Chapter 56 - the Festival V
The festival had opened up on Monday, or as they called it? Moon's Day. This was the fifth day of the festival, Friday. Again, they didn't hardly call it that. To them? It was Frey's Day.
Today's big entertainment was to be the final day of the festival games. The young men were to examine each other. Hand fighting. There were no complicated rules, and what rules there were? Were fairly basic. No weapons. As they said it, nothing in the hands. It was to be for sport. No man would strike another man, when he was down.
To win? If your opponent could not rise, you were declared the winner. If the other young man was finished? He yielded; you won. Or, you could win by forfeit. That being, the opponent was unable to fight from a previous match. Or, he was disqualified. For example, having something in his hand. An example would be picking up a rock and braining your opponent, you were declared a cheat and the loser.
It was arranged the same as the sword matches. Every two men would have a match. The winners advanced, the losers were out. This continued until the last two men, then an overall winner was declared.
The local men were keen on this. If just one of the boys entered, were to win against Shan? They would win their wager. It was considerable in and of itself. Because if Shan won it all? They owed that huge sack of gold to cover their twenty to one wager.
They were all concerned, but felt this was well enough. Shan had never once fought in the village, and always ran from all the boys. His father was quite something with his own two "war-hammers", they knew this from some winters back when Ryeamund had first arrived. Yet, Shan was not his father. He never fought. Not once. Quite frankly? Everyone watched their tongue more around the steward's wife, Lady Eira. She was known to be quite something when she got a bug up her ass. But Shan? They were more afraid of Gullina by far. When she had enough of their ways with "her Shan", she would take a stick after the boys when they didn't listen to her that enough was enough.
When Gullina was truly well and pissed? She threatened to sharpen her stick.
Naturally, the thickest and strongest young men entered the hand fighting contest. After all, size and strength and aggressive behavior would count for the most, here. The village men honestly didn't think Shan stood a chance to win one of his matches, let alone all of them.
Ryeamund took Shan aside for a private word, before things got underway.
"Son. A quick word."
"Aye, father?"
"I know this has been a long time in the coming. I know you have no love for most all of the village boys."
"Aye."
"You can do as you will. Yet? If you think it possible. I would ask you, to not put too many boys onto porridge. Aye, would you be content to snap a few ribs? Give them a nice fool's crown, here. Such things will heal, and soon enough."
Ryeamund gently poked Shan in the ribs and then his forehead, with one of his thick, meaty fingers.
"Aye, father. I will caress them as gently as I might."
"That's a great son. Now go on. Have fun."
Wulfgar again offered up a bag of the high king's gold as another little geft to the festival.
From the first match, things quickly began to go awry… for the locals and their wager. For Shan? Things went quite well, indeed. He could do as he had done in the sword matches. Step around and avoid boys, and easily it now seemed. He used much the same footwork, as when handling a sword.
They swung their arms in great, slow windmills. He not only found it slow to avoid, when he struck back? He did it as his father had taught all his sons. Quick, straight shots. As tree men did. Then there was the matter of those extremely long arms. Shan had great reach. His legs were quite long as well. He could reach out and kick a man in his stomach and send him down.
His brother's tricks, Var's tricks… he could trip them, or step on their feet and shove them around. Avoid them as long as he wanted. When they charged in, he stuck out a long arm and they all but ran into his fist, more than they got hit. A fool's crown, was the bumps from having knuckles hard into your forehead. They all wore them, one by one.
Shan appeared, as with sword fighting? Actually all but bored. He wasn't even really mad. Then, when it was over? He collected his second bag of the high king's gold he offered up as a prize to the winner. Gullina had such a bag from the stick fighting. Shan now had two of them.
Then, it was on to the matter of the wager. That quite large sack of twenty to one gold coins the north-men claimed, by betting on Shan. The locals complained quite a bit, but it had been fair. When they grumbled to Ryeamund, that they had been tricked? Ryeamund asked how that was. He shrugged and explained.
"Aye. It was not that Shan cannot fight. It was that he was not allowed to. I told him his childhood was to be spent at the garten, not playing as a fool. You men. You all were wrong in what you thought you knew. No one tricked you. You all? Tricked your own self."
