The girls will enjoy their own wagers. This matter, will stay between us. Agreed, my little ox?"
"Agreed."
Arroch and his distant cousin he grew up around the village with, clasped forearms like the men did.
"Arroch. Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What, then."
"What words do we put in the cubs ears. What is the best… bait. I have three women and myself make four. What words will each of us spread?"
"Oh, that! My man is short, so, he is the smaller man. He is an oxling. He is the little Rye."
"That is one."
"My man is quiet. My man is polite. Surely that is cowardice in disguise."
"That is two. Arroch, that is too easy. We could come up with that much. What else?"
"My man… is but a poor lease farmer. He surely knows nothing of fighting with the big men."
That's three things, I will put each on a girl's tongue. What will the fourth thing be? Put some icing on this sweetbread, my little ox."
"Aye. You would not know this, but… my oxling? You should see him with any animal. He caresses and whispers to the animal, as if to a woman… If you were to bring in that little mutt that is always trying to get in the door. Let the cubs see him hold it and talk to it. Maybe, get one of the men to go and kick that dog."
"That will do much?"
"Oh, Eira, ye know not… there are two things this man will not abide. He will not abide being called a coward. And, I mean that not like ye think. This thing is rooted deep in him, you trust me on that. And… if a man strikes a poor, defenseless animal in his presence. Well, let's just say I feel sorry for the Bear if he does it. If he does it to bait my man? Well… are we well, on our bargain."
"Oh… aye, we are. I get the better of the whole bargain, though."
"How do ye reckon that?"
"This beast, will then tend his pigs, and his goats, out the back of the small farm my Uncle keeps. My Uncle will be put into coin? What more could a woman wish for, than to feel so safe on her farm. My uncle is in his grays."
"Ah. I see. You would see you, and yer uncle, and the animals, and ye women ye have out… well protected."
"Aye. First matters first. I only wish the beast liked me. I all but offered him out to the barn, and he would have cared more for the bread I dropped. The other girls? Have been quick at work on the same spirited ride. Are ye sure… he even likes wenches."
"Woman! I do not often tell my own cousin to put her teeth together, do I? I do it now. I would see many things to entertain me tonight. Yet, I would not see that pig all greased up and left out. There is nothing indecent about the man. Later, when there is more time? Ye need to know something of the man. Just take my counsel, and heed it. I beg you. Just, tend to our bargain. I will speak with Wulfgar, and bargain you and the girls a couple of hours. We have all night."
And with that? Arroch strode out, with the heavy leather coin bag now tied to his belt loop. Muttering to himself again, down the short hallway, towards the increasingly booming voices of the big north-men in their great hall.
"Odin… is there no log ye will not remove from my path this night? The oldest father be praised…"
Arroch scanned the room. The tables were almost all filled up, the men's armor and weapons were all cleaned and oiled, and hung from the pegs behind the seated men's backs, on display. Silent boast that they were men to be reckoned with, and not so lightly.
Arroch smiled, as he easily found Ryeamund, sitting practically by himself. Both of his great wood ax's, and his remaining small hand ax had been cleaned and oiled, and sat on their pegs. As he walked over, he heard two bear cubs quietly having idle words about the man carrying woodcutter's tools, instead of real weapons. If they only knew, he thought.
"Ryeamund, are ye doing well?"
Ryeamund looked up and smiled at his ox.
"Aye. I have never smelled so much food in one place at one time, not even at festival, in the tavern, in my village. Ox, you had me believe we had to wait for the feast. Your day reckoning stick."
"Oh, that. While you were running with the children, In RavinLunden? We discovered it was Frey's day… we thought it would be sporting to surprise you. I trust it is no matter?"
"Ox, it is no matter at all. I was happy to get some stew and bread, until your feast. I still can not believe I am so blessed."
"Enjoy the food, Ryeamund. I see you still wear your ox coin, around your neck."
"Aye. And, the man I fought with at my back, with the pig men? He is seated over there, at that table. I asked a woman, if I could sit near him, but… she did say, Wulfgar is… a complicated man."
"Aye, the wolf is… complicated. Ryeamund, I want to ask you, about a small matter."
"I have been quiet, with your brothers. Father does not approve of me acting like a fool, in the tavern. I wish, I had a coin like this, when I was a young boy."
"Aye, Ryeamund. The coin. You… do you remember the night… we had sport?"
