Chapter 25 - Ryeamund's Dilemma
A woman comes to know her man, and Eira had certainly come to know Ryeamund. He had been a little more quiet than was usual for a time, and he was once again so at breakfast one morning.
"Little Rye?"
"Lady Eira."
"What troubles you?"
Ryeamund shrugged, and popped little things into his mouth. Eira would say that Rye ate when he was thinking? But the man was always eating. Yet, it wasn't like him to be of low cheer for so long as now.
"A couple of matters. They pass through my helmet, from time to time."
"Well? What might one of these matters be, then. Perhaps they are as nothing, and you worry for no matter at all."
Ryeamund sighed.
"Eira. Though it is put off? There is a great battle coming. It will come one day. We both know it."
She tried to soothe him.
"I might worry more, for the men that will oppose you."
She got a forced smile back at her low wit.
"Aye. Yet, it will be a great battle. Eira. You do realize, that in such a great battle? Many things can happen."
"When young? You sought battle. You told me of it."
"Aye. I will test myself. Yet, that is not what troubles me."
She draped her arms over his shoulders, and around his neck standing behind him. Her chin supported on his big shoulder.
"What, then."
"Father. He had… trouble making children."
"Oh, that. Yet, he got you. I am sure he sees you, and is twice as proud as any father has a right to be."
He patted her forearm gently.
"Eira. As I say, many things may happen in a great battle. Now, for myself? Father always told me. Mother chose to trade her life for mine, to see me born. This makes her Valkyrim. Should the time ever come? I was to die well. Then, mother herself would come and claim me. Take me to be with her and father. In Valhalla. That, is an honorable end. For me."
"If it would even come to pass. While it is true, as you say, that many things may happen in a great battle? Is it not also true then, that many things might not."
He was quiet a short time.
"I have time. I would see a child or two, before I find that out. But…"
"But what."
"What if I am… like father was. Have I not been doing all that I may, to make a baby? Yet… I see no spring sprigs of rye sprouting."
"Oh. Ryeamund. I'm a high reckoner. A healer. I was trying to wait, until we were man and wife."
Finally she got a low chuckle out of him.
"I rather thought you were trying right along with me. I tell you, woman. I might reckon as a farmer? Yet, I know how babies are made."
"Mm. Do you, now. And tell me, farmer. Do you not plant a seed, in the furrow? To make that baby."
"Aye. Quite often. I might run out of seeds."
"Now. Is it not more, than the farmer plants that seed, in the furrow? What I mean is, would it do any good to plant the seed at any other time, than in the early spring."
"For the crop? Aye. Yet… babies can be made around the year. Everyone knows that."
"Yes. But as I said, I am a high reckoning healer. The… time to plant that seed, with a woman? Is not the same, as with a crop."
"Eh?"
She kissed his neck lightly.
"Do women not get the moon's blood? Perhaps you never noticed before. The moon lasts twenty-eight days. If you were to count the days, from my moon's blood to my moon's blood… it is twenty-eight days. My own blood? You would plant that furrow, in the waxing crescent. Since that is my time? I call it my fertile crescent."
"Hmm."
"Perhaps my coin beast never noticed before. That I do different things for him, on different nights. In truth? I welcome your child. I was waiting, if I could… until we were permanent."
"Oh. I was worried. That… I might be like… father, that way."
"Well. Now? You know how to find out, don't you. During every fertile crescent. If you wish that."
"I wish it. And… you?"
"Nothing would please me more. And, do you want to know a secret?"
"I know many secrets."
"Then know one more…"
She whispered in his ear.
"I enjoy the finding out."
"And?"
"And what else is there, Rye."
"If… I am like father that way."
"Oh. No large matter. We have plenty of time to find such out, do we not? And, should that even be the case? Well. After any great battle… many brave men of high quality are… taken away. They leave behind children, many of them. Some of those children? Might have no mother. They are called the Sons of Odin, and the Daughters of Odin. I instruct in the Gartens, when I can. I am a kingmaker. I would be among the first to choose, among the seedlings."
"Really?"
She kissed his neck again.
"Yes. If we want children? We will have them. One way, or the other. Now, I know many men only prefer to make their own, yet… I thought. Perhaps. Should that be necessary, you might not mind. So. Should it come to that, would that be a matter?"
His mood brightened considerably, and quite immediately.
"Nay. It would not be any matter. Father raised me well enough. I am to do as he taught me. I would love the child, and raise it as my very own."
"So then. Is this now no matter?"
He assured her, it was no matter. Still, he had to give her some wit.
"Well. Less work for the farmer, then."
"In what way?"
"Well. I know I only have to plant my seeds, in the fertile crescent. No need for the rest. I have other things I can attend to, with all that saved work…"
"Oh!"
They laughed, she beat him playfully on the shoulders for teasing her. He scooped her up, and carried her off to their little bath house. She jokingly chided him.
"We have already had a bath…"
"Aye. To get clean. The warm bath? Is for other things, as well. I thought high reckoners know such things, as this."
"Really. And what else is the warm bath for, then."
He whispered in her ear now, carrying her to the bath.
"It is not only to clean things. It is also? To soil things, as well."
After several months, when plowing the furrow with the fertile crescent produced no seedling. Eira gently reminded him one night, before falling asleep. It would happen eventually. And if not? They would still have children. As they fell asleep that night, she told him that if the worst should happen, in battle? She would pick out a fine strong son, one that had great wits as well as strength. And she would certainly name him Ryeamund. And she would make certain, that he knew of his father, and how great a man he had been.
"You're a good woman, Eira. I thank you."
"Hmm?"
"When the time comes. I can go into it with a clear helmet."
She sighed.
"Aye. Worry about nothing else, other than the matter at hand, when that time comes. So you can come back home. Then? When the work is all over. We can choose children together."