Ryeamund went on to explain. Gullina and Shan both? Made excellent use of the garten, every day they could, for long years. Stick games were not just children's games, though they certainly were that as well. Up north? It was so the children when grown, could have their wooden touch sticks switched out for metal sticks, swords. The BladdenMeisters had a much easier time teaching them to fight with swords and daggers. And, had not both Ryeamund and his wife, often enough times, explained to anyone that would listen? The garten was important. Now, they could perhaps see it for themselves.
Eira added in.
"Aye. How many times has anyone heard me say such. Do not confuse, gentle with weak. You all love the common jest you all make, and often. My gentle son, my gentle son. He followed the Gentle Way. And now? Your silly jest, is not nearly as funny."
Ryeamund came back as well.
"Aye. We tally up, I think. How can any of your boys kill Shan? You cannot kill a man, if you cannot catch him. Also. If Shan comes for them? How can they escape him. You all favor those big, heavy swords. As you see? They are all but useless, against a person that knows sword work well. My son can kill a man, even with no sword in his hand. He will kill that man, with his own sword. He will be as well served, with any stick he picks up."
Ryeamund shrugged and laughed.
"Perhaps now? You all see the value, of the garten. Children learn things, quickly. They can not become a high reckoner, but that they start young, and go every day, all day. To that garten."
When night fell, to the north-men, it was the beginning of the Satyr's Day feast. Var smiled at Eira.
"Does my Lady still honor our bargain."
Eira smiled.
"Aye."
Eira got into her matching armor with Var, Hlin, and Syn. They provided the entertainment for the evening. As they once had winters ago, up in the Bear's great-house. This was a fresh, new crowd. They all marveled at the women in armor, each sporting two long thin swords. Var getting all worked up, downing her third horn of fine, unwatered mead… before seeking sport.
Shan and Gullina both warmed up with them all. The fast, well choreographed series of parries and blocks to warm up. The villagers were used to two men with big, slow swords… that barely knew how to use them, they now saw. Eira and her three ladies took turns warming up for taps on their armor.
Then, the armor came off. The women all played for scratches. The villagers were in awe of it. They all knew nothing of the thorn scratches. They naturally thought they were seeing near misses, a Blade-Master's fine cut that almost cut their opponent to shreds. The way they laughed off such a mere "scratch", as all but nothing, a bit of fun as Var put it.
The women were all a sight for the villagers to behold. Particularly Var. Over the years, she had gotten better and better at it. It was obvious too, with all her fancy footwork, what an advantage it was. She had the light feet of a dancer and gymnastics performer. It became obvious as hell, that her dancing and "meadow tricks" was what allowed her to be so dangerous with swords in her hands.
Var had better footwork than ever. Teaching more as Wulfgar tapered off with age, kept her in fine form. She had her dancing tricks all in with it. Stutter-steps out of nowhere. Stalking quickly forwards or backwards, one foot sometimes stopped even with the other, it was never apparent which leg was coming out next. She could hop, spring, lunge and whirl around like a house-cat.
Var had tricks to her sword hands as well. She didn't always hold the sword normally. She sometimes held one or the other sword blade down, not up as normal. She could switch her grip as well, slick and easy. Both hands down, both hands up, or one each. At will. She more than gave Eira a run for her money, even though Eira had always been the best at sword work in their youth.
After all four of them had scratched each other up several times over the long entertainment display, it was time. The armor long off now, they wanted men to play with them. Var wouldn't rest until she taunted the large father of the boy that had been in on the dried sheep shit throwing incident. She made him look like a complete fool. She constantly disarmed him, and picked his sword up by the hilt with her own sword tip, and handed it back to him. A high insult from one swordsman to another, of how inept they were.
They even got Gullina in on it, then Shan. They both played for "scratches" for a while, to the awe of a new crowd.
The rest of the evening, all the next day and into that evening? All Satyr's Day feast. There was no more entertainment, at least none official and scheduled. Several of the locals got into it with each other, each blaming the others for their poor and large wager. The north-men and even the Valkyrim bet low coins on these impromptu hand fighting matches.
Var proclaimed it… entertainment, such as was available. When one man well into his goblet already, said something a bit too candid and fresh to Var? She laughed and offered him to a hand fight. No swords. He declined. The locals had seen far too much of what the north-men seemed to be about, and even their women were dangerous.
