In Two Minds

by K T Findlay

  He raised his head, a mixture of caution and belligerence confusing his face. ‘It took away our authority. It took away our respect.’ His voice rose a little. ‘It took away our manhood, and our rights as men! Imagine letting a woman have the same vote as a man!’

  Thomas interrupted. ‘This is Mercia, not Northumbria. Women in Mercia have always had rights of speech, rights of property, protected under law, and our kingdom is the richer for their contribution.’

  The head dropped again. ‘Perhaps so, perhaps not.’ Fulton begrudged. ‘But you also let the slaves and children do it too! Shocking! What if the slaves expect now to have a say in everything? How will we control them? We’ll have nothing but trouble from now on!’

  Thomas nodded. ‘I understand your worry, but this matter was about people’s souls. You own your slave’s bodies. You don’t, and never will own their souls. Everyone has responsibility for their own soul. All I did was let them have the power to exercise that responsibility.’

  The man said nothing.

  Thomas shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I am sorry you are so vexed. Perhaps you could grant me the same time you granted Cuthbert, to see if I will measure up to your expectations in other ways? And if not, I have given you your remedy. You can leave anytime you like. I’ll make the arrangements to swap you with someone from another manor somewhere.’

  The answer snapped back instantly, catching Thomas by surprise. ‘I accept! When can we make it happen?’

  ‘Well,’ said Thomas, thinking quickly, ‘does anyone else want to join you? I need to know the numbers involved before I start talking to other manor owners, so as to guarantee you a livelihood and a home. But,’ he paused for effect, ‘if you are so vexed that you don’t want to wait for that, you have my permission to leave immediately. I won’t stand in your way. You’re a free man after all. I just ask that you tell me the day before you leave that you are doing so. Then I can give your house to someone who wants it.’

  ‘Ha!’ spat Fulton. ‘I can’t afford that and you know it! I’d never be able to get another home. I’d have to sell myself into slavery, and what good would that do me?’

  Thomas looked up at the cross face. He was tired of looking at cross faces. It seemed like he’d been looking at cross faces since he arrived in this world, and he’d had enough. He looked around at the others. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of coins. ‘Here’s enough money for a year’s worth of food. Pack your things and go.’

  He put the coins into the man’s unprotesting hands.

  The man made no move.

  ‘Well? Off you go. You’ll want as much daylight as possible I imagine.’

  He addressed the others. ‘Anyone else want to accept the same offer?’ He held out another handful of coins.

  They all shook their heads vigorously.

  Fulton still stood there bemused, staring at more money than he’d ever had in his life. Thomas patted him gently on the arm. ‘Well, your time is your own now my friend. I guess you can do what you want with it. Just be out of the manor by tonight. There’s probably someone else who can make good use of your hut.’

  He turned to go, but Fulton had found his voice again.

  ‘Your Highness? May I change my mind?’ his face was creased with worry, as the reality of being alone in the world with a year’s worth of money but no friends came crashing in on him.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Thomas called back over his shoulder. ‘Come and talk to me again around mid-afternoon and tell me what you want to do.’

  And off he walked towards the rest of the village,who were laughing and chattering. Within a couple of minutes he’d brushed the belligerents from his mind.

  Said belligerents themselves started to mingle with everyone else. Slowly they began to thaw, and seven of them were soon laughing along with everyone else.

  Only Fulton stayed on the periphery. He felt on the outer because he’d asked to leave and not only had he been allowed to, but he was actually being paid to go. Did the money mean he was worth that much a year? Or did it mean the Prince thought it was worth that amount of money just to be rid of him? Most worrying of all, the Prince hadn’t even tried to convince him to stay.

  Sadly he turned away from the throng, and made his way back to his hut, where he began to pack his few possessions. It didn’t take long because he didn’t own very much. He came out of his door just as Hengist, Alfred and Cuthbert were coming past.

  ‘What’s up Fulton?’ asked Hengist.

