Page 51 of Circle of Days

“It doesn’t have to be as broad as the Break,” Ani said, avoiding the question for the moment. “It would be only about thirty paces wide.” She remembered that the woodlanders could not count. “From here to the pond,” she clarified. “No more.”

Bez persisted with his question. “But where would the path be?”

“Seft is deciding right now.”

“We saw him. He came soon after dawn.” The woodlanders always seemed to know what was happening in every part of the wood.

Ani decided to be candid. “We need to use a strip on the eastern edge of your wood, next to the Break.”

Bez said something in the woodlander language, and the people sitting around made angry noises. Ani guessed he had translated. Reverting to herder language, he said: “There are many hazelnut bushes there. We have pruned and shaped them for years.”

“I know. That’s why I have come to offer you something in return for your sacrifice.”

“What could you possibly give us?”

“Cattle. We could give you cows, which you could slaughter for their meat. You would eat well now and smoke meat for the winter.”

Bez translated again. The woodlanders brightened. For them, beef was a treat.

Gida said something, and Bez said: “How many cows would you give us?”

Ani was encouraged. The fact that they were asking about terms meant they were not going to refuse outright. She said: “What do you think would be fair?”

Bez said: “One cow for every hazelnut bush.”

“There’s a lot more food on a cow than on a bush.”

“Yes, but a hazelnut bush feeds you every year for a lifetime. When you’ve eaten a cow, it’s gone forever.”

He had a point, Ani thought. But she was pleased to be so close to agreement. This was about the survival of the herd. It was worth a few cows. She said: “Let us go and look at the area, and count the hazelnut bushes that will be lost.”

“Yes,” said Bez, and he stood up. He could not count, but perhaps he could make sure none were missed, Ani decided.

Ani and Bez led the way. Looking back, she saw that the entire village was following. This would be a communal decision.

They found Seft and Tem marking the boundary of the area to be cleared. Seft was hammering stakes into the ground and Tem was digging a shallow trench between the stakes to make the line definite. They had worked fast, and had almost reached the river.

As they arrived, Troon appeared coming from the opposite direction, with Shen trailing in his wake. He shouted at Seft: “What do you think you’re doing?”

“None of your concern,” Seft said, and continued his work.

“I haven’t given permission for this.”

“No need. Your permission isn’t required.”

“Yes it is. What you’re doing might impinge on farmland.”

“It won’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Wait and see.”

While Troon was trying to think of a reply, Bez spoke to him. “It’s my permission they need, not yours,” he said. “You’re in woodlander territory now. And by the way, watch out for snakes. There are vipers underfoot.”

Troon looked down anxiously, and Bez laughed. “Better to keep out of the wood altogether,” he said.

Troon muttered a curse, turned around, and left.

Bez spread the woodlanders out across the strip, at the river end, and told them to walk slowly north, staying inside the boundary Seft had marked and looking for hazelnut bushes and trees. Each time they saw one they would call Bez and Ani.

When they came to the end of the wood, Ani had counted twelve hazelnut bushes. She showed Bez the number with her fingers and toes. Bez said: “We must have the cows before you start digging.”

“Very well,” said Ani. There were no cows nearby, but looking across the plain she saw a herd in the middle distance. “Wait here, if you would,” she said.

The woodlanders sat on the ground and Ani headed off. When she reached the herd, she was pleased to see Zad there. She explained her task. “They are losing twelve hazelnut bushes, so we need to give them twelve cows.”

Zad was not happy about this. He said: “That’s very generous!”

“Not really.” Some herders did not share her sense of the rights of woodlanders. “They practically live on hazelnuts, and they prune them and shape them to produce more. They’re sacrificing something of great value.”

“I suppose so,” said Zad.

“Cut out twelve beasts from the herd. And don’t bring me sick and dying cattle—the woodlanders are not stupid, they’ll know, and they’ll make a fuss.”

“All right.”

Zad separated twelve cows from the herd, with the help of a dog.

Ani said: “You’d better come with me. We need to make sure the cows reach the village. After that it’s up to the woodlanders to stop them wandering away.”

They drove the cows to where the woodlanders sat waiting, then went on with the whole tribe. The woodlanders chattered loudly, excited to be going home with such a prize, perhaps looking forward to roasted beef.

