“You’re right about that. We’ll have to buy feed this year. Next year, we’ll have our own grain stores. And I’m canceling your taxes and your fieldwork obligations this year, but only for this year. I’ll collect after the next harvest—one-tenth of the whole harvest. Next year, we will turn my fields that you’ve been working into pasture for the cattle and let it rest. Let’s talk about the fruit trees. Emma says that most of the orchards are in Appleton; is that right Art?”
“Yes.”
“Who takes care of them?”
“We all take turns.”
“And seven nannies let the baby drown. Here’s what you do. Choose two families to oversee each orchard. Make that three families. Tell them to do a good job, or I’ll have them whipped. If the trees do well and the fruits are harvested carefully at the right time, I’ll pay them a silver coin each month. At the end of every month, I will inspect the orchards and pay them. Will that take care of the orchards?”
Art nodded; of course, it would.
“The same goes for all the other orchards by Fiur and Riverton. Next item. I plan to buy several cows for each village. I’d like to get some bulls, as well. Do you have anywhere to keep them?”
The men glanced at each other.
“I see. You will fix up your cow sheds and insulate them against the cold. I’ll come out later to inspect. I won’t give you the cows if you’re just going to let them freeze or get eaten by wolves. The same goes for your goat sheds. I want to see at least a hundred goats in each village. Fix up the henhouses while you’re at it.” The men nodded.
“Next item. I want to have fish ponds dug in Riverton next year. We’ll use the ponds that are already there. They just need to be cleaned out before we put fish in. Carp will do well. And each village should have about thirty pigs. That’s just to get through the winter so that no one slaughters any cows. We want to keep the cows and goats for breeding and milk. You can keep a few pigs for breeding and eat the rest. When we buy grain, we’ll get enough for seed and for feed.” Again she paused to see that they understood.
“Good. We won’t have any trouble on the way to market, but we’ll come back as a caravan for security.”
Fred, who had been silent so far, spoke up. “My Lady, what about the cost?”
Lily nodded. “A cow costs around eight silver coins. A pig costs three. That’s for a good, young sow. We’ll see when we get there, but it might do better to get shoats and feed them. I’m not sure, yet. We’ll have to do the math. All I can do now is estimate. We’ll see the actual prices when we get there.”
Based on her estimates, Lily thought she had just enough money, barely. And she had some ideas about where to get more. She had found some of Lilian Earton’s old letters and was working on forging her signature. She would write to her husband and tell him that if he didn’t send her some money, then she would come to live with him in the city. That should make him feel generous.
The blacksmith had already given Lilian her inkwells. If they sold, that would bring in a little money. They looked good, but they were too simple, and she didn’t have enough of them to turn a profit before others started to copy them. Large-scale manufacturing didn’t exist, and she had no idea where to start to get a patent.
Then there were her dresses. The fair was the perfect place to sell them. They were all expensive silk, with gold embroidery and pearls. Better yet, each of them had enough material in it to sell for the price of three dresses. Lily decided to take her jewels with her, too. If she ran out of money, she could always hock or sell them. With babies in danger of starvation, she couldn’t care less about her fancy jewelry. She’d buy herself something nice next year if the estate turned a profit. Farming required investment if she wanted to see a harvest, so Lily was prepared to spend some serious cash. What worried her was how to get all the purchases back home safely.
At least a ten days’ trip—that was nothing to sneeze at. And it was only ten days if they went at a good pace on horseback. How many miles is that? Oh right, they haven’t invented miles yet. Or meridians, either! It will take longer if we’re driving cattle. How many herders will I need to drive a herd of cows? I need people to feed the animals and guard them, too. I bet everyone between here and the fair would like to get their hands on some free cows. And there’s so much that needs to be done here before we bring all those animals back. She decided to leave the organizational issues to the elders: who, how, what, and how much. If they wanted to benefit from her goodwill, they would use their hands and heads to get the work done. In the process, she would see who the hardest-working was.