"Aye."
"All right. Ryeamund… when that coin comes off of your neck, they will give that coin back to me. You do reckon, that… some of these men here…"
Ryeamund winked at him, and smiled.
"Some man will want to test me. I am the ox's man. If the ox does not give me leave, I will stay my hand. I reckon, these are fighting men, not woodcutters… my father taught me to endure many things when I was in the tavern. I told you, I am to fight as the last thing, not the first thing."
"All is well. Ryeamund, do you remember when you told me, that you… bargain with the lead animal, that you bargain but once."
"The Bear?"
"Aye. You already know?"
Ryeamund sighed…
"The Bear knew me for but a moment, and already he hinted. I have known many boys like him in my village. I can see it in a man's eyes, I can hear it in his words. I know when they are up to their tricks. It is no different, than when the farmer knows his animal is reckoning on becoming unruly."
"Ryeamund… do you trust your ox? Really trust your ox."
"Aye."
"All is well. Reckon this, then. The Bear, and his bear cubs? They are… exactly as the boys in your village were. Here is the way of the Bear. The Bear? Is a fool with a sword. He is a giant, though. He will always want to fight with his hands. He likes to… show off, for the other boys in this village."
"Does my ox-brother, want me to stay my hand? Or… bargain with him. Once."
"Ryeamund, you reckon, that we are fighting men. I know you do. Do you also reckon, that… you are expected to… allow me to make choices for you?"
Ryeamund smiled.
"Oh, that. You are my head woodcutter now. If you point at a tree, I will fell the tree for you. If you want a tree to remain standing? That is your place to choose such a thing. This is all no different. I took trees in the Tavern, only when the head woodsman told me to do so."
"You… understand this all very well, Ryeamund. Your coin will come off you, in a little while. I want you to stay… quiet, and not boast. Like you always do. When the time comes? I want you to ask me, if you have my leave to fight. I will give it to you. Then? Bargain away."
Ryeamund smiled.
"Ryeamund, can I ask you something?"
"What, then."
"If… you had no coin, how is it, that you were in the Tavern?"
"Oh. The head woodsman? He liked having me cut his wood, very much. He and the other men in their beards, the woodcutters? They enjoyed the coins they wagered for. The woodcutters got their coins. I enjoyed the test. They always bought me my ale and sweet-cakes. Everyone was happy. Father even liked the ale and sweet-cakes I was given to take home to him."
"I see. Ryeamund, why do you have two goblets, instead of one horn? I am but curious."
"Oh. I asked why the wolf-man had two goblets. The woman said, one is mead or wine, and the other is water. I reckon, the women fill each up as they come by. No one really now knows, if I am far into my goblet, or, just dipping my tongue into my goblet. I believe the wolf-man does this. He would seem wise."
"Ryeamund? You will make me, and Theyer, and Sooth… look very good to the other men here, if you ask me for my leave to be allowed to fight. Such will… make it appear as if I have control over my men, as a Heyermannen is supposed to have. It is equally important, that you stay your hand on my command, as it is that you fight on my command."
Ryeamund smiled more broadly.
"Do not worry, big brother. This is no different than working in the woods for the head woodsman. That man, always said I made him look very good, as well."
"Oh, that is a fine thing, Ryeamund. A fine thing. You know Wulfgar, over there?"
"Yes."
"Well, Wulfgar is my head woodcutter. If you reckon what I mean by that."
"Oh. Aye… the head woodsman, he answered to the petty king's man. Everyone, serves another. In truth? This is all no different, than what I am well used to. I thought this would all be much more difficult. I am very pleased. Ah… if my village could only see me now…"
"Really? You are happy with all this."
"Oh, Aye. I only had to fell but one tree? One pig-man? This is much less labor than cutting wood all day, and being a blacksmith's helper, and doing all the labor on the farm. And I get more than just ale and sweet-cakes? I do not think I could be any happier."
And Ryeamund surprised Arroch. He suddenly reached up with his big, meaty hand, and grasped his friend with it behind his neck. He drew his 'big brother' down to him, and bumped his forehead firmly against his forehead, held it there firmly, then released him.
"What was that, Ryeamund?"
