Summer Duty

Medieval World Calendar, January 25th, Year 0001.

Since the first drops of rain fell yesterday afternoon, the drizzle had persisted, intermittent and ceaseless, casting a constant gloom over the sky, never letting the sun appear.

On the eastern side of the village, in the land belonging to the William/Moore family, four men were drenched to the bone, sweat and rain mingling on their faces, dripping into the muddy, sodden earth at their feet.

Hands gripping a wooden spade, Wu Qingchen staggered step by step to the edge of the furrow, paying no mind to the mixture of mud, rainwater, leaves, and grass on the ground, and simply sat down heavily.

Panting deeply, he forced himself to raise an arm, grabbed his robe and wiped his face, then removed his hood and wrung it out. Water streamed from his hands.

How many times had he sat down like this?

Wu Qingchen no longer remembered. He only knew that working on a rainy day was far more exhausting, and that today’s labor was heavier than usual. Even William and Idra, who seldom stopped unless their legs refused to move, had slumped several times beside the furrows, heads drooping, too weary to brush the grass and dirt from their faces.

So tired.

So hungry.

Swallowing with difficulty, Wu Qingchen felt his head heavy, his vision darkening, his stomach growling incessantly.

At dawn, when the sky was barely tinged with light, old William had led Wu Qingchen and two brothers of the medieval world out early, their steps hurried as they reached the land, working through the intermittent rain ever since.

Ever since then!

“Now”—but Wu Qingchen had no energy left to calculate the time. Judging by the soaked state of their clothes and the exhaustion etched on all four faces, he was certain that “now” had long surpassed one o’clock in the afternoon.

From five in the morning until one in the afternoon, the four had labored here, with not a drop nor crumb passing their lips, for eight whole hours.

So tired! So hungry!

Inevitably, Wu Qingchen began to long for home in the medieval world, for the broken wooden bed covered in straw, stalks, and flea-ridden filth. He bitterly regretted tossing away two small fish yesterday afternoon merely because cleaning them seemed troublesome.

“Dong… dong… dong…”

Faintly, from the direction of the village, a bell echoed.

Wu Qingchen immediately stood up.

William and his brothers, laboring in the field, instantly paused.

“Father… the second bell…” Idra, leaning on his spade, turned back, hesitated, his expression worried.

“I know…” Old William pulled up the last weeds, straightened painfully, looked at the sky, then at the remaining patch of land, sighing. “Rain… the grass will grow even faster in a few days…”

“Yes…” Idra nodded reluctantly, brows tightly furrowed. “Let’s check tomorrow morning. If it’s not raining, we’ll come even earlier.”

“That’s all we can do. The second bell has rung…” William gathered their tools, paused, listened carefully, his face hopeful for a moment, then resigned as he sighed again. “The second bell…”

Medieval World Calendar, January 25th, Year 0001—the first day of the summer service for the lord.

The first bell signaled villagers to stop their own work.

The second bell reminded those serving to eat and regain strength.

The third bell called them to the fields to collect tools, and the headman counted those present.

The fourth bell marked the start of labor. If a villager failed to begin work by the end of the fourth bell, they either paid a hefty fine or forfeited their allotted land from the lord. If unable to do either, they would have to prepare to flee into the forest, to live among thorns, beasts, hunger, and disease.

The second round of bells had passed. On the way home, although exhausted, the four quickened their steps in silence. Only when passing a stone holy emblem by the roadside did William slow, touch his shoulders, and murmur a prayer.

From behind, Wu Qingchen could see that William’s manner was more devout than usual.

Back home, mother Jacqueline and Nina had already stoked the fire, boiled a large pot of water, and prepared three steaming bowls of food.

The food was the same—peas, green soup, and gruel—but much more plentiful.

After filling the men’s small wooden bowls, half of the three large bowls remained.

This day, William and Idra received twice the usual peas, soup, and gruel, plus a piece of cheese and a boiled egg each.

Grace and Wu Qingchen also had twice their usual portions and a piece of cheese. As for eggs, these were precious assets for bartering oil and black salt; even on such important days, only the adult men received one to replenish their depleted strength.

Jacqueline and Nina, who prepared the meal, also ate more than usual, though still last, and only a tiny piece of cheese.

