Page 80 of Circle of Days

Yana was getting creaky and could no longer manage the bending, but she kept busy with the goats: three were pregnant.

Little Olin was going to be tall like Han.

His hair was fair, so perhaps one day he would have a blond beard like his father.

He had seen only three midsummers, but all the same, Duff, his stepfather, was teaching him which green shoots were wheat and which were weeds.

Troon announced that the farmer community was not well prepared to defend itself. One or two people wondered aloud who on earth might want to attack them, but Troon brushed aside such questions and ordered every man in Farmplace to equip himself with a bow and at least six arrows.

A few farmers already had such weapons, but most did not: farmers did not hunt.

Troon got a hunter called Wel, who lived alone on the south side of the river, to show the farmers how to make bows and arrows.

Duff had to find a flexible yew branch a little longer than he was tall, and some shorter branches of hazel to be made into arrows, and he had to get sinews from carcasses to twist into a bowstring.

When the bows were made, they all had to practice shooting at targets in East Wood. At first they were hopeless. Duff joked that the safest place to stand was in front of the target. But they got better.

Pia said to Duff: “He says all this is for defense, but it looks more like we’re getting ready to attack someone.”

Duff said: “Well, there’s no point in attacking the herders, there are too many of them.”

“Troon thinks they’re too cowardly to fight.”

Duff said: “He might be planning to burn more woodland—East Wood, perhaps, or Round Wood.”

Pia shuddered. “I hope not. The woodlanders take revenge—dear gods, we should have learned that lesson.”

Troon also announced that no one, man or woman, would be allowed to go to the herders’ Midsummer Rite. They would all be expected to stay and support the farmer feast. So few people came to the feast that this measure was obviously unnecessary, and Pia was sure Troon had some secret scheme.

Duff told Pia he would go to the Midsummer Rite at the Monument anyway.

He had taken part in Joia’s mission last year and wanted to do it again.

Several other young farmer men felt the same: the event had been the best festival ever.

Troon did not have the same hold on men as he did on women, and Pia thought the young men might go in defiance of Troon’s edict.

A few days later, Troon’s woman, Katch—who was Pia’s aunt—appeared while Pia was weeding. Katch was carrying a piglet, black with a pink snout and big ears. She showed the baby pig to Olin, who giggled.

She said to Pia: “I’m sorry to interrupt you in your work.”

“It’s all right. I need a break. That’s a healthy-looking piglet.”

“Would you swap a goat kid for a piglet?”

Pia had never had pigs, but they were not difficult to raise: they fed themselves by scavenging much of the time. “I’ll have to ask Duff and Yana,” she said, “but it seems like a good idea. We’ve only got one kid so far this spring. Do you want to see?”

The goats were not tethered during the day, and kids never wandered far from the mother. They were at the edge of the wood, eating the leaves of low bushes. Pia picked up the baby, and it bleated for its mother. She had to hold it tight. “It’s strong,” she said.

“If Yana and Duff agree, bring the kid to my house tomorrow and I’ll give you this little wriggler.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Katch lowered her voice, though there was no one else around, and she spoke nervously. “Something I want to mention to you.”

Pia thought this was probably the main reason for the visit.

Katch went on: “I heard that Duff and some of the young men are planning to go to the herders’ Midsummer Rite, despite Troon’s ban.” She held up a hand to silence any denial. “Don’t tell me whether it’s true—I’m not asking.”

“Then I won’t.”

“And I’m not telling Troon anything.”

Pia believed her. Katch, who had no daughters, was fond of her niece Pia.

Katch said: “Don’t let Duff go on the mission.”

“What?”

“Please, I beg you.”

“But why?”

“Because you’ve already had one man killed.”

She was talking about Han. And Pia was chilled by the dreadful thought that Duff might be killed as Han had been. “Are you saying Duff could die on the mission?”

“Not just Duff.”

“A massacre?”

“I’m not saying any more than I’ve already said. I’m just begging you to prevent him going.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“If Troon finds out I’ve spoken to you this way, he will beat me half to death.”

That made Pia reluctant to ask more questions. She said: “Well… thank you for the warning… I suppose.”

“But never say who told you.”

“All right.”

Katch nodded, acknowledging a promise made; then she turned and walked away, still carrying the piglet.

