by Jacky Gray
“Aye, but better than death by pestilence.” Brom had relatives who had witnessed the devastation first hand.
“We are none of us afraid of a bit of hard work. Just tell us what wants doing and we will do our best.” Farmon’s man, Chars, sought round the room for support, pleased by the enthusiastic “Ayes” as people raised their beakers.
“A toast, then.” Lyran gestured for them to raise their beakers. “To the people of New Avebury, and to living in harmony, health and prosperity.”
Beakers were clashed, liquor sipped and lips smacked.
Woodward stood. “I imagine we’ll be needing trees felled by the dozen, so I’m happy to take charge of that.”
Lyran smiled. “Thank you. We have much to discuss, but I think we will all benefit from some sleep. Tomorrow we should have a short meeting after breaking the fast to decide a plan of action.” He gestured at the floor. “For the next few nights you will be sleeping in here, so find yourselves a corner and snuggle up. With this many people, it should be cosy, and we’ll leave the fire burning low.”
Going from six people to nearly twenty changed the nature of life completely in the new place, and feeding so many from a single fire proved challenging. Senna and Eanje had stocked up with oats and having proper cauldrons to heat the water felt like pure luxury.
Before he started the meeting in earnest, Lyran asked everyone to join hands and send up a prayer to Gaia for providing them with a new world. That done, he tackled the first order of business.
“It may sound strange to you, but I feel we should give the new village we are creating a slightly different name than Avebury. The best I can think of is New Avebury, but I want you all to think about it during the day.”
He went on to explain a little of the discussions he had with Gaia and her advisors. The white council were a group of souls dedicated to ensuring the success of this second chance for mankind. As he passed on the various rules and regulations she had stipulated for individuals to continue living in this world, Senna expected more resistance from people.
Lyran had been well-chosen as Gaia’s ambassador; he had a way of making things seem natural and reasonable. Senna only hoped no one else would be affected by the strange tensions which had surrounded the two couples at the start. Now they had so many people to deal with, she hoped the strain of their close proximity would lessen. Since Eanje’s illness and the revelation of Alex’s name, things had been calmer.
The arrival of carts, horses and more men would speed up the transport of stones from the quarry, and the lessons learnt from constructing the first house would be used to modify the process at each stage. Jarl and Bryce considered how many people shared the available floor space in the church, and how many more were expected before winter stopped all hope of construction. Based on this, they calculated another four roundhouses, each capable of housing three or four families should get them through the worst of it.
Farmon also requested shelters for the livestock, leading to lively discussions about whether the animals should sleep in with the people. They decided the fastest solution for now was to build simple lean-to shelters against the walls of the church, like the one for Tasker. With most of the combined effort going on the animal shelters, they soon had something suitable until a proper barn could be built.
Senna and Eanje appreciated the help of the extra women, particularly in sharing the task of feeding so many extra mouths. Linden, Woodward’s wife, and his daughter, Wilona, knew the surrounding woods well and led a foraging expedition. They returned with baskets brimming with fruit, nuts and herbs. Chalette, Farmon’s wife, discovered a hoard of wild parsnips in one of the fields where her farm would be in the other world. She had brought an enormous cauldron which would hold broth for several dozen people.
Tasker and Brom spent the morning building a second fire pit in the centre of the roundhouse which would accommodate this monster. The masterpiece was a kiln, created by one of Farmon’s men. Barthel had studied with his father, a celebrated potter in Swindon. The lad’s clever design had a lower chamber where the fire would be lit, and two upper chambers for baking.
Wilona showed an interest in the mechanism, asking why it had two levels.
“It’s all about getting the right level of ventilation. Heat rises, and this way we don’t have to burn so much wood.”
“That’s good. I don’t like to see trees giving up their lives for no reason.” She blushed at his slight frown.
“I want to try three chambers in the next one.”
“Won’t it mean burning more trees?”
“No. The idea is, instead of every household having a small kiln, if they all get together, the heat from one branch can be used to feed and warm several families instead of just one.” His tone held an exasperation which had Wilona scurrying off, no doubt feeling as though she were naught but a nuisance.
Senna sighed. The girl was clearly taken with the older boy, but he devoted all his attention to his project and barely noticed her. All the women, at one point or another, commented to Senna about the possibility of a budding connexion between the two, and she smiled at the thought of how much people loved a romance.
At the end of the day, the group shared a supper in the church where people discussed the day’s achievements and brought up any problems.
Woodward stood to report his findings from scouting the nearby area. “I hoped to find the same forests as in the old world.
“You mean the one just south of the quarry? Know it well.” Brom’s comment had everyone chuckling.
“You would be hard pushed to recognise it, though.”
“Because it didn’t look like a host of tall trees with a few even taller trees?” Brom winked at his wife, but she nudged him to stop heckling.
“Aye, it has the same mixture of trees, with several magnificent poplars towering over the beech and hazel. But without the decades of men cutting down the wood, the trees are packed so densely they have grown tall and thin. They have to, in order to compete with their neighbours to seek the sunlight.”
