The Forest and the Farm

by Vance Huxley

  * * *

  On his next trip out, Billi went along the riverbank to set a few traps for the small furred hunters and took four geese with his bow. The geese reminded him about feather pillows and about Bliss and Hektor setting up a new home. Bliss had mentioned cushions and pillows, and young Hektor’s inexperience in killing fowl. He sent a message through Timath that he had a short trip to take that Hektor might be interested in. Hektor called by, and yes Bliss did want more feathers, and Hektor wanted fowl as well since still hadn’t stocked up enough meat for winter because the cold room had only just been finished. Billi took him out along the river bank, stopping as they came around the bend to point.

  “There, that’s my new landclaim.”

  Hektor stood still, taking it in. “That’s a lot bigger than I expected. We’ve been wondering exactly where since the elders are shy as yet.”

  “It seems bigger because it’s wide open next to the trees, I think. The Hunters will soon know when one comes along this way and sees the reed is tended.” Billi waved a hand across it. “More to the point, if you lurk in the bushes at the edge of the trees, plenty of waterfowl will wander in front of your bow.”

  “Slowly, I hope. I’m still having trouble with moving targets, especially small ones.” Hektor looked from the bushes to the reeds and that wasn’t an easy shot at a small target. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “As long as nobody hunts it too hard, the birds will stay unafraid, but a few for pillows and such won’t change that. Wait until you see the gobbler at Winterfest.” Billi pointed. “That came out of those bushes.”

  “I heard all about the swan and all the feathers, though I’m sworn to secrecy for some reason. Not with you I suppose.” Hektor still eyed the distance from bushes to reed bed. “I hope they are slow.”

  “They’ll be stopped, feeding among the reed stubble if you wait long enough. I rarely aim at the moving ones and never at moving ducks. They’re too small and if you don’t knock them down it’s a day gone finding the durn thing.” Billi shook his head. “One duck isn’t much of a return for a day’s hunting.”

  “You might be right. Maybe I should stop trying to take everything that turns up? Da says it’s a young Hunter’s problem and I’ll grow out of it.” Hektor turned with a big smile. “Thank ye, Billi, Bliss will be really happy. Better yet, if I get used to waiting for ducks to stand still, I might slow up with the rest of my hunting. I’ll not mention all the fowl to anyone else, or just where this place is.”

  Billi stayed long enough to collect a brace of ducks and then left Hektor to wait until the disturbed fowl came back. The young Hunter would make the trip a lot quicker than Billi, especially since Billi had to go round by the ford and underfoot had turned a bit icy today. He more or less forgot about the whole affair, but Bliss didn’t and just before midwinter a plump new pillow arrived from Bliss with thanks. Better yet her needlework, a lot neater than Billi’s, didn’t leave marks if it got under his face. Bliss must have noticed the sad state of his pillow while looking after the hut, or maybe her Sis had said something, but either way ‘twas a kind thought.

  Bliss and Hektor were attracting attention now, but friendly attention. Hektor told Billi there had been several couples drop by for a talk, some not yet bonded. They all wanted to know how the hut idea was working out. From the permanent smiles whenever Billi saw Hektor or Bliss, very well.

  * * *

  He went to the alehouse a couple of times this winter for a change, since Perry had mentioned Edan and his cronies had stopped going. There were some looks, but folk seemed curious rather than unhappy. Billi had to put up with some humorous queries about his hut being available for those who wanted to practice this independence idea. There were other jokes about the way everyone called them Billi-huts and if Billi would get a tithe for each one built. That wasn’t quite as funny to Billi, as his would be the only Billi-hut without a lass in it.

  The gossip in the alehouse let him know that at least one couple were planning a bonding in the spring if they could have a Billi-hut. Two other bonded couples were intending to leave home; the Billi-hut idea was spreading. If the couple built the hut on the portion of landshare the man or lass would eventually inherit, and especially if the man was a Hunter, the hut got them out of their Ma and Da’s home early. The hut could even be enlarged if a family arrived and if the man wasn’t a Hunter he could continue to work the family farm for food and still benefit from some space and privacy. The little huts would allow couples to settle into a proper home life, or so quite a few young couples believed. Hektor and Bliss were the subject of a lot of discussion and many were waiting to see if the next three experiments worked out.

