Speaker 1: Hullo. I'm welcomed stories all the time. Glad you are here.
Let's get into it. Ada held the last cross between
two fingers. When Marta stepped into the doorway and said,
please shirret, Shame tightened at a straw it before she
even looked at the child at her feet. Her hands
moved with practice. She folded the shawl, rubbed the bolt rim,
and set the cross dumb beside the child's palm. The
door was smelled of damp straw and chimney soup. The
problem was simple and immediate. There was only enough for
one small meal. I Marta stood there with a thin
shawl and a small boy who trembled from the cold
at as Shame pushed her first, she counted portions by
thumb against the wooden bowl. She had learned to hide
hunger behind practical gestures. MARTA's face stayed level. Jacob held
close to Martha's skirts and did not speak. The village
had not spoken openly of the mill for two days,
but top moved from door to door Before dawn, A
whispered report arrived with Marta, and the whispered report was
a new kind of pressure reader. Marta the larder is
nearly bare Martin. His voice did not plead, It delivered fact.
It kept her eyes in the bowl. She could feel
her pulse at the base of her neck. Shame shifted
into suspicion as she remembered the mill shutters closed in
a trov's slowgate two days ago. The immediate choice sat
like a stone on the threshold. Feed her own children,
or give the last bit to a neighbor. Edda placed
the crust in Jacob's small hand and stepped back. Jacob.
She said, eat what you can now of the child's
shube of small noises. MARTA's muff tightened. Eda's suspicion moved
into action. She had been a watchful mother since the
winter began. She had kept a tie cloth patch of
barley and a wooden feeding ball by the hearth. The
house smelled of barley husks and boiled roots. The smell
was a record of decisions already made. By the time,
the lane filled with low light, memories had gathered into
a pattern. Friends in distant kinchecked one another's doorsteps. Da
moved toward the lawnhouse because the village moved to monslow
current at the lane, she found Marta speaking again, this
time to three others. A trol stood with his arms folded.
His coat looked patched at the elbow, and his fingers
at the knob be joints of a man who had
thefted sacks for years. The miller has not come, Martina
wheel this morning. No sacks at the Lardae went after
a light, and the stores empty. Jacob clutched Matty's hand
and wept one thin and sharp. When the crowd heard that,
the current sharpened. Inside the long house, a low fire
made a small ring of warmth. Villagers sat on bench's
clothes to the smoke and spoken short sentences. Eda sat
with her sholf folded across her knees and watched the
males of others. Her shame moved again, but this time
it braided with fear. The fear was not for herself alone.
It was the fear of being forced to choose in
front of neighbors, to justify portions by weight, and to
watch children with sunken cheeks. Fear tightened conversation and sent
he trov to speak up. A trov stood, letting the
chest crap. You can forage the marsh for reeds and roots.
He said he can take a small party, while we
can go to the miller's house and ask him of
crane is hidden. His voice carried the rough authority of habit.
Several heads turned. Marta touched Jacob's shoulder and looked at Edda.
Eda felt the discussion press against the edges of her
shyness and into rafusal. Have no time for question. An
older woman said, of grain is at the mill hiding.
It will stove us all. If we raid and find it,
we will divide. If we do nothing, children will empty.
The words landed like stones. Arguments move fast. One villager
described saxeine moved at night near the mill. Others shook
their heads. A man called Cage leaned forward. Who saw sax?
Who saw them moved? He asked, voice high, with something
between impatience and fear. The accusing villager, a broad faced
woman with a red nose, answered quickly, saw shadow by
the mill last week, sachs were fewer when I passed
by in the morning, eyes flaked to Rolph. Ralph answered,
combut blunt, we will search. We will not without word.
First we find facts. The decision pushed add into a
new emotional turn Suspicion widened into anger toward the idea
that one household might hide food. The council sent three
to the martian, two to the mill, and the rest
stayed to ration. What remained Eda's hands worked on portions
while she listened. She cut major slices of root bread
and pressed a small amount of barley into a pot.
She watched the children, whose cheeks hollows deepen with each delay.
Conversation kept returning to two options, public shame affording was uncovered,
or private theft if no one acted and her children
went hungry. At noon, the marsh party left with narrow
shoulders under cloaks and crewe forks for pulling weeds. Eda
did not join them at first. Her duty was at home.
She watched as a trough and two others slipt into
a thinning falk. He called back softly, Edda, come if
you can spare a hand. Later we may need more
hands to dick. She nodded and chose to wait until dusk.
Her shame in her resolve bumped against each other. Shame asked,
privacy was all vasterisk In the late afternoon, a single
loud sound broke the low routine. A child shrieked in
the lane voices rose Eda moved outside and found Jacob
clutching his arm. Scap had been ripped. The boy had
fallen near a frozen puddle. The fall added another urgency.
Mardes draw hardened, and she said, Jacob cannot go to
the marsh to night if his arms stays like this.
We need the mill. The practical demand sharpened eds resolve.
She wrapped Jacob's arm with a clean strip and prepared
to move with Rolph. The party for the mill was
smaller than it could have been Hereolf took Edda and
two others, a lantern bare named sore And and the accusing villager,
whom Da learned was called Anna. They left under a
low sky and carried quiet and away people carry away.
Conversation had become business instead of rumor. Eda's shame had
been replaced by a new route, protective determination. She spoke
little and kept her hands steady in the sack strap
she had borrowed. They crossed the lane that led to
the mill with a careful step. The mill's wheel sat
still as a stone. Moonlight painted the water low and glassy.
The miller's door showed no fresh tracks, sore and croach,
and whispered, there are, Prince here, many prints, but recent ones.
Head to the shed e. Trolph nodded and pushed the
shed door. It gave her the splintering sound. The smell
of dry grain came out like a hell breath inside
the shed. Defense sack stacked along the wall. Ada's chest heightened.
Anya hissed, here they are see here they kept food
while we stoff. Hands moved with that ceremony. Rolph lifted
a sack seam and pulled out a handful of grain.
Jacob's small eyes flashed at his memory, and her hands
moved again, this time driven by a new sharp emotion,
a fierce protect a urge that ran against the public
law of property. Ralph looked at Edda. He did not
need to speak. She felt the choice in the set
of his jaw, in the tilt of his head. The
accusation that had risen in the lawn has now met
the quiet fat grain. DA's shame sharpened into gilt, at
first for thinking of stealing, then into a colder calculation.