Even as Brom muttered darkly about them being only trees, Senna saw admiring looks from many in the room who appreciated the poetry as his words painted images. Like many craftsmen, Woodward’s passion for the thing which moved him most turned him into a bard.
Bryce grinned. “That sounds perfect for what we need. Mostly pine, I take it?” Being a bowyer, he knew his trees.
“Aye. Right at the edge, I passed row upon row of tall, straight silver birch, so close it will be tricky to fell them.”
Jarl clapped him on the back. “That’s great news. I think, while we have the weather, we should have all the men working on this. Now we have the right tools and the carts, we should be able to get enough for all four houses.”
Lyran agreed, asking if anyone had more news.
Barthel tentatively raised a hand and, when prompted, explained his kiln would not be ready for a few days, but the design meant double the amount of bread could be baked at once. Although not much older than Cal, he had a deal of useful skills and ideas.
He went on to suggest a communal bake house could be created in the centre of the roundhouses so they could all benefit from the heat. “It would have a very tall roof and sufficient surrounding space for people to dry clothes in the winter and on rainy days.”
Most of the women immediately saw the benefit of such a place, adding suggestions about having racks for drying herbs and other foodstuffs.
Farmon clapped the lad on the back. “What a great idea. There are always things which need drying out and this makes use of the heat such an oven would generate.”
Tasker shared the general enthusiasm. “And you could have two or three different fires depending on how much baking needs to be done.”
“Just a moment.” Bryce had good cause to respect the dangers. “It sounds to me like a fire peril; even a tall roof would still be topped with thatch. A central bakehouse would jeopardise all the other houses – w
e could lose the entire lot in a blaze.”
“I have thought of that. By having a single oven instead of one in each house, you are not only reducing the amount of wood which needs burning, but there would be less risk inside each house as the fires will be a lot smaller.”
“True, but thatch is …”
“A huge fire peril. Which is why I would create clay tiles instead. My father was commissioned to make these for a wealthy merchant who had seen them on his travels around the continent.”
“I can see you have considered this thoroughly.” Lyran looked to Jarl and Bryce for confirmation, and Senna could not help but think he still felt a grudge against Tasker.
Barthel gave due credit. “Wilona helped.”
As the girl blushed, he continued. “If everyone agrees, I would like to build a larger kiln with several upper chambers in its own shelter to trial the ideas first.”
“Yes.” Eanje nodded. “We will need to bake a lot more when the next group come.” Her expression suggested more ideas were ruminating in her mind.
Bryce nodded at Barthel. “That sounds like a good plan. We can use one chamber to fire the clay.”
“And I could use it afterward to make the tiles for the new bake house.”
Woodward chipped in with his thoughts. “This shelter would be an ideal place to dry out wood.”
Eanje addressed the lad directly. “Would it be possible to build the kiln on a slab of stone so when the time comes to build the larger oven, the kiln could be moved to a separate building?”
Tasker backed her enthusiastically. “I have just such a slab of slate at the quarry.”
Her eyes sparkled as the ideas developed. “And maybe we could build a supporting platform so it can be higher and we wouldn’t have to bend to use it.”
As the pair of them bounced ideas off each other, Lyran struggled to hide his feelings. At his stiff suggestion they should continue the discussion tomorrow, Senna resolved to have a quiet word with the girl.
She did not expect the passion of Eanje’s reaction.
“Really? You are suggesting I should not speak to any of the men in case Lyran gets jealous?”
“I didn’t say that at all. Merely that for some reason he struggles to act reasonably where Tasker is concerned.”
“I don’t know why. Was he like this with you?”
“Not really. Apart from one time at our handfasting. Although merely a misunderstanding, it showed he does have the potential for jealousy.”
Eanje huffed an angry sigh. “I’m not happy about it, but in the interests of harmony …”
Senna wished she could have spoken frankly to Lyran, but his onerous responsibilities meant he was not himself. “Don’t stop being you. Everyone appreciates your sharp intelligence. But take care not to smile too much at Tasker. And make sure you are never alone with him.”
The way Eanje’s jaw jutted out gave a clue to her anger, but she said no more as Chalette approached, her eyes sparkling with good humour.
“Farmon intends to roast one of his sheep to mark the crossing over. It should keep us well fed for the next few days – more if we make pies and broth.”
Hard work defined the next few days as each person happily shared their skills and effort. The women focussed on turning the roundhouse into a cosy living space. They put the thatching bundles to good use in defining separate bedchambers, although the three children were happy to share a chamber, as were the three single men.
Senna and Chalette took charge of marking out the space for each chamber, working well as a team with Brom’s wife. Paulina offered to help, but her belly protruded so much they would not allow her to do more than sit on a chair at the centre and let them know if any of the stout branches were out of alignment. She happily supervised Brom’s two children in their task of weaving branches into shelves, copying Eanje’s design.
Chalette’s son ably assisted Barthel in his kiln-building tasks, and the rest of the men journeyed to the forest, taking all four carts to bring back their load.
