A Good Person

Page (1/3) Master of All... What has happened to Eclie Village?

Behind him, the farmers who had resumed their work had already become small, distant figures, their voices long since faded into silence. Playa remained distracted, his brow tightly furrowed.

Was it just an illusion born of constant longing, or had all these farmers suddenly lost their senses together?

…Or… or perhaps…

Had his efforts finally borne fruit?

Even now, Playa could not be sure if he was truly awake.

It was understandable. He had been in Eclie Village for three years, and apart from inside the church, this was the first time Playa had ever heard the farmers recite the sacred words so precisely, or seen the villagers listening to the teachings with such rapt attention.

Such a sudden change left Playa’s mind racing, his thoughts scattered, and his already unsteady steps grew even more erratic.

Thus, pondering as he walked, he climbed several small slopes, skirted some bushes, and when he passed through a hollow, whether he tripped on an obstacle or stepped on a patch of slippery earth, suddenly his right foot twisted and he staggered forward several steps. The priest snapped back to awareness just in time to let out a cry of alarm, but there was no hope of regaining his balance. His body pitched straight toward the mud, and filthy black water rushed up to meet him.

Disaster! My robe…

No, my sheepskin scroll!

In that instant, realizing the true value of what he carried, the priest’s flailing arms snapped back to his chest, clutching the bundle tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and wrenched his head aside, muscles tensing in sudden alarm, his whole body bracing for the impending impact.

Before he could process it, Playa’s body had already tilted dangerously; the sharp stench of mud and stagnant water filled his nostrils, and as he closed his eyes, his chest suddenly jolted. After a violent collision, his body abruptly halted.

So light?

Wait—this isn’t right. There’s no splash, no mud…

Sensing something was off, but before he could react, a powerful force pressed against the spot on his chest where he’d felt the impact, lifting his tilting body upright.

Opening his eyes, Playa found himself once more standing steadily.

Only then, still shaken, did Playa realize that, at some point, his hands had gripped two dark-skinned arms, which were holding straight across his chest.

Straight across his chest?

Who—who helped me?

As this thought flickered through his mind, a breathless voice came from beside him. “Sir… sir… huff… huff… please be careful…”

That was…

Alta’s voice?

Playa turned quickly, and sure enough, there stood Alta—half-bald, small and wiry, red-faced and sweating, breathing hard as he watched Playa with concern.

“Sir… sir… huff… it’s rained so much these days, huff… the road is slippery, huff… huff… it’s really, huff… really easy to fall…”

“Yes… far too easy…” Still shaken, Playa wiped the cold sweat from his brow and quickly patted his chest. Feeling the hard bundle still nestled safely there, he let out a long sigh of relief. “I nearly fell right in… That was close, that was close… Are you alright? Why are you so out of breath?”

“I… I’m… huff… huff… fine. As long as you… you’re alright… that’s good…”

“I’m fine too. Rest a moment, save your breath.”

“Alright… alright…”

Playa waved his hand, signaling for Alta not to answer further. After a while, when Alta’s labored breaths had eased and some color had returned to the priest’s pale face, Playa said, “Alta, I’m lucky you were here this time, or I’d be up for three sleepless nights again…”

“But…” He pointed behind him, a little uncertain. “Alta, as I walked this way, I didn’t see anyone… Were you working here? When did you see me?”

“Sir…” After resting, Alta no longer panted, but his words were still halting from nervousness. “Just… just now I was working in the upper field… I saw you coming… coming this way, so I wanted to warn you the road was slippery… but before I could… you…”

Playa smiled and continued, “I slipped and fell…”

“No… no… you stepped on a stone, and I ran… ran over…”

“Ran? You ran over?” Frowning slightly, Playa recalled Alta’s breathless state, and his smile froze. “Alta, when I stepped on the stone, where were you?”

Page (1/3)

Page (2/3)
“I was… I was…”

At this question, Alta furrowed his brow, looking around, hesitating for a long time, unable to decide just where he ‘was.’

He searched this way and that, and after a long pause, his eyes suddenly lit up. He pointed quickly, his voice tinged with the satisfaction of finally finding the answer: “There… I found it! I was right there!”

“There!” Playa’s voice was filled with shock, in stark contrast to Alta’s relief.

Following the farmer’s dark arm and calloused finger, Playa saw that the spot Alta indicated was at least a dozen paces from where he now stood.

Only then did Playa notice that, from Alta’s starting point to his own, four deep footprints marred the muddy earth.

Deep was the word—these four prints, or rather, pits, exposed the black inner mud at their edges and bottoms. It was easy to imagine the force needed to make them.

Such a distance, in such a short time, just to steady him as he fell—now Playa understood why Alta had been so breathless, and even now was still catching his breath.

“Sir…”

The priest’s brow was deeply furrowed, and he was silent for a long while. At last, Alta asked carefully, “Sir… are you alright? Did I grip you too hard?”

“No, not at all!” Playa shook his head vigorously. “I’m perfectly fine!”

He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, patting Alta’s shoulder with genuine feeling. “Alta… you did well. I’ll remember you.”

“You’ll… remember me? I’m Alta, you know… I mean, you remember, right?”