If the miller had kept sacks away, many would die
if they exposed him. Villages must hunger on until winter thinned.
If they took grain quietly, they would face accusation, but
also put warm food into miles that would otherwise wreaze sore.
In place his lantern on the floor, the light trembled
on sacking. Anya's hand shook a trough. We must decide quickly.
One bag will feed many if shared. One bag taken
quietly may spare our children to night. His voice held
the hard weight of community. Eda knew then that a
choice made in the dark would day names, and that
stains could stay longer than hunger. Edda reached for a
sack and felt the cause weave under her palms. She
thought of her own child's sleeping Bresse home. She thought
of MARTA's puld mouth when the child had cried. She
thought of Jacob's fall. Her body moved before her words.
She set the seam up and slipped grain into a
cloth and tied it at her belt. Her action turned
a conversation into a new strain of sound. Anya swore softly, sare,
and looked at a troll, as if needing instruction. A
troll did not stop her. He bent and took a
second handful himself. When they stepped back from the shed.
The knight held a small private thunder footsteps muffled on
the path. No shout rose, No one had struck them.
They worked with sacks held low and faces narrow, with
contained fear. It is hand axe to the weight. Her
heart hammered, not from exertion, but from exposure to a
choice that would mark her publicly if revealed. On returning,
they split the grain into small portions. Ada gave a
good share to her children, and wrapped a thin parcel
for Marta and Jacob. Words spread quickly, Some thanks softly,
some looked away. A whisper went through the lane. Grain
had been distributed from the mill. Accusations came in the
form of stony faces at the doorway. I I near
refused to hide her anger and spook the name that
cut the miller kept sacks. You knew you took. Who
gave you that right? Haralf answered in a voice that
did not bear him. If they saw the sacks, we
decided as a group, some of us took to keep
children alive. The group broke into a short exchange. Eda
heard her name said in a dozen ways. She did
not defend herself. At length, she handed bowls and watched
how people ate the porridge with quick, hungry motions. The
scene became a ledger of small mercies and small resentments.
A neighbor name Sign, approached at and spoke, low, your
hand trembles, Did you take more? Eda looked at Sign,
and then at the empty hearth. She answered simply, no
more than needed. Sign's eyes did not soften. The accusation
became rumor. Rumor turned toward the miller. In the law house,
voices rose and leveled again into decisions about fairness. The
fracture widened into a quiet dividing line. That night, Ata
sat by her window with a small handful of grain
at the sill. The children slept with mass too small
to fill. Came once bent and left a scrap of
schieff or neighbor In return. Hrll visited with a slow,
unreadable look, and sad, we cannot admit death, but neither
can we watch them starve. We will speak when it
is safe. He did not define safe. His words introduced
a new tension, practical mercy versus public justice. During the night,
some one knocked it at his door. She opened to
find the miller pale and trunken. He held a scrap
of paper in an old ledger. His voice quivered as
he said, I kept seed for spurring. I meant no harm.
My family is small. I thought that a step back.
The miller stared at his boots, as if the dirt
could explain anything. The miller's presence created a second twist.
It changed the suspect into a fragile human before them.
Martha spoke before DA could move. You should have said so, Miller.
We would have divided seed and set aside for spring.
We would have taken less and lived. But Miller looked up,
eyes wet. He feared the sacks would be gone if
I left them in the larder. I hid some to
save seed from my wife's labor come spring. His admission
refrained the allegation. The twist made two things shrewd once
the miller acted from private fear, and private fear had
consequence for the many arguments flared into a short, sharp exchange.
We'reolf pressed. You should have spoken to the council, the
miller answer. If I had, folk would have taken seed
for planting, not for bread. Seed is not the same
as grain for porridge. Sore and added, but children needed porridge.
Now the room spun into quick back and forth lines
added cat silent and watched, hands tight numbles. Conversation clipped
like a blade. Any demanded a public reckoning. If he took,
he must answer. She said. If the miller hid, he
must be punished. Ralph Joe offset. He looked at head
of in a way that asked for steadiness at a foul.
The slow burn along her spy and shame returned. Braided
with the new emotional turn, resolve that would not justify
theft with words, but would protect the living. She stood
and faced the room. Have soup and pots and hands
to carry it. Do I have children who wake with emptiness?
If we call for punishment now to night, families will
go without in the miller may looose seat, he needs
to plant. We must temper law with need. Her voice
was plain. People blinked. Her words set off a rapid
exchange of short lines. We cannot be lawless, one said,
he cannot watch children stirve. Another replied the argument moved
fast and shop with three to six quick returns. A
trov made the decision. Then slow and final will return
what weakenm in spring comes we will ask the miller
to show seat and account for now we share and
we watch each other closely. That compromise shifted the group's mood.
Some nodded, some turned away. The fracture did not heal,
but the immediate hunger east. Edda closed her hand around
the wooden ball and felt the weight of small decisions.
At dawn, Da placed a measured handful of grain and
the window so for the children. She smoothed the cloth
of her shawl and tested the pots for warmth. Outside
voices carried, some thankful, some accusing. Marta stopped and touched
AT's shoulder. Briefly, did what you believed, marta voice slow
Jack appeared at the grain and then at adder and
said nothing. Ed had answered by lifting the ball and
moving back inside. The final moment arrived like a single breath.
A neighbor's foot struck a stone outside, and the sound
was blunt. Ed opened the small door and saw a
troll and the miller standing together at the lane. Emilla
had returned small sack and ellest. He met Ed's eyes
and nodded, once e trolf, we will account and we
will watch for now keep your children fed. Da accepted
the nod and let her hands move to the child's hair.
Shame had shaped at his first move. Suspicion followed rumor,
Fear drove action. Protective resolve pushed her to risk a
private death that would not stay private. The immertional turns
left marks in the village, thanky notes, angry stairs, a
patch ledger, and a handful of grain on a sill.
Da pushed between the low posts and smelled the metal
tine of old stew before she sawed the pot itself.
She grabbed the laddle and found the bottom of a
communal pottage grape clean. Suspicion tightened her fingers around the handle.
She read the narration less nailed to the post, and
the shortfall was written in wluntliness. There's not enough, she said.