On Satyr's Day evening, as dark fell? Ryeamund explained the birthright custom. He gave it to Shan, and his brothers were happy for him. Later, when everyone was well into all their horns and goblets, Gareen told him. Him and Mekall were kingsmen, and were sworn for a long time to watch over Shan, protect him, and see him grow up to be capable of all this. They knew who he was to become from when he was a wee little thing. They were not jealous of him, far from it. They were quite happy to serve him and aid him in his future endeavors. Among them, taking Ryeamund's place one day, as well as being the North Star's heir.
"Aye. Mekall. Our little brother? He worries, we will look at him with envy."
Mekall laughed. He always the one with more wit and humor.
"Little brother? Why would a man envy his brother, being even a king."
"It would seem a normal thing."
"Aye. But not to a man with wits. Me and Mekall, have all the luck. All the good things that come from it? Not the half of the worry."
Shan laughed.
"Indeed. I have seen you two out in a tavern, already. Picking up serving wenches, after all but a horn of ale."
Mekall chuckled.
"Aye. You can rest assured. Your brothers will see to the taverns, that things are orderly."
"Oh, surely. You two, will see more to the serving wenches, than anything."
"Aye. We will. You can declare us… what, then. The TavvrnMeisters."
Shan giggled.
"Old high north-speak. For speaking of such things. Surely, what the instructors at the Garten all intended it for, I am sure."
When the seventh day of the festival came, it was Sun's day. The last day of the long seven day festival. Stuart stood up, and began to explain something.
"Aye. I say this, with all you people here, as witnesses. I am the North Star. I am the high king. Everyone knows, that the mad king has no heir. This is dangerous for the kingdom. I might well be a madman? Yet, I am still a man. I will pass one day. With no heir? This fine kingdom we enjoy, will fall into utter chaos. Various men will fight over that empty throne, and it will tear us all apart. My heart has been heavy for many winters over just this very thing."
"With north-men here to witness it, as well as you others. I will say it plain. A long time ago? We had a small feast. We enjoyed ourselves, and there was much food and drink. I am not often far into my goblet, yet that night? I surely was. I woke up with a woman in my bed. I am ashamed to say it was the Lady Eira."
The villagers were at rapt attention, this would be gossip for all time. The high king even here, much less addressing them and letting them bear witness to what seemed to be important matters of state.
"Aye. I was raised a Rhyshian Lord. A high reckoner, instructed to have the highest manners and character. Yet, with all the fun, food and drink? That is how I woke. The Lady Eira was rousing me from sleep. Wake up, you fool! My husband is at the door!"
"Being ashamed of what had happened, does not erase that it did happen. As you can suppose… me and Ryeamund here, well… we had words. On more than one occasion. We often had quite harsh words, and we even put our hands on each other. Yet, remember how I started out with my words. The high king? Had no heir. As a Rhyshian Lord. Of high reckoning and high character? I might only bear offspring, with a woman of similar nature. We call such a woman, a kingmaker. A woman of high reckoning, and highest character. No kingmaker in my land would spend time with me. I am but the mad king. Madness? Is not to be encouraged, by breeding with it."
"Nine moons after this matter happened? Lady Eira gave birth to her third son, Shan. I do not mean to insult or embarrass Ryeamund and the Lady Eira his wife, yet… they had no children of their own. After the battle for the corridor? Many fathers did not come home. Mothers that had died in childbirth, now the fathers gone to Valhalla… there were many of what we call the Sons and Daughters of Odin. Foundlings. In our lands? Foundlings are taken in, and raised as your own sons and daughters. No sleight to them, in any manner. Not having children for a couple winters, Lady Eira and Ryeamund took in what you know to be Eira and Ryeamund's two oldest sons… Gareen and Mekall. They are both big-men and kingsmen, and both fine Rhyshian lords. Their fathers? Were brave men. Men that gave their lives, so we can all sit easily and enjoy order and peace."
"Nine moons after this matter, Lady Eira gave birth to Shan. He is my heir. He has already been examined, to be worthy of being a kingsman. He has already been examined for both high reckoning, and high character, at the garten. He is a declared Rhyshian Lord. Lady Eira herself? Is a kingmaker. Your North Star, your mad king? The kingdom will not be ripped apart, when such time as I pass on comes to be."
"If you lived up in our lands? This matter is well known. I say these things in public, so people will know. You have but to look at the boy, and you will see my height. You have but to speak to the boy? To know he is a high reckoner, as I am. You have but to see his works, to know he has high character. Shan is the North Star's bastard son, Shan is the North Star's heir. Odin, in all his wisdom? Saw this matter happen with a kingmaker, and thank Odin for that. I would not have some drunken fool, to replace me. The kingdom, is secure."