The cows weren’t really a gift—they would eventually have to pay her back. When she made this clear, the men lost some of their enthusiasm and starting hinting about their hungry children. Lily kept her temper in check but explained in a sweet voice that if anyone lost a child to hunger that year, she would blame the father for being stupid, lazy, or greedy. She didn’t need men like that in her villages and wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up as crow feed. If they were looking for a handout, Lily told them, they had the wrong countess. She was barely making her own ends meet, but she’d be glad to help anyone who wanted to invest sweat equity in fences and a cow shed in order to keep one of the cows she would buy.
It was evening by the time the meeting broke up. Before they left, the men suggested what looked like a good plan. Instead of driving the cows overland all the way back from the fair, they could take them up the Earta River most of the way and then make the rest of the trip as a caravan. It would still be dangerous, but less so.
Lily wasn’t sure. Where would they get that many boats? And if the Earta was safe for navigation, why weren’t there any villages along it?
The elders explained that their villages were already small, so they didn’t want their young men to be tempted to run off down the river to the big city. They also worried about defending themselves from river pirates. After all, peasants weren’t allowed to own serious weapons.
Lily didn’t believe they were completely unarmed, but she decided to check out the selection of weapons for sale at the fair. If necessary, she could have them make slingshots. Even a child could use one, and nobody—even a pirate—wants to catch a rock to the head.
We’re ready. Well, almost. I still have to learn to ride a horse.
Chapter 5
Pain and Gain
On her first day in the saddle, Lily managed to bruise everything below the belt. She finished the job on the second day, bruising everything she hadn’t already landed on. Still, she was glad to have a horse that could carry her. The handsome draft horse went by the name Chestnut and was equally happy to see Lily and the piece of salted bread she brought him.
It took skill to ride a horse. Aliya had those skills, but Lilian didn’t, and all of her body memories belonged to Lilian. Even wearing three pairs of pants—silk, wool, and leather—she suffered from a sore butt and ripped seams.
At least she wasn’t trying to ride a side saddle. They had tried to convince her to use one, but Lily put her foot down. She would have a regular saddle and wear pants covered by a skirt with slits cut in it to cover her legs and allow her to sit more or less comfortably. The skirt wasn’t hard to sew, and she had plenty of pink fabric to choose from.
What was it with Lilian and the color pink?
She didn’t expect her skirt to stay fresh and pink for long. Horses sweat, and after a day’s work, they don’t smell like roses. She knew by the end of the day, she would smell about as bad as the horse, and there wouldn’t be anywhere to take a bath. Lily was afraid to stop at any more inns along the way to the fair. The one time she had set foot in an inn, the odor hit her in the face so hard that she stood on the porch retching. Even the city morgue didn’t smell that bad! Just dead bodies and formaldehyde. The inn had smelled of rotgut, rotten meat, and unwashed bodies, like a dumpster and a homeless camp all in one small space.
Lily ordered the servants to buy food in the villag
es. They would be camping out in the fresh air. She didn’t care if her meat was tough from roasting over a fire. With a full set of molars, she had no complaints about Lilian’s teeth.
That reminds me, I need to look for a toothbrush and tooth powder at the fair. What else do I need? Soap. It isn’t hard to make soap, and I can use local ingredients. Something to scrub with. Do loofahs grow here? Would some other plant work? Maybe I can grow something.
They bought bread and soft, yellow cheese in the villages. Lily was nervous about eating the bread. She knew that if the grain hadn’t been stored properly, rye bread could be contaminated with spores of a dangerous fungus that could cause hallucinations or even seizures. That was why she had told the peasants to grow wheat. She knew that poorly stored rye was a hazard, but she didn’t know the right way to store it.
