Chapter 48 - the Time II
After the sheep shit throwing incident, things went back to what they had previously been. Rather optimum, really. Old friends had traveled in from afar, to spend time with those they missed and even loved. Ryeamund needed no convincing when Shan asked if Patch were able to stay longer, if he could.
Ryeamund was now lifting old man Patch physically in and out of the hot bath. The man was Odin only knew how many years old, walked with a little hitch in his back and stride, and clearly needed some aid getting around some obstacles. During one such time, Eira observe him lifting and carrying the old man in much the same fashion as a husband carries a wife over the threshold. One arm under the knees, one arm around the shoulders.
"What?"
Eira shrugged with her face.
"Nothing."
"Is it a matter?"
Eira giggled and upended a palm.
"Did I claim a matter of it?"
"Aye. I have such wisdom as a husband gains after a certain number of winters, with a wife."
"Truly. It sounds to my ears, as if you simply want to talk about it. Why else would you create a matter out of it, when there was none."
Ryeamund gave her wit.
"At times such as now? I sometimes wonder if the low reckoning wife, might not have been the wiser choice."
Eira chuckled.
"Come, husband."
They went off for a quiet word. Instead of demanding anything? Eira simply stood and waited. On cue, Ryeamund began to speak.
"I like the old man."
Eira didn't know what to do with that.
"All is well?"
Ryeamund pointed at their sleeping room. They went.
"Eira? Remember… back when we thought the old man Patch, was Shan's imagined friend."
"Aye."
"Well… you might remember, then. Shan's descriptions? It… sounded as if he were describing father."
"Aye. I remember, husband. And… now that you meet the real Patch."
Ryeamund sighed.
"I'll say it. He reminds me… so well of father? It… is almost as if father is back. There. I have said it."
"Husband. I love you? All these winters… as no other. I know what your father meant to you. How many times have I heard you say such. Oh, Eira. Were father here, to see me doing so well. Oh wife, how father would have enjoyed a hot soak in this bath. If only father might have lived, to have seen such fine strong grand children. I know you feel that… hurt."
"Aye. I feel it. The hurt? My… curse. It does not show. I still feel it."
Eira smiled, and hugged him gently.
"Little Rye? I do not see you as others see you. I see the man… that cradles a little dog in his arm, and feeds it morsels, as if it were a human baby. And aye. Your VinterBluden? Is… not like the others. The Wolf. His cold blood? He does not feel things, that a normal man feels. But you, Rye? You feel. You love. You… care. And that? Is all I know."
"Aye, wife. And so. I am no high reckoning healer. What of this. My… with old man Patch."
"What of it. I know that a person that should have had children, for an example? They will dote on other's children, as no other. You lost your father far too early. If… it pleases you, to… such is fine."
"Oh. You… do not mind it?"
Eira issued a warm smile, and shook hear head.
"It is no different, than when you beckon the chicken up onto the table outside, and give it morsels. The world? The kingdom… it sees… this beast of a man. A large and dangerous man. I? Don't see that in you. For my part, I see a sweet little boy. Innocent. Why would I create some… matter out of this. Do as you will. You are a fine husband and father, Rye."
Eira knew he had no high reckoning words to cover it, so he just hugged her gently. The only words he found, touched her.
"Wife. I am not some monster. That takes life, and feels nothing for it. I have seen those men. In battle? A fine enough thing. Yet… when the battle is over, or before it? It is not a fine thing. I am not like that. I never once was. I hope to never become that. Were it my choice? Me, you… the children… we would simply have the little farm, and that would be all. I was happy, on those couple acres. Behind yer uncle's place. Yet? As things are, as things have become. Other people… depend on me. I would not forsake them. The pickles. The kingdom. All of it. I wish it were not so, yet…"
Eira simply hugged him, and calmed him.
"I know. And… would you think a man of Patch's number of winters, might like more than simple summer furs? To sleep on."
"Hmm. Aye? I know not, to tell the truth of it."
Eira smiled.
"I know not, as well. Put the winter furs out, in the case he might like them. Eh?"
"Aye."
The days leading up to the festival were warm and friendly. Eira heard someone clearing their throat behind her, when she was alone in her kitchen.
"Stuart. Would you like some… morsel?"