Ryeamund smiled, but, looked sad as well. "My father's cat I spoke of? The one… a man in the village harmed it? The cat used to do that to my head. I told you, I am most at home with the animals. When Father died, I enjoyed spending time with his cat. You are my head woodcutter now. You are also my father's cat now. No man will strike the ox, if the ox gives me leave. You can tell Theyer and Sooth, that the same bargain goes for them, as well. You three men, do not have to be this good to me. I will not make you look bad in front of your… head man. You have my oath on it. Father would not have me swear a false oath."
Arroch held his hand out, and they clasped forearms.
When Arroch turned to walk away. Ryeamund stood, and called out to him.
Ryeamund raised his goblet to him, and tapped his chest with his remaining open hand, and dipped his head. Arroch smiled, and returned it.
Arroch walked over, near to Wulfgar.
Wulfgar just looked at him with his usual deadpan. The man was VinterBluden, and his eyes never showed much of anything. If they did? It usually was not a good omen. Arroch had served under him as a young man, long enough to know he meant nothing by it, and he knew not to take any offense.
"Wolf… I know that I am not your… let me just say I do not believe I am your favorite Heyermannen. Yet, may I ask but one thing of the Wolf."
"The ox can ask. I can hardly be expected to grant your wish, without having the benefit of knowing what that wish is. What would you have? You never asked for anything before. Who knows, I might actually be in a somewhat good mood for once. What would you ask for, Arroch."
"It concerns… my new oxling. His coin."
Wulfgar almost smiled. Well, almost for Wulfgar? Was about the same thing as an ordinary man grinning like a drunken fool. That was a good omen.
"I am sure the gossip has reached the ox's ears, that I am here to give him and his men gifts. Do you honestly think I intend to keep your new man's coin? Come on now, man. I will also tell you something, Arroch. You are not my least favorite Heyermannen. In truth? I am quite pleased with all your progress. If you do not let it go to your helmet, as when you were a young giant."
"Oh. I could not be happier. I always thought, that you… more tolerated me, than were pleased with me."
"My toleration of you, slowly turned into pleasure. You learned to follow my example. You accept counsel from your men. It shows. Your men? They like following you now. I am… actually, surprised that you made such a bold, and decisive move on that new man. I can see now, that I made an error in judgment, when I told him to give the coin to my men. I did not think you would be both wise enough to claim him so quickly, and, so bold as to not wait."
Wulfgar then amazed Arroch, by standing. Wulfgar raised his goblet to Arroch. Arroch could have died from amazement on the spot, but he held his cool as best he might. He tapped his breast hard, and dipped his head and kept it down long enough to show enough respect to the king's own right hand.
When Wulfgar sat back down, he asked Arroch to sit with him for a moment. A team of war horses could not have kept Arroch from this somewhat rare honor.
"Now. What would my ox wish for… I am actually in a somewhat frivolous mood tonight, a rare thing for me. I intend to stay tonight? And see if any amusing entertainment develops. Why, I might even wager a coin on the outcome. You will next wonder why, so, I will tell you why. The North Star? Reminded me recently, that I do not get out for good sport with my hunting dogs enough. The North Star is rarely in error. So? I will run with my dogs this night. So… what do you wish for."
"Would you… keep my man's coin, on his neck, for a little while? Just a couple hours, I think is plenty."
"Done. How about more? I will only take the coin off of your new man, when you ask my leave to do so. I can only guess, but, I do not believe any man here, would have the nerve to ask me to do something. You will do so. Will this not please you? As I said, I came here to give both you and your men, gifts. What's one more gift. You see, Arroch… me and the king? Have been watching you and your… progress… closer than you would imagine, I am sure. My little ravens? See all. You have made me look good to my king."
"I… did not know this. That's… quite an honor."
"And? Why would you know it… that is why I am telling you now. Now, just don't let it go to your helmet, and I will continue to be pleased with your progress. I know that you think the handle merchant errand, is a fool's errand to keep you out of my helmet. It is not, I assure you. Yet? You have been taking it as seriously as a full command. I am impressed. By spring? I smell a promotion in… you, and your men's… level of importance. Do not let it go to your helmet, and keep it under your helmet as well. Is this a gracious thing?"
"Yes. I am honored."
