Page 9 of Circle of Days

The farmers’ wives and children took two days to get home after the Midsummer Rite.

They had to walk the length of the plain, from east to west. A healthy adult could do it in a day, but children took longer, as did adults who were carrying children.

However, it was a pleasant trip in summer and Pia was happy, walking with a girl of her own age, Mo.

Her cousin Stam threw a tantrum and refused to walk and had to be carried all the way by his mother, Katch.

They passed several herder villages. Most were at the edges of the plain, near the three main rivers, the East River, the North River, and the South River, but a few were in the middle of the plain, always near a stream or spring.

Each had just two or three houses, usually occupied by people from the same family.

Pia’s mother, Yana, explained that the herders had to keep watch on their livestock, making sure they did not get into trouble or wander away; and after that Pia noticed that near the herd there were always two or three people, men, women, and children, keeping watch.

Pia and Mo were frightened of the animals and stayed near the grown-ups.

Pia told Mo about Han and his mother and sisters. “He’s really nice to play with, and he let me pat his dog.”

Mo said: “Are you his girlfriend now?”

“No. He says that’s silly grown-up stuff.”

Han’s mother had been kind, inviting Pia and Stam to stay for dinner. Pia had been surprised to realize that there was no man in the house, something that was not permitted among the farmer folk. In the farmer community every woman belonged to a man.

As they neared farming country she decided to ask her mother about it. “Why are herder families so different from ours?” she said.

“In what way?” Yana asked.

“When they make dinner, they just share it with everyone who’s nearby. We don’t do that.”

“That’s because a herder doesn’t have his own livestock.

With so many cattle wandering all over the Great Plain, it would be impossible to keep track of who owns which cow.

So the beasts belong to the whole community, and everyone’s entitled to whatever’s cooking.

We don’t have that system. With us, each man has his own land, farmed by him and his woman and children and no one else.

Why should we share our produce with people who haven’t helped to grow it? ”

“Well, Han’s mother hasn’t got a man.”

“That’s not possible for us. We think every woman belongs to a man, either her father or her partner.”

“Han’s father died.”

“If his mother were a farmer woman, she would have to take another man within a year. That’s our rule.”

That made sense, but Pia thought Han’s mother had seemed to live happily without a man.

She asked a different question. “The way herder men talk to women is strange. Not like the way Dadda talks to you.”

“We think someone has to be in charge, and among us it’s the man who tells the woman what to do.”

Pia thought for a while, then said: “Why?”

Yana looked away, and Pia wondered whether this was one of those things children should not talk about. But after a moment Yana said: “Men are strong.”

“Well, if the woman is smart, she should tell the strong man what to do.”

Yana laughed. “Maybe, but just don’t say that in front of our men—they’ll get cross.”

That made Pia think that her mother did not completely accept the rules of the farmer folk.

Approaching farmer country, they passed into a gap between two woods.

Pia knew that the woods were called East Wood and West Wood, and the gap between them was called the Break.

Now she noticed that the Break did not look like it had when they left for the Rite.

Then, the land had been grass. Now it was earth broken up and ready for sowing. She wondered why.

Her mother stopped dead and stared. After a moment she said: “So that’s what they were up to.”

“Who?”

“Our men. While we were away.”

Pia remembered Ani asking why the farmer men had not come to the Rite. At the time Pia had not thought much about it. Ani had made it seem like a casual question, but maybe it was not so casual.

Yana spoke irately, half to herself: “They wanted to do it while we were at the Midsummer Rite—so we couldn’t try to talk them out of it.”

“What has Dadda done?”

“Plowed up the Break. It was probably all the men, doing what Troon told them to do, whether they liked it or not.”

She was speaking as if this was a big problem. Pia could not see why. Farmers broke up the soil to sow seeds, that was no surprise. She said to her mother: “Why are you cross?”

“Because the Break was grazing land for the herders, and they’re going to be angry with us for changing it to farmland.”

Pia thought for a while. “So it’s like when Stam takes my ball and runs away.”

“Exactly.”

“But I run after him and knock him down and take it back, and he cries.”

