Sorry for it taking so long to get another chapter done. Look for one midweek: Dawn.

Stone

15. Family

Stone was watching the men put pylons in for the new bridge when three riders approached. Two were soldiers: the other was the man the Vicomte had sent back to Sarn in negotiations on a peace treaty, and he looked irate.

“This is the one come from Sarn,” one of the soldiers said. “We thought you might want to speak to him afore the big muckety-muck saw him.”

“I must protest,” the man said. “I am on a diplomatic mission, and there are certain forms that should be met.”

“He is correct, boys,” Stone said. “Take him to the Vicomte, and then allow them a chance to speak in private. If they want to go a few miles out of town, follow, but at a distance allowing them to speak without being heard. You are there to protect them, not to spy on them.” He watched as they took him to the house where the Vicomte was staying. Mrs. Trellis would be upset when her guest finally left: she had been earning good money from him while he was with her, and lately she had taken to buying beer in bulk, and selling glasses for a forthing or a halfpence a glass to those who had cash. She seemed well on her way to becoming the first tavern keeper in Greenstone.

Stone, however, had a myriad of other things to do. The town had doubled in population over the past week, and there were more and more problems to be solved. After the soldiers led the agent away, he saw Carlson approach: a sign that there was another problem.

“Captain, we have a problem,” the former guard confirmed. “We have two men both claiming to own the same property.”

“How did that happen? Euler has been making lists of all the properties as they are allocated. What is the problem?”

“Both men have adjoining properties,” Carlson said. “The dispute is the boundary between the lands. Apparently there are trees involved.”

“Oooh, it looks like a trial,” Rayla said playfully. “You know I love a man in robes.”

“No robes,” Stone said curtly. “The school should be out in about 15 minutes. We will meet in the stone one.” The recent influx of people after the last wagon was freed meant that the old tent school was still in use, providing a total of four classes per day. Rayla and Stone, who were to get the tent, were now living in a small wooden house, recently completed.

“Do you need a jury?” Rayla asked.

Stone thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “The purpose of a jury is to decide on facts when the story given by the participants don’t agree. I have a better way of knowing who is telling the truth.” He patted the sword on his shoulder.

They rode over to the school, and Stone was gladdened by the children as they ran out the doors, finally free to go and play again. He went in, and asked the schoolmaster for permission to use the room, promising that they would be done before the evening classes. As Carlson was a student in that session, he would ensure that things moved along.

The two men were brought in, and Stone asked the complainant his side of the story. Apparently the man had received his property when the town was first established. He had been a slave who looked after an orchard before, so he was glad to get a property with apple trees on it. There were eight rows of trees with four trees in each. Due to being left wild for several years, the crop this year would only be crab apples, but he had started the pruning needed to bring the trees back, in hopes of a good crop in the following year.

There was an additional four trees behind his, with a split rail fence separating them from the rest of the orchard, as well as a collection of bee hives, essential for fertilization of the apply blossoms. When he went back to the rear of his orchard, he found that the rail fence had been moved: Carlson confirmed that you could still see the old marks of the fence. An additional row of four trees now seemed to belong to the rear property.

The second man then protested that he had not moved the fence, and the first man was merely trying to take away his trees.

“Tell me,” Stone asked. “Do you know anything about orchards? Did you know that the trees will only produce crab apples this year, and into the future unless the trees are pruned professionally.”

“I didn’t,” the man said. “But even crab apples must be worth something.”

“Cider, maybe,” the first man said. “You might get a few quarts out of the few trees you have, including the ones you stole from me.”

That led to some shouting, and Stone finally had to yell to resume order.

“I have a good way of getting at the truth,” he said. “In the past I have used my sword to make a small nick in the throats of the people I am testing. But I understand that any blood will do, so I will make small cuts in the wrists of each of you, and I will know immediately who tells the truth.”

The second man hesitated, but the other stood forward with his arm out. Pate made a small nick, and a few drops of blood fell on the sword. The man was sent to Rayla, who bound the wound. The second man now had little choice but to put out his arm. Pate again tested his blood and reported back to Stone.

«The second man lies,» she said. «He moved the fence four days ago. He also has plans to move it again in a week or so to get another four trees.»

“My sword has confirmed that you are lying,” Stone said. The man started protesting, and Stone began to get angry.

“You moved the fence once, and you had planned to move it again, to take another four rows.” At this, the man fell silent. No one knew of his plans: the sword must have truly read his mind. “In other cases the sword solved disputes by separating the man’s head from his body, but I think that is rather harsh for this situation.”

“I therefore decree that the fence shall be moved back, not the one row to its original position, but another row to enclose all the trees. The beehives also intrigue me. They are essential to the orchard?”

“Yes sir,” the orchard man said. “If they are removed, the trees will not produce. There are not enough wild bees in the area.”

“Then the fence will also enclose the hives,” Stone said.