"Good. When you ask me to lift the coin, do it… respectfully, and I will appear to be deciding, then I will do it. I believe, this will make quite an impression, upon some of my… more unruly hunting dogs. I need to set an example, and… you know well my motto. The wolf fights for all of the blood, or none at all. Therefore? It is to my benefit, to see that I choose my dogs more carefully. I know, I know, you are honored. If I may, can I get back to my water? I am awaiting some sport and entertainment. Perhaps, some can be found here tonight. So? Go off, and see to some wenching, or some dice, or whatever it is you dogs do when you run free on the weekends. Be well."
Arroch almost forgot when he rose to leave, to tap his breast and dip his head. But he remembered to do it, and he did it well.
Arroch went and sat in between Theyer and Sooth, in his claimed chair. Theyer and Sooth both naturally wanted to know what the gossip was with Wulfgar, and Arroch filled them in on what mattered. And more importantly, did not fill them in on what he was asked to keep for his own.
Then, when they were happy about those new developments in their favor for their plan, Arroch filled them in on his conversation with Eira.
"Well man, how much coin are we talking about."
Arroch smiled. He already had the bag off his belt loop, and, simply plopped it into Theyer's lap under the table without anyone noticing.
"Before you ask? It has some copper… some silver… and? Even some gold coin."
Sooth whistled his approval.
Theyer started filling in Arroch on how things were going. It was child's play, he claimed. Some of the cubs were stopping by briefly, seemingly just to socialize and chit chat. Yet, they curiously always seemed to mention Ryeamund. It was obvious, they were looking for gossip on Ryeamund's quality.
Sooth assured Arroch, they had played it down. The cover story that Theyer had come up with was simple. They didn't tell anyone anything they didn't already know or could guess.
Ryeamund had bargained to come up with them. Ryeamund was but a farmer, a smith, and a woodcutter. They were happy to have a free bag of coin, since they got their hard sapling wood for free. Then, Ryeamund had suddenly run off, and impressed Wulfgar and his men. Which led to Ryeamund's coin.
Sooth pointed out, now that they had a real bag of coin that was actually theirs, and not the king's coin for errand? Everyone would assume they were betting on the king's free coins. After the festivities, someone might think themselves very clever, to point that out, especially with Wulfgar present. And… the king's coin was well buried and hidden, and they could take Wulfgar to it at a moment's notice. If anyone did seek to injure them? They would only serve to make themselves look even more foolish in the end.
Theyer tugged Arroch's sleeve, and pointed out the serving wenches, who were talking and whispering and pointing with the bear cubs. They were… even putting up with the men pinching and slapping them, a little bit more than was usual for the girls. The men were asking the serving wenches for their gossip, and they were giving it to them. Some of the bear cubs, were just happening to stop by and raise a toast to Ryeamund at his seat, away from his men, as was their custom for a man still in his coin.
All three of them knew how this always went. The bear cubs, out of concern for the new man, of course… would gently mention to the new guy, how it was a custom, for the new man to be examined. For quality. Just so… everyone would know their place in the king's hunting pack.
Equally naturally, of course, was that the Bear was the man for the job was a thing that was always mentioned. Of course, it was a friendly thing, it was a normal hazing ritual, and there should be no hard feelings when it was over.
Every kingsman knew, it was not nearly so friendly a thing. The Bear liked to put his 'paw' on every new man he possibly could, so he could be the big man he liked to be. He liked to as best he could, cow tail as many men as possible, to maintain his standing. Which really amounted to nothing so much as that he was the biggest man, and everyone had to acknowledge it.
The Bear was nothing more than a dim witted giant man from the old stories, and he freely listened to the whispers of the Giants. Which of course told him as a big man, he was to do as he pleased, take what he wanted, and everyone else had to put up with him.
Naturally, as fighting men… they were expected to not back down from a fight. Even one they were expected to lose. As the king's own men? If they were commanded to fight to the death and stand their ground. They knew they were expected to do so. In some fashion, it served some purpose, after all.
The wisest course of action, was obvious. Accept the biggest man's fight with a smile on your face. Give him as best a fight as you possibly could. When you lost? He would "graciously" offer you his hand up, which you were to bat away and raise yourself. Then? You were toasted by everyone, because you had shown you had quality. You were not afraid to enter a battle you knew would not go your way.
Now, some men, over time… realized they were good with their various weapons. These few men? Would grow tired of this over a few winters. They were the few men that would publicly call out the Bear. For sport, or some for more. For a goblet, if they were pissed off enough with him.
