The Recruitment at Hradce’s Gate

Two months prior, Hradce had dispatched half of its forces to Opava—specifically, all of its Slavic guards. To compensate for this temporary vacuum in manpower and ensure the city’s security remained functional, Sithi had recruited twenty robust young men into the city guard. Upon the return of the Opava guards, the total number of soldiers would only exceed the original by twenty percent, reaching one hundred and twenty men, at which point the extra twenty would be assigned to maintain order in Hradce’s expansion zone.

All of this information was conveyed to Noren by Kitil, the captain of the Hradce city guard, who stood before her.

“Kitil, I’ve noticed a certain… laxity among you all recently,” the young woman remarked, her tone hinting at a deeper meaning.

Kitil let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, ‘Big Ears’ just had a bit too much to drink, didn’t he? What’s the big fuss? I even heard he threw up all over you?”

A slight tremor pulled at the corners of Noren’s lips, and she smiled. “Some splattered on my cloak, certainly, but the bulk of it landed squarely on the head of the tax collector at the city gate.”

“Oh, the poor tax collector! He’ll surely lose his appetite for days,” Kitil exclaimed, feigning exaggeration with a wide-open mouth.

“How much does Sithi pay you each week?” Noren abruptly shifted the topic.

Kitil patted the coin purse at his waist, its silver contents jingling. “If you’re asking about the past few years, I personally receive twelve silver coins, while other adult Norsemen get eight, and underage Norsemen six. This is considerably less than what we earned in the ‘big cities,’ but thankfully, Sithi provides lunch and dinner, so we don’t have to spend our money on food.”

“Is it enough?”

Though Kitil was an unlettered rough man, having associated with Svein, he at least had some grasp of a silver coin’s value.

He pondered for a moment, his ten fingers ceaselessly counting. “It’s not quite enough. We don’t go to battle, so we can’t get any spoils. Anna has also warned us not to extort merchants or commoners. Occasionally, some perceptive merchants offer bribes, but even then, we can only accumulate one or two pounds of silver a year. I fare a bit better, managing to get close to three pounds of silver. However, there are expenses for maintaining equipment, buying clothes, charcoal, and visiting the brothel… A few years ago, it might have been tougher, but now that the young lads have joined the guard, things have improved considerably.”

Kitil then shared more observations with Noren, recounting tales such as whose stallion had mounted whose mare, leading to both families brawling in the city court over stud fees; or which family’s child had succumbed to illness and died, causing the distraught mother to take her own life and be buried at a crossroads after decapitation; or how a band of horse thieves had stolen horses from a knight’s fiefdom, only to be caught and hanged.

They rode and conversed, the horses’ hooves clattering crisply on the road. The two fine steeds traversed streets, crossed the wooden bridge at the city gate, and finally arrived at the city expansion zone just outside Hradce’s south gate.

This so-called expansion zone was, in truth, merely a self-sustaining refugee camp. Lacking even a rudimentary wooden palisade, it consisted entirely of makeshift shelters and straw beds erected by the refugees. In the center of every few shanties, a wooden tripod supported an iron pot, brimming with a stew of wheat paste, onions, leeks, and beans, the grains provided by the monastery and the mayor’s relief efforts.

Gaunt, their faces sallow, clad in rags, the refugees stared fixedly at the bubbles rising in the soup, their throats bobbing with involuntary swallows. Their hunger was unbearable, yet the nearby guards kept them from making even the slightest rash move.

“These are all famine victims, having fled here less than two days ago. They’re skin and bones from starvation. If you want them to do heavy labor, it’s unlikely in the short term,” Kitil said as he and Noren rode through the refugee camp. Noren observed that, just as he claimed, only the old, the weak, and women and children remained in the camp; the stronger young men had long since been picked up by wealthy farmers and landowners in the countryside.

Noren circled the entire refugee camp. The population numbered around two hundred, with women making up less than a quarter, and at least a hundred half-grown lads.

“Aren’t these young men good laborers? Why does no one want them?” Noren pointed to a dark-haired youth fiercely shoveling food into his mouth from a bowl.

Kitil spread his hands. “They eat too much, that’s why. Aside from Hradce, which has surplus grain to feed them, those wealthy farmers prefer workers who eat less and do more. Half-grown lads get hungry the fastest; they can’t endure starvation like old men. They often steal food from their masters, and some of these callow youths you see were picked up and then sent back.”

The captain’s words dispelled her idea of taking a few young laborers. Eating too much was one thing, but a penchant for stealing was intolerable, and she had no spare time to supervise all her workers.

Kitil greeted the guards dispensing porridge, then turned to Noren. “What do you need laborers for?”

“Harvesting wheat,” she casually fabricated a reason.

“Oh…” Kitil understood. “How many do you plan to recruit then?”

Noren replied, “No more than ten households, and only able-bodied women skilled in farm work.”

Kitil, comprehending, called over the soldiers who were serving porridge, instructing them to gather all the farmer women in the camp.

Suddenly, something else occurred to her, and she added, “Oh, and families with more than three members, bringing their whole household, are to be rejected.”

“Did you hear that? Now hurry up!” the captain roared, startling the greenhorns who were engrossed in admiring beauty.