Compared to ordinary days, the meal was undeniably more sumptuous, yet William and Idra remained anxious, and even little Nina, usually never full, showed little joy.

Eight hours of grueling labor left no energy nor time for poaching; Wu Qingchen, starving, found even the wizard-like concoctions before him fragrant. He devoured peas, green soup, and cheese, and managed half a bowl of gruel.

He left the rest of the gruel for Nina, touched his stomach, rested his head in his hands, and closed his eyes to snatch a brief respite.

“All right…” William drained his last mouthful, rested half a minute, then stood. “Enough, let’s go.”

Everyone rose.

This time, the laboring party gained another member: mother Jacqueline. Adult women too had a share in the summer service. Only Nina stayed behind to prepare supper and care for the two siblings still unable to walk or talk.

The first day’s summer tilling was in the north of the village. After fifteen minutes, the five reached the field.

The lord’s communal land was unlike the crisscrossed, irregular plots of peasant families. It stretched broad and level, vanishing into the distance, a vast plain.

Nor was it yellowed or pale gray like ordinary land. Even in the rain, Wu Qingchen could see patches of fertile, dark earth amid the mud.

When his family arrived, villagers serving had already gathered on either side of the path, sitting by the furrows or roadside, their faces anxious and weary, their conversations filled with unfinished tasks and small wishes always hindered by one thing or another.

“Dong… dong… dong…”

Just as Wu Qingchen’s family sat, the third bell of summer service rang.

With the bell, the headman of Aikeli village, O’Connor, stood in the road’s center, flanked by two burly villagers pushing carts.

At the sound, the village constables hurried to the carts, received tools from the headman, and distributed them to each family group.

The distribution was swift. Soon, a constable approached Wu Qingchen’s family, placing a small wooden basket with three iron pickaxes and one iron hoe.

Three iron pickaxes, one iron hoe…

Wu Qingchen was puzzled.

At the same time, William quickly called out the constable’s name. “Espil, wait a moment…”

The constable turned, William pointed to the basket. “Espil, look—why only four tools?”

Espil glanced at the basket, counted, then looked at the family, counting again. His brows furrowed, his tone puzzled, “Eh, how can this be?”

He looked around.

Richard and Freeman, who had noticed, nodded in agreement. “Espil, I saw it—only four tools.” “That’s right, Espil, you made a mistake.”

Counting tools and heads again, Espil grew tense.

Summer service concerned everyone’s interests. The lord’s tools were fine and iron-forged—precious in the medieval world. Because of their value, every tool distributed was recorded by the headman and reclaimed after the service.

Now, with one iron tool missing, Espil dared not decide, and hurried to the headman, whispered a few words.

Villagers watched as O’Connor’s expression grew stern at the news.

He walked quickly to William’s family, counted their heads, then the tools, his face serious and grim. But after a glance at his parchment, his expression eased, then turned to realization.

“William, I’ve been too busy these years, haven’t visited your home. Your youngest son was named a few years ago, Little Ross, right?”

“Yes.” William nodded, confused.

“That explains it.” O’Connor closed the parchment. “The tools are correct—it’s because of your youngest son…”

William stood, alarmed. “What about Ross?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Sit down, there’s nothing wrong.” O’Connor smiled, waved gently, turned to Wu Qingchen with a smile. “Little Ross, you don’t need to serve here in this summer service. Didn’t you know?”

Not required? Why?

“I… I didn’t know,” Wu Qingchen said, bewildered.

“Oh?” O’Connor seemed surprised, checked the parchment again, then said, “Yes, Little Ross, you’re exempt from summer service here. Starting from Summer Feast Day, you began serving—four days ago.”

“I’ve already… begun summer service?”

“Yes.” O’Connor nodded. “Two days ago, Father Andrew told me himself. I thought the name Ross was familiar—turns out it’s William’s youngest… Anyway, go to the church…”

He turned to William. “That’s all—lots to do today, the tools are correct, keep them safe…”

So, working for Playa, teaching Father Andrew numbers—this had such an effect? Or finally became useful?

O’Connor was gone. Wu Qingchen was still dazed. When he came to, William was looking at him, unable to hide his surprise and joy.