The pot clinked. A child at her feet began to moan.
She remembered the crush she had held with two fingers
the week before. The memory was exact, marty small palm
under the bread, the way it had folded her shawl,
the shame settling behind her jaw. That earlier shearing had
left a quiet rule in her hands. Always checked before
you take the village depended on those rules now don
lind Low over the long house roof Da stepped into
the courtyard with the ladle. Marek moved at her side
without asking. Marrek's boots left off. Prince in the dark mud.
He did not speak first. His mouth was set in
a way that meant he had already counted possibilities. Some
one had nailed a rationalist to the post with rough thumbtacks.
Eddar read the names aloud. Marek's face shifted the fraction
of a degree that said he felt the same tension.
The problem was concrete. The pot was nearly empty, and
the list shortened everyone's share. The stakes were immediate. Children
would go without unless someone reshaped the measure. Thomas stood
by the haa sleeves rolled a wooden platter under his arm.
His eyes stayed on the pot, but his jaw Workie
cut this down from yesterday. He say, daughters from the steward,
everyone gets less. He kept his voice flat. Eda felt
suspicion turned to restrained anger. Widow Ena pushed forward in
the line. Her fingers curled around the rim of the
serving bowl, as if she might steady herself. Me children
are small, Thomas, she said, they need warm porridge. Now.
Her voice shook but did not break. Thomas set the
ball down by a Corran tablet. Lest is the list,
he said, you know how it goes. He with a thumb.
The exchange snap like a brittle twig. An argument rose
without ceremony, Tooma's names from the list and refused extras.
Ania pleaded. Eda felt the urge to speak before she
measured the consequences. She stepped into the line. Tumors, ADI
give her a little more. Martyr is small, and he asked,
children are smaller. Still, her tone was low. She counted
portions in her head to way she always had. Giving
one extra bull meant less for another family tomorrow, but
not giving it meant a child might faint before dusk.
Thomas looked at it, read up. We cannot change the
steward's list. If we do, they'll cut us further next
week away, he said. They held a distance between him
and the decision. Make us someone takes from us, Merrick,
someone with the cub passed by yesterday. Sachs moved. He
leaned closier, lord's cart unmarked, no receipts. Tomas draw tight
nigermuswell like bad grain. We cannot act on hearsay, we
have to ration to the numbers. He set the bowl
back in the hearth with the hand that trembled just
enough to show restraint. Eneas moaw Son sucked his knuckles. Please,
she said, please, Thomas, we have nothing at home but straw.
Her voice turned in the last word like a key.
The plate in Toma's hands seemed heaver. I dare remembered
to cross again that concrete amid shape which she could
not ignore. She leaned low. Hannah, she said, to the
woman nearest the cook, which you trade me a piece
of cloth for an extra bowl? My shawl will do.
I will not ask more. Her voice was practical. She
unfastened the corner of her wool shawl and held it out.
The woven edge was thin from years of wear. Hannah
took the cloth and set it in the hearth beside
the bowl. She glanced at the rationalist, and then at
Thomas om Bole. She said, on for what. She slid
the portion across with a flat hand. Mart Ate, with
her thumb bent over the bowl like an animal that
had learned to make a ell. Small dam watched the
child's shoulders rise and fall. The immediate danger quite it,
but the sense of unfairness did not leave the air.
By mid morning, Marek pulled out her side near a
lean to whither Lorno shadowed a patch of wet ground.
He lowered his voice. A cart moved through, I tell you,
he said, not the steward's tally. No Marks's breath made
a white lion in the cold. Edda kept her reply short.
Where did it go? Marek tapped his chin toward the
steward's shed as saw tracks near the green fresh wagon ruts.
Not the usual carts. Someone moves grain in the dark.
He nodded to a line of houses on the other
side of the green. Da felt that then a sharp clarity, doubt.
Could she be mistaken? Clarity? The footprints matched the step
by the steward storage. Her hands tightened on the bundle
of cloth she had traded. Who should follow them, she said,
Mark agreed with a curt nod. They did not speak
as they walked. The lane ran narrow. When the rain
had slicked the cobbels footprints led away from the long
house green and toward the steward's low shed at the
village edge. When I joined them halfway, her face pale
but determined. Eddie will not leave my children empty handed,
she said. She kept her voice level. She had a
blade tucked into her belt, not new, but clean at
the edge. The three of them reached the shed and
stood with their breath clouding the lock door. The wood
smelled of damp straw and old barley. Eda tested the
lock with her finger tips. It resisted the first pull.
Thomas arrived at the gate, then hand empty. He held
his position with stance that signaled caution. To Thomas, marreck,
did you see a cart? Thomas? I slid to the tracks,
then to the shed. He looked to Why. I know
nothing about carts. I keep the pots. I do not
see what the sieur does. His voice sounded rehearsed. Edda
struck the lock with the flat of her hand and
felt the timber give with a dry sound. The latch
gave Inside, sacks lay stacked against the back wall, smell
of grain, rose warm and buried. The sacks were tied
and labeled in the steward's hand. Edda reached in and
touched a sack he yielded under her fingers. She pulled
at the coarse twine and felt the weight of a
hand's decision pressed against her throat. Behind her, someone drew breath.
Thomas stepped forward then and said, ye should not. The
sentence broke when Mayre clifted a sack and of coarse cloth.
Whispered Merrek did not have the fact that he meant
to carry one aunt, and NIO's hand moved toward the
nearest high A sharp confrontation opened in the lane. Then
voices rose in quick exchange at Tomas a day, did
you nail that Russian list? No? Thomas posted what I
was told. I'm the cook, not the steward. He pushed
a palm out, you will not take what is not yours.
His voice was thin. He looked at the sacks as
if they might breathe. And who told you to shrink
the balls? Meck Tim's face shifted. He glanced at the tracks,
and the mute orders come from above. The steward counts
I follow. His hands were empty. Neo snapped, counted where
if the steward keeps stores hidden, then who keeps us alive?
She stepped closer, and for the first time the steadness
in her voice showed real anger. Toma's reply came quicker,
if you stole the shed will be punished. They'll take
more from us if we break their law. Do you
want that rapid lines path? Then sharp and short? Thomas?
