Chapter 53 - the Festival II
The second day of the festival would be a carbon copy of the first. Toasts, food, drink. Laughter and dancing. Added to it, however, were the beginning of games.
The children went first. Ryeamund spoke of, and toasted and pointed out the robed garten instructors. They taught the Gentle Way, and were two Gentle Men and one Gentle Woman. Others as well. Eira herself instructed some of the agility and healing, among other things. The tavern-keeper's oldest daughter, taught music. Shan helped out with various things.
The littlest children all had their games. The children competed at running down thin wooden boards. Eira and Shan and Eira's ladies smiled and tousled children's hair, and handed out sweetbread and other prizes to winners. The children had running games. Short ones for speed, longer ones for wind. More little prizes.
Eira, Gullina and Shan got coaxed into "competing" and racing down the wooden slats with the kids. Eira and Gullina got coaxed by the children to walk on the taut rope. Shan and his two older brothers even got to laughing, and facing each other on the tight stretched thick rope, trying to knock each other off. The youngest children ran up and mobbed the one that fell off first, gently poking them with their short rounded off touch sticks.
Eira seemed particularly proud of two young girls who seemed better at it all, and could walk some on the rope. They had been among the children that joined in the meadow tricks and dancing the night prior. Var was quite friendly with both of them, and they marveled at her when she finally got back into her armor, and returned to sitting with the north-men at their table. It seemed dancing and meadow tricks was all that could get the Valkyrim out of their armor.
The youngest played follow the leader, taking turns obeying the leader and their silent hand commands. They played touch and go and other games. They even played touch-stick games. Some were to run in at a group, and dare to touch and run off safely without being touched back, a selected person in the group they ran among and back out of. These were with the short, rounded touch-sticks. Safe for children to touch each other with.
Slightly older children played games with the longer touch-sticks. Some games were to avoid being touched, by one or more others. Some were to touch each other, each child having a stick. Again, prizes and praise were handed out for winners. Encouragement for losers. Eira explained that little children? Will work hard all day and every day, for just a hearty "well done" and a piece of sweetbread.
The instructors took great pains to explain character being developed. That winners acted with poise and graciousness. That losers did the same and didn't carry on. That adults were fully capable of acting as little children at their grown up games in life.
All the children had a question and answer time. Politely raising their hands to answer various questions, and standing well and answering the wisdom they were asked. This was followed by demonstrations of the young children showing reckoning. Both of wisdom, and making the correct choice. Then to explain why they chose the way they did. Why it was correct, what it implied for wisdom or character.
The older children all had a reckoning game. The prize wasn't sweetbread, however. It was a large, high gold coin. Quite a prize for any adult to claim, let alone a youngster. The children would answer reckoning questions, scribbling in the wet sand, to work out sums and differences. The older competed the same way for multiplication and division. Summing and subtracting larger numbers.
Shan himself didn't even compete in these reckoning games. As the only male in the village that had gartened fully, and was a high reckoner? He was merely claiming gold he already knew he couldn't lose if he participated. He ran some of these contests, as he was all but a spare instructor at the garten already for a while now.
When one adult was overheard to make fun of all this. Ryeamund was close by.
"Aye. May I ask you something, man?"
"Aye, steward. What would you know."
"I have heard, you have a great many pigs, on your pig farm. This is so?"
The man beamed with pride.
"Aye."
"A fine thing, to be sure. And tell me. How many pigs, do you own?"
"Ah. I tell you, with no jest. More pigs than a man can count."
"Oh. How wonderful. And tell me, once a year, you do see a tax man come. Do you not?"
"Aye."
"The custom is. You drop a pebble in a sack, with each pig you sell. The tax man then determines what tax you owe. Aye?"
"Aye. I do very well. I pay my fair share."
"Now. I personally see to the tax man, that he is fair and true. You might have heard words, that in other districts? The tax man is not always so fair. Why, he could lie to you. Tell you that you owe more. Reckoning the pebbles out. These lying tax men that other districts are burdened with? They scribble down the correct marks, and put the extra tax in their own pockets."
"I have heard those words. I am fortunate enough to live here, where the tax man is true."
"And tell me. With no reckoning, how would you know if you were being cheated? Why, the tax man could rob you as a blind man."
The man had no answer.
"Ah. You see my matter I speak of. How long did your son, spend in the garten?"
"Not long. As soon as he was useful to me, I would have him learn how to do the work, and make coin off of it. Learning things that mattered."
"I see. Now. If your son stayed and learned to reckon and scribble? You would not have to trust the tax man. You would see for yourself, if you got cheated or not. Merchants? Share reckoners. They pitch in a few coins each, and have the reckoner let them know the truth of these things. Then? The reckoner watches the reckoning and scribbling of the tax man, to keep him true. My words simply are, that it is not a bad skill to have around."
"I suppose."
"Aye. Enjoy the food and drink, man."
"And you."
