Chapter 21 - the Steward's Dilemma
Wulfgar seemed more and more pleased, the more informally Arroch treated him in private. Arroch if anything, doubled down on how formally and respectfully he treated Wulfgar in public and spoke of him. When the two of them spoke of it, Arroch was surprised. Which was nothing new these days. Why shouldn't it continue on, his amazement and wonder of it all.
Wulfgar said that "embarrassed" wasn't the right word for how he felt at everyone's fear of him. Wulfgar admitted that he "probably" could not be truly embarrassed, in all likelihood. His cold blood. But… he had his precious code. The code told him he was not to seek men's fear, nor men's adulation for his… "gift". Nothing beyond what he deemed necessary for the kingdom's benefit.
Arroch had seen how different Wulfgar was around his extended family and his kin and clan. He could be himself around them. He seemed to enjoy himself more at those times. Apparently, when a man lost his great fear of The Wolf, but still respected him and did not seek to challenge him or his authority… he was pleased.
Arroch had long grown used to meeting with the high king. It was ironically funny to him in his own head. Here he finally was. Hobnobbing with the high king and his wise steward… and refusing to tell anyone about it that didn't already know, or needed to know. How much he had changed, Wulfgar had been right about that.
Arroch picked up on Wulfgar and the King's "pity" they held for the wise steward. Arroch found himself taking his cues from them on that matter.
Arroch found himself noticing the steward's "nervous restlessness" when he thought he was hiding his madness from everyone around him. When the steward was concerned about his "sleepwalking", Arroch laughed easily about it. Admitted (lied) that he still sleepwalked sometimes, and that his wench would tease him about it. Arroch even made up on the spot, a somewhat long and involved tale that meandered around until it hit something of a punch line, for the steward to enjoy laughing with him.
"so then me wench says… sleep walking is a fine thing… but I do not tolerate, being sleep fucked!"
The steward found this particularly funny, and had gotten giddy and slapped the table in merry amusement. Arroch found it gave him a warm pleasure to put the steward more at ease. It was rare for the steward to have a few small goblets of wine and relax some, and no one wanted the man to suffer any more than he already did.
Arroch took his cue from Wulfgar, and tried to really watch things, in particular the stewards tea cups. If he suspected the steward was around instead of the king, he would toss the mead out and rinse the cup. Replace it with tea, just in case.
He even found himself starting to call the man by his real name. "Stuart". Only in private, or out of earshot when they were out and about. The gentle giant smiled very easily, and clapped Arroch gently on his arm. He did like hearing his own name, and having "normal" idle time.
Arroch did not know what to do, when the steward started hinting around in conversation in private. After matters were done being discussed, and their time grew idle. Arroch got the idea that the steward was poking gently, probing as a learned man. Eira, his cousin, did this verbal tease at times as well. She was a high reckoner too, they could very gently ease into talking of things. Stuart was wondering how he was thought of or gossiped about. This gentle roundabout of conversation touched slightly on the high king as well.
Arroch didn't even have to oracle an answer. It just came to him naturally what to do.
"Stuart… I am not sure where your words are leading us. Somewhere, I am sure. Now then… of course people stare at you, and inquire that you are indeed the steward. Why would they not, man?"
The steward blinked a couple of times. Furrowed his brow a tiny bit. Smiled nervously.
"Man… yer twin brother is the High King… and you and yer brother are so different. You? the Gentle Man, the man of wisdom. Quiet and gracious and polite. Yer twin brother? The big, loud, boasting fighting man… of course people that don't know you from every day matters want to make sure before they speak to you."
"You… really believe that is all?"
"Oh, surely, Stuart. Now then, what pickle would not be nervous to offer insult to the high king and mistake him for his own steward. What pickle would want to call out to the North Star in error, and find the steward. So yes, people will make sure which brother they are speaking to."
Arroch felt he must have handled this delicate matter as well as he was able to. The steward had smiled much more easily. Arroch could tell, that the man was nervous about too many people finding out about… it.
The steward was almost instantly more at ease. Less nervous. Less restlessness. Much less fidgeting than was normal for the man.