Did you move sacks? Nec de mand did no, Thomas?
He would not. You deny it, Thomas, any about the
tracks end at your path? The cot didn't pass the
steward's gate alone. Her hands tightened on her skirt ed
as stepped between them. Her voice was low. But carriage,
you cannot let the children star because we fear a
punishment none of us can afford. She looked at Thomas.
If you took some, then say so. If he did
not stand with us now by telling what ye know.
Her jaw set. Thomas's mouth moved without sound for a beat.
Then he looked at the sacks, at the faces around him,
and his shoulders dropped, as if carrying an invisible wait here.
I moved a few. I did not mean to hide them.
I thought to keep some in case the steward cut
deliverers more. I thought it would be a store to tight.
As a collective breath pass through the small group, Suspicion
shifted into betrayal for someone, into reluctant understanding for others.
Eda felt anger and relief in the same pulse. She
took one steading step backward and let the weight of
that confession. Land Mark's face went Flay to keet to
reserve for whom he asked. Thomas looked at the ground,
for my mother, for my sister. I could not watch
them thin out. I did not mean to take more
than my share. He ran a hand over his hair,
and the gesture made and looked suddenly. Young Gerry thought
I could manage portions to avoid ruin. I misjudged his voice,
gracton the last word, Eny's about the next line. Then
he made a choice for us. Her eyes shone with
a heat that had nothing to do with the afternoon.
You chose who lived and who did not. Her words
landed like rocks into still water Edel listened to the small,
quick exchanges. She felt an internal shift, again, doubting to resolve.
Doubt because she had not known Tomas could do such
a thing. Resolved because the course now required action. The
village would either break and lose more or make a
blunt compromise. Ay s Merret put down the sack he
had been lifting. He kept his hands steady. Bring these
out now, he said, we divide what is here in
plain sight. We post names, We watch each other take.
He made at Thomas eyes and did not flinch to
miswallow it. If we do that, the steward may punish
us for opening his shed. He keeps accounts his breath
was short. Add it. Then we make a record at ourselves.
We call Eric and two others to watch. We measure
with a marked bow. We do not take without witnesses.
She looked at any Yato. You agree, she asked. Enya nodded.
Once he die for the children. Her fingers loosened from
the skirt. They carried sacks out to the green, where
the long house faces gathered. Merek spoke plainly to the crowd.
Found these sacks hidden at the shed. Tuma says, he
moved some we will can't and share here with witnesses.
His left little room for argument. The villages gathered like
a low tide. Some faces read anger, others retire of relief.
Mart appeared from Eda's skirt and sucked at her thumb.
Da held the child's shoulder without looking down. She watched
the crowd instead. Marek set a sack into the dirt
and cut the twine green spilled slow and clean. The
sound filled the quiet in the way a media thing does,
practical and not comforting. Thomas diod By hands at his sides.
He did not meet Neo's eyes. A small twist came
as they measured a ledger page slip from the tight
bundle of receipts. It bore the stuard sinc and an
added line showing transfers out on a date when the
village meant to receive deliveries. The paper named a Field
a count closer to the lord's manner. The revelation changed
the shape of guilt. It proved the steward had shifted
groin from the village stores to other hands. Murmurs rosisso
it was not only Toma's. Maximen moved sacks higher up.
He folded the paper and held it like a fanding
Tomas's face. POLIDI thought it was to keep some back
for us of more Cut's game. He said he was
ashamed to say nothing, because I feared a worse cut
if I made to foster. The reason did not excuse
the secrecy. The crowd sorted into practical teams. Merk and
two other men checked measures. Eda and Uni tracked names
on a scrap of wood. They wrote slowly and deliberately,
who took what and how much. The ledger page went
into the Longhouse records, where Merkett would be safe. Thomas
stood beside the hearth as people filed past to take
measured sacks in the dust. The redistribution felt like an
uneasy truce. Some received more than the morning had allowed.
Others left with their alloted measure and await in their mouths.
Merek spoke to the assembled headse Hea will watch the
stewards accounts. Now, we will trade work for greenway. We must.
We will not let stores leave without witnesses. His voice
had the flat practicality of someone used counting things down
to the last handful. Edar took mardaholme. The cottage was
low and smelled of wet straw. She set a thin
bowl of porridge between them and sat with her back straight.
Marty took's moall bites and did not act for more.
Edit tore a piece of bread and set it in
the child's palm without ceremony. The immediate danger had passed,
but the village had changed lines that had been invisible. Trust, authority,
favor now showed in the way people moved their shoulders
at night. Footsteps crossed the lane. Some one knock once
sharply Aired's door. She opened to find Mek cold in
the steward's copy of delivery notes. His face read concerned
rather than triumph. We will watch the steward tomorrow, he said.
Thomas will help us post the list each morning, so
everyone sees that a poustier will need to keep our
eyes open for cuts that pass without notice. His words
set a new plan in motion. Edda nodded. She folded
her should the way she always did and set it
over the back of her chair. She looked at Marty
eating quietly. The chapters are closed on a concrete action.
Marek left the ledger on Eddi's table and said, post
this in the law house wall at dawn. Everyone must know.
The knock on the door signal not a new beginning,
but a decision made at a watch begun. Eda lit
the low lamp, and the room filled with warm, steady light.
As she pinned the paper to the table's edge, the
chest of events from the day settled into a new arrangement.
Some grain measured out in public. A ledger moved into
common view, a cook's confession, and a village set to
keep its own count. Eda felt the residue of shame
from past choices in the resolve to act differently when needed.
She held MARTA's small hand and said nothing. Her jaw
relaxed a fraction. The final sound in the chapter was
not a declaration, but a practical instruction. Posts a paper
at arn and stand watch together. That was the decision
that would shape their next day. A rough knock splits
the adorn hush, a Ru's boot fills the lane, and
a silverquisition is shoved under Edda's door. Suspicion tightens the
inside of her chest before she lifts even one foot.
She knows what a sealed notice means in a season
when granaries creak and bellas make their own complaints. The
reef's voice comes low and impatient through the timber open
Russians will be inspected at first light. The grain collector's
leather rasped as he set the seal on the table.
The paper smells faintly of damp and iron. I depresses
her hand to the wood and counts the nails with
her finger tips. The way she cants portions at supper,
and already the room is molo with the knowledge of loss.