  Fulton explained.

  Cuthbert perked up at once. ‘Put your things on the cart my friend, and we’ll go and see the Archbishop together.’

  With a weak smile Fulton did as he had been asked, and found himself pushing Cuthbert’s handcart up the road, while the priest walked along unencumbered. A few minutes saw the pair of them out of the village and on their way. The priest had found his beast of burden after all.

  Thomas and Wulfstan watched them go.

  ‘That does however give me a problem.’ said Thomas.

  ‘Surely you’ll have no trouble getting another priest?’ asked Wulfstan.

  ‘The Archbishop may try and make trouble over that, but that isn’t the issue. The problem is, the only person in the manor who can read, write, and use numbers is now me! I need people who can read and write, but I also need to be out finding the rest of the girls and training them. I don’t see how I can do both.’ His brow furrowed in concern.

  ‘I thought you could do anything?’ muttered Wulfstan sarcastically.

  ‘Not all at once I can’t!’ shot back Thomas. ‘I’m going to need to find some help, and be quite creative about it I think.’

  That night a huge party was held in the hall, with plenty of beer, and enough food to make everyone happy.

  Alfred sat by the Prince’s left hand, and Thomas made a point of talking with him at length, to show to the whole of the manor that Alfred had his trust and respect.

  Ashlin was at a table close by, with his wife Maeve looking radiant. The stress of the last two months under Cuthbert’s baleful watch was still evident on her face, but the relief of his departure, and the Prince himself begging her not to worry about the future, because it would all be sorted out, had washed most of it away. In fact she was washing a bit more of it away right now, drinking some of the beer that Thomas himself had put into her hands.

  Wulfstan was once more doing duty on guard. He’d followed Cuthbert and Fulton a few miles down the road, marvelling at how far his thin cord let him go. He still hadn’t found a point where he couldn’t go on if he wanted to.

  During the day he’d watched the preparations being made for the evening feast. And at Thomas’s request, he’d spent a bit of time around the seven malcontents, to see how things sat with them.

  Thomas had placed them at a good table, not far from his own, and throughout the evening he made a point of going over to drink toasts with them. By the end of the evening, they were going to be very merry, in every sense of the word.

  Just before the feast had started, Wulfstan had done a complete search around the manor, this time out to a three mile radius. He’d done it on the far side of the river too, just to make sure. Halfway through the feast he was out there doing another check.

  Job done, he swooped up high into the sky. It was a fine night, a gibbous moon, plenty of stars, and just the odd scattered cloud about. He delighted in the river, a silvery ribbon winding its way through the landscape.

  He flew around and through a little cloud. Surprised at how cold it was, he was out again quickly, and soon warming himself in the hall.

  Humming happily to herself, Sherelda was once more tending the fire, a trencher of good food at her side, and a goblet of fine beer sheltering from the heat of the blaze behind a large stone. A smile of peace and tranquillity sat permanently on her face, the kind of smile found only on those who have suffered deeply, and know that they are now safe and loved.

  She looked over at th
e Prince, and Wulfstan could swear he could see a very slight golden glow around her as she did so. There was something about the quality of its light that reminded him of something, but he couldn’t think what.

  9 New ways and means

  The next four days were very busy for Thomas.

  Religion being as important as it was at that time, getting a temporary priest had to be the top of his agenda if he was to avoid having a rebellion on his hands. He sent Hengist to the next manor up the river to arrange things, while he tackled the blacksmith.

  The smithy was on the eastern side of the peninsula, with a water wheel to drive the bellows, something that really impressed Thomas. Between it, the stables and the barn, was a large animal enclosure. Theoretically this kept everything close enough to work easily, but far enough apart to manage the fire risk from the forge. However, there were two huts right next to it, running up the side of the animal enclosure towards the hall, which did somewhat make a mockery of that idea.