Lily wanted to bang her head against a wall; there was so much she didn’t know. She realized that her education was sorely lacking. What are kids learning in school? They certainly aren’t taught how to survive in the wild. People in our times don’t know how to make shelter, start a fire without matches, tell edible mushrooms from poisonous ones, grow wheat, or work with a horse… They want to “put religion back in schools,” but who the devil needs that? Basic survival skills would be a better use of kids’ time. Lily figured she didn’t need help dealing with God. She needed help making simple things like paper, ink, and salt…
There were no comforts in her new world. It was pure stubbornness and a will to survive that got her back in the saddle every day. She had to grit her teeth and keep moving forward. Nobody cared that she was tired. So, she held on. After a while, the peasants stopped looking at her with contempt and distrust. Now, they only distrusted her. She saddled her horse without help, climbed into the saddle every day, and rode without complaining.
There were just five men with her on the trip; the elders Art Virdas and Sherl Ferney came along to consult with her on what to buy, and Jean Corey, Rem Veras, and Tres Mattie provided security. Jean had once been captain of the castle guards, and he kept the other young men on their toes. Lilian sighed. In her previous life, she could have kept up with them all day, even with a heavy pack on her back. Now, she couldn’t even do her exercises for fear the men would see her. She was afraid of being found out—very afraid.
There were other fears to consider, as well. Her former Comptroller had traded with pirates. With their source of slaves out of the way, will the pirates get pushy? How can I defend my lands from them?
The estate was basically defenseless. Anyone could walk right in and take whatever they wanted. Lily didn’t like that. She was responsible for five villages in a world teeming with bandits, wolves, and bears. People in the 20th century hunted wolves from the safety of helicopters, but in this world, you had to climb a tree and shoot arrows. There were too many wolves and not enough arrows. Threats could come from the river or the sea, as well.
She needed an armed militia. She had watched the guards training at the castle and tried not to laugh. In her old life, she could have flipped all those heroes like turtles. They were slow, and she could see their moves before they made them. When they practiced sword fighting, none of them thought to trip their opponents. Is that some ancient code of honor? Dead men aren’t interested in honor!
Lily needed real warriors—hardened wolves, not barking dogs. She would use the guards she had for now, but she knew they would be useless against real fighters. On the other hand, she suspected that a real militia would cost her more than an iron bridge. Professionals don’t graze on grass.
***
By the fourth day of the trip, the men pitied her as she wheezed and groaned her way into the saddle. After another two days, they started to respect her. They could see she was having a hard time riding, but that didn’t stop her. Nothing would stop her; that earned their respect.
When they finally came within sight of Altver fortress, Lily almost rolled off her horse laughing.
Is this what they call a fortress? I’ve seen churches taller than this!
The fortress consisted of a stone wall that was three or four times as high as a man is tall. The corner towers were slightly higher, and the total area was just enough to fit two of Lily’s castles. It was enough room to hide people—without any comfort—during a siege.
The fair was already in full swing at the foot of the walls.
“I wonder where I can spend the night,” Lily mumbled.
Art heard her. “I was here year before last. There’s a nice inn called The Pig and Dog. The keeper rents rooms, but they aren’t cheap.”
“Are they full of fleas and bedbugs?” Lily asked suspiciously.
“No.” Art knew how she felt about insects and permitted himself a smile. “The keeper’s wife is a Virman. They have to clean their houses out ten times a day. Their god makes them do it.”
“I like that god!” Lily exclaimed.
Art made the sign of Aldonai. “My Lady, don’t talk that way where others could hear you. Our priest can’t stand other religions. He says they were all invented by Maldonaya!”
“I promise I won’t. But I do like clean habits. Tell me about Virmans.”
“Virmans? But don’t you already know, My Lady?”
Lily’s eyes grew sharp. “Next you’ll be asking me what I learned in school! Mind your own business, elder!” Of course, she knew some things, but not enough by a long shot.
