Chapter 2 - Ryeamund II
When Ryeamund awoke, it was to some noise from the other three men he was traveling with, the handle-merchants from the high north. Rather than chatter his teeth, Ryeamund did as his father had taught him from a tiny child. 'First look. Then, talk or act'. And so he looked, and what he saw was that the big man he had fought for sport the night before was in obviously some amount of pain and discomfort.
Ryeamund's first inclination was to ask what the squabbling was about, yet his eyes told him all he needed to know with no chattering teeth. The biggest man he had felled with his two small war-hammers the night before, would not let his two big friends help him up.
Ryeamund's second inclination then, was to suggest that their custom of a man raising himself and not allowing another man to aid him… was silly right now. That didn't seem to be the wisest thing at the moment, and so Ryeamund called upon another of his dead father's common wisdom-s. He stayed silent, simply because he didn't know what was best.
'No words are greater than idle words.'
He idly wondered if the silly thing would grow into a great and ridiculous thing, but it was not his place to say so. So he kept his teeth from chattering. Eventually, one of the men patted their fallen giant amicably on the shoulder, and said "Aye, rest for a bit", then the two came over to him.
"What do we do, then. We can not leave him in the road."
"Aye, I can reckon that much, yet… he is no baby we can take turns to carry. He can reckon he must to get in the wagon, that there is no other way, yet, he would insist on taking himself there."
"Ryeamund. If you have any counsel, do not wait for us to beg you for it. You have done this before, I can reckon."
"If you seek my counsel."
"Aye. Options are few right now. I would have one more, if it is about me. Speak free, man. You are our friend, we told you."
"I reckon as a lease-farmer, I reckon as a smith, I reckon as a woodcutter."
"Well and good. Which of those men should we have the counsel of, then. I did say speak freely, so I now say speak more freely. What say you."
"The wood-cutter says… we leave no man behind when we come down from the hills. The smith says… we raise men up, we do not knock them down."
The two looked at each other. One said "I get it, wood-cutter's and smith's code, say men are to help the other up." The other replied… "He won't let us help him up. I would hear what the lease-farmer says on the matter, then."
"Because you ask… the lease-farmer says… it is harder to raise a fallen ox, than to put one down."
The one fellow looked at the other, with a merry twinkle in his eye.
"Aye, we get a pitcher of fine ale, for telling this story, when we get back."
To which the other fellow replied.
"Aye… if we get back. Ryeamund, what say this lease-farmer friend of yours. How does he raise a fallen ox that is kicking you and won't let you help him up?"
"The lease-farmer says two things… the ox will grow thirsty before he is dead and all is lost. Bring him wine in his water-pot; the ox will grow feeble."
"And what is the second thing?"
"Many hands make light work."
The one fellow looked at the other, who simply shrugged back.
"That will take some time, but it will work."
"And, by that you mean…"
"Be a lot quicker, were Ryeamund to just whack him once more. We then may load his ox carcass in the wagon. We have many hands, as our farmer says."
"That is the quickest way, yet perhaps not the wisest at the end. Once our ox is up and around…"
The other man smiled.
"It is a matter of what we may tell him then, innit ?"
"What do you mean. He is a bit of an ox at some times, but, even the ox knows who strikes him."
Ryeamund smiled and winked.
"You two hold him up, by the shoulders, to drink the wine. I will caress him gently from behind. An ox knows but what is in front of him."
"He will reckon that. Eventually…"
"Leave that to me, when the time comes."
"Ryeamund, that is a fine trick, but, there is the matter of the lie. It is our custom we may not lie to each other."
"Aye. As I say, leave that to me. I will answer to him for it."
The big man was told he should have some wine, it would lessen his pain. To which he agreed. True to his plan, Ryeamund struck him from behind, a tight little 'hammer blow' behind one ear. The big man fell onto his back, and the back of his head hit the ground.
Smiling, they got out their biggest fur, and rolled the big man onto it. They bundled him up tight in it and between the three of them, they dragged him as gently as they could to the wagon. With two up top of the wagon load, and one pushing from below, they just managed to get him up and in the bundles of saplings which they arranged as best they could, to make him as comfortable as they might. Then they set off for that day's march.
When the big man woke up, all bundled in a thick leather bear fur, he was puzzled how he got there, though he did readily admit he was much more comfortable.
To which Ryeamund replied:
"You fell back and struck your head. We were trying to make you comfortable with the thick fur, when we did reckon it was a fine time to load you up into the cart. The cart was where you needed to get to, by any way."
Much later, when reminded that he would not tell a lie to the big man, Ryeamund smiled.
"I did not lie. His head hit the ground as he fell. He did not demand to know why he fell."
His other two new companions were highly amused.
"Our story is getting better and better as we go along this journey. I reckon, we now will now get two pitchers of ale for this good a tale, at the tavern."
"Aye. And Ryeamund? I am starting to think we should be rounding up southern lease-farmers, as well as bundles of ax handles."
Ryeamund asked why.
"Every man does need an ax handle. Will not be long before the men ask where they might get their own lease-farmer, I would reckon."