‘Girl!’ Giana started in fear but the Mistress’s voice was soft and calm, ‘will you bring the meal to the table?’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ The girl had learned to be quick and efficient, carefully placing the various items precisely in their correct places and standing back to await further orders.
‘Thank you, Giana,’ Maretta spoke softly again. The girl was astounded; her jaw literally dropped open. The Mistress had thanked her! And she had called her by her name!
‘Mistress,’ the girl mumbled, her face flushed with deep confusion.
Maretta smiled at her.
‘You may go to have your food,’ she said. Giana stumbled from the table. What had happened? Why was the Mistress speaking kindly to her. This had never happened before. It was wonderful, yes, but why? Why?
Now the girl had taken her meal and sat upon her stool. The food was delicious and plentiful. The milk was fresh and cool. And Giana was elated, filled with happiness at what had just happened and filled with the joy she had received mysteriously in the darkness outside: ‘I’ve heard people talk about the spirits,’ the girl thought, ‘but I never thought the spirits would ever bother with someone like me, just a poor farm girl.’
She felt awed at the thought and wondered if it could possibly be true. Then, practicality returned: ‘The Master and Mistress seem to like each other at the moment – but it won’t last. Everything will be back to normal by tomorrow and I’ll soon be in trouble for something!’
Although these were her conclusions, nevertheless the girl felt that something very special had happened to her and she still felt happier than she had ever been in her whole life.
Outside in the rapidly cooling evening, the boy replaced his utensils by the farmhouse door as he did every evening and withdrew to his quarters in the barn. On arrival, he lit a small oil lamp and climbed up into the hayloft. As usual, a complete day of very physical work had made him very tired and he was more than ready for sleep. As he started to undress he remembered his strange find earlier in the day.
‘I do hope I still have it,’ he thought as he felt in his cloth waist bag. At first, the strange stone eluded his search but he eventually found it lodged into a corner of the bag. Bringing it out, he examined it once again by the light of the lamp, noting again how the strange striations along its length sparkled with multicoloured light. ‘It’s really quite beautiful,’ he thought, and found that his finger and thumb had once again slid naturally into the depressions at one end of the stone. As this occurred, he felt again that little jolt, the same odd sensation he had experienced when he picked up the stone in the field, a strange feeling of power and awesome significance quite unlike anything he had felt before.
‘This must be a very special stone,’ the boy thought, ‘maybe it’s a gift from the spirits. I must keep it safe.’ He found a small piece of clean, soft cloth and wrapped the stone in it. Then he put it back carefully into his bag and secured the top tightly with the drawstring. ‘Whatever it is, I’m going to think of it as my good luck charm. Let’s hope that’s what it is!’ He grinned happily as he thought that.
Moments later, he was stretched out in his bunk, tired and warm. Physically still and completely relaxed, his mind returned naturally to the day now ended, recalling all the amazing things that had happened and trying to work out the meaning of each. Inevitably, it was not long before sleep overtook him, certainly long before he was able to come to a conclusion about even one of the day’s very unusual events.
The next morning, the boy awoke at his normal early hour and mused further on the strange happenings of the day before, without making any further progress on their meaning or implications.
‘A new day,’ he thought, ‘and everything will be back to normal. It won’t be long before I’m in trouble again.’ He sighed. ‘I really do try my best but sometimes my best just isn’t good enough.’
The boy had come to exactly the same conclusion as Giana had the evening before. Yesterday had been strange and some wonderful things had happened but now all that was over. Now it was back to hard work and no appreciation from the Master or Mistress. He stretched his body and sighed again. In fact, the boy and the girl could not have been more wrong.
Joachim followed his normal routine and appeared outside the farmhouse at the usual time, neat, clean and ready for a day’s hard work. When Maretta appeared with his morning meal, she placed it gently on the stone and gave a brief smile before going back inside. The boy was very surprised.
‘She’s in a very good mood this morning. I wonder why?’
Also, his morning meal was better than normal and much more plentiful. The boy ate and drank gratefully. Shortly after, he sprang to his feet as Old Malik appeared.
Looking directly at the boy – normally he looked contemptuously the other way – the farmer said: ‘We’ll continue ploughing today and should finish the field in three days.’ As he spoke, he handed the boy’s midday meal to him, neatly tied in a clean cloth. The boy was surprised to be told details of plans and even more surprised that he did not have to scramble to catch his midday food before it spilled over the ground.
‘Yes, Master, thank you, Master,’ he replied respectfully and left to prepare the bullocks. Both beasts were ready by the time Old Malik appeared at the pen. He said nothing as he led his beast away with Joachim following close behind.
Because of the stoniness of the field, the boy’s ploughing towards the top of the field continued to be difficult and slow. Mercifully, however, the morning’s work was uneventful. At the bottom of the field, Old Malik was making good progress as his plough sliced through the softer, more fertile soil. The boy kept a wary eye on him but the man rarely looked his way.