  Billi’s hut had a maid in every ten-day or so but not while Billi was there, and the number of times Ellibeth came dropped off as winter tightened its grip. This winter didn’t tighten as hard or as deep as the last one and the hunting held up better, which wasn’t as much of a benefit to Billi as the wet weather meant soggy ground that his peg and crutch sank into. One evening Syman, the stonemason who also did some woodcarving, came and sat with Billi in the alehouse. “Ye can tell me to mind my business, but twice now folk have mentioned you have trouble with snow or deep mud and swamp.”

  Billi smiled. “That’s no secret. Several have suggested a peg with a foot, and a crutch with a foot since I’ve the same problem with that. They both sink in further than my real foot.” Billi chuckled. “Then I’d be a three-legged man.”

  “That would be expensive in boots, though why haven’t you tried it?” Syman smiled but seemed interested, not joking.

  “Because they would be clumsy ordinarily so I’d need to carry the spares on my pack in case they were needed, and it seems a lot of extra weight and bother.” Billi sighed. “I don’t fancy trying to get my peg off and a new one on sat in the Wild in the winter.”

  “Brr. Nor me. Though how about an attachment to go on the end? Then you’d only need to carry that.” Syman leaned back and sipped ale while Billi thought about that.

  “Sort of two wooden feet in my pack. Wouldn’t they make my peg and crutch longer?” Though Billi liked the principle.

  “Not a foot, and not on the end. You just need a flat bit that doesn’t sink in.” Syman looked at the plain end of Billi’s crutch. “Unless you think a foot shape would be better, for the look of it?”

  “I don’t mind the look of it, Syman, I’ve been like this too long to fret over how it looks. If it gets me about better, whatever you’re thinking of can look downright silly.” Billi chuckled. “The Wild don’t care.”

  “Well I wondered about a flat round piece like a small plate, with a hole in the middle. The fastener would take some careful carving, but I’d enjoy that. I don’t do much fancy these days.” Syman dipped a finger in his ale and drew on the table. “I was thinking of something like this…”

  * * *

  A week later Billi tried out his new peg end. “You’ll need a little hole bored into the end of your peg and crutch, so the screw seats in properly. The screw and the threads in the collar were the hardest parts to carve. It had to be hardwood but precise.” Syman sighed. “It’s been years since I carved anything really challenging, since my lass went to the rock.” Which would have been doubly hard for the man, since he carved the ledges for the skulls.

  They argued over price, but ‘twas an odd bit of bargaining. Billi felt the bits of wood were more valuable to him than any meat or fish, while Syman confessed he’d enjoyed doing the work and the wood cost coppers. They got it sorted in the end with Billi thinking he’d underpaid, and Syman thinking he’d somehow overcharged. Billi tried the new ends out while emptying his traps on the river bank and he could move almost as fast as in the summer. Billi wore the new attachments and the next firewood trip went a lot faster. He didn’t really need the extras paid for escorting firewood collections now but kept taking them out now and then. Maybe he’d become a bit superstitious since his own luck changed on the Woo
d Hunt.

  The wooden plates also made a trip to the lakes still feasible as the snow thickened. On the first trip Billi took his old sleeping fur as he now had the lovely thick new bearskin at home. Billi ran his traplines in the valley and collected a steady harvest of small soft furs and handy meals for three days. While there he sealed the various leaks and holes in his hut that became apparent with the icy winds and put more reed on the roof. He cut his own reed bed and cleared out the weed and seedlings, more farming. The next trip his hut felt much warmer, downright cosy once he’d built a good fire in the crude fireplace at one end.

  On the last trip before midwinter, the lakes froze right over except for a few small patches and the level of the lake at the back rose a little as ice built up on the gravel bank. Billi broke the ice dams here and there so there wouldn’t be a sudden flood in the spring when the ice gave way. He didn’t want any stones washed away from here.

