Noren’s Selections and the Quarry’s Heat

The farmwomen, forming a single file, stepped forward one by one to face Noren’s inquiry.

“Do you have children, and how old are they?”

“Yes, a son. He’s fourteen.”

“Can you brew ale?”

“No, I cannot.”

****

As Anna watched the line dwindle, her heart pounded with increasing trepidation, until the last farmwoman ahead of her departed with a crestfallen air, finally bringing her face-to-face with Noren.

Noren took a step back, sparing Anna the discomfort of craning her neck. “Little girl,” she said, “I require adults capable of arduous labor. Where is your mother?”

Anna stammered, “My lady, I am sixteen; I can work. My mother… my mother… I became separated from them.”

Noren gazed at the diminutive figure before her, remaining silent for a prolonged moment.

Anna’s urgency flared. “My lady, I know so much! I can sew clothes, do farm work, brew ale, bake bread, weave cloth…”

“Show me your hands,” Noren commanded after a brief hesitation.

Anna obediently extended her hands, revealing small palms thoroughly calloused, most notably in the web between her thumb and forefinger.

Noren’s eyebrow arched. “Have you trained with weapons?”

Anna withdrew her hands, casting a cautious glance at Noren. “No, no,” she whispered.

“Very well, you are chosen. Go stand with the others.”

“Ah?” Anna glanced at the surrounding farmwomen, whose faces were contorted with envy, still unable to fully grasp that she had been selected.

A nearby guard grew impatient. “What ‘ah’? Do not waste the lady’s precious time! Go stand with them!”

The guard pointed towards the opposite side of the wooden bridge, where several selected farmwomen stood beneath the city gate.

“Oh, oh!” Anna snapped back to awareness, curtsied to Noren, lifting her skirt, and then scurried away.

The selection process concluded swiftly. Including Anna, Noren had chosen ten farmwomen, totaling nineteen individuals when their families were counted. Noren’s preference had been for widows, each accompanied by a daughter around eleven or twelve years of age.

She led all the chosen individuals into a small tavern.

The tavern was devoid of patrons; a young bartender was slumped over a table, fast asleep. The tavern owner, who should have been tending the counter, was nowhere to be found, leaving only a mounted boar’s head to silently observe the new arrivals.

Noren rapped on the table, but the young bartender was in too deep a slumber. Drool trickled from his open mouth, pooling into a small puddle on the wooden surface.

The young woman slammed her fist onto the table, causing the bartender’s head, which had been resting on his arms, to snap up instantly before thudding back down.

“Ouch~”

Rubbing his forehead, the young bartender winced. “Who… who is it?”

“Brew a pot of meat broth, slice several loaves of rye bread—and do not bring me any laced with sawdust. Finally, bring a mug of your finest ale, undiluted.” Noren placed several silver coins before the young bartender.

Upon seeing the silver coins, he finally roused from his sleepy daze, swiftly sweeping them into his hand. Then, he flashed his practiced bartender’s smile. “Right away! I’ll bring it to you at once!”

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the meat broth, bread, and ale were served. Steam rose from the broth in the wooden basin, where onions and other inexpensive vegetables bobbed and floated.

The farmwomen scrambled for the large ladle, eagerly filling their bowls. Bread, dipped in the broth, was brought to their lips, yet they noticed one person remained utterly still.

It was Anna.

Seeing Anna staring at Noren, the other farmwomen promptly lowered their bowls, finally recalling the deference owed to a noble.

Noticing that everyone had paused, Noren stepped forward, scooped a mouthful of broth with the large ladle, sipped it lightly, and then declared, “Eat!”

At her command, they began to devour their food ravenously.

After everyone had eaten their fill, she summoned the bartender to open a room where they could settle. Once all arrangements were complete, she would lead them to the village.

****

The Quarry outside Hradec near the Sudetes Mountains.

Several quarry workers were engaged in extracting stone. They drilled a row of wedge-shaped holes into a massive slab, inserted metal wedges, and then struck them with hammers, effectively splitting the enormous rock in two.

Other workers wielded long-handled sledgehammers, striking the back of another iron hammer, which, with its edge pressed against a long stone slab, divided it into two thinner pieces.

“Henry, is there any more wine? It’s too hot!” a quarry worker shouted, setting down his hammer and resting his hands on the shaft. His skin was unpleasantly wrinkled around his eyes, and sweat streamed down his face, clearly indicating his intense discomfort from the heat.

A burly, brown-haired worker paused his labor, wiped the sweat from his neck, and tossed a leather wineskin from a nearby slab to the parched man. “Bashek,” he cautioned, “drink sparingly!”

Bashek pulled out the stopper, tilted his head back, and drained the diluted fruit wine in a single gulp. He even squeezed the wineskin vigorously for any remaining drops, completely disregarding Henry’s admonition.

Having finished, he licked his parched lips, still unsatisfied, then tossed the wineskin aside carelessly, cursing, “This wretched weather!”

Witnessing his wineskin casually discarded and emptied, Henry immediately rushed over, grabbing Bashek by the collar. “Bashek, you selfish bastard!”

He was about to raise his fist, intending to teach the fellow a memorable lesson.

“Lads, hold on!” a worker suddenly cried out. “The overseer is here!”

Henry released Bashek and picked up his iron hammer once more.

The quarry workers collectively gazed into the distance, where a cargo cart slowly approached along the road leading to the quarry. The sound of hooves grew from distant to near, finally halting before them.

The stout overseer dismounted the cart, first scrutinizing everyone present, then cracked his whip. “What are you staring at me for? Get back to work!”

The workers resumed their labor.

The stout overseer paced around the quarry, much like a beast patrolling its territory. However, the sun overhead was too intense; within moments, his armpits and chest were thoroughly soaked with sweat.

He cursed the “wretched weather” loudly before climbing back onto the cart. It was only after turning the vehicle around that he belatedly remembered the purpose of his visit. Unwilling to dismount again, he bellowed, “Henry!!!”

Henry dropped his tools and jogged over to the stout overseer. “My lord, did you call for me?”

The overseer unstoppered his waterskin, took a drink, wiped the sweat from his chin, and flicked his hand, utterly unconcerned that the grimy moisture splattered onto Henry’s face.

He stated, “The mayor’s niece requires several cartloads of stone. She will come to collect them in a few days. You must expedite your work and cease loading stones onto the workshop’s carts for now.”

With that, he prepared to crack his whip and drive away.

Seeing this, Henry hastily stopped the cart. “Wait! My lord! Wait!”

The stout overseer frowned displeased. “Henry, if you do not provide me with a reasonable explanation, I will surely give you a good lashing.”

Henry looked aggrieved. “My lord, you haven’t told us what the young lady looks like!”

“Looks like, you say…” The overseer stroked his chin, and soon, a foolish, doting grin spread across his face.

“My lord?” Henry questioned, puzzled.

The stout overseer quickly wiped the drool from his mouth and cleared his throat. “Ahem! I cannot describe her beauty with simple, crude words. However, she possesses brilliant golden hair and a body with exaggerated curves.”

Henry understood.

“Now get out of the way!” The overseer cracked his whip, the lash whistling past Henry’s face.

Henry narrowly dodged it as the cart sped away.

Staring at the overseer’s receding figure, a flicker of indignation crossed his eyes, and he clenched his fists tightly. Yet, just as quickly, his fists dropped powerlessly, and he lowered his head, letting out a self-mocking scoff.