~*~
Eanje
Eanje felt honoured to be asked to help Woodward and his family with the necessary preparation after Senna told him about her special connection to trees. Knowing how experienced the others were, she felt a little concerned.
Woodward said he suspected she had Sylvan blood in her and she nodded; her mother proudly spoke of ancestors from the ancient race possessing tree magic.
As they travelled in the back of a cart, she asked Wilona to describe their duties. It all sounded familiar and her worries were in vain as, in the end, it all came naturally.
Despite Brom’s jesting at the meal, he understood the importance of following a process which showed the proper respect for what they were about to do.
Using time-honoured words, Woodward addressed the first copse of trees, speaking of the villagers’ intention to help the forest by thinning out the trees which were in danger of dying because of the overcrowding.
Working in tandem, the four Sylvans sought each tree’s permission. If it were not given, they marked it with a chalk cross and moved on to a different one. For the ones granting permission, small cuttings were taken to plant nearby so the tree would live on. They then led a small blessing ritual where the men thanked the tree for its sacrifice and apologised for any pain they would cause. They marked the tree with the initials of those who had connected to it, and moved on to the next tree.
By morn’s end, they had identified sufficient trees for the next few days and the women walked back to the village. As they reached the field littered with sarsen stones, Wilona leapt on top of a huge rectangular slab.
“Might we not use some of these to build a house? This one would make a whole wall on its own.”
Eanje considered the possibility. “I think Senna mentioned something similar. We should ask Jarl.”
“Or Tasker. He’s very knowledgeable when it comes to the properties of stones.”
After Senna’s warning, Eanje did not think she should ask. Maybe Senna could.
Linden put her hand on the boulder. “Goodness. I expected it to feel cold and slimy, not …warm. I have no idea how it could be moved – it must weigh several tons.”
“Come on, you two.” Wilona leapt off the boulder, landing neatly on the path. “We should be getting back. I’m half-starved with hunger.” She grabbed the hand of each of them and pulled them down toward the village. Eanje thought her behaviour a little odd, but said nothing.
When they reached the church, Senna was fretting over some food which had gone missing.
Chalette tried to calm her. “Do not worry, we have plenty for tonight and Farmon mentioned using one of the pigs to tide us over till Samhain.”
Paulina winked. “I suspect one of the men took it – they need more than us, especially with all these heavy jobs.”
Senna frowned. “I’m not worried. I merely tried an experiment with drying the lamb the way we do with the beef, to see if it would keep a little longer. Never mind.”
Brom’s wife, Elspeth, narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know if I should mention it, but we seem to be missing a hide and a sheepskin. We had them last night, but when I went to fetch my special vegetable knife for the parsnips, I noticed they were missing from where I had arranged them in the roundhouse.”
Eanje spotted a strange expression she could only liken to guilt cross Wilona’s face. “And yet your knife remained? It couldn’t have been your Bren playing a trick? He has a glint of mischief about him, that one.”
Elspeth smiled. “Do I not know it?”
Senna touched her arm. “If you cannot find it by sundown, help yourself from the pile of spare bedding by the base of the tower.”
Wilona’s hunger had her asking for permission to try one of Senna’s oatencakes, and Chalette delighted everyone with the first portion of a rather soft cheese – more of a butter, but a perfect complement to the warm bread twists.
Eanje thought no more of it until the
third time Wilona diverted the conversation away from a missing jacket asking Senna about her ideas for moving the sarsen stones.
When sufficient staves had been secured, the men turned to the task of forming the bases for the two houses. Lyran suggested they repeat the scheme of alternating between digging the pits and working at the quarry.
Ever in search of sport, Jarl suggested two teams competing to see who could finish each stage first. Lyran refused to go against his cousin, so Farmon stepped up to lead the other team and they took turns to pick their men and women. Senna and Paulina claimed exemption, agreeing to feed everyone. Wilona suggested she should keep the younger children out of trouble.
Having so many men and four carts and horses made a difference, as did having proper tools, especially the spades and axes. Senna spoke of her concerns that the good-natured haranguing between the two teams might be perceived as discord. When they sat together for the shared supper, the rivalry was obviously set aside.
“This pie is divine, Senna. Is that the last of my lamb?”
Eanje grinned at the way Farmon liked to remind people of his contribution.
“No. Paulina has made a fine stew for tomorrow.” Senna gestured at the blushing woman. “Then that’s it.”
“Are we to have one of your pigs, next?” Lyran smacked his lips. “I have a hankering for some bacon.”
“Or ham and shallot pie. With honey-roasted turnips.” Elspeth rubbed her belly; a woman who loved her food.
“You will have to wait a while.” Jarl’s face crumpled as his lips tightened. “After you left, Bryce and I stumbled across a deer. Its antlers were jammed between two trees and the creature had suffered some kind of trauma. Bryce had his bow and put it out of its misery.”
“Poor thing.” Bryce grimaced. “Another reason why thinning the trees will help. The carcass is hanging in the tower; we should give it a few days.”
Tasker tried to brighten the mood. “Meanwhile, we can have trout, pheasant, and whatever the traps catch.”