Which was a thing not generally done any more, except in the rarest of cases. The king encouraged his men to rough house among themselves, as they were not supposed to be a bunch of pampered pussies anyways. The king tolerated fighting for a goblet of blood among the men, as long as both men wanted it. The king, as a fighting man of renown himself in his youth… knew the sad truth. That there was always going to be a pecking order, and the men would find it.
The king was, however, well known… to more than discourage the men from killing one another. That was where Wulfgar came into the picture. Wulfgar was the only man that simply every man feared with a sword in his hand, and everyone knew it. He was a well-known Thorson, he was a VinterBluden. The man had ice in his blood, and a ball of ice for a heart.
Everyone knew, and that it was not idle stories or boasts. Wulfgar led his men from right in front, right into the heat of any battle. He would fight his way over to whatever enemy was causing the most resistance, and dispatch him. As effortlessly as all the others. Wulfgar didn't seem to have any feelings whatsoever. He was well-known to stop and wipe blood and gore off of his face, to take a sip from his water skin, and go right back to his work. Which was grim work indeed.
Wulfgar had quit fighting for sport, and then quit fighting for a goblet winters back. It served him no purpose, he said calmly. When the battle was over? He seemed as unconcerned as when walking into it. Wulfgar, when asked of it, would simply shrug and reply.
"A battle? Is nothing more, than a fine walk, through a fine field, on a fine day. Those men that wish to die? Simply present themselves to me. When the walk is over? I go home and have a nice bowl of stew."
He always came home from royal commands, with his belt loaded with war trophies. Enemy heads, lashed to his belt loops. He put the skulls on sticks, at the entrance to his personal village. He had some on the doors of his own great-house. He mounted the skulls on the mantle above his own great-house, as most men would mount animal skulls. Why, he was always asked.
"Why not. Is man, not simply another animal, roaming Odin's earth?"
If a man marveled at it, he would just chuckle. It was no big deal. It was no different than killing a wild pig, and mounting the pig skull. If Wulfgar was in his goblet, which was a very rare thing? He would show which skulls, in particular, had once belonged to north-men… who had dared to call him out. He would tell you the names of them, why it had occurred. Then? He would ask you if you wanted another horn of his personal stash of mead, or, perhaps some smoked boar, which he favored.
One would think it was some elaborate act, so as to intimidate everyone around him. It really wasn't. He was a born VinterBluden. Winterblood. He didn't really seem to be burdened by the things a normal man was burdened with.
Fear. Nervousness. Butterflies before battle. Remorse over his grim work and how many times he had performed his duties. He said he understood those things, but he did not feel those things. Most emotions seemed to be, for him, some abstraction that he learned from watching other people.
He said, that he was taught to live by a code. That code, he claimed, dictated what a friend was, and how he was to be treating his friend. The code dictated as well, what an enemy was. His code told him, when he should be angry. Or upset. Or whatever else.
When asked how he felt love? He would explain it much the same way as any other thing, that the code performed for him. If a man was his friend? He knew he was supposed to look out for his friend. He claimed he could become quite fond of a few men, though not many. He supposed that, in his own way, these were the men that he loved.
He could idly explain the same love for women. He said he enjoyed a woman's company. Some women, he found pleasant to look at. Pleasant to sit and talk with. Pleasant to take to his hay-bale, on occasion. If his code dictated, and he felt he was fond enough of her.
Of course, he also was known to be highly fond of his favorite dog. It was his dog. It was his place to look after it, and to protect it, and to treat it as well as he could. Because the dog had earned that.
That was what love was, as far as he understood it.
Somehow, women did not take well to this explanation. At least not to the fullest extent he felt they might, and he had never gotten married. Never had children that he knew of. Like everything else distasteful in life, such as picking bits of guts and gore out of the chinks in his armor? This naturally did not seem to bother the man in the slightest.
Men did not like to look into his eyes. Neither did women. People claimed, that there was no anger there. There was no malice in his eyes. But, no fun either. No joy.
No, the scariest thing about this man? Was that when you got right down to it… there was simply nothing in his eyes. Nothing at all. Men that he tolerated, or that his personal code dictated that he liked, or even was quite fond of? Would tell you.
You realized, that you were looking straight into an abyss. That was what was the truly most terrifying thing about the man, they claimed. A shiver went up and down your spine, and your hair suddenly stood up on the back of your neck.