‘We don’t want a repeat of yesterday.’ The boy was absolutely sure of that!
‘Boy!’ Completely engrossed in his work, Joachim had not noticed the approach of his master. Now his voice close by made the boy jump with fear.
‘Yes, Master,’ he stammered, bringing the plough to a stop.
‘You may stop and eat.’ His master spoke quietly and calmly, in a voice quite unlike his normal bullying tones. ‘Will you look after my beast?’
The boy was astonished. Old Malik was actually asking him if he would do something!
‘Of course, Master,’ he replied in mystified tones.
‘Good,’ the man responded and strode away down the hill towards the distant farmhouse.
The beasts were quickly dealt with; unhitched, fed and watered. Then the boy settled down beneath his usual tree and unpacked his midday meal.
‘What a feast,’ he breathed. A generous hunk of good bread, plenty of butter, a large slice of excellent cheese and even a small piece of dried beef. Best of all – a flagon of farm-brewed beer, just like the ones Old Malik drank every day. Joachim shook his head in wonderment: ‘I am truly blessed; I must be sure to thank the Mistress for this.’ Joachim felt like a king. ‘I’m sure kings don’t eat any better than this!’ The boy’s knowledge of kings was rather scanty, gleaned from comments made by Old Malik, who had been educated in such things by his father when he was young.
The rest of the day passed without incident and good progress was made. As the light began to fade, Old Malik arrived at the top of the field to inspect Joachim’s furrows. Joachim stood by respectfully, scanning his master’s face and hoping that his work would be judged satisfactory. The farmer examined the neat furrows narrowly. Apart from his episodes of fury, the farmer was a man of few words, so the boy was pleased but not surprised when the man said nothing – although Joachim thought he saw a brief nod of approval.
Then the man spoke quietly: ‘Good progress today, we should finish the field tomorrow.’ Joachim was grateful that the words were spoken in a quiet, almost neutral tone. There was no hint of anger or contempt in the farmer’s voice and, to Joachim’s gr
eat relief, there was no threat of violence either.
‘Yes, Master, I will work hard tomorrow.’
The man looked at the boy for a few seconds and then smiled briefly.
In the following days, the farm work continued without incident or problem. The boy noted that the Master and Mistress spent every evening talking quietly together; they seemed to have a considerable amount to say to each other. The boy observed that their faces were relaxed and happy; in particular the face of the Mistress exuded an aura of great serenity.
Joachim had tried again and again to work out what had happened on that day of the “accident” but each time he had to abandon the attempt with a rueful shake of the head. Meanwhile, the boy was deeply grateful that his meals continued to be generous and of good quality. Sitting alone outside the farmhouse, he recalled with astonishment that Old Malik had not spoken harshly to him for four whole days!
The next day, the farmer had sent him to harrow the field, to break down the soil lumps and prepare it for planting the crop. This was a much less onerous task than ploughing and the boy made good progress back and forward across the field, guiding the harrow behind the powerful bullock.
From his vantage point high in the field, he was able to see that Old Malik had a visitor, a man who he recognised as a neighbouring farmer. On his visits to the village, Joachim had seen this man several times and knew that he was treated with a great deal of respect by all the other farmers. He had heard it said that this man was the best farmer in the region.
Joachim saw that the two men had toured every part of Old Malik’s farm and, when they came to the field, Old Malik waved to the boy to stop his harrow and indicated he should come down to them.
‘I hope I’m not in trouble,’ the boy thought. However, because of the presence of the other farmer, he did not think so. Nevertheless, he approached Old Malik with some care.
‘This is my farm boy, Joachim, the boy I have been telling you about,’ Old Malik said. Turning to Joachim, he said: ‘This is Farmer Sistas, who is the best farmer in the region.’ Joachim removed his cap.
‘Good day, Master,’ he said.
‘Holat, Joachim,’ the man said, taking the boy’s hand and shaking it. The boy was taken aback. The farmer was shaking his hand as if he was a man!
‘Is the work going well?’ Old Malik looked into the boy’s eyes with a friendly gaze.
‘Yes, Master, it will be finished today.’
‘Good. You can carry on with your work now.’ Old Malik and Farmer Sistas turned away.
Once again behind the harrow, Joachim was confused once again. What was happening? What did that strange meeting mean? Why was this farmer at the Master’s farm and why was he, just a farm boy, being introduced to such an important man? Once again, Joachim was at a loss to work it out. Suddenly, he grinned in his cheerful way.
‘Whatever it all means, it’s all much better than it was a week ago. I hope it continues this way. It would be wonderful if it did.’
Meanwhile, Giana was equally confused but extremely grateful. From that day when the Master came to the bakery, her mistress had changed completely. She was now always neat and clean and drank very little beer. More importantly from Giana’s point of view, her treatment of the girl had altered radically. She was kind and fair to her and usually addressed her by her name, instead of calling her “Girl” and ordering her around angrily.