  The beavers probably kept the hole clear in the middle of the front lake and the water fowl swimming around on the rear lake were preserving the patch of open water there. The strong current from the cleft kept the little pool and the short flow to the lake clear of ice, and a small area where the flow entered the lake. A few waterfowl risked that, though they had to be wary so close to the bank. The cleft and short stretch of open water were used as a watering hole by a succession of wildlife, and some would have duck or goose in their potential diet.

  In the pool down by the edge of the Forest the ice had been broken, and the familiar pug marks could be seen. The Great Hunter also prowled along the pool bank near where the snow covered hump of the beaver lodge showed. If the beavers had gods, they would be praying that the ice stayed just too thin to take the beast’s weight. Each time Billi visited, the same distinctive pug marks showed in one circuit around the hut since the last snowfall. Rabbit meticulously watered those and the bushes near where the big cat drank as required by the rules of marking wars.

  * * *

  The day before Winterfest arrived, and with it a well wrapped up Perry. “Da and Sis, Ellibeth that is, say you’ll be needing a bigger oven for the gobbler.”

  Billi would. He’d already been told that the bird could be cooked at Viktor’s but dreaded carrying it now the dressed gobbler had thawed. The fowl no longer had a convenient neck to rope it to his back. Perry marched off with his prize, leaving instructions to come and collect it on the way tomorrow. From all the organisation, Billi suspected Ellibeth’s hand in the arrangements and possibly even Bliss’.

  * * *

  Sure enough, Billi found himself organised when he called at Viktor’s house. “Here, Billi, I cooked it in the biggest roasting tin, the one we used for the swan.” Ellibeth gave the cooked bird a critical look. “I’m not sure what gobbler should be cooked with, but I put some taters and roots round it to cook in the juices, and some sausage meat and herbs inside.” She wagged a finger. “Don’t you dare offer me the sausage meat to make up, Billi, since I intend getting a big slice of this to try.”

  Billi shut up, though he did notice the spray of red and green feathers on the side of Ellibeth’s hood when everyone got ready to leave. They looked a lot like gobbler neck feathers to him so Ellibeth had taken her pay for the plucking and dressing. Perry insisted on marching up the street with the big bird, grinning at those trying to work out what lurked under the cover. The guesses went from a whole small deer up to “another Great-Boar?”

  Mandy took the cover off. “A swan Billi? We’ve not had a swan for a year or two. Was that from your new landclaim?” Mandy grinned. “You’d better stick to berry juice tonight. Judging by the number of people with questions, you’ll need a lot of lubrication for your throat.” She sniggered. “I don’t fancy carrying you home if you drink ale instead. We’d need a pony and travois.”

  Billi looked around, alarmed, and three men were waving him to a seat. Several younger ones were sort of hanging about near, waiting for a chance to talk. “Thank ye Mandy. Berry juice it is.” He nodded at the bird. “That’s a gobbler that got careless late enough in the year to freeze. Save a decent slice for Ellibeth, will ye, since she cooked it.”

  “Did she?” Mandy looked over the bird. “Put some taters and roots to roast as well. Proper job that, which is a relief with you bringing it. We all know you cook with a skewer and a big fire.” Mandy smiled. “I’ll save her a bit of white and a bit of dark, since I doubt she’s had gobbler before. It’s been a good while since we had one at Winterfest.” She waved Billi away. “Now go before someone bursts with impatience.”

  The first questions were about his bearskin boot and Billi explained the bear. “Ah, that explains the claw.” Arikk waved at the youths trying to talk to the maids. “A few of us wondered where Perry got that claw. He’s being mysterious but none of the maids is being taken in.”

  “Timath has one, and Rubyn, since they all liked the look of Perry’s,” That brought a round of laughter.

  “It’ll be a while before Rubyn realises the true value.” Arikk lowered his voice a bit. “Now what’s this about a bit of Farm out along the river?” Lowering his voice didn’t make much difference since the rest just leant in closer.

  “Well, I had some reeds, and Fellip wondered where they came from.” Eventually Billi had done with explaining, and then the younger Hunters moved in for a repeat.

  Hurwald, one of the older Farmers narrowed his eyes. “There’s a rumour you’re doing the same someplace else? But not with reed.” The others looked at Billi, curious again.

  Billi sighed. The elders just couldn’t keep completely quiet. “Just an experiment, to see if the Wild will allow it. I’m trying to farm fish.”