When later Stuart had a few small goblets of wine and was a lot more at ease, he shared with Arroch about one time that Eira had apparently threatened him.
"I don't know what I was doing, I simply must have been daydreaming. The next thing I know of? Eira is coming at me with an iron pot in her hand, I mean really now. I am a Gentle Man of wisdom. Eira… is a Gentle Woman of wisdom, as well. There's really no need for that sort of behavior, you know."
Arroch belly laughed, and told "Stuart" that as he was sure he already knew, Eira was his cousin, and they had grown up together in the same village. And… Eira had clonked him over the head with a cast iron egg pot… twice in his life.
"Really, Arroch?"
"Aye. If Eira threatens a man with a cast iron pot? She is treating you like family. Take no insult from it, man. She… didn't get you with her iron pot, did she?"
"Oh, no. Yet… Wulfgar had his hands full with her. She is a very high spirited woman, at times."
"Aye, she is."
After Arroch was in bed that night, and he replayed it over and over in his mind, he felt sure he had done the right thing. The steward? Was underneath it all, simply a man. And, no man enjoys being stared at. Pointed at. Gawked at. Feeling as if people are surely gossiping behind his back. Feeling different.
Then, from the other direction? Where was the goddamned respect due to this man, after all. Without this man being born? They would have no kingdom, they would have the pure hell and chaos of the old days. This gentle giant had dedicated his life to becoming a Gentle Man of Wisdom, and hadn't pursued the sword any more than was necessary for his Gardening.
Arroch knew what kind of courage it took for a man to even try to become a man for fighting and battle. Hell's bells, Arroch knew he had been raised around fighting men, and it had still taken great courage to get used to it all. How much more courage had it taken back in the day, for this man of wisdom to summon up the courage to start openly trying to raise a rebellion against a wicked drunkard petty king.
What further courage had it taken, to begin to try to accept the whispering in his ears. Then, seeing the way Odin was speaking to him, through other people, answering him. Then, to finally somehow accept it all, because it was better for the kingdom to be formed. Then better for the kingdom to be preserved.
The man had freely given up his own life, for everyone else. Voluntarily consigned himself to a sort of mild private hell. Had to live with it. Convinced he was a raving madman, and that he had no choice because it was obviously best for the pickles, who needed his help. Special help, that only he could give them.
The steward should have become a Gentle Man that instructed at a Garden somewhere. Been a merchant, or perhaps an advisor to some great man. He was a big strong giant, and surely women had found him handsome… gentle… wise… caring… he should have had a pretty Rhyshian wife, and several gorgeous children.
The North Star really did have the wisdom of Odin. To get a truly great leader? You actually had to FARST a man, that clearly didn't want to become a great leader, to perform the job the best way. A man that wanted high position? Probably shouldn't receive it. A man that fought you, and refused it? Was more likely the man for the job. You had to force it upon him.
That was only one edge of the sharp sword that was difficult to handle… the other edge? Odin himself had learned over time, that he needed a high reckoner to be the high king. But unfortunately… a fighting man was also needed.
No wonder the High King had cried like a baby way back when, as the hushed story went. When asked what would become of the kingdom when he was gone. Goat fucking Odin himself didn't even know exactly what to do about it.
He needed a high reckoner, the best he could find, to be the vessel. Odin drove high reckoners to madness, and he had been lucky to find this man, Stuart, and handled him just so… to accomplish what he had this lifetime.
Even at that, it had obviously been touch and go. At least until things got rolling, and people got over their fear of "madness" and simply started enjoying the success it brought. Success for the whole kingdom to enjoy.
Arroch had long ago grasped what the problem with the North Star producing an heir was. Why the normal wenching the young Stuart had engaged in petered out quickly and went nowhere. When he was Odin, the North Star frightened people for a time, and most people would not be able to get used to him. The steward? Was held to be a complete raving madman.
A high reckoning woman, as was required so as to produce a quality male heir? Was all but impossible to find.
No wonder the king of the gods themselves cried like a baby when he worried about it all coming undone. He wanted what was best for his people, that he loved and cared about and cherished… and it was impossible to find.
The fate of the kingdom was ultimately at stake. And? They were all doomed.