I had just stepped into the lame of her showl
folded around her shoulders, her fingers bend, hold the feeding
ball at her hip she had given away to last
cross last night, when Marta came to the doorway. She
remembers that small shame in the child's palm, and she
remembers how the ball had felt light. Afterward, she remembers
the hydemus if she found scraped to the bottom of
a communal pot two nights ago, the ration less nailed
to the post, the short full written in blunt numbers.
Those memories sit like stones in her mouth. When the
reeve's eyes sweep the row of doorway, Seeder thomases from
the shadow of the lawn house them with cold deomichelist,
keep your door open. He looks at her with the
same tie look. He his head for week, sunken cheeks,
a scarf that smells of the same smoke as her shawl.
His hands are stained with last night's ash. His eyes
briefly find the shawl. She folds away. A person checks
a wound. The reef clears his ferty Willn's back stores.
We answer to the steward who hide from the king's stacks,
who hides grain, risks, fine and lost and jai. He
pronounces the words without heat, like a man reading a
practice script. The grain collector lifts the notice and reads
out the names in a voice that tries for evenism.
As as people stare in their doorways, shifting weight from
one foot to another. The green outside the lawn has
already smacks of breath and damp. Marda comes forward, clutching
a child to her chest. She holds a small body
clothes so the boy's cheek brushes her collar. Bona, please,
Moss says, stirring at the review of little search us
take what is right. Her jaw trembles with the word please,
in a way that makes out his hands tighten on
her ball. Marty's plea is not for mercy in the abstract.
It is a direct demand to be seen and measured.
Against the lull. Tomas speaks up voice rough barter, He says,
body before seizure. We can trade tools, wool, any linine.
He points at the notice with the knuckle, the paper
flapping where the reef holds it with two fingers. Let
us offer what we have we need our children to
She still is wood scraped like a shovel against pat death.
Several villagers, not others, look away. The reef shakes his head.
The steward's orders are clear. Finds for concealment, inspections. He
glances at Ed's doorway and then at the others. His
gaze is measuring, not cruel, but a measuring glance can
break a person away away, snaps a branch at a
feels her mouth go dry. Suspicion moves through the crowd.
Who has hidden food, who has hoarded? Who will be
branded as thief and accusing? Nipercoll's voice shop from the
back of the green wad of the thomises they had
barrels last week? Who saw them fill sacks? The name
falls like a stone, heads turned. The DUT's breads taut
and hungry. Eda's eyes search faces for recognition and find
instead the hard line of self protection. She listens to
body language, a man folding his arms, a woman pulling
her child tighter, someone tucking a hand into a coat
pocket as if to touch pouch. It might not exist.
The reef consoles a list and then reads a lot
of set of names to be inspected. When his voice
lands on Tomas's name, Thomas stepped forward and says, check
my house, break my door if you must. I sold
the last handful of barley to a traveling merchant. I
had to my wife had a fever. He does not
speak to defend himself from shame. He speaks to make
the transaction legible. I sold it for coin to pay
the healer. I did not hide it to profit. I
sold it to feed the name. Me Eda watches Toomy's
shoulders the way he won't meet the reeve's eyes. She
feels an emotion tilt from suspicion into something sharper. Dad
drait is a small moving thing in her hands. It
becomes precise when names are and doors are opened. She
had heard a rumor about Thomas Hale in the yard
two nights ago, but seeing him say it allow changes
the shape of the rumor into a hard fact. People
murmur a nervous hide. Sister Agent steps up by the
half of the law house. Her sleeves are folded back,
her knuckles are whiter than the rest of her hands
from gripping the edge of a bench. We cannot stand
only to accuse, she says, and her voice is a
steady til can organize a rota forage together, watch roats.
If we share labor and we move quietly, we can
keep children fed and make fewer of us targets for seizure.
She meets Eda's eyes, and in that look there is
both proposal and a pleaful leadership. Eda feels a change
in herself. Then what had been dread and suspicion becomes
a result, sharpened into a plan. She is how the
villagers look at her. She remembers how she counted out
portions at the door last week, how she folded her
shawl and set two spoonfuls of stew and to MARDs
Child's bawl. Action tightens her shoulders. So go with the
forging party, she says. Her voice is small, but it
cuts through the crowd. Toma's face flickers with surprise and
something like relief. A villager mutters, harsh and quickened, who
will watch your house? The words are a challenge. Who
you from? Hiding pouches fingers point I find the long
house door. The reefs men step forward, and a hush
drops as they approach the first house in the list.
Inspection begins. The reear's officer lifts floorboards, peers into chests.
They knock open cupoards, feel between thatch and beam. The
inspector at one house produces a tight cloth pouch and
holds it up where everyone can see, fingers poured toward Tomas.
The crowd leans forward, breathing stops in the lane, as
if every one has been told to hold their breath
at once. Tole miss is pale. He opens his mouth,
then closes it. There Rea's men look at him as
if the name on the list had been a test
and he had failed. Whispisko through the crowd like wind
over Droystraw. Eda's hands in voluntarily clamp on her bowl.
The wood presses into the meat of her palm. A
new emotion surface is shame plastically shaped into action. Sham
coaxes her across the lane. She moves so that she
meets Tumas before he can answer. Take it from me,
she says, and the words come fast enough to be
a small blow. She lifts her chin, feeling the sting
of the crowd like cold water thrown in her FACI
found that pouch at my door. It's mine, Take it
I will bear the fine. Leave Thomas. Her fingers feel clumsy,
her voice is steady. On the outside. She is asking
for punishment. She is offering to protect a neighbor by
becoming the target. People gasp. Thomas looks as if someone
has put their hand in his chest. He says for
a small nomatous child starts to whimper. A villager says, sharp,
why would you do that? Another voice mutters she would
take a fine for him. Why the reeve wants proof.
The inspector pressed the cloth flat. The inspector's thumbe calls
a coin soblidged in its fold. The smell of barley
and ore rises. The reef has sits the first time
he meets out his eyes. He measures not mercy, but practicality.
Someone must take responsibility for a patch found in a household.
EDI's claim places her directly in the path of legal loss.
