Read Online I Know Not (The Story of Fox Crow) by James Daniel Ross - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Daniel Ross
Ads: Link
Can’t say I liked it much.
But I did like it a little.
5
Blood Merchant
Things had become a lot easier the closer we got to River’s Bend as the natural progression of human settlements has a tendency to demolish handy ambush sites. Constant foraging for building materials and fuel for fires clears out the underbrush and flattens hills. The roads become better maintained and more often traveled. Even this close to Sorrow Wood, the atmosphere was changing from the oppressive throne of the wild to the yoked domestication of arable lands. What sealed the deal was the appearance of rank upon rank of winter rye marched right up to the edge of the trees. They waved like a sea toward the clumps of buildings that made up the village of River’s Bend.
People who grow up in cities believe that all poor families live in squat, thatched roof structures walled in wattle, what everyone else calls woven sticks, and daub, what everyone else calls excrement. It will collapse under the brutal force of an old woman waving a cane and it bursts into flame whenever anyone coughs, but at least it’s cheap. The reason people can live in something like this within a few days ride of a city is simple: in case of trouble, they run behind the big, stone walls their liege–lord provides. Stone walls are cane-proof and cough-resistant, but they are grossly expensive.
Out in the country, especially in that lovely area between the Northern Ridge Mountains and Sorrow Wood, people are responsible for their own survival. The farmers out here build clan houses, tall, rambling structures that grow bit by bit as children married and had children of their own. Each clan works wide swaths of land taxed by the lord but defended by the family. The walls are heavy wooden logs, meaning they can still burn, but while they are easier to knock down than stone, they do provide cover from axes, blades, and arrows.
Only one thing could drive men to risk his family so far from civilization like this: the law says that the family that etches the farm out of the forest owns it. Landowners, just like nobles. They can pass it on to their children, hire workers, and while they are taxed for the privilege, they are relatively free of royal excesses and city blight…at least until a rival family, bandit group, barbarian tribe, or marauding soldiers come along and wipe them out. Then, in exchange for all those years of taxes, the lord moves a family of serfs into the cleared and freshly turned arable land. If the new tenants are lucky, the houses are still standing when they begin slaving away for the far away lord. It’s a pretty awful deal all around. Welcome to being a peasant.
From this distance, River’s Bend looked like one of the few success stories. Several families had built six three story farmhouses, equal parts home, barn, and wood stockade. The country folk build their homes like their women: big and blocky. Generations worth of one family name might occupy one of these ugly, square–
–My hand arced out and slapped into Theo’s chest, stopping him in his tracks and nearly setting off his crossbow. His mouth made a little ‘o’ and his wide eyes flicked across the irregular rows of rye. He managed to hold off his questions for two whole breaths. At least he whispered, “What? What?”
The trouble was: I didn’t know ‘what’. I crouched down and he followed suit. We crept forward. Every single second, my eyes flicked left, right, up, and down. There was something…something…We advanced cautiously, but even with our view completely blocked, it was sinking in that we weren’t about to stumble in on a harvest celebration.
All these small communities have dogs. They catch rats, they warn of intruders, and in a pinch they even fight in your battles. Mostly they run around like idiots and bark at birds, trees, and
But I did like it a little.
5
Blood Merchant
Things had become a lot easier the closer we got to River’s Bend as the natural progression of human settlements has a tendency to demolish handy ambush sites. Constant foraging for building materials and fuel for fires clears out the underbrush and flattens hills. The roads become better maintained and more often traveled. Even this close to Sorrow Wood, the atmosphere was changing from the oppressive throne of the wild to the yoked domestication of arable lands. What sealed the deal was the appearance of rank upon rank of winter rye marched right up to the edge of the trees. They waved like a sea toward the clumps of buildings that made up the village of River’s Bend.
People who grow up in cities believe that all poor families live in squat, thatched roof structures walled in wattle, what everyone else calls woven sticks, and daub, what everyone else calls excrement. It will collapse under the brutal force of an old woman waving a cane and it bursts into flame whenever anyone coughs, but at least it’s cheap. The reason people can live in something like this within a few days ride of a city is simple: in case of trouble, they run behind the big, stone walls their liege–lord provides. Stone walls are cane-proof and cough-resistant, but they are grossly expensive.
Out in the country, especially in that lovely area between the Northern Ridge Mountains and Sorrow Wood, people are responsible for their own survival. The farmers out here build clan houses, tall, rambling structures that grow bit by bit as children married and had children of their own. Each clan works wide swaths of land taxed by the lord but defended by the family. The walls are heavy wooden logs, meaning they can still burn, but while they are easier to knock down than stone, they do provide cover from axes, blades, and arrows.
Only one thing could drive men to risk his family so far from civilization like this: the law says that the family that etches the farm out of the forest owns it. Landowners, just like nobles. They can pass it on to their children, hire workers, and while they are taxed for the privilege, they are relatively free of royal excesses and city blight…at least until a rival family, bandit group, barbarian tribe, or marauding soldiers come along and wipe them out. Then, in exchange for all those years of taxes, the lord moves a family of serfs into the cleared and freshly turned arable land. If the new tenants are lucky, the houses are still standing when they begin slaving away for the far away lord. It’s a pretty awful deal all around. Welcome to being a peasant.
From this distance, River’s Bend looked like one of the few success stories. Several families had built six three story farmhouses, equal parts home, barn, and wood stockade. The country folk build their homes like their women: big and blocky. Generations worth of one family name might occupy one of these ugly, square–
–My hand arced out and slapped into Theo’s chest, stopping him in his tracks and nearly setting off his crossbow. His mouth made a little ‘o’ and his wide eyes flicked across the irregular rows of rye. He managed to hold off his questions for two whole breaths. At least he whispered, “What? What?”
The trouble was: I didn’t know ‘what’. I crouched down and he followed suit. We crept forward. Every single second, my eyes flicked left, right, up, and down. There was something…something…We advanced cautiously, but even with our view completely blocked, it was sinking in that we weren’t about to stumble in on a harvest celebration.
All these small communities have dogs. They catch rats, they warn of intruders, and in a pinch they even fight in your battles. Mostly they run around like idiots and bark at birds, trees, and
Similar Books
