A man in the valley rang the alarm bell in front of the blockhouse when they came out of the woods, but without the enthusiasm of someone reporting real danger. A large man wearing a white shirt, black woolen pants, and a tall, round-brimmed hat with a buckled hatband emerged from the blockhouse and headed toward them, cutting around the green. Nathaniel stayed on the road and raised his right hand, keeping it away from his rifle’s firestone, in a sign of peace.
The man bowed and spread open hands. “God bless you and welcome you to Plentiful, friends. I am the Shepherd, Arise Faith.”
Makepeace Bone stepped up. “I am your servant, Makepeace Bone. My companions and I would welcome comfort and counsel, as the Good Book dictates.”
Faith’s blossoming smile set Nathaniel’s stomach at ease. “Please, friends, know you are welcome. It is fortunate you arrived when you did, for the Sabbath begins at sunset, and we would have been forbidden even greeting you until Monday dawn.”
Nathaniel nodded. “We’re truly grateful for your welcoming, Shepherd Faith. I’m Nathaniel Woods. This here is Kamiskwa of the Altashee. Count von Metternin is from Kesse-Saxeburg only four years back. That’s Hodge Dunsby and the man with the deer is Colonel Rathfield. The Queen done sent him. And that there is Captain Owen Strake, hero of Anvil Lake.”
Faith nodded to each man in turn, but his face betrayed zero recognition. He covered himself well, but Nathaniel found him as easy to read as fresh tracks in stiff mud. While Faith knew there was a Queen, he didn’t know a place called Kesse-Saxeburg existed. Nathaniel caught a flicker that suggested he’d heard of Anvil Lake, but whatever he knew didn’t have Owen’s name attached to it.
Plentiful’s Shepherd pointed toward the blockhouse. “You will be quite welcome to stay in our Spiritual Hall, but you must understand that no profane or lascivious behavior will be tolerated. There is no hard liquor allowed. We will have services, and you are welcome to attend, and then we shall have our communal meal after that. You are welcome to share, though this early in the year the fare can be somewhat meager.”
Rathfield stepped up and dumped the buck at Faith’s feet. “Please, Goodman, accept this meat as a gift from Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Margaret. She wishes the best for all of her subjects.”
Faith looked down, and then back up. “Are you certain, Colonel? I would not have thought the Queen…”
Rathfield smiled. “My dear sir, by my reckoning, Plentiful is still within the bounds of Richlan, which marks you as loyal subjects of the Crown. If she cannot show her beneficence here, at the very edges of the empire God has granted her, to God’s most faithful servants, what kind of a ruler would she be?”
“I see. This is most unexpected but most welcome.” He clasped his hands together. “Please, friends, I will see to your accommodation and get people to prepare your gift. Follow me.”
Shepherd Faith led them to the blockhouse, which had been solidly built of logs. Longer than it was wide, it rose to two stories, with a loft that extended halfway in from the door. Bark had been skinned from the interior, making the room appear lighter and larger than it might have otherwise. The far end had a small pulpit carved from a single log. Trestle tables and benches filled the main floor, but people had already begun to break most of the tables down and arrange the benches for the coming service.
Faith took them up the steps to the loft, which clearly served as community storage during the winter. A few sacks of grain remained, along with a collection of items from spinning wheels to scythes that required repair or sharpening.
“Please, friends, make yourselves at home.”
Nathaniel smiled. “Already feel at home, but I reckon you can do me a favor.”
“Yes?”
“Point me to an ax and a pile of wood that needs splitting. I hain’t worked an ax good in a while, and I am sadly feeling the need of that exercise.”
“Of course. Around back is our shed. You can chop all you want until sundown.”
“Much obliged.”
Nathaniel waited for Shepherd Faith to descend from the loft before he turned to Colonel Rathfield. “Mighty nice of you just to up and give them your deer.”
“Calculated risk, really. Thank goodness they were not like that other place several days back-Restraint, was it? — which had its list of proscribed foods. I determined it was a good way to gain entry and a certain amount of trust.”
Owen, who crouched over a pack, glanced back at them. “But offering it in the Queen’s name could have caused a problem.”
“You think so, Strake, really?” Rathfield snorted. “Thing of it is this: either they are loyal subjects or they are subjects who have to be reminded that they are subjects. Let us face facts. While many of these settlements are based in religion, and the Virtuans came to Mystria to escape the wrath of the Church, these settlements are not fleeing the Queen’s power, but the perfidy of the settlements from which they have split. The Shepherd of Wisdom suggested the people of Plentiful were cannibalistic slave-drivers who believed in plural marriage and baptism in blood. I’d be concerned, but that’s what the people of Contentment said of the people of Wisdom, and everyone has said of the people of Restraint.”
Owen straightened up, his journal in hand. “I think you’re missing my point, Colonel. We’re a long way away from any Norillian troops. If we faced opposition…”
Rathfield laughed. “Surely you jest. Why Dunsby and I could pacify this settlement without blackening a firestone.”
“I ain’t so sure you’re right, Colonel.” Nathaniel pointed at the nearest window, which stood four times as tall as it was wide, and it was fairly narrow to begin with. “These windows ain’t just for letting light in. Get all your people in here with muskets and short of bringing up some cannon, you ain’t dislodging them.”
“And if they chose to defy the Crown, I would just order the building fired.” Rathfield raised his chin. “It would be a prelude to the hellfire reserved for those who defy God and oppose his anointed one.”
“I reckon that might be one way of handling it.” Nathaniel shucked his tunic and left the loft, making his way to the woodshed out back of the blockhouse. Logs had been dragged from wood yards and piled up. Residents had sawed many of them down into foot and a half lengths. Nathaniel hauled one of them onto a chopping block, split it with a hammer and wedge, then used an ax to cut it down further.
It wasn’t easy work, but wasn’t terribly complicated, either. He worked up a sweat quickly enough, and attracted the attention of a few young boys whom Shepherd Faith scattered to chores quickly enough. That behavior didn’t surprise him. Nathaniel likely had more scars on him than could be found in the whole of Plentiful. His long hair and the beadwork on his clothes marked him as an intimate of the Shedashee. Woods wasn’t a recognizable Virtuan name and though Nathaniel could be found in the Good Book, it wasn’t common among Virtuans either. Shepherd Faith likely didn’t see Nathaniel as being as bad as a horde of demons, but he reckoned the older man didn’t see him as being far off from that, either.
Shadows crept through the valley as the sun began to set. Nathaniel buried the ax in the chopping block and started to stack wood. Shepherd Faith summoned the boys back to help in that task, then tried to pull the ax from the block. Nathaniel helped him before the boys could begin to laugh at his struggles.
The red-faced man smiled. “It might seem a little thing, but we let our tools rest on the Sabbath, too. There it was working, but here, hung on the wall, it enjoys rest.”