The north-men were always keen on food and drink, and on wagering nearly any competition of any kind. They bet low coins back and forth, upon wee children at children's games, and had fun teasing each other as they won or lost. They had "winners" sit at their table with them, and toasted them. Gave the wee children that won a few coins. One wee child got into a "reckoning squabble" with one of the armored kingsmen, Theyer. His compatriots teased him when the wee little one gave him a "run for his coins". The north-men roared with laughter and toasts when she stole up behind him later, and jabbed at his armor with a "clink", nudging him with her rounded safety hand held touch-stick. While he chased her around squealing for it, a couple other children ran in and stole his sweetbread. Which naturally made his men roar louder in merry amusement.
Theyer was talking with a couple men there. Wondering if the locals were going to wager in any of the older children's games. Particularly, the oldest children at touch stick, then finally the oldest boys with their blunt swords, and hand fighting. The local men thought this was a fine thing, and would indeed be great sport. They boasted. They knew which of the boys were biggest and strongest and most aggressive. The north-men would be betting blind, upon young men they knew nothing of.
Theyer smiled.
"Aye. Yet, still great sport. Now. When two men are examining each other. Many times, you know that bigger stronger man will always win. Usually. No one can get anywhere, every man all wagering on the same man. That? Is no wager at all."
"Aye. True."
"Now. Odds, man. Odds. It is great sport, to wager on the smaller man that does not often win. Yet, if he would happen to enjoy a rare victory? The one that wagered on him gets his odds, man."
"True. What are you saying, then."
"Well. We are far north-men. We are all but brothers to our Ryeamund. We would like to wager on his youngest son, Shan. Not knowing any of these young men, what would you men think his chances were. At touch stick, at hand fighting. At the blunt swords. Eh?"
The men all chuckled. The main one answered for them.
"Aye, north-man…"
"Theyer."
"Aye, Theyer. You would not know. The steward's son? He reckons well, indeed. He also… dances and does girl's meadow tricks very well. He even plays a fair flute now. But… fighting? With hands or swords? Not one of the many things he has shown himself to be great at. Now. Running? He is great at that, I tell you. He has spent a lifetime running from all the other boys. I mean you north-men no insult of it, yet, that is what we all see down here."
Theyer made a sour face.
"Aye. We were all planning to wager on our friend's son, as it were. Now, you are saying all would be lost."
"As I say. Running games? We would get the odds, wagering on our young men we know. Now. The fighting games? Well… we would be insulting you, if we did not give you some nice odds, if you insist wagering on the steward's quite… gentle son."
"Hmm. I see. Now, odds. Running games, for one example. I would have to put, say, twenty coins, to your one coin? I would risk twenty biscuits, to collect but one of yours."
"Running games? Aye. The steward's quite gentle son, is well versed in running."
"Hmm. And in the fighting games. Now… that would be the same matter, but backwards. I could wager on Shan, and… I would get odds for that, then. Aye?"
The men all chuckled.
"Oh, aye. Anything you north-men wish to risk, so as not to insult your friend by not wagering on his gentle son? Aye. Odds on that one, truly. That? Would be one very long shot, for that arrow to hit the mark, I tell you."
"I hear your words. Now then. If the wagers were combined. And by that I mean… the hand fighting, the stick games, and the sword games? All three. Now… the chance of our Shan winning but one of those? We get some odds. And the odds of Shan must win all three for us to collect our wagers? I do mean to say, those would be quite high odds there, would you not agree?"
The men all looked at one another, chuckled and shrugged.
"Aye. We would be all but stealing your coin, out of your purse. Not that we would insult you in such a fashion. It is just words to show what we mean."
"No, no. I hear your words. Me and my north friends, we would be… all but giving you coins. Eh?"
"Quite like that, yes."
"Hmm. So. To entice us, to all take such a poor wager as that, then. It would be on your part, to come up with such odds, man. As to entice us, to as you say, donate you our coins."
"Theyer. You are free to wager your own coins as you see fit. You may want words among your fellows you travel with. See what they think of all this. We will come along, and see what odds we have to offer, that you might talk them into the wager."
"Aye. I will. And? Thank you for the… words on this matter. I had not known."
Theyer went back and quite loudly explained this all to his friends. Many of his fellows made sour faces. Threw bread rolls at him in fun. One, Arroch? Complained loudly.
"Theyer, man. We might profit more, by wagering on a chicken in the fighting games, then."
By early evening, the local men were by two's and three's, coming up to the north-men's table. Offering odds, for them to take Shan on any fighting game bet. And even higher odds, that Shan must win all of them, for them to close on their wager. Theyer entertained the idea, and all the other men around him? Teased him, threw bread rolls at him.
The locals? Kept coming back, and slowly upping the odds, to try to steal their coin. One local claimed, that they would do better to bet on Gullina, if only in the touch-stick games. She often chased the young men off, when they were too rough with the steward's gentle son.
The first day and night of the festival, Gullina wore her more regular work clothes. For the second night? She changed at night, into her black silk gown they had taken her traveling to get. Shan had made eyes at her back when she had wore burlap sacks sewn together. He made more eyes at her in her new get up, and with Eira and her armored lady friends arranging her hair.