Because, you suddenly realized. That creepy crawly feeling dancing up your spine. That cold dread that twisted your guts up tight. That, was your primitive, human, survival instincts screaming at you, as best they could… there is something very wrong here.
Men that had been not just tolerated, but even shown favor with him? Usually, after some period of time… well, one man had perhaps explained it best. One day, no different from any other? You suddenly realized, out of the blue. You were sitting there. Playing dice. Eating and drinking at his table. Perhaps, exchanging small gifts, such as men will give one another. When you realized it…
You were sitting, and talking, and joking around amiably. You had gotten quite comfortable, then suddenly realized it.
You were friends with what could only be best described as death itself.
Wulfgar had grown up with the high king as a kid, then a young man, and finally as grown men. The king and he were said to have a special bond of some kind, though the king himself was not held to be a VinterBluden. It was said that the high king himself as a young man, fighting to overthrow the petty king that needed replaced… had befriended the man. Given him his code.
Few men in the high king's presence, were privileged to know an odd fact. That Wulfgar would at times thank his friend, the High King, for having given him the gift of his code. Because otherwise, Wulfgar knew in his own cold heart, he would have turned out to become some sort of monster.
Instead? Petty kings and their pampered nobility. All knew full and well that if Wulfgar walked casually into their throne room one day? The absolute best they could hope for, was to be given leave to escape with their lives.
Wulfgar and the high king, fast friends their entire lives, were both well into their 30s, and getting into their gray hairs. Both were said, privately of course, to jest that they would like to retire and once again enjoy the simple life they enjoyed as young men together, hunting and fishing. Yet, neither felt they could. For fear of the utter chaos and squabbling their fair and just kingdom they had forged together, would descend back into, from whence it had been brought forth. For neither man could truly be replaced. Neither man seemed able to bear a child. The high king, the best everyone had ever known? Had no heir.
It was rumored, that the high king himself, said of it.
"It is as if I have loaded a great cart, with all manner of fine and wonderful things. Things that everyone marvels at, and enjoys. Without an heir, into which to pour what I might trust would be sufficient to rule after I am gone? Well… I fear it will be as that cart rolls backwards down a long twisty hill, and it will surely overturn, and all that I have given the people, will be lost and gone forever."
It was rumored, that the king cried as a baby after he had said it, in his goblet and on his own plate, at a feast when asked what would one day happen.
Wulfgar, it was said, had been the only man that had been able to embrace the king, and hold him, and calm his fears. Much to everyone's great and unsurpassed surprise and amazement.
It was also rumored, very quietly, that Wulfgar had shown actual anger and fury for the only time anyone that had ever known him had seen, before or since.
Wulfgar pointed his sword at every man in the room, and said that if any man dared repeat outside this great-house, what they had just witnessed? Wulfgar would claim their head, without a heartbeat's hesitation, and he took each man's oath. Separately.
It was said, that more than one man had pissed his pants from looking into Wulfgar's eyes, as he took their oath. These men were not pampered twats, they were the most feared and respected fighting men in the whole of the entire kingdom, men that had fought at the high king's side to forge the nation.
These men, were terrified having seen Wulfgar show anything even remotely close to warmth, compassion, and even… love. Followed immediately with a flash of anger and fury, that made the scariest men in the kingdom's bowels quiver with abject fear.
No one knew how or where this story had even gotten out, much less who had first spoke of it in hushed tones, when in their goblet. When one man was said to have asked one of the higher Heyermannen's if it were even true? The man chuckled and replied.
"Let me put it this way, and it is all I will say on the matter. If I had a choice, between bargaining with death, and bargaining with Wulfgar? I would rather bargain with death. You may take that as you wish to take it, and you should consider it wise counsel, to never ask such questions, ever again."
In the end of it all? Pondering the ultimate fate of the best king and kingdom any had ever known, boiled down to simply this.
Every man knows death will come one day. You can worry about it. You can ignore it. You can question it. But in the end? You just know it's coming one day, and that's that. Deal with it as best you see fit. Like pondering death? Most men, chose to simply not think about it. Because just like death? There was simply nothing you could do about it.
'Odin save us, when one day the oldest father calls the North Star to sit at the great table in Valhalla.'
Because men like the High King, and Wulfgar? Didn't just grow on trees. And even when you found men like that, there was simply no way to know that was who they were.