Moreover, when the girl worked hard and well, Maretta would now thank her and compliment her on good work done. When the girl made a mistake, the Mistress would point out her error and calmly show her how to do the task correctly. There had also been a significant change in domestic arrangements. The day before, Maretta had said to the girl: ‘The Master will sleep with me in the side room, Giana, and you will sleep here in the main room.’
This change pleased Giana very much. At last, she had a bed of her own where she could spread out and bounce around all during the night!
‘Yes, Mistress, I will move my clothes from the side room immediately.’
There was one other major change. One day while they were working in the dairy together, Maretta had spoken about Joachim: ‘Giana, listen to me, please. The Master now tells me that the farm boy Joachim is a very good worker and knows his farm work well. In fact he is so satisfied with him that he no longer needs to beat him. I think all this has happened because the Master is so good at training farm boys. So I am now treating Joachim as a good and faithful worker and I want you to do the same. The Master has told the boy he may speak to you and you may now speak to him if you want. But don’t do anything stupid. Boys are very different from girls, you know.’
As she said this, Maretta felt she had heard these words somewhere before. ‘Where could it have been?’ She puzzled about this for some time. ‘Oh, I can’t remember, maybe it will come back to me some time.’ So saying, the query passed from her mind.
Two weeks had now passed since everything had changed at the farm and Joachim was still puzzled by many things that had happened. However the time had now arrived when at least some of his questions would be answered. Although the boy now had a very good working relationship with his master (for instance, he had noted with great relief that all the beating sticks around the farm had disappeared), he was worried and a little frightened when Old Malik mentioned at the beginning of their working day that they would have a “serious conversation” that evening at the farmhouse.
This worried Joachim more and more throughout the day. What if Old Malik had decided his work wasn’t good enough? Maybe that he should be replaced by a man who would be stronger and able to do more work? If he left the farm, where would he live? What would he do? How would he survive?
He did not think he would be welcome at home – after all, his father had given him away to Old Malik many years ago. As the day progressed, Joachim became more and more convinced that Old Malik was going to cast him out of the farm. Then, an even worse thought came to him. What if he was to be sold as a slave? Sold to someone who would treat him badly and starve him and whip him? So, by the time evening came, Joachim was ashen-faced and trembling in fear.
‘Come in and eat in the farmhouse,’ Old Malik said, ‘come and sit with us at the table.’ Joachim was terrified. He had never been in the farmhouse in all the years he had been at the farm and now, even worse, he had to eat his food with the Master and Mistress at the table! With great reluctance, the boy entered and did as he was bid.
The food was excellent but, this evening, it tasted of ashes in his mouth; he could hardly stop his jaw trembling as he waited for the axe to fall. A flagon of good beer helped him to relax a little but he still felt like these bad criminal men must do as they waited to have their heads cut off by one sweep of a very heavy sword. Joachim had heard that this was the method of execution in this land.
Finally, the meal was over and the bowls and platters cleared away. Joachim now closed his eyes and waited for the dreaded blow to fall.
‘Joachim, as you know, things at the farm have changed. But now they need to change a lot more.’ Old Malik’s voice was solemn. Maretta sat impassively across the table, looking at Joachim. ‘The changes I am now going to make affect you considerably,’ the man continued, ominously.
Joachim nearly burst into tears. He considered throwing himself upon the floor at his master’s feet and begging for mercy.
‘I knew it. I’m done for. He’s selling me as a slave.’ These thoughts played at deafening volume in his mind, blotting out everything else. His sightless eyes eventually refocused.
Old Malik was looking at him quizzically: ‘Do you?’
Joachim looked at his master with wild, uncomprehending eyes.
‘Sorry, I …’ he whispered.
Old Malik recognised confusion but could not guess at the cause. He repeated the question: ‘Joachim, do
you remember meeting Farmer Sistas?’
‘Of course, Master.’ The boy’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘You are to go to his farm for at least one day in every week. He has agreed to train you to be a farmer as good as he is. You will learn all the modern methods of farming from him. He will teach you how to choose the best workers and how to treat them so that they are happy and work very hard. And he will teach you about the money of farming, too. And when you have learned everything, we will do all of it here and make this farm great again. What do you think of that?’
Joachim was completely overwhelmed for a number of reasons. He was not being sold as a slave. He was not being sent away. He was to be trained to be a good farmer. Could this be true? He was to be trained to be a good master of people – and became a money handler. But he knew nothing of people and words and numbers and money!
His eyes staring, he blurted: ‘But, Master, I am not worthy. I have no knowledge of people or words or numbers or money.’ He could not stop his thoughts pouring out like a torrent through a broken dam.
The man placed his large hard hand on the boy’s clenched fists, feeling the tremor within them. ‘Yes, Joachim, you are worthy. You know how to work hard and you will do so. I know you have no knowledge of these things but Farmer Sistas will teach you all about farming and people and I, Malik, will teach you how to read and write, how to count numbers and handle money. I will teach you many other things, too.’
The Knowledge Stone Page 10
