Adrian withdrew his gaze and looked at Blazer.
“Does the village have any grain seed to spare?
Cabbage seed as well?” The surprise on Blazer’s face had not yet faded, but at the question, his body stiffened once more.
He rubbed his hands against his sides, his expression troubled.
“My lord, most of last year’s harvest was taken by the baron,” he said quietly, as though discussing something he did not want others to overhear.
“The winter wheat has not yet been harvested, so what remains is the seed we need for our own fields.
We have plenty of cabbage seed, though.
Every household has saved some.” Adrian fell silent.
Seed reserved for their own fields meant that every grain represented their hope of surviving the following year.
He glanced at the meager plots surrounding the village, each one carved from narrow gaps between the rocks.
The winter wheat had only recently sprouted, spreading across the ground in thin, scattered patches of green.
The villagers had so little farmland that their harvest was barely enough to feed them.
If they gave part of their seed to him, someone might go hungry next year.
“I don’t need much,” Adrian said quietly.
“A small amount will be enough.” The old man who had remained silent beside them finally spoke.
Leaning on his oak staff, he rested both hands over its worn head.
“My lord, are you planning to clear new land?” Adrian nodded.
There was no point hiding it; anyone could have guessed as much.
A wounded, wandering knight had arrived without seeking the baron’s patronage, yet he was asking a poor village for seed.
What else could he intend but to clear land for himself?
The old man’s fingers tightened around the staff.
“Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but if you are only beginning preparations for spring plowing now, I fear you are already too late.” “You would first have to clear the wasteland and break the soil.
By the time you cut down the trees, remove their roots, turn the earth, and clear away the stones, the planting season will have passed.
The seed might still grow, but the harvest would be so poor that you might not even recover what you planted.” Blazer stood nearby, nervously twisting his hands together and not daring to interrupt.
When the old man finished, he remained leaning on his staff and waited for Adrian’s response.
Adrian did not answer immediately.
His gaze drifted toward the sloping fields outside the village, where the sparse winter wheat clung close to the earth.
There truly was little time left before the end of the spring planting season.
Clearing wasteland was not something that could be completed in a few days; trees had to be felled, roots dug out, soil turned, and stones removed.
Every inch of usable land had to be won through hard labor.
Even if Adrian returned to the riverbank the following morning and began immediately, most of the planting season would be over before the soil was ready.
But he was not like the serfs bound to the narrow strips of land assigned by their lord.
They could farm only what they had been given, and if they missed the spring planting, they would face hunger for an entire year.
Adrian was not bound by the same limits.
He could begin with other crops.
Cabbage was less demanding about timing, and the seed could be sown as soon as a small section of land had been cleared.
There were also fish in the river, game in the forest, and wild fruit growing among the trees.
Rye was not the only thing capable of filling a man’s stomach.
“I understand,” he said.
“What about the seed?” The old man studied him, and something shifted in his cloudy eyes.
He turned and beckoned Blazer closer, then whispered several words into his ear.
Blazer nodded and hurried into one of the huts.
A short while later, he emerged carrying an earthenware jar whose mouth had been sealed with a piece of cloth.
He placed it carefully on the stone beside Adrian’s feet.
“My lord, these are cabbage seeds.
Every household contributed some.” Adrian picked up the jar, removed the cloth, and looked inside.
It was more than half full of small gray-brown seeds, each one dry, clean, and clearly separated from the others.
He covered the opening again and tucked the jar beneath his tunic.
“And the grain seed?” Blazer turned toward the old man.
The old man’s grip tightened around the head of his staff, then slowly relaxed.
“Go and bring it,” he said, his voice quieter than before.
“A small bag.” Blazer returned to the hut.
This time, he remained inside longer, and Adrian heard the sounds of searching along with a woman’s hushed voice.
Eventually, Blazer emerged carrying a small burlap sack.
It was not large and could not have contained more than two or three pounds of grain.
He presented it to Adrian with both hands.
Adrian accepted the sack and weighed it in his palm.
It was not particularly heavy, yet it felt substantial.
It was the weight of grain.
Adrian tied the sack to his belt beside the jar of cabbage seed.
Once it was secure, he reached beneath his tunic and found the leather pouch he had taken from the scarred Viking.
The water had softened its mouth, and the drawstring loosened with a single tug.
The silver pennies inside reflected the gray-white twilight, their edges worn smooth from passing through countless hands.
Adrian considered them for a moment, then removed three coins and pressed them into Blazer’s palm.
Blazer stared down at the silver, his expression changing instantly.
He hurriedly tried to pull his hand away, causing the coins to clink together.
“My lord, there’s no need—” “Take them,” Adrian interrupted, folding Blazer’s fingers over the coins.
“You will find a use for them.” “When I have established myself at the riverbank, you may come if you wish.
If not, you may remain here.” Blazer opened his mouth, but no words emerged.
His hand remained suspended before him, five fingers tightly wrapped around the three silver coins.
For a village that barely had enough food, three pennies were no insignificant sum.
They could purchase an extra jar of salt when someone next visited the market, or perhaps several new garments for the children.
Even the rent collected by the baron’s men, when converted into coin, did not amount to much more over the course of an entire year.
Blazer’s Adam’s apple moved several times before he finally managed a faint, wheezing sound.
He bowed deeply and pressed the silver tightly against his chest.
Adrian turned and started walking along the dirt road leading south.
The sack at his waist swayed with each step, the grain inside producing a faint rustling sound.
After traveling a short distance, he stopped and glanced back.
Blackthorn Village crouched deep within the mountain hollow, its few dilapidated huts resembling loose stones that had rolled down from the slopes.
The surrounding ridges rose one behind another, seeming to press the thatched roofs into the very bottom of the valley.
The village was even more isolated than the riverbank Adrian had chosen.
Only a single beaten dirt path led in or out, and even the baron’s tax collectors came no more than twice a year.
Yet remoteness had one clear advantage: the Vikings were unlikely to discover it easily.
Adrian turned away and continued his journey.
Evening had already fallen, and the moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting a pale gray light through the forest.
After walking for roughly an hour, he passed through a grove of hazel trees and finally reached the river.
He followed the riverbank upstream for another half hour until the water curved around a bend.
Beyond it, the land on both sides opened into a broad, gently sloping stretch.
A steep mountain ridge rose to the north, an unbroken forest stood to the south, and between them lay a flat area covered in weeds.
Adrian untied the sack from his waist, placed it on a slab of bluestone, and sat with his back against the trunk of a dead oak.
This was the place.
The pagan army that had sailed in from the sea was still occupied with raiding monasteries and ports along the northern coast.
It would take time for them to fight their way into the forests and plains of Mercia.
At the very least, until the coming winter had passed, the Northmen’s longships would not reach such a remote place.