"Oh. I always do, yet…"
"Something else, then a morsel?"
He smiled and looked down at the stones laid for the floor in the kitchen of her great-house.
"Aye. If I might."
"Well? What would you have."
"Eira? About… Shan…"
"Are you not pleased in him, then."
"Oh. Aye, very much. Not that."
"What, then."
The Rhyshian giant looked suddenly a hell of a lot like some giant child, in some way. Odd, for a man that was who he was.
"Eira? Can we… talk. Of… Shan, and… everything."
Eira walked up to the giant man slowly, and took his large hands in hers.
"Stuart. Everything? Is fine. What's the matter?"
"Shan. He's… so tall."
"Aye. He is."
"He… reckons so well."
"Aye. He does. These? Are good things, Stuart. What matter of it."
"Eira?"
"Yes, Stuart."
"You have known me, a number of winters. Have you ever known me, to turn my back. On my lordship? In any fashion."
"No. Nor have I ever once heard another, say such."
He continued to study the stones, though still talking.
"Eira? Please. Do not just flatter me, because of…"
Eira sighed, than spoke the tiniest bit curt.
"Stuart. We are both high reckoners. I am a kingmaker. You? A Rhyshian lord. Do not accuse me, of flattery. In place of the truth. Our Garteners would hit the timbers, were we to begin to do so. You know what we are to do now. When words escape us. We will speak plain. Aye?"
He finally looked up at her. Soft, moist eyes. He looked as if he would falter, then he finally stood fast.
"Aye. Plain, then."
"Stuart. There is a matter. What be the matter, then. We will build a barn, of logic and wit. Yet… without knowledge of the matter at hand? We can build nothing. Speak, the matter. Speak it plain. So we can build our barn of reason, on level ground."
"Aye. Eira? Plain hurts… yet… what is best?"
"What is best. This… is your matter? Out plain."
"Eira…"
"Stuart? I… have no cast iron egg pot in my hand. Nor will I grasp one. You have my oath on that. Speak plain, speak free. If you know nothing else of me? I will not swear a false oath."
"Aye. Eira? How many time have we heard it. From our instructor's lips. We are to do what is right. If what is best for our self? Is not best for two or more others? We should not do it. Or we injure our character."
"Aye, Stuart. I do not believe I had seen ten winters yet, when I heard it first."
"Shan, then."
"What of him?"
"He is…"
"Yes. No one is mad. No one? Is angry. He's a fine son to have, Stuart. I am very proud? To be the mother. To such a son."
"And… Ryeamund?"
"He is the same, Stuart. We had two sons. We now have three sons. One son? A joy to have. Two sons? Twice the joy. Three sons? Three times that joy. The reckoning on it, is not terribly difficult. All is well."
"Eira. When I was a young man. Before… well, before everything. I… wore a coin. Her name? Not so important, I suppose. I would not injure her, by naming her. She was… beautiful. Rhyshian. Taller, than even you are. Oh, you should have seen her. Dancing, doing the meadow tricks. For as tall and strong as she was? She seemed to float on air."
Eira said nothing. What could she say.
"She took her coin back, Eira. We both know why."
"You would think, that being in coin to the high king, would not be so great a burden."
"Well? One would think such, Eira. One would think. Need I say what her reason was?"
"You need not, Stuart."
"Need? No. Want, though. She said she loved me. Still did, even. Yet… she was a kingmaker, Eira. My seed? Tainted. I'll say it. I know. My seed? Is tainted with madness. And yes. Some part of me? Knew she was… correct. She acted? With logic and reason. That, Eira? Was the end. That, was my last… chance."
It was Eira's turn. To study the stone pieces that made up the kitchen floor.
"Eira? I never set out, to become? What I am. I thought… after we did away with that… vain, selfish, goat's ass of a drunkard that we called… king? It was over. I mean… was I the reckoner? The one that knew how to… talk, and calculate, and plan? Aye. A high reckoner. Honestly, though. I surely thought Wulfgar, or… one of the others? Would be the king. Not me. They… made me. They… farst it on me. For myself? I wasn't to be that. And… there went my life. Down an old well, with no water in it."
Eira felt worse than simply unable to say anything.