“But they are quite close to the other house,” the first man said. “If I had my choice, I would move the hives to the center of the orchard. I have a little experience with bees.”

“So be it,” Stone said, then looked again at the second man. “Don’t think you are just getting off with the loss of some beehives and four trees. I want you out of that house in 48 hours. You will live in a tent somewhere nearby, and the house will go to a more deserving family: Lord knows there are enough of those in town now.”

“Further, for the next 90 days you will work for the orchard owner. You will get four hours a day off, and a day every other week. If that sounds like slavery, it is not. You are a convicted criminal, and will work through your sentence. If at any time you decide you don’t want to work for him, or he comes to me claiming you are not working hard enough, there is an alternative. Pate will be quite happy to slice your head off. Your choice.”

Stone finished the court case a half hour before the evening classes were to start. There is more to the story. Three days later, the two men approached Stone and Rayla at the communal evening meal. Both men had more than a few bee stings, and they reported that they had moved the hives, and in doing so had harvested the honey.

“I would like to present this to you,” a woman with the orchard man, clearly his wife, said to Rayla. It was a small box, and when she opened it, saw that it was full of honey, including the wax comb.

“This is a treasure,” Rayla said in thanks. “We will make good use of it.”

“Honey? Is there more?” a woman down the table said. “I will buy some. How much does it cost?”

The woman looked at her husband, but it was Rayla who suggested the price should be five silver. Some in the crowd looked disappointed, but others came up to put in orders. Later Stone learned that all the honey had brought in 40 silver, or two gold total. It would keep the family going until spring at least, when another batch of honey could be harvested, and that would last until fall, when a good apple crop would make the family self-sufficient.

After Stone and Rayla finished eating, she hurried off to their new house to store her liquid gold.

The day of the trial Vicomte Vickers and his man approached Stone before the evening meal.

“You will be happy to know that your demands have been met, and the Duke has ordered all slaves freed from Sarn and all its realm, from the castle walls to the furthest borders of the duchy. There will be protests, but the Duke has made the decree,” the Vicomte said.

“Good,” Stone said, deciphering the tricky words of the diplomat. “And what of within the walls of the castle?”

“Sir, you cannot expect the duke to free his own slaves. He cannot afford to pay wages to so many. He barely brings in enough taxes as it is.”

“Then he needs fewer staff,” Stone said. “All must be freed. How many slaves work at the castle?”

“There are about 500. He needs over 100 to serve at his suppers, and another 50 in the kitchen. Then there is the cleaning staff, the stables, and the groundskeepers?”

“Why 100 to serve? Cannot one person bring the Duke his food?”

“But the Duke never dines alone. His dinners involve at least 100 people at the tables. The Duke likes a lively dinner. He lives for them. All his major staff attend, and their families. Myself and my family of five, the exchequer, the master of the wardrobe, the master of the garderobe, and others.”

“What is a garderobe?”

The Vicomte colored somewhat. “Captain, it is where the Duke does his daily business, you know?”

Stone was amazed. “The Duke has a man to wipe his butt?”

“Well the master does not do it. Slaves do. I think there are five. One to do the task, another who takes the soiled rags away, and two others who launder them. The fifth perfumes the cleaned rags, and determines when they are no longer fit to be reused.”

“It is as I thought,” Stone said. “The man is wasting money left and right. No wonder taxes were so high in Greenford and Greenwood. You can head back now, but let the Duke know that I will follow in a few weeks. I have a bridge to finish up here first. If there is a single slave in that castle when I get there, the Duke will pay.”

Once the Vicomte and his man left, Miss Relants, the scribe/teacher and her new husband approached Stone. “It is finished,” she said. “Our first book.”

Stone opened the folder she had handed him, and saw a title page showing a small mouse, with the title “Tracy Titmouse and her Terrible Tuesday.”

“I need help in assessing this properly,” Stone said and looked about. He found the one he sought playing in a pile of gravel being used to patch up the ruts in the street. It was the little blonde, Lillabet, who had a girl the same age as her next to her as they played. The other girl was as dark as Lillabet was pale, with short curly black hair and a complexion like choc with only a little milk.

“Lillabet, can you come help me?” Stone called out, and the girl rose immediately, dusting off her little dress. “And bring your friend along.”

“Cmon, Em’ly,” Lillabet lisped. “Mr. Stone is a nice man.”

Stone got down off Doug, who wandered off to find some grass to munch on. There was not much available in the burgeoning town. Stone sat down with his back to the stone school wall as the little girls approached.

“Do you girls want to hear a story?” Stone said. “There are pictures.”

“Yes please,” Lillabet said quickly, and the dark girl nodded as well. One nestled into either side of the man’s wide lap.

With that, Stone started to read the story, which recounted the adventures of a little mouse on a day mixed up with adventures. Soon both girls were giggling, and pointing at one part of the pictures or another. In a moment, Stone realized that there was a crowd of other children standing around, and he started giving the pages to Lillibet as he finished reading, so she could show them to the standing children.