The inspector's exchange a look. One pockets the pouch. Someone
from the crowd tumbles forward with a small offering in
an extra onion, a stub of salted fish pressed into
the reef's hand to ease his mood. The reef's face
does not change, but he turns the offering in his
palm and then pockets it as if it were simply
part of the day. Inside Eda, the emotion shifts again
into a quiet, strange relief and a heavy whorry. Relief
calls term as has spared the immediate shame and probable
fine worry because she has just invited the ree's ledger
to open against her. She can hear the village thinking
of the price of her courage. A few people nod,
some avert their eyes. Sister Agnes touches head his shoulder
for refraction of the second and then withdraws, as if
the touch hisself might be noticed and punished. After the
inspectors move on, murmurs revolve around the long house. Tomas
finds Ada beside the low wall and says, vois near
to breaking. You didn't have to do that. You could
have told them it was a mistake. He looks at her,
and his eyes are wet with a tiredness. She knows
well he sold the barley to hide the fact that
I couldn't feed them. I meant to buy when the
market came back. I thought the merchant would return. He
hurried his words as if speed could erase the choice,
Ada replies, simply, you'd a healer needed coin. He did
not steal to profit her fingers, test a rim of
her bowel, or make bargains in winter. Some are crueler
than others. She does not judge him with the speech.
She shows the fact of her action. Instead, she has
taken the pouch. Timos folds his hands and looks away,
ashamed that to sail all to the crowd'suspishing into accusation,
Cester and stands and speaks. To a small cluster near
the hearth, we form a rotter. At dawn and dusk,
we send pairs to the marsh and to the hedgerows.
We shared a load of making and mending. Ada will
lead the first forging at dusk. Marda, can you teach
the others how to boil marsh roots? O children will
eat Mardynod's chin lifted the child asleep against her shoulder.
Her hands are scaled and quick, Her voice is thin
but capable. When she lists practical steps, a plan appears
not invented from nowhere, but assemble from necessity in the
practical skills of the people present. Tomas volunteers wrote, he
knows where reeds grow thick. Another man, Jeury, offers to
carry a net. The rheased men pack their purses and
move to the next house, their boots making soft thumps
against the lane. The crowd breaks up into smaller clusters
where people exchange short lines of dialog about routes, times
and what tolls to take. Work is discussed like a bargainstructor.
When an immediate enemy, DA watches the list of volunteers grow,
she writes mental notes. Who knows the marsh, who can
stand watch, who will take a child? She measures the
risk of moving at night versus the risk of leaving
stores exposed to inspection. The plan requires secrecy, which raises
a new tension concealment to avoid seizure risks, drawing new suspicion.
She feels the nod of decision Tidan, and then listen
as choices are made. Ned approaches with a concrete schedule.
The foraging group will leave after dusk at it Tomas,
despite his shame jewelry with his net. Martyr's older sister,
who can spot edible roots and to athose the village,
nominates they will use all paths behind the long house
to reach the marsh. Where reeds and wild grains persist.
The rotor for watching houses is set on a slate.
At the long house hearth names are chopped and erased
him a chopped as people argue over safer times. Sister
ains takes the youngest child's name in Additalus. At midday,
another event disrupts the fragile rhythm. A messenger arrives from
a neighboring village bringing a room of soldiers. Moves through
two days ago, collecting for the steward and the tick,
even cattle if they found evidence of hoarding. The messenger's
breath is sharp and rapidly took a whole loock's wort.
They found a hidden bend, he says, the woodshift the
sense of danger from commite not to immediate. Villagers look
toward their barns and then at one another. Ada hears
this and feels the emotion inside change again. Resolve hardens
into urgency. She knows that the cost of being discovered
now is not only finds, but the loss of animals,
to the loss of a neighbor's last sauce of milk.
She stands and her body follows a pan faster than
her mind. She speaks to Thomas and quick clit sentences
about roots and notes to check who will move. At dusk.
You take the western path, Martya. You watch the lane
up first light. If soldiers come, hide the children inside
the law house and ring no bell. They trade small
instructions like tools past in hand. Dusk arrives. The foraging
party steps light flitted along in the mud track behind
the longhouse. The sky is the color of coal iron.
Ata holds the wooden feeding ball close death smells of
wet reed and the distant peat smoke from neighbor Chemz.
They move an air line designed to avoid the ruts
where the patrol might look for recent traces of foot traffic.
Thomas walks near the rear, shoulders curved, avoiding direct by
contact with others, as if he could shrink his presence
to as I'm all a weight on the path. They
reach the marsh and begin to work with quiet motions,
snipping reed tips, digging for fat roots, plucking young greens.
Shaury sets a net to catch small water birds. Martineels
and shows a child how to sniff forbitterness to avoid poison.
She teaches through demonstration, pressing a cut leaf into the
child palm and pointing to the whitesap the group's hand shape,
the harvest full, basket's check for grit. Their movements are practical, inefficient.
There is no flourish, only the economy of need. When
one of them probs a soft patch, his digg uncovers
a small packed box of moldy rustle, leftover, damp but
salvageable after scrape, and he calls softly, here old bread
not find. The group's mood left for breath at a
fields hope, flicker, then steady, then fall back into responsibility.
They have something to bring home. On their way back,
they spot a small and formal trap of twine and
bone set near the reed bank, recently placed. Someone might
be using similar roads to gather, or worse, to steal
from a hidden stash. The discovery is a twist that
changes the group's calculations. Thomas pauses and points some one
else uses this route. They might be watching for us
to come and follow where we return with baskets. The
revelation supplies immediate danger and a new question. Who else
in these lanes is active? And why? They quicken their
pace with the new alertness, moving on small treads dragging
boots through the shallows to a reese prints at It
feels the old mix of fear and practical action, fear
that stranger will follow them back to houses, and a
sharpened focus on the steps to prevent trecking. The group
returns with the days, gather, reads roots, the dried rosc
a few birds, marda hum's under her breath, attune as
she binds the baskets. Sound that's dead is the others
That evening As dust blush black turns to near black,
the village arranges watches. Da leaves a single sprigu of
grain on her window sill at the last light. The
gesture is small and specific, a promise in physical form
rather than words. It is not avowed to the world,
but to herself and to Thomas. She will return what's more,
she can, and she will watch for the coming days.
She picks the sprig from the foraging basket, presses it
into the old window sill groove, and then retreats into
the long house to help cook what they have found.
