Pattern

Typically, everything except the main wheat and barley crops were in and stored when the strangers showed up. There were ten of them; six men and four women, dirty and ragged and lame from walking too far on too little shoe leather. Nobody had any idea who they were, or where they'd come from, and of course their minds were closed tight shut as far as Poldarn's people were concerned.

'Still,' Poldarn pointed out, as they watched them trailing down the yard towards the house, 'the fact remains, we're badly short of hands here, we've just proved that. And I'm not going to turn anybody away just because they're offcomers.'

He hadn't expected enthusiasm, so he wasn't disappointed. When the strangers were close enough to be talked to without shouting, he stepped forward and waited for one of them to speak.

'I'm sorry,' one of them said, 'I don't know you. Isn't this Bollesknap?'

He was a big man, tall and broad, though hunger and hard walking was starting to hollow him out. He had a small, squat nose and a round face, and his hair was grey with a few untidy smears of dark brown.

'It used to be,' Poldarn replied. 'But now it's called Poldarn's Forge. If you're looking for Eyvind, you've missed him by about four months.'

The man looked confused. 'He's gone, then.'

'Round the other side of the mountain,' Poldarn replied. 'Do you know Haldersness?'

'Heard of it,' the man answered doubtfully, as if to say that he'd also heard of two-headed goats and sea serpents, but he didn't necessarily believe in them. 'Never been there, though.'

'Well, that's where he's gone,' Poldarn said. 'Will we do instead? My name's Ciartan.'

'I'm Geir.' The man hesitated for a moment, as if he was about to say something rude. 'Truth is,' he went on, 'we're in a bit of trouble. Have you heard of our place, Geirsdale, about six days west?'

Poldarn shook his head. 'Can't say I have,' he replied. 'What sort of trouble?'

'That.' Geir nodded resentfully towards the mountain. 'Cut a long story short, our house is somewhere under a bloody great big pile of ash. There used to be seventy-two of us, but the rest are still in the house.' He grinned painfully. 'That's about it,' he said. 'Except that we're off-relations of Bolle-that's Eyvind's uncle, if you didn't know already.'

'Off-relations,' Poldarn repeated. 'How off, exactly?'

'Oh, a long way, something like fifth cousins on his mother's side. Is that good or bad?'

'Could be worse,' Poldarn said. 'You'd better come in and have something to eat.'

They ate like crows on sprouting corn, finishing everything, taking whatever was offered, gazing warily at their hosts while they ate, just in case it turned out to be a trap. Eventually, Poldarn figured out that the only way to stop them eating was not to provide any more food.

'So,' he said, when he reckoned he had their attention. 'What are your plans?'

Geir shrugged. 'Plans are for people who know where their next meal's coming from. I suppose what we're aiming to do is head out into the new territories, stake out some land, start over. But obviously we won't be in a position to do that any time soon, with no stock or gear. Till then, we'll go where we can, stay as long as we're allowed, and do whatever we have to do to earn our feed.'

'Well, that's putting it straight enough,' Poldarn said. 'Sounds like you haven't got your hearts set on getting your own place; at least, not at the moment. Am I right?'

Geir smiled wanly. 'Going hungry is a pretty good cure for ambition,' he said. 'You look a bit short-handed here, if you don't mind me saying so.'

'That's no lie,' Poldarn replied. 'What you see is all of us. I think we can quit treading carefully and say it out loud. If you want to stop here, you're welcome, for as long as you like. But you'll have to work, and you're not much use to us if you're planning on moving on in a week or so.'

'Not much chance of that,' Geir said.

'That's all right, then. But there's one thing we need to get absolutely straight. If you want to stick around here, that'd suit both of us. But I'd better warn you, we had a bad falling-out with Eyvind and his people, and it's just got a whole lot worse. If you're relations of his, you'd probably be better off carrying on to where he's living now; it's only a day or so further on, and you'll be more comfortable there for sure-they've got far more of everything than we have and there's a whole lot more of them than there is of us. If things get any worse it could easily come to fighting. You don't want to find yourselves up against your own family, or on the losing side.'

For a moment, Geir had that bewildered look on his face; but it came and went quickly, and he shook his head. 'I'll be honest with you,' he said, 'I don't know cousin Bolle from a pile of dirt, let alone cousin Eyvind, and we only came here because the relationship gave us a tiny scrap of a claim on his hospitality. You've said you'll take us in, and we're kin to your enemy, so I get the feeling we'll be better suited here. Besides, it looks like you could use us.. If Eyvind's house is as big and prosperous as you say it is, there's no place for us there and sooner or later we'd have to go. We're outsiders now, offcomers, and we're coming to terms with that: it's the worst thing anybody could ever be, though I don't suppose you can begin to imagine.'

Poldarn smiled. 'Well,' he said, 'I might; but that's a long story, and there's plenty of time for it later. Just remember, that's all. This is more likely to be the start of all your troubles than the end.'

The new arrivals couldn't have shown up at a better time. Eyvind had planted fine and extensive crops of wheat and barley, which stood up'well and ripened quickly, untroubled by blight or crows, in a flurry of late sunshine. If Poldarn and the others had had to try getting it in with just ten men, they'd have been forced to leave at least a third of it to wilt and rot. As it was, they stood a reasonable chance of making a decent harvest of it; which would mean a substantial surplus over and above what they'd need for themselves, something they could trade with other farms for things they needed but didn't have the time or the materials to make. From what they gathered from such contact as they'd had with other farms in the area, the volcano had done serious damage in many places, so that quite a few houses would be only too glad to buy in food, if they could find anyone to buy it from. This was, of course, an unfamiliar, unheard-of concept, the idea of not being able to provide for all one's needs from one's own resources, and it was taking people a long time to get used to it. Ironically, there was a strong possibility that Eyvind would be a customer. Halder had planted his usual quantities of wheat and barley at Haldersness and it had done reasonably well, though not as well as usual; the Ciartanstead crop had more or less failed, after the overlay of ash had poisoned the ground. Since Eyvind had more mouths to feed than either Halder or the Ciartanstead people had contemplated when they planted, he was facing a serious problem in the not too distant future. Poldarn's heart bled for him.

Grandiose plans for a far-flung commercial empire all depended, of course, on being able to get the crop cut and threshed, and that was no foregone conclusion, even with six more scythes and four more binders and gleaners.

The first day of the cut dawned bright and clear, with a mild breeze to keep the workers cool. They started early, leaving the house before sunrise, so as to get as much as possible done before the sun came up and the heat slowed them down and wore them out. Poldarn couldn't see any reason why they shouldn't start with the nearest parcel and work their way out, so they didn't have far to walk that first morning, with their scythes balanced on their shoulders, the blades pointed carefully down so as not to maim anyone walking behind. It occurred to Poldarn as they reached the field that he might not know how to cut corn; fortunately, this turned out not to be the case.