They stopped at a point where Bez seemed to know they were close to the village.

Zad said to Bez: “They don’t need grass. They’re browsers. They’ll eat leaves, herbs, small plants, and even tree bark. They’re fine in woodland. But if they hear the herd they may try to return, so you should tether them at night.”

Bez said: “Thank you.”

The woodlanders drove the cattle into the wood. Zad and his dog returned to the big herd. Ani sighed with relief. She had succeeded.

She headed back toward the Break, to see how Seft and Tem were getting on.

The bank and ditch were now marked out. Troon had not reappeared. Perhaps he had realized that the new Break would do him no harm, and decided that he might as well leave the herders alone.

It was now late afternoon, and Scagga arrived with his young army.

Everyone sat down to eat the cold food they had brought with them. Tomorrow they would roast a cow.

Ani slept heavily and woke up when the camp stirred.

The youngsters eagerly began work on the bank and ditch.

Seft and Tem had done their job, and headed back for Riverbend.

Ani went with them. She felt a profound sense of satisfaction.

She and Seft had made a plan and seen it through, and a new Break would be made without quarrels, without violence. She was content.

The farmers had reaped their wheat and stored the grain. They had plowed up the stubble. There was now no need to carry water from the river to the fields: they would not sow seeds until the spring. Pia’s back no longer ached.

There was still plenty to do. They collected nuts and forest fruits and stored them for the winter. Yana made plenty of cheese, mixing the goat’s milk with mallow leaves for a hard product that would last.

The younger farmers were curious about what the herders were doing on the edge of West Wood. One morning Pia, carrying Olin, strolled along to look, and found half a dozen others, including Duff, watching. There was a cold east wind, and Olin was wrapped in a lambskin.

The work was almost finished. They had built the bank and ditch and were now clearing a space on the west side of the strip, turning the earth, making a dark pathway a couple of paces wide.

Pia pointed at the dark pathway and said to Duff: “What is that strip for?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I asked one of the herders and he didn’t know either. He said Scagga just wanted it that way.”

Between the bank and ditch and the dark pathway was a pile of vegetable detritus half as high as Pia and about twenty paces wide. It would have to be cleared before the path could be used by cattle. That job would take many days, she guessed.

Scagga was lining up his workers along the strip, facing into the new gap and with their backs to the wood. Pia noticed that each of them carried some kind of implement: a flat shovel, a wide piece of wood, an old worn leather mat.

Then several more people came along with blazing torches, setting fire to the pile of cut greenery in the middle. “Oh!” said Pia. “I didn’t know they were going to do this!” It would be a lot quicker than carrying the debris, she realized.

Duff said: “The dark path is a fire break, to prevent the flames spreading to the rest of the wood.”

Pia frowned. “I wish it was wider,” she said.

Duff said: “The people standing there with shovels and so on are there to beat the fire if it threatens to spread.”

Pia was somewhat reassured.

The debris caught quickly and blazed up. Everything in the wood was dry after three summers of drought. It was surprisingly fierce, and Pia and the other farmer spectators moved away and stood behind the line of beaters, for safety.

The fire made a roaring sound. Smoke rose in the air, and Pia could feel the heat. The flames reached higher, and sparks flew over the heads of the beaters into the virgin wood. The beaters moved quickly to put out small fires. Pia and the other farmers moved farther back.

Pia noticed that some woodlanders had appeared and were watching with scared faces from behind the bushes.

She wished she had not brought Olin. She decided to get away from the fire and just go home. She turned toward the river.

There was a gust of wind. Suddenly dozens of small fires broke out around Pia.

The beaters could not put them all out, and those they failed to reach spread quickly.

Pia’s way to the river was blocked by flames, and she turned west, breaking into a run, heading deeper into the wood.

Olin instantly felt her stress, and began to cry.

The fire grew with terrifying speed. Trees were aflame, their branches and leaves blazing; bushes and saplings crackled and smoked; the dry brown grass was consumed.

The beaters gave up and ran with the farmers, and a feeling of panic spread.

Pia suffered the appalling fear that she and Olin would be caught in the flames and would burn to death. Terror gave her a choking feeling.

It was hard to run in the dense woodland. In her rush she stumbled and fell to her knees, but no one stopped to help her up. She struggled to her feet and staggered on.