The chapter closes with a concrete beat. Footsteps in the
lane outside signal the arrival of two men with bundled
cloak's messengers come to check the rotor and to warn
that second larger inspection is scheduled at on two days Hence.
At A here, as their knock sets the cooking pot
down and glances at the sprig of grain where it
rests on the sill, she moves to the doorway announces
the knock with the calm she has learned under pressure,
the plan must shift again. The sprig sits in the
dim light, a small visible promise and a reminder of
the choices that will be tested in the morning. At
A stepped into the lawn house court yard of a
small wrapped portion, cup against her chest, and found the
communal pot nearly empty. The reef was already there, his
boot printing wet mud, and he barked in order to
line up for inspection. Shame sat an Edda like a
hard stone beneath her ribs, and that shame bend. How
she moved on, how she counted the seams of her showl.
Villagers shifted on the cold flagstones modested by the pot.
Holding a thin child close, the reef held sealed list
and read aloud the shortfull and a voice meant to
be precise. The central problem was clear, some households must
surrender reserves, and every surrender would be seen. Eda had
held the last crust in her hand once before that winter.
Marda had asked, then, please share it, and Edda had
set the crust down beside the child's palm. The memory
of that door, the small fingers closing a round bread
pressed into her Now, she kept her chin low and
kept the rap portion pressed to her body. Tomas stepped
forward near the notice post and tapped the nail rationalist
with his knuckle. I unfolded her hands and watched at her.
The reef's eyes moved over her faces like a ledger.
Shame pushed it toward a choice meant to protect her
children and also to avoid being singled out. The reef
read the shore full again and snapped, bring out any
hidden sacks, open every chest, no exceptions. His tone left
no room for argument. Thomas answered, we will show what
we have breave, but the tall in the post does
not match the store. Hous count Thomas boys cut through
the hush. I moved closer to Edda. Marta pulled the
child tighter and whispered. Edda pleased. The crowd tightened round
the pot DA's hands trembled when she slid her fingers
over the cloth wrapping. She tested the edge of the
last portion with her thumb and felt the dry grit,
a stale bread. Emotion shifted from shane to suspicion when
an older neighbor, soon and gray and blunt nosed, muttered
that he had seen sacks load it on to the
reeves cart at desk. His name was Orrin, Orin had
a way of naming facts without drama. Thomas came forward
and said, or In me he saw more green in
the list allows. A Reeve's face hardened. The villagers exchanged
glances at his chest tightened. Thus suspicion made some heads
turn toward the reeve's cart, where a faint lump blooded
back into the mist. The reeve answered with a clip
laugh and the sound of paper against wood. The storehouse
holds what is listed. Any accusation against me is theft
for time. He stepped to the cart and lifted the
top to sure sacks stack there. The sacks were there,
but Towas walked to the storehouse doorway encountered by, touched
the weave of the sacks and said, but Elijah says
twelve I counted in the storehouse, and a cart has
two aimed. Two more is not nothing. Marred as breath
hitched audibly, Etiquette the rap portion at her chest, and
washed the interaction like a person watching a slow spill.
Tension rose when the revordered households to line up and
to hand of any extra stores. People moved in a
way that made their own poverty public. Thomas argued loud
enough for the reef to her reeve. He asked for
a public tally. Here stands proof the ledger and the
storehurst do not agree. The reeve shot back, then bring
me proof beyond your counting hands. There were three quick
exchanges between Thomas and the reeve, Thomas naming the cant,
the reef accusing Thomas's subtraction for favor, Thomas pressing the tolly,
and the reef insisting on order, and each line bowled
villages closer to either belief or doubt. Eda felt the
suspicion settle into her bones and change the shape of
what she would do. Marta returned to the edge of
the courtyard carrying a shivering toddler from the neighboring yard,
and stepped forward as if to place the child at
the camino pot. She wreathed, there are children the smallest
need feeding. First, a reeve looked past herald's or rules.
Marta martyred hand shook. Eda watched the child press a
tiny face against MARTA's shoulder and saw a lip chap
with cold. The sight made a different movement inside Adda.
The shame softened into a practical fear. She could not
let the child in her household. Way Hungry at dawn
at the post beneath the nailed rationalist, Thomas drew out
a smudged ledger page from his pocket and flattened it
in the wood. He looked. The entries here show shipments
on mark, a day that the post does not account
for villages. Leaned in and I remember sacks moved at dusk.
I saw it from my doorway, orin nodded. The reef's
jaw tightened. He reached for the ledger, and Thomas pulled back.
A short argument flared Tomas, insisting the ledger be read aloud,
the reef refusing at first, the crowd calling for transparency.
The argument contained quick back and forth lines. Read it,
Thomas Basherty will read what I choose the reef snuppet. Thomas,
you accuse me of stealing for the lord, the reef demanded.
Thomas answered, I accuse only a mismatch in numbers. The
crowd's memory rose and fell like a tide against rock.
Eda stepped to the edge of the group and felt
the weight of all eyes. She had an innertally of
her own, two small balls, a single spoon, three measures
of barley soak last night. She pressed the rap portion
into her palm until her fingers whitened. I'n whisper Edda,
don't step forward if you can't spare it. Eda shook
her head. She had thought earlier that week to hide
a sprig of grain in her shawl. She had felt
the seeds small, sharp weight, and had slid it between
layers with practice motion. Now she counted what would happen
if she gave even a portion away. She returned, but
no suspicion and fear altered her choice. An external event
cut across the bargaining when a child started to cry
near the pot. The noise amplified the pressure. Math answered
to the cry by stepping nearer and asking any one
with a spare spoon to feed the toddler. Several neighbors
produce small bowls, tamers. We are not without care. We
share when we can. The Reef's fingers tightened on the
sealed list. He demanded, who keeps private reserves? Who hides
fruit and doorways? The question landed like a request for confession.
A private bargaining took place at Ada's narrow doorway. The
reeve lean closed and said, open your door, woman, I
must see what you hold in interpose. Reeve, children must
be kept. Let households keep one portion for the smallest males.
Three said, the law gives me authority to verify. Eddi's
hands mean in small, concrete acts. She folded her shawl once,
then twice. She rubbed the rim of her wooden bowl,
as if finding strength in the worn wood. She pulled
a cloth tight her over her bundle. Shame again colored
her breathing, and then it shifted into a quieter focus. Calculation.