  The first thing he checked out was the smelting process used to extract iron from bog ore. It was the normal way of the age, although this blacksmith was unusual in doing it himself. A mixture of charcoal was burned in a primitive kiln, the required temperature being achieved by air being blasted into it by leather bellows driven by the water wheel.

  Smashed up pieces of iron ore fished out of the bogs were dropped into the blaze, and heated as hot as the fire could go. Even with the water wheel bellows, it was nowhere near enough to melt the iron into liquid form, but after many hours of work, and a huge amount of charcoal, he got a bloom, a small lump of iron still full of impurities and useless for anything. The smith had to reheat it in the forge again until it was red hot, then smack it with hammers to drive out as many of those impurities as possible. Then he did it again, and again, and again for as long as he had to. The sparks from the hammer blows showed his progress in knocking out the slag and impurities, but with every blow the bloom got smaller. The process did eventually produce iron, but very little for the time and energy spent, and the quality ranged from okay to dreadful. Thomas wanted high quality steel for swords, and iron for ploughs and other implements. This simply would not do.

  With wooden roof shingles serving as paper, and charcoal as his pencil, Thomas sketched out a design for a small blast furnace lined with clay. It would be sealed at the top to trap in far more heat than the smith’s existing design, but the clay itself was just as critical. It would reflect the heat off the furnace walls, back into the furnace instead of losing it through the bricks.

  He also designed some clay crucibles to hold the iron ore separate, away from the charcoal. With trial and error, and a bit of luck, he hoped they could make crucible steel. If they were successful, it would give him an edge in every possible sense.

  Smith, for that was his name, at once saw the principle of the thing. He and his apprentice Buck began at once to collect the required materials to build the new furnace. Thomas swore them to secrecy on all aspects of their work, stressing that it would make them all rich within five years. Every smith was used to keeping their little secrets, such as the right colours to look for when working with the hot metal. There would be no problem there.

  Next he met with Ashlin to find out what skills the man had. As a peasant farmer, Ashlin could turn his hand to most work, but he seemed to have a real flair for wood. Thomas was hugely impressed with the quality of the tools and furniture that Ashlin had made for himself.

  He’d also found that there was nobody in the village who could make a really good bow. Oh there were the usual cheap and nasty home made hunting bows around the place, but nothing like what he was after.

  ‘I need a short but powerful bow, so my warriors can use them on horseback.’ he told Ashlin.

  ‘It can’t be done.’ said the man. ‘A Welsh bow is too long to use easily on a horse, and a short one will break when you pull it.’

  ‘Ah.’ said Thomas. ‘I have a trick to show you!’

  They worked together to choose a piece of wood which was short and strong, but already curved.

  ‘If it is already bent, it will be too weak.’ observed Ashlin.’

  ‘No it won’t.’ said Thomas. ‘We bend it the other way, against the curve.’

  ‘Then it will break.’ said Ashlin quietly.

  ‘Normally yes,’ said Thomas, ‘but we’re going to stick plates of animal horn on the front of the bow, the part facing the archer. They will resist the compression as the bow curves, and stop the wood on the inside from being crushed. We’re also going to stick animal tendons on the back of the bow, the bit facing the target. They’re a lot more stretchy than the wood and so will add more power, while stopping the wood from being torn apart. It’s a composite bow, made of three different things, each material bringing its own kind of strength to support the others. It will be short enough, and strong enough to use on horseback.’

  Ashlin pursed his lips in doubt. ‘I don’t know Your Highness. It sounds good, but whether or not it will work…’

  Thomas knew full well it would work, as this was exactly the kind of bow the Mongol Horde would use when they swept out of Asia in the centuries to come.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’re going to give it a try. The key will be finding the right glue, and we’ll have to play around with that. Don’t use any of the best materials until you and I have agreed which glue we’ll use. Play around with the lower grade wood, horn and sinew. If we can make the idea work with that, it’ll work with the top quality stuff too.’