The newly recruited soldiers from Hradce flinched in fright, a clear indication that Kitil had often been rough with them; a single shout was enough to scare half the wits out of them.

‘These guards…’ Noren felt a degree of disdain for the timid, especially soldiers tasked with defending a city. Yet, she quickly reconsidered: how many could face a Norseman trained in New Rome without trepidation?

****

Above the refugee camp outside Hradce’s south gate, wisps of cooking smoke wavered. Yesterday’s rainwater still lingered on the ground, forming puddles of varying depths.

The air was no longer as heavy and oppressive as it had been yesterday; the blazing sun and gentle summer breeze revitalized everything with renewed vigor.

No, the refugees themselves remained listless.

Among them was Anna, who hadn’t eaten a full meal in a long time. Nevertheless, she was deeply grateful to the adults of Hradce, for it was their provided food that prevented her from starving to death.

Now, wrapped in tattered linen that could barely be called a dress, she huddled in a small corner of the camp, cradling a bowl of vegetable and wheat paste. She swallowed small mouthfuls, unconcerned about being robbed; just two evenings ago, a starving man who tried to snatch food was beaten to death by the soldiers.

“Hey! There’s one hiding here!” A shrill voice suddenly cut through the air, referring to Anna.

Anna looked up, bewildered, her grimy little face vaguely indicating her age.

“Uh… it’s a child,” the guard paused for a moment. “Where’s your mother? How many are in your family altogether?”

Anna instinctively retorted, “I’m sixteen!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She feared she had offended the guard, dreaded that she might be kicked to death like the starving man from a few days prior, her pleas utterly useless.

Since the guard did not erupt in anger, she dared to answer in a weak voice, “I don’t know. I got separated from them. There were three of us in my family.”

“If you’re sixteen, head to the city gate. A lady is looking for servants,” the guard said, waving dismissively, signaling the girl to hurry along, before he jogged away.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief, rose from the ground, patted the dust from her backside, and looked towards the soldiers who were individually searching the refugees. Then, her gaze shifted towards the Hradce city gate. After a slight hesitation, she finally took a step and shuffled towards the gate…

By the time Anna arrived at the city gate, it was already crowded. She immediately spotted the lady the guard had spoken of.

The tall, golden-haired woman stood upon the wooden bridge, a burly, bald man with a scarred face standing beside her like an iron tower.

Several guards kept the agitated crowd beyond the bridge entrance. Those held back were mostly women and children, clutching or leading their offspring. Some starving youths and old men, their eyes gleaming with hunger, stood further back, watching eagerly, their mouths slightly agape, whether in prayer or curse, Anna could not tell.

After being scrutinized by a guard, Anna took her place at the back of the crowd. She was grateful to the golden-haired lady before her, and to God for making the lady so tall; she didn’t even need to stand on tiptoe to clearly see her face.

“So beautiful…” Anna’s eyes glazed over.

[Anna’s Affection: +30 (Stunning Beauty)]

The searching guards had herded all the women and children here. Once the search concluded, they shouted, “Search complete!” and then stood stiffly at attention behind the crowd.

They resembled battlefield overseers; anyone attempting to flee would surely be impaled by a sharp iron spear. Anna, terrified, lowered her head, her face almost buried in her chest.

“Cough, cough… Silence,” the golden-haired lady’s voice was warm and magnetic, like the first gentle breeze after a thaw, bringing comfort to all.

The moment she spoke, the agitated crowd instantly fell silent, dozens of eyes fixed intently on Noren, awaiting her next words.

Anna, too, gazed at Noren with anticipation.

After the restless crowd quieted, Noren spoke again. “My village lies north of Hradce, not far from here. I require farm women skilled in agricultural work to help me harvest wheat. Food and lodging will be provided. After the autumn harvest, you may remain in the village for the autumn sowing. After staying for a hundred days, you will be permitted to settle. Those who wish to come with me, stay. Those who do not, may leave now.”

“Will there be wages?” A voice, sharp as a saw blade, pierced Anna’s ears.

Anna stood on tiptoe, trying to see who had the audacity to bargain, but through the human wall, she couldn’t see, even on her toes.

Noren smiled faintly, then her expression settled, becoming impassive. “I apologize, but there will be no wages.”

Kitil gave the guard a look, then whispered to the young woman, “Noren, you should scold her.”

Noren knew well that she should sternly rebuke the woman, but facing such a large crowd made her a little nervous, and their hopeful gazes inexplicably softened her heart, making her tone gentler.

The farm woman clearly intended to say more, but in the next instant, a guard pushed through the crowd, roughly seizing her and kicking her to the ground. “Get out, you scum!”

The farm woman trembled all over, her lips quivering as she stared at the spear-wielding guard before her. For a long moment, she couldn’t utter a word. Stumbling to her feet, she scurried away with her tail between her legs.

“Hmph—*tui!* Troublemaker!” The guard gathered a mouthful of thick phlegm and spat it in the direction the farm woman had fled.

Witnessing this, the other refugees lowered their heads, no one daring to speak again. In the face of violence, the unwise were always a minority, especially among an unarmed group of women and children.