She might look like a mouse, Pia thought, but she’s a brave woman.

Katch could not confront Troon directly, and she had not been able to help when Troon forced Yana to marry Stam, but she could act covertly, as she just had. All the same she was risking a beating.

Pia mulled over this warning while she carried on weeding.

At midday Duff and Yana returned from different fields—Yana walking with one hand on her back, just above the hip, where it ached—and they sat down with Olin in the shade of a tree to eat porridge with soft goat cheese.

Olin could feed himself now, though Pia kept an eye on him and stopped him making too much mess.

Pia said: “I had a visitor this morning. I’ve promised not to say who.”

“Intriguing,” said Duff lightheartedly.

Yana, more sensitive to the seriousness in Pia’s tone, looked worried.

Pia said to Duff: “I have been warned that you could be killed if you go on Joia’s mission after this year’s Midsummer Rite.”

Duff said incredulously: “Who would want to kill me?”

“The only other thing I know is that you might not be the only victim.”

Yana said: “Oh, no!”

Duff said: “A massacre? Another massacre?”

“I’m not sure.”

There was silence while they tried to digest this news.

Finally Yana said: “Who could be behind it? That’s the next question.”

Duff said: “The woodlanders, I assume. They were responsible for the last one.”

“But that tribe has been wiped out,” Yana pointed out.

“Another tribe, then?”

“As far as I know, no tribe has a quarrel with the herder folk, or with anyone else. And, even if they did, would they ignore the grim lesson of what happened to Bez’s tribe?”

That seemed unlikely to Pia. Woodlanders were not stupid.

Duff looked serious and said quietly: “Perhaps Troon intends that we farmers will be the aggressors. If we create a violent incident at the Monument, it will discourage people from attending the Rites, and then they would come to our feast.”

Pia said: “My visitor said the mission was the target.”

Yana said: “This makes more sense than any other explanation.”

Duff said: “But it would be madness for us to attack the herders. I’ve always said that. They outnumber us.”

“And Troon has always said the herders are too cowardly to fight,” Pia said. “Remember when he took over the Break? He said they would do nothing about it, and he was right.”

“That’s true.”

“In any event, Duff, you have to stay home.”

Yana said: “But what about the others? Duff, you said that some of your friends are planning to defy the ban.”

“Five or six.”

“They might be killed by their own people!”

“I’ll have to warn them.”

“Wait,” said Yana. “That many people can’t keep a secret. Troon is going to find out that you warned them. You’ll be in deep trouble, and your visitor could be found out too.”

“You’re right.” Duff looked bewildered. “I don’t know what to do.”

There was silence for several moments, then Yana said: “We have to warn Joia.”

Duff shook his head. “That means going to the Monument. If one of us disappeared for two or three days, Troon would guess we were up to something. And Shen would find out where the person had been, and probably even who they’d spoken to.”

Yana said: “I agree. So let’s one of us go to Old Oak and tell Zad and Biddy.”

Pia said enthusiastically: “That’s a better plan! We could be there and back in half a night.”

“And they’ll find a way to get the warning to Joia.”

Pia felt good. If the herders were prepared for the attack, it could be fought off. At least it would not be a massacre. At any rate she would have done her best. “I’ll go to Old Oak,” she said. “I’ll slip away unnoticed. I know East Wood well and I can find my way through by night.”

Duff looked as if he wanted to argue, but in the end he said: “When will you go?”

“Tonight. No point in postponing these things.”

They returned to their fields and worked until sundown. By the time they finished supper it was dark. Pia kissed Olin good night and left.

The sky was partly cloudy. Stars showed now and again. Pia went slowly through the wood, not finding it as easy as she had thought, stumbling sometimes over tree roots and fallen branches. It would be better on the other side, where she would have nothing more than a grassy plain to negotiate.

She emerged from the wood and paused to get her bearings. There was no herd in sight, though she could smell it not far away. No herders were in view. But there was someone, and before she could slip back into the wood he said: “Hello, who’s that?”

It was a farmer, she could tell by the accent. He had been sitting on a log, and now he stood up. He was tall and wide, and she recognized him as Hob, a crony of Troon’s.

She tried to appear relaxed. “Hello, Hob,” she said. “What are you doing? Spying on people who flit about in the dark?”