  Secrecy was once more imperative, so Thomas moved Ashlin and his family from their house at the western end of the village, into the hall. He partitioned off the right rear corner for them to live and work in until the hall could be extended to include a proper home for them.

  That left Thomas with three more big items to address. The productivity of the farm, public health, and administration. At the moment, almost everybody’s time was spent either getting food or staying warm. He couldn’t do anything with them until he’d freed up some of their time, and knew how much he had to play with. But none of that was worth anything if people were constantly getting sick and dying.

  Sewage borne diseases like cholera were a huge killer in the dark ages, and they worried Thomas greatly. Fortunately, he got the perfect opportunity to tackle them the day after Cuthbert’s departure.

  Pee wasn’t a problem because it was already collected for the tanner and the cloth fullers. However, the other, shall we say, more solid matter, was of great concern. His opening to discuss it came while he, Hengist, Alfred, and two other influential men were inspecting the river bank upstream. One of the peasant farmers walked out of the wood and down to the water’s edge. There he dropped his pants, squatted down and did his business into the shallow flowing water.

  This was perfectly normal behaviour so Hengist and the others didn’t bat an eyelid.

  Thomas pointed to the fishermen tending their baskets just thirty yards downstream. All this did was generate four blank stares, so Thomas walked upstream, picked up a flat lump of wood and fished out the man’s leavings so they were perched on the end of it. Then he got a fresh fish from the fishermen, and opening its mouth dropped the man’s business down its throat. Smiling broadly, he offered it to Alfred, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  ‘Dinner for you and your lovely wife tonight!’

  Alfred recoiled. ‘Your Highness? I can’t eat that with what’s now inside it! Surely you don’t really mean for us to actually eat that?’ he pleaded.

  ‘But Alfred,’ smiled Thomas sweetly, ‘what’s the difference between this and any other fish you eat except that your eyes know what is inside this one? Surely every fish in the river has somebody’s business inside it if people are allowed to use the river as their toilet? It’s just that you don’t see it, so you don’t worry about it, but it’s there in every single mouthful. No wonder so many of you die of sickness!’

  Alfred had to admit that it seemed a f
air point, but asked the obvious question. ‘But if we are not to use the river, what are we to use? We can’t just do it on the side of the road, or in the fields! The river takes it away for us.’

  So Thomas taught them how to make a twin pit, pour flush toilet. Being people of the land, they understood it very quickly. They also understood him to be deadly serious when he said that anyone found using the river as a toilet from that day on was to be given a fish for their dinner like the one Thomas had handed Alfred.

  Alfred promised that the first of the toilets would be completed within a week. In the meantime, people were instructed to collect their waste and deposit it in a hole dug into a depression on a piece of scrubby land on the edge of the forest, well away from the houses.

  There were some grumbles about this, but the threat of a stuffed fish supper was enough to ensure they obeyed. One thing they were certain of, the Prince followed through on any threats he made. Nobody wanted him to follow through after they themselves had followed through. So they didn’t.

  Next he got them to wonder what flies had been walking on before they landed on their breakfast. The idea of a fly going from poo to bread was enough on its own for the village to start a fly eradication program. It also made it a lot easier to get them to start washing their hands, which made almost as big an impact as the new toilets.

  He followed that by tackling malaria, the biggest killer of them all, by showing them how many eggs a single mosquito could lay, and asking them how often they were bitten. Without him even asking, they started to fill in all the puddles, and actively hunt out and destroy the larvae. He never even mentioned malaria, knowing they’d never believe him, because they believed disease was caused by bad smells. After all, the word malaria itself meant bad air, and it would be a hard slog to get them to change their minds on that.

  So, with good progress being made against disease, he turned his attentions to the farm itself. He introduced the idea of four crop rotation to increase food production and supply enough fodder to keep the animals over winter. The extra cows would give milk, butter and cheese throughout the dark months to keep the villagers healthy, and would kick start the following year.