Chapter CLXI – Mercy rejoiceth against maize.

1st of Summer 5860
Outskirts of Casamonu, State of Casamonu

The first day of summer dawned on the fields of Casamonu. Vast fields of earthly brown, dotted green with the occasional seed having broken through the earth.

It was no coincidence that warfare in Gemeinplatz had mostly concluded and taken a break during the spring – spring was the time for tilling the fields and sowing seeds. Most of the “four thousand men” promised by the coalition besieging Karabush simply had not shown up because they were busy tending to their fields, and no sane lord would call up their levies just to completely miss this year’s harvest. Crushing the fugitives was important to them, yes, but not starving next year was much more important.

One field that stood out amongst them was the field of maize with its little green stalks, a crop that was rare to find around these parts of Gemeinplatz. A large area covered by several fields, with a semi-fortified settlement in its middle. Houses made of fired bricks and copper rooves, which had become popularized in the rest of the Republic by freemen migrating out from Libertycave. There was a large kiln for making bricks and potteries for communal use in the middle of the village, around which the houses were located. The copper rooves were imported from the roofers of Libertycave, fresh enough to not be covered in green patina yet. A palisade surrounded the houses, granting protection from wild animals and monsters alike. A microcosm of Libertycave, one of many which had popped up in rural Gemeinplatz following the Homesteading Act and the subsequent migration aiming to claim and work the land.

For Maize, the unofficial “mayor” of this settlement centering the maize fields, most of the hard work had already been done for the season, with the sowing having been complete. The house he lived in was shared by a few other freemen who had volunteered to start this enterprise with him.

Unlike the village houses where extended families lives together, slaves and former slaves tended to not have families to live with in the first place. Most of them were either from far away lands where they had lost contact with family the moment they had been captured into slavery, or they had been captured together and lost contact when they were sold to different slaveowners, or they were born into slavery where masters tended to not particularly care about keeping families together. In fact, families were a danger: slaves having a reason to band together was not a positive for the slave owner. If a child was born to a slave, they’d be allowed to stay until they were grown up enough to fetch a good price at the slave market.

Thus, a lack of kin meant that the freemen often relied on kith. Often, it’d be the people that one had ran away with; the people in this house were fellow slaves from the plantation Maize used to be enslaved in. The people in the other house were another group from a tobacco plantation who had agreed to come along, another house housed workers from a copper mine in Mount Curry, so on and so forth. People tended to stick around with those they already knew.

Maize was the one to get up first, letting out a great big yawn with light from the one lattice in the whole room shining on his eyes. That prompted the rest to groan and roll in their beds, until everyone was awake and ready for the day. To another building, the kitchen and dining hall they went. It had proven way more efficient and convenient for everyone to cook and eat together, so, those who had volunteered in cooking had already done the cooking before everyone else woke up. It was usually a different person every day, so the cooking greatly varied based on who was in charge. Today it was some sort of stew, of various local herbs mixed with onion and rabbit meat, accompanied by flatbread. Everyone lined up with a bowl, taking the ladle from the pot and pouring soup for themselves. Then came the lightest part of the meal, the idle chatter:

“Nice weather today, eh?”

“Konkul bon bihe filau.”

“I’ll get that fox if it shows up again today.”

“This meat is real good.”

“Bihe-na pap yah.”

Most of the freemen had learnt the Gemeinplatzish language pretty well by now. A few of them communicated to each other in their native languages, but it was pretty rare to see someone who could speak the same tongue. To the people of Gemeinplatz they were just lumped into the same category due to the color of their skin, but in reality, the freemen didn’t share much other than that. They were all people of different states, kingdoms, tribes, from homelands that were perhaps hundreds and thousands of miles apart. So far away that they had no hope of returning home, and even if they somehow did, whether their family and friends would be alive was far from certain. This little village in the middle of nowhere was as good as home now, full of what were once complete strangers united by a horrible fate.

Slowly, as bowls were emptied, the dining hall became empty once more. It was time for today’s work, much less leisurely now that the sowing was done. Maize himself got busy tending to his portion of the field, patrolling to see if any intrusive plants had made its way to the corn. He found an errant vine having snaked its way around, which took about half an hour to track down to its roots and cut out properly. Vines were quite the insistent enemy, always finding a way in. Then he moved on to his long-term project for the foreseeable future: erecting a fence around the fields.

A hammer, nails, a bunch of planks carved by someone else in the settlement, and he was ready to go to town. It was a clear day, and the sun shone down on him in all its fiery fury, but he worked consistently until the midday when his muscles were too exhausted to drive another nail. The best cure for that was, of course, a visit back to the kitchen. There was no exhaustion that a nice mug of beer couldn’t fix, especially if it was accompanied by a warm bowl of porridge and then a nap afterwards.

After his meal Maize got back to work on the fence, setting a good line of fencing, until the sun began setting. Without any convenient light to carry around, it was impossible to work during the night. He carried his tools back to the settlement, where everyone had similarly gathered after concluding work for the day. Suddenly, a cheer erupted from the:

“We got a boar! Meat is on the menu tonight!”

A group had gone out hunting, and their bounty was carried with great applause into the center of the settlement. There wasn’t much need for debate or discussion – before long, somebody had set a fire, and the boar would be roasted on a spit. The knives came out, and a hungry crowd quickly stripped the animal down to its bones. Maize managed to get himself a prime cut of the boar’s wings, and with another mug of beer from the kitchen, he settled on the ground near the fire. For a moment all was silent as they focused on getting a taste of the meat. Such good meat didn’t present itself every day after all.

Suddenly, a clap and a shout broke the silence. The shout quickly weaned into what must have been words, though Maize didn’t understand the language, accompanied by rhythmic clapping. Nobody else understood the words either, but they contributed by clapping in rhythm. The fire barely lit their faces, and most people were in the dark. It was as if the words and claps were coming from nowhere in particular, perhaps from the heavens. Clap, clap, then a woman jumped towards the fire, dancing in rhythm to the claps. She whirled around the flames, while the claps intensified and whistling mixed in with the clapping along with laughter. Before long she disappeared back into the dark, only to be followed up by a man who had been taken in by the atmosphere. Clapping, whistling, laughter, before he too disappeared off back into the dark. Others followed, Maize did his best too to put on a show, as the fire slowly died down. They were all tired of course, after a hard day of work, but that didn’t stop anyone from letting loose.

Soon the fire was completely gone save for a few embers still smoldering, and all that was left lighting them was the faint moonlight. Most went back to their houses, to immediately fall asleep after such a full day. A few who had been impressed by each other’s moves moved to more private spaces, to discuss further matters of love in the arms of each other.

Maize was the last one left outside, watching the embers with an empty mug in hand. His body was aching all around, feeling the burn of today’s work and revelry in equal measure. His workload had certainly not decreased since he became a free man. It was still grueling work on the field, the same as before. That hadn’t changed.

However, looking at the stars, the skies above… it was his field, their field, their stars, their sky which they all labored under. That much he could feel, conveyed much more effectively than the words of the old man he had encountered in Casamonu. He looked forward to the Fall, when all hands in the settlement would work to harvest the corn. To see the fruits of all the labor that he was putting himself under.

Most of the corn would be stored in a granary to get them through Winter, while the rest would be sold in Casamonu (and some paid as taxes to the Republic). They had already decided to pool the money together to buy chickens, and build a coop to house them in. It’d certainly help their diets (and wallets) to have fresh eggs and meat. Then, come next year’s harvest, it was agreed upon that they’d get a pair of oxen if they could afford it.

“…enough dreaming, I should go to sleep.”

And so, Maize got up, back home. Tomorrow would be another busy day.