“Yes,” said Yana. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A friend of Yana’s, a broad-shouldered woman called Reen, said: “The men must have worked day and night to dig up the entire Break so quickly. Men are sneaky. You’re never sure what they’re up to.”

Yana said: “My Alno wouldn’t have done anything this foolish unless he had to. I’m just hoping there won’t be trouble with the herders.”

Some of the others made noises of agreement.

Reen looked grim. “I don’t see how it can be avoided,” she said.

Pia saw two figures approaching across the Break. As they came closer she recognized them. One was Troon, the leader of the farmers, called the Big Man, which was funny, because he was quite small—though he made up for it by shouting bossily. The other was his minion, Shen.

Troon was Stam’s father, and Stam ran to him excitedly. Troon patted the boy’s head and nodded to Stam’s mother, Katch. She was a timid person, Pia thought, perhaps because her man was so domineering.

Stam’s mother and Pia’s father were sister and brother, which was why Stam and Pia were cousins. She had recently learned what “cousin” really meant.

Most people were afraid of Troon, but Yana was not. “What on earth have you done?” she said.

The other women came closer to hear the conversation. Yana was sticking her neck out by criticizing Troon. They would not have dared, but they were pleased to see her standing up to him.

Troon looked offended by her tone but he only said: “I’ve created more farmland. We need it.” He looked around the listening circle. “You women keep having babies. Every year there are more mouths to feed.”

Yana was not satisfied with that answer. “This land was grazing for the herders. And it’s their way through the woods to the river. They’ll be outraged.”

“I can’t help that. We need it.”

“You’ve done something reckless. The herders may not take this lying down.”

Pia could see that the women were awestruck by Yana’s persistence.

“Leave this to me,” Troon said, and he looked defensive, as if Yana was the leader and he was being reprimanded. “Don’t you worry.”

“I’ll worry, and you’ll worry too if this starts a war. For every farmer there must be ten herders, at least. We would be wiped out.”

“They’ll never attack us. Herders are ruled by their women. They’re cowards.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Yana.

Ani had been wondering what the farmer men had been up to while absent from the Midsummer Rite, and now she knew.

Urgent messages were often carried by quickrunners, young men and women who could travel the length of the plain in less than half a day.

Two days after the Midsummer Rite a quickrunner from the herders in the west arrived in Riverbend with a message for the elders.

The farmers had taken over a large area of grazing land and broken up the soil ready for seeding.

The farmers were aggressive. Ani thought it was because their way of life was insecure: they could be wiped out by a single year of bad weather, whereas the herds could survive two or more summers of drought.

And young farmer women bore a fat baby every midsummer or two, perhaps because they lived on grain and cheese.

Herder women, fed on meat and wild vegetables, were leaner, and that might be why they gave birth less often, about once every four midsummers.

The elders gathered in Riverbend, by the circles of tree trunks, to discuss the news.

But they realized quickly that they needed to see for themselves what the farmers had done before they could make any decisions.

So they agreed that a delegation would walk to the Break the following day.

Keff, Ani, and Scagga, the three most active elders, were chosen to go.

It was a long walk, but Ani enjoyed the bright wildflowers and the endless grass and the vast blue sky. Living in a large village next to a river, she was liable to forget the magnificence of the Great Plain. She felt lucky to live here.

The ancestors of the Great Plain people had liked to bury their dead in tombs covered with earth.

Such little hills, called barrows, were everywhere, but most of all near the holy Monument.

As Ani passed them, she wondered why the ancestors had done this and how the practice had died out.

Today’s people burned their dead. Sometimes they scattered the ashes and sometimes they buried them, but they built no tombs.

Ani’s aim on this trip was to avoid a battle and thus prevent the need for many funeral pyres.

They reached the farmer country late in the afternoon, and had enough time and daylight to take a first look at what the farmers had done.

South River formed the southern border of the plain.

Parallel with the river was a long, narrow wood.

Between river and woodland was fertile soil, which was what made farming possible.

In this stretch of woodland was the Break, which divided East Wood from West Wood and gave the herd access to the river.

Or it had. Now it was farmland.