"You might wonder, why Shan grew up down here. The reason is simple. I am known to be given to madness. I know little of raising children, other than instructing at the gartens, when I was a younger man. I knew Ryeamund for some time, before this matter happened. He has great quality. He is wise, and has high character. He, is a Rhyshian Lord as well. Lady Eira? A kingmaker. With the both of them doing such a fine job raising their two foundlings so well? I could do no better. I could not do as well. I would have done worse."
"And so? They raised Shan, and I can see the result of their fine work. I consider myself quite fortunate, that Ryeamund and Eira have forgiven me, about the matter. The matter should not have happened? Yet it did. And? The finest thing came out of it all, Odin be praised. Also? Ryeamund himself was born and raised here in the south-lands. I wanted my heir to have all of his quality. I can now see the fine results. Ryeamund Thorson? Lady Eira? You both have given me the greatest geft anyone could give the North Star, an heir. You have both given the greatest geft possible, to the kingdom itself. The boy's quality."
"This matter now aside? I will speak of this garten you people marvel at. I am from two parents, as any man is. One parent? A RavinLunden. The other? From a line of all original north-men. Generations ago, the RavinLunden came to be in the far north. They brought with them their wisdom, and their ways and customs. One such custom? Was the garten. Every single village in their lands, has one. Over time, us north-men saw the quality of these people, and it comes from the gartens."
"The original north-men, knew size and strength. Not great reckoning. Over time, we saw the great reckoning and the great character, these RavinLunden had. We are coming to adopt their customs. Among these customs, the gartens. A garten bears fruit, with any child that comes early, and stays late. What can be done with a young child? Can not be done with even a young man, let alone an adult. Size and strength? Are as all but useless without wits and character. Only can a garten give this. I would see one day, a garten in every village. Wulfgar, looks first for reckoning in a new kingsman. This is no small thing. If you think a sword arm is a fine thing? Look at those women in armor. Look at Gullina. Then Shan. What we call the Rhyshian Lords? Are who best defends the kingdom, when out-land men try every so often, to make their way up the corridor, and have our precious kingdom for theirs. It is the Rhyshian Lords they fear, and that is who stops them, every time. All men of the highest reckoning, and the highest character. A man with wits? Is much more dangerous than a larger, stronger man with no wits."
"I traveled a long way to get here, and I will travel a long way when I go back. I passed through many quite unruly districts. Places where men were fighting with each other, over nothing. These places have no gartens, and what is worse? No one to set a proper example to follow. I love all my pickles, the people that make up the kingdom. Odin said, that men should work with one another, and not against one another. When people work with one another, and are quiet, polite, and gracious to one another? Great things happen. When people work against one another? Nothing happens, or even worse? Horrible things. You have but to learn of the Great Troubles, to see what can happen. Everyone fighting one another. Over nothing."
"I am done. Enjoy your food and drink. I hope you see some small wisdom in my words. Odin be praised."
After the festival ended, it was an easy matter for the local villagers to return home. Indeed, they did every night. They lived nearby about the village. It was not so simple a matter, for everyone that had traveled in from the far north. Stuart wanted to stay at least a little while. Traveling long distances wasn't his favorite thing in the world. He wanted to spend some time with Shan, who he wholeheartedly believed to be his own bastard son. Their culture did not have the stigma associated with children born out of wedlock, due to outside dalliances nor even adopted children. In the far north? Children were children.
Everyone agreed that all the greater variety of food in the southern border lands was quite a treat. Even Var, who at first complained the most about the heat down here as compared to what she was well used to? Claimed she was getting used to being "boiled for dinner". The oxen were in no rush to leave Ryeamund and Eira, either. They missed their friend, and Eira's childhood and lifelong friends felt the same. They all lingered on for a couple more weeks.
The oxen took a bit of their winnings. And by a "bit", they had increased their wager many times over. It was all told, quite a bit of gold. They gefted Shan and Gullina the biggest share of the winnings. What came easily, they said, should be given away equally as easy. The two could use it to get a farm of their own here if they wished, or even in the far north when they traveled up, as they would have to do eventually. If their needs were not too great, they could have a small farm in both places.