  “How would that work? Is it along the river then?” That was young Mikkel, who’d come over to hear about the landclaim.

  “No, because it has to be a clear place, and ponds, not the river.” Billi shrugged. “I’m still trying to make it work.”

  “Is that how you found all those fish just before the fish run? A couple of Hunters went up and down the river trying to work out how you did that.” Mikkel sounded downright aggrieved.

  “That was what gave me the idea, a few trapped fish, though the eagles and ospreys take a tithe themselves.” Billi sighed. “The Wild likes the idea of a few trapped fish as well.”

  “How do you stop that?”

  “Make a bearskin boot or three.” Farimer, an established Hunter, might be making jokes but he looked interested in the whole idea.

  Billi joined in the laughter. “That helped. So do branches in the water so the birds can’t dive.”

  Mikkel frowned. “Won’t that make fishing harder?”

  Billi smiled. “Yes, but then I get all the fish, or most of them.”

  “What about the smaller hunters, the swimmers?” Mikkel really fancied this idea now.

  “A trapline, and more pelts for trading.” Farimer answered this time, with a big smile. “I’ll bet you’ve got some lovely little pelts this winter, Billi.”

  “One or two but I’m still experimenting.” The discussion spun off into whether it was possible to scoop a hole out of the side of the river bank someplace and use willows to make a pen. Others objected, pointing out that the spring floods when the snow melted would set the fish free. Some were wondering if the same could be done but up a smaller stream as the beavers did, to create a big pool without a big flood.

  The discussion broke up while the younger members joined the dancing, then struck up again afterwards. This time the talk moved on to Billi-huts and the harvest, and how this seemed a better winter so far. A small group of younger Hunters seriously discussing banding together to look for a big clearing, a pool, or more reed beds. Several of the Hunters asked if Billi would mind them visiting to talk some more, “if we can catch you at home.” Billi and Rabbit went home to their beds happy and tired.

  * * *

  Billi had traded for a second chair so he didn’t have to sit on his bed when he began to have more visitor
s. Now he was a little bemused to find that he needed another and had to trade for a few more pots to deal with more folk at once because the younger Hunters came in twos and threes. Billi now had mugs instead of just beakers so that visitors could have a drop of ale and he even ended up keeping a small keg in the hut, for visitors.

  “Can a landclaim like the reed bed be left to littluns?” Mikkel really had become interested in this idea. This time he came with Hektor, who also seemed interested in that part.

  “I never thought of it. The elders wanted to know where, so another Hunter can keep the reed bed or the fish pond if it works in case I don’t come back.” He smiled, “not for leaving as a landshare.”

  They all nodded, though Hektor grinned. “You might be surprised, Billi. If your fish pond is as big as the reed bed, some lass with a small brideshare might find you a good catch. You won’t be able to run very fast.”

  “If she likes fish that much, she might fancy putting out a line for a slow-swimming Hunter. That might work with the right bait.” Mikkel found that hilarious.

  “Either that or she’ll have to run very slowly.” Hektor started laughing now and Billi had to join in because that really was funny. The chasing and catching, as everyone called the courting betwixt the youths and maids, wasn’t actually a foot race. If it had been, Billi would have been a very easy catch.

  “Not much of a landclaim if the littlun doesn’t become a Hunter.” Though Mikkel still smiled at the thought of Billi running or swimming. “They’d have to hire a Hunter to keep it.”

  “Ah no, Billi explained trading landshares, for me and Bliss.” Hektor glanced at Billi’s bed, barely a flicker of his eyes. “We were worried, but a non-Hunter littlun could trade landshare, a reed bed for instance, for a Hunter’s landshare.”

  “Ah, yes. Maybe if a Hunter had a share in a Tanner’s.” Mikkel smiled at Hektor, bonded to a Tanner’s maid. “Or a bit of farmland that a Hunter didn’t want to spend the time putting crops on.” Hektor and Billi exchanged glances because Mikkel’s family were Farmers so that described the landshares he’d get one day. There’d been no hint of Mikkel chasing, though with Mikkel being a Hunter there would be a maid somewhere considering doing some chasing of her own.