Chapter 24: Breaking New Ground

The sun shone brightly. On a low, gentle slope in the northern part of the valley, a large earthenware pot sat atop a fire, wisps of white steam rising from it. Inside, meat and wheat porridge bubbled and churned. A farm woman and an old crone were stirring it vigorously, while several children busily hauled small bundles of scavenged firewood to the hearth.

From the slope, one could see a scene of intense activity. On both sides of the river, over a dozen people were bent over in the overgrown grass, cutting, hoeing, chopping, and pulling. Several wide firebreaks had already been carved into the wasteland and were nearing completion.

Today was the third day of clearing the land, and everyone from the wooden fort was involved. Emma had moved the kitchen to the valley, and Art had divided the people into six groups, each responsible for cutting firebreaks along the designated boundaries. With a shortage of scythes, long knives and short swords were distributed among the farmers. They used everything—scythes, iron hoes, and blades—racing against the clear, dry weather to finish the firebreaks before setting the grass ablaze.

On a makeshift bridge constructed of logs spanning the river, Kazak and Bass were carrying two large bundles of thatch toward the slope on the opposite bank.

"I don't see why we couldn't just burn it all down. Why go through all the trouble of making these firebreaks?" Kazak grumbled, clearly frustrated by the labor-intensive task.

"Stop complaining. What do you know?" Bass retorted quietly. "Just burn it? Do you have any idea if the fire might spread to the forests on either side? If you set the woods ablaze, are you going to be the one to put it out? If you anger the Forest Spirit, they’ll sacrifice you to appease it."

"Bass, I'm not complaining. It’s just been so long since I've done farm work; I can't adjust to it all at once," Kazak replied sheepishly.

Bass stopped and turned to him. "Too long since you've done farm work? Look at what his Lordship is doing! You worked harder as a laborer in Lucerne back in the day; how did you manage then? Shut your mouth and keep working."

Kazak fell silent, looking dejected.

Across the river, Art was using his short sword to hack through a patch of tall grass at the roots, with Ordo following behind to tie the cut grass into large sheaves. Ron carried a massive bundle to the clearing in front of the slope, took a bowl of water from a wooden barrel, drank it down, and then refilled a waterskin to take to Art.

"My Lord, please take a rest and have some water," Ron said, handing the skin to him.

Art straightened up, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve. He took the skin and drank deeply while sitting on a pile of grass. Neither the original owner of this body nor Art himself had ever engaged in heavy manual labor. If not for the need to boost morale and build a stable foundation for his future, he would never have done this voluntarily. Compared to farming, he would much rather be in the forest fighting wolves and wild beasts.

As he drifted into thought, a cheer erupted from the other side of the river; they had finished their firebreak.

Art stood up, stood on his tiptoes to look across, and turned to the farmers around him, shouting with encouragement: "Lads, they’ve finished on the other side! Let’s pick up the pace!" He handed the waterskin back to Ron and bent down to continue cutting.

Not long after, cheers rose from the right bank as well.

...

In the valley, along both sides of the river, people stood every few dozen paces holding torches along the firebreaks.

Art leaned on his knightly sword with his right hand and held a holy cross to his chest with his left. He knelt on one knee before the firebreak, bowing his head to pray: "Lord, I beseech thee to bless this fertile land. May thy grace grant us a bountiful harvest. Thou visitest the earth and waterest it, enriching it with the rain that softens the soil and nourishes the plants. Lord, let thy footsteps walk across every field, that it may always drip with fatness. May thy breath blow upon every seedling, that even in the harsh winter when all things wither, life may yet sprout. Lord, we believe that thy promise is the greatest mercy to all thy children who trust in thee. We believe that with thy blessing, every inch of this land shall be a place flowing with milk and honey! Amen!"

The others behind him crossed themselves and chanted, "Amen."

This was a source of spiritual strength; for a group of displaced strangers, nothing was more important than receiving the blessing and protection of God. Thus, Art had inherited the original owner's faith.

Art stood up, took a torch from Cooper, and stepped forward to ignite the first patch of dry grass. The flames of hope spread and rose across this forgotten, fertile soil.

"Light it! Light it! Light it!" cries echoed from all directions.

Old Cooper took the torch from Art with trembling hands, his voice unsteady. "My Lord, I haven't been this moved in many years."

Art looked at Cooper, nodded, and then focused intently on the rising flames.

The fire burned for half the afternoon. Dozens of farmers scattered across the charred, flat ground, gathering unburnt stalks and branches into piles to be burned again.

Art was on the gentle slope, discussing the construction of temporary shelters with Cooper and Bard.

"Cooper, the hardest part of clearing and tilling the land is yet to come. This place is too far from our wooden fort. These past few days, trekking back and forth has been time-consuming and exhausting. Therefore, we must begin clearing and tilling while simultaneously building temporary shelters. I think this high slope is perfect; it’s close to the river, slightly elevated, and level."

Cooper looked around and replied, "I agree, my Lord. This flat area is a bit narrow, but it’s enough to build a few large shelters. It’s also near the forest, making it easy to gather materials. With the thatch we’ve collected over the past few days and enough hands, we can put up a shelter in two or three days."

"Good. We’ll start immediately. I’ll have Ron ride back to the fort for tools shortly. Tonight, the women and children will return to the fort to rest, while the men stay behind to gather wood and dig foundations. Tomorrow, I’ll have Ordo and the others help you build. Also, this area has been uninhabited for years; there are surely wild beasts in the surrounding dense forests, so I intend to issue short spears to Lawrence and Scott to serve as guards."

Just as they finished planning the shelters, laughter rang out from the wasteland. Ron came running over, carrying something in his hand.

"My Lord! My Lord! Ha, look at this!" Ron held up a wild rabbit, charred black by the fire.

"Brother Ordo and the others also found a wild boar that choked to death on the smoke. There must be pheasants and rabbits in the fields that didn't manage to escape..."

"Good. Go tell everyone to search carefully. We’re having meat and soup tonight..."

That night, the men who stayed in the valley enjoyed a meal of roasted wild rabbit and thick soup made from onions and wild boar.