Ed attested the edge of her wrap portion with a
finger tip and reminded herself what each small measure could do.
Her hands moved with practice. She did the reef, there
is only what you see on the silver. Her voice
was low. The reefs stepped up and peered into the cottage.
His lantern spat a low glow across to wet threshold.
Modest stood near by, in touch at his sleeve iron.
If you search, you will find nothing but the families need.
The reef's posture suggested that he did not want to
be denied. He raised a hand to order a search.
Thomas and a few neighbors tightened their faces and moved nearer.
Da felt a final change, and feeling from suspicion toward
a hard, quiet defiance. She stepped across the threshold with
the rat portion in hand, and placed the last crust
into the reefs outstretched pomp. The action was persisted at
marta softly. The wreef's hand closed around the crest. He
did not expect her next motion. While the reef washed
the cross dead out with one practice movement, slipped a
tiny sprig of grain from between her shawl AARs and
tucked it into the fold caulis as to her children's side.
Her fingers were steady. The sprig was small pail, a
single seat head with a thin stem. She had carried
it like a promise. The crowd watched the exchange in
a hush. The reef felt the cross and frowned. He
inspected the portion as of seeking signs of hoarding. Thomas
stepped forward and said, we will not have children's starve
while numbers are moved at night. The reef placed his
lamp on the threshold and demanded a further search. The
moment became a standoff. Several neighbors step between the reeve
and ada, ain no search while we debate the legitimate's
latest palm on the cart's tarp, and said we will
count again in the open. The reefs face showed the
first real uncertainty of the night. The unexpected twist came
in or In walked to the cart and lifted a
corner of the tarp a half inch enough to show
the labels on several sacks bearing the mark of the
manner A. These were marked with the reeves signed the
whek before last I moved after dust. The reef drew
back and muttered that the sacks were accounted for in
a different line. Thomas countered with the detail the marketmen
who delivered these wrote down a different day. The crab's
murmurs turned to calls for Thomas to fetch the marketmen's
Tollly that demand changed the lines of the conflict. What
had looked like a collection of private scarceties now bore
the possibility of official miscandal. Worse, rapid dialog exchanged among Thomas,
the Reeve and or In. Thomas, go fetch the ledger.
The reef said, he will fetch the magistrate. If you refuse,
fetch your magistrate. Then Thomas shot back, we will show
the counts in the open. Orans says otherwise, mar to Pristom,
bring Orran forward to swear on the stalks. The reeve answered.
The circular escalation kept the village awake. Edel listened, counting
the syllables. Her hands smoothed the showl over the hidden's brick.
The reeve, constrained by the presence of neighbors and by
Thomas's assistance, ordered a recount in the courtyard by dawn.
He argued that he would not be accused of theft
without proof. Thomas agreed and asked the reeve to wait
while he fetched the marketmen's tolly from the inn. Martin
volunteered to fetch the infant's mother from the neighboring yard.
Einstate by Eda's side and said he did well to
give it up. Eda did not answer with words. She
watched the don pale the sky and felt a small
slackening of the fear that had been threaded through her nights.
At the court yard, several neighbors formed an impromptu guard.
When the reefs stepped back to his cart, Thomas orn
and un spoke low and faster over the ledger pages.
They lined up sacks and compared marks. The reefs posture
shifted from authority to defense. Villagers began to organize a
shared pot rotation to make the scoun supply go further.
Marta found the infant's mother and returned with two small spoons.
The communal pot was laddled into balls and slow careful
measures while people counted and named each portion allowed. The
act of naming made the distribution concrete and accountable. That
night passed toward p dawn, with the quick event required
every few paragraphs. The arrival of the markutmen's tolely Thomas,
reading the entries aloud, the reefs face tightening or in swearing.
He saw the sack moved and finally acquired agreement to
camp publicly at dawn. Each event altered the sticks. The
villagers discovered the marketmen's tooly contradicted the reeves. No so
on two shipment days the reef plea did a clerical error.
Timos replied, sharply, this is not a clerical error. When
children wick emptied, the exchange hardened the crowd into a
shar dame. The climax returned to Edith's threshold in a
pre dawn hush. The reef reached for the rapp crust
and said, this will be inspected, and if you had more,
you will suffer a heavy fine. Etter set her jaw
and said nothing. She had already placed the sprig into
her shawl. Marty reached and touched Eda's hand. Ad o, Marto,
you did righte for the child and for your own
ettes lips tightened. She answered, I did what kept them
breeding until dawn. The reeve looked at the sprig in
her shawl when Iron adjusted to clough to hide it further.
He could not prove the small theft of a seed,
and he had no uptite to force an entry with
neighbors watching. When the dawn broke, the villagers assembled the sacks,
the ledgers and the marketmen's tally and the long house benches.
Thomas and are encountered. The marks allowed. The reef's list
diverged in two places. He tried to explain a note misfred.
A shipman delayed. Thomas counted with dates. Voices rose to
a level that left no room for a visions. The
reeves authorady weakened in public. A small rebelly informed not
in shouts, but in the way. People refuse to be
shamed to loan any more. Tomrs, we will not let
one list aside which children wag hungry count with us reave.
The reef, unable to show a solid defense, folded his
ledger and conceded to a joint recount. After the public count,
people organized a share pop rotation. Neighbors volunteered shifts to
tend the commons do Marty took the early portion for
the toddler, and another mother took a laid a spoon
for her boy. Eda sat at a low window with
the narrow sprig of grain and the sill. She watched
light lun and a tiny stalk encountered the day she
could stretch that sed into a small planting. She folded
her shawl the same way she always did before dawn.
The small sprig in the sill was a practical promise
she had made to herself and to her children. In
the final concrete beat, some one at the courtyard called
for a meeting to decide how to keep better records
and to watch the cart during the night. Thomas, we
will write our own tally and post it by morning.
The reefs swallowed and nodded. I Am placed a hand
on DA's shoulder and said, we will watch each other's
doors now and show when we can ned attach the
sprig with a finger tip, and then slid it into
the pocket of her shawl for safe keeping. And that
is the end. Thank you for listening, and I will
see you in the next one.