"And? That is how all you pickles, got your mad king. Me? I would have had you all have a sane man, to lead you. The Wolf. Would he not have been adequate? But, oh no. They FARST it on me! And it is a damn curse! And now? There's no escaping it! By the same gartening, that my precious meadow dancer, could not have me? Though she still loved me? Can't breed with a madman. By the same gartening instruction? I can't quit! Because while it would benefit me? Because it would be best for me? It would ruin the life of nearly every pickle in the kingdom!"
Eira sighed.
"Stuart? What would you…"
"What is best, in this situation. For the highest number of people, Eira. Me. Oh, what's best for me? Long gone. Best for you, then. You are a great kingmaker, Eira, but you? Are one person. Eira? Though I am mad… I am but a man. I will die one day. Tell me, what becomes of the kingdom."
Eira looked not just down. She looked away. No one, liked to entertain that thought. It was about as appealing a thought to entertain? As dwelling on your own death.
"Yes, Eira. I know. How heavy, do you suppose my own heart is? To think of it. Now. From me, to you. Right now? I'm not some mad king. I'm just… a high reckoning steward. A man sworn oaths, to always do the best thing, for as many people as possible. Eira? I want you, to look at me, and you tell me. High reckoning kingmaker, to high reckoning Rhyshian lord. What? Is best."
Eira summoned all of her courage. To raise her voice. As she had to.
"Most women? Would bargain, for what is best for them. Or? Bargain for what was best for her son. As she thought it. As she thought best. I? Will say this. I can not… condemn, we will say… yes, I can not condemn your madness. Are you our mad king? Aye. We all love our mad king. Your works? Are true."
"I asked you. Reckoner to reckoner. What is best. You? Did meadow tricks. And now stand in the same spot."
"Staurt? I know not how… this… all works. It does work, though. Look around you. At the kingdom. There is an entire kingdom around us? Depending… on you. It has worked up until now. I would say? Do what you will."
"And that, is your answer. I should… do what I will. On this."
Eira paused. Nodded.
"Aye."
"All well, then. You asked, how this all works? I assume you mean to say, and wish me no insult, but to have said it plain. How does madness work, then."
Eira could do nothing but nod and study the floor.
"It works like this. I? Am two men. He does not… order me. He asks. No? He… begs me. Here is my matter. What should I do. I need? A reckoner. I would have you? As my reckoner. Reckon this for me… and? I…"
"Aye. You are the steward. You? Reckon for him. As any high reckoning Rhyshian Lord should. You reckon true."
"Aye. That? Is all I do."
"Then? Though you did not ask me twice? I will still say it twice. Do… as you will. Reckon it. Reckon it? True. As your oaths require. And never again? Question your lordship."
"Aye."
"Stuart?"
"Yes…"
"I can't imagine what its like for you. I know nothing of madness. Is it wrong of me, to pity you?"
"Hmm. If you wonder? I can tell you this. I was a young high reckoner. I am going about, talking. Trying to inspire… well, we know what I was trying to inspire people to do. And, I went to sleep one night. Trying to do… that. I wake up the next day? I'm wearing armor. Men… are actually kneeling. Calling me? Their king. I tried to smile and nod, and say as little as possible. I confided? In Wulfgar. My best friend with me at the time. He told me? All that had went on. Between… as I say, me falling asleep… before. And waking up… after. And that? Is the truth. Ever since that day, well… that's how it is. I go to sleep. I wake up? I know not. I know not what clothes I am wearing. I know not, where I am. None of it."
Eira didn't have words.
"The best way I can describe it? As a high reckoner. A horse? I am the horse. Yet… when I am being… ridden? I know nothing of it. I am in the barn. I fall asleep, I wake up in some meadow. With a strange saddle on me. I fall asleep again? I'm back in the barn again. Honestly? That's how it is. All I know, is that what goes on? The works are true."
Eira did as she had been doing, and said nothing again.
"I didn't ask for this. Not once. I was farst to it. My intention? Someone else, like Wulfgar, or some other like him… should have been the man that woke up with people kneeling around him one day. If I were to… hang myself? Jump off a cliff. What would become of the kingdom. Honestly? I am just the steward. I reckon things. When asked. That's all I know."
Eira contemplated, but could come up with no better answer.
"I say a third time. Do as you will. Your works? Are true."