Art looked down. Peasants knew better than to answer a question with a question. “Virma is an island not far from the shore of Ativerna. The Virmans are sailors. They do a little trading and a little pirating. They aren’t bad people, and they’re good at music, but mainly they live by the sword. Their land is poor, so they can’t farm, but goats and sheep do well there. They make shawls out of goats’ down that they bring to the fair to sell. Those shawls are so fine that you can pull one through a gold ring!
Lily nodded. “If we have any money left over we’ll look at getting some shawls as gifts. Let’s go.”
***
Lons Avels had spent several days hiding out in the coalman’s hut deep in the forest. He hadn’t seen this coming. The youngest son of a landless noble, Lons received a decent education at the monastery. He wasn’t cut out to be a monk, though; he loved a life of drinking, dancing, and pretty women. The monks knew he would never join their ranks, so as long as his father paid for his schooling, they left him alone. Then fortune seemed to smile on him. Father Julius found him an ideal job. He was to teach the princesses to read. He was euphoric as he traveled to the castle.
His dream came crashing to the ground as soon as he arrived. The castle was falling apart, and his salary was tiny. He had thought the princesses lived at court, but Gardwig had little use for his daughters. He wanted them to be literate, but otherwise, he had no intention of wasting the treasury’s money on them.
The princesses all slept in a single room, wore each other’s handed-down dresses and sniffled and sneezed through the winter because the castle was impossible to heat and always frozen like a cube of ice by morning.
Food was another problem. The princesses were expected to be extremely pious, so they observed three twenty-day fasts and nine three-day fasts each year. The fasts were strict, with only grains and vegetables allowed. Even worse, the entire household was supposed to practice piety along with the princesses.
Lons quickly learned to make quiet purchases of fish or meat and keep them in a cold corner. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived. He was a grown man and couldn’t live on vegetables, and he couldn’t be seen going out hunting during a fast.
With a pitiful salary and little in the way of material support from his family, Lons soon grew bored, so he embarked on an affair with a dairymaid from the village and otherwise devoted his time to teaching the princesses. Anna was the most interesting of the group. She was the oldest, bright and intelligent, with a thirst for life. She was like a black diamond surrounded by white quartz, all glittering and shi
ning. When Lons arrived at the castle, she was just eleven or twelve, but her eyes were far from childish—the eyes of a grown woman angry at the whole world. What did she have to be angry about? And why did Anna fall in love with him, a man living close to poverty and with few prospects for the future?
He taught her, and she learned. She seemed like a grown woman already. She was small, but she was a woman. There were smiles and glances between them from the very outset. She was thirteen when she bled for the first time and wrote him her first love letter. More letters followed, and they turned into looks, touches, and hints.
Anna was hunting like an experienced woman. Where had she learned the skills? Lons was no match for her. No, he stood firm for half a year and tried not to notice her. He even burned her letters. In the end, he gave up.
She knew what she wanted, and there was nothing he could do to turn her off. Their romance burst into flame as if Maldonaya had blessed it (or at least spit into the fire). Lons completely lost his head over her eyes, her lips, and her body. She couldn’t get enough of him, and he felt the same. He didn’t want to be her lover; he wanted to be her husband. So, he struck a deal with the priest. The papers confirming their marriage and a little bit of gold were hidden outside the castle.
Lons hadn’t expected to have to run, but the situation snuck up on him. So, he found himself, sad and unfortunate, pondering his next move. His options did not look good. He could go back to the castle, but after the scene with the Jester, he was worried about ending up on the scaffold or having an ‘accident’ somewhere in one of the castle’s darker corners.
They wouldn’t hurt Anna—that much he knew for sure. Gardwig didn’t want a scandal. He wanted to marry her off! Lons ground his teeth. “I won’t allow it! She’s mine!”
On the other hand, what am I going to do—go holler outside her window? He could slink off and never see his Anna again, but Lons couldn’t make up his mind to do that. As usually happens, fate made the decision for him. The door of the hut creaked. Lons was reaching for his weapon—an old knife on the table—when he was struck by a blow to the jaw that knocked him against the wall.
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