When he finished, a young boy in the crowd noted that he hadn’t heard the start of the story, and could the Captain please read it again for him. Stone turned the pages over, and went through the entire book again, with the little girls on his lap enjoying it as much as the first time.

Miss Relants had stood by all this time, and Stone finally handed the folder back to her. “We seem to have a success here,” he said. “There is a little print shop down in Greenwood. I will order 200 copies. I want them to be given to the students as an award for working hard at school. These children were born slaves: to actually own something of their own will be special to them. Can you work on something for the older children next?”

The teacher agreed, thrilled to see how the students had taken to her story. Some knew the story … it was one she had told in class at story time, but of course this was the first time it was shown with the cute pictures that her husband had created.

“I have some ideas for a book for older kids,” she said, and then headed off. She wanted to use the pictures for the next reading in her classes.

Meanwhile Stone remained seated, with two little girls hugging him tight. “I love you, Mr. Stone,” Lillibet said. Then her shyer friend said: “I love you too, Mr. Stone.”

“Well, you girls should run off to your parents,” Stone said. “It will be supper soon.”

“Em’ly don’t has parents,” Lillibet said. “Only Jason.”

“What?” Stone said as the girls uncurled themselves from his lap. “Where do you live, Emily?”

She led him around the corner to the tent that housed the other half of the school. He could see where the corner of the tent was raised, and a narrow slit dug in under the plank floor. “This is where we sleeps,” she said shyly.

“Well, it is supper time now, so will you come to supper with me?”

“I can’t. I has to have supper with Jason,” the little girl said.

“Well, Jason will have to join us,” Stone said, picking up the little girl. “Come on.”

He met Rayla at the cookout, where they found themselves a bit early, and had to wait. The head cook came over.

“Captain,” she said. “One of the girls from the kitchen came up with an idea I feel you should consider. You know that the penny rolls we get from the bakery are a popular addition to the stew? They charge us a discount, so we only pay a ha’penny each.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the girl suggested that we charge a penny per roll, and say that up till now has been an introductory special. That way we will recoup the price of the roll, and defray the cost of the stew. The newcomers who depend on the meal will still be able to get the stew free, but those who have cash will pay if they want a roll. It also might lead to more of the people who no longer need the free meal to make their own, creating more business at the butcher and the store.”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Stone said. “Tell people today that this is the last free roll, and that tomorrow there will be a charge. Don’t offer credit to any who ‘forgot to bring coin’.”

Stone felt himself being watched, and turned around to see a young boy watching him, or more precisely watching Emily. “Are you Jason?” Stone asked.

“She is my sister,” the boy said. His skin was jet black, several shades darker than Emily’s. “I looks after her.”

“Well, today we are all eating together. Would you join us?”

“Dunno. Okay. Yes,”

So Rayla got two helpings of the meal, handing one to the boy, while Stone managed to hold the girl in one hand and balancing two plates in the other hand, one oversized plate with his stew and roll, and a much smaller plate for Emily.

He followed Jason and Rayla to the benches, still empty since they were the first served. Jason sat down a spot away from Rayla, and Stone took the empty seat. Jason moved away from him, and said: “Em’ly kin set there.”

“I likes it up here,” the tot said from Stone’s lap.

Jason slid back. “Eat up, Em’ly. We needs to go to our sleeping place afore it gits dark.”

“About that,” Stone said. “Emily showed us where you have been sleeping. I don’t think it is a proper place for children, especially since it looks like it may rain tonight. We have a spare room in our house, and want you two to sleep there.”

“I looks after Em’ly,” the boy retorted. “She shouldn’t of showed you our place.”

“And you can still look after her,” Stone said. “You can both sleep on some blankets in the new place. We will get some beds made for you soon.”

The boy grumbled that it was okay, “as long as I get to look after Em’ly. I promised Momma.”

“What happened to your mother?” Rayla asked. She was falling in love with the little Kithren children just as Stone clearly had.

“She was kilt by a slaver the night afore you rescued us. He had been raping Momma, and was Em’ly’s real father. But when Momma got sick, he kilt her. I was going to kill him, but Mr. Stone sliced him into little pieces,” the boy said, apparently sad that he didn’t get a chance to kill the man.

“What happened you your father?” Rayla asked.

“Let me guess,” Stone said. “Jason looks to be a full Kithren, while Emily looks half white. The Kithren people are famous for not falling into slavery. I suspect that Jason’s father fought back when they tried to enslave his family, and either died in the attempt, or escaped.”

“He got away,” Jason said. “He kilt two of the men, and cut up another real bad. Then more come and he had to run for it. He will come save us some day.”

“He doesn’t need to save you anymore,” Stone said. “You are free children, not slaves, and he will be free if he comes here. But until he does, you can stay with us. It will be warmer than under a tent.”