“Of course, of course!” Playa laughed aloud, clapping Alta’s shoulder again. “Alright, thank you, Alta. Go on, get back to your work…”

“Yes, sir, I’ll go…” Alta took a few steps, then turned back. “Oh, sir, the upper road is slippery too… and past the crest with the sacred symbol, the soil’s been soft for days… and in Tord’s field by the stream, for some reason, there’s a lot of brambles… and…”

“Alright, that’s enough…” Playa hurriedly waved his hand. “I won’t go further… It’s nearly time anyway. I should return to the church to prepare for morning prayers…”

“Going back? If you’re going back…” Alta caught up again. “That way is hard too… two trees have fallen ahead—you’ll have to climb over… and the path by the mountain is all mud, the cattle trampled it recently… and…”

“Never mind!” At last, Alta clapped his hands. “There’s not much left to do in the fields. I need to borrow my uncle’s ox on the east side of the village anyway… Sir, let me walk back with you…”

Fifty-Seven—A Good Man (Part Two)

“Sir, let me walk back with you?”

“Walk back… with me?” Playa looked Alta up and down in surprise.

“Yes, let’s go together… There’s not much left to do here, and I need to borrow my uncle’s ox on the east side anyway…”

“Not much left to do in the fields?” Hearing this, Playa couldn’t help but look Alta over again.

Clearly, Alta knew little about lying—

Even without noticing the rolled-up sleeves and mud on his face, or seeing the plow in the distant field still halfway through, just the forced look on Alta’s face and the worry in his eyes each time he glanced back made it clear—the “work here” was far from done, and walking back with Playa was hardly “convenient.”

“No…”

Wait…

Just as the first syllable of “No need” escaped his lips, Playa paused.

A moment ago, he’d nearly fallen, and though he hadn’t ended up in the mud, his legs were still weak. Moreover, it was getting late, and the three precious sheepskin pages in his arms…

Upon reflection, it seemed wiser—and safer—to let Alta accompany him back to the village. As for the work Alta would delay, Playa smiled to himself. If young Andre had told the truth, there was no need to make it up to Alta—simply instructing Loth during morning prayers to check on Alta’s ox would surely win the farmer’s gratitude.

Decision made, Playa glanced at the distant field, then nodded and patted Alta’s shoulder. “Alright, go tidy up the plow, and we’ll return together.”

“I can tidy the plow first…” Alta’s eyes brightened. “Please wait just a bit—I’ll be right back…”

And “right back” was indeed quick. Moments later, with a wooden hoe and spade slung over his left shoulder and the plow on his right, Alta returned to the priest’s side, and the two set out along the village path together.

Watching his step, treading carefully, Playa soon realized just how fortunate he had been earlier. Distracted as he was, he’d made it all the way to the west fields before his first mishap. Now, he finally understood how treacherous the road was—slick, uneven, full of puddles, brambles, and stones.

Page (2/3)

Page (3/3)
On such a path, Playa had no desire for conversation, nor the leisure to look around.

Focusing intently on where to place his feet, he skirted two hills, climbed a gentle slope, passed through a dense stand of trees, and, after a long while, when the view suddenly opened up again, Alta let out a long breath, his tense features finally relaxing.

What was the matter here?

Playa was puzzled. He looked around—the hills still rolled ahead, the fields stretched out in strips.

What was it?

Before Playa could ask, Alta wiped his brow and finally moved the arm he’d kept poised behind the priest, ready to steady him at a moment’s notice.

“All right, sir…” Alta’s voice held a hint of relief. “The worst of the road is behind us…”

“The worst of the road?”

“Yes! It’s all the cowherd’s fault!” Alta’s face darkened as he pointed behind them. “The road here used to be decent, but a few days ago, that wretched Brown drove the village cattle all over, churning it into this mess…”

“Is this…” Playa raised his brows, scanning the area. “Is this where all the trouble with the oxen happened?”

“That’s right. You didn’t know… Oh, that’s right, you never came this way… No wonder you don’t know…”

Alta lifted his right hand. “Sir, look, the slope ahead—that’s where Green fell. The trickiest bend just now is where Brown’s herd trampled the path into a mire. And right here, Beck hit the rocks… and…”

Raising his arm higher, Alta pointed into the distance. “See there? That’s where my cow injured her hoof…”

“So…” Playa mused, puzzled, “if this is where most of the accidents happen, why is the road better here?”

“At first, it was just as you’d expect,” Alta nodded. “It was impassable—mud and pits everywhere, and more than one neighbor slipped and got covered in filth…”

“But…” As he spoke, Alta fished out a few stones from the roadside and filled a shallow puddle ahead. “Thanks to the farm steward, a couple of days ago, Old William’s family borrowed three oxen. After plowing the eastern fields, they dug up some stones by the creek and hauled them here…”

“They repaired the road?” Playa pressed, almost impatient.

“Most of it…” Alta nodded. “They laid down the stones, smoothed it out—half a morning’s work, really. Old William didn’t have much spare time, of course… Whatever was left, well, the stones are piled by the side. When we pass, we pick a few and fill the holes. After a few rounds, it’s better…”

“But lately, everyone’s busy in the fields, not coming home until dark. Some don’t even come home for meals… Only Little Loth comes here much, running about treating the cattle… So, really, it’s Old William’s family who fixed this stretch…”

“Old William’s family… Yes, a good father, a good son… How to put it…” Alta paused. “In any case… truly good people…”

“Yes, truly good people…” Playa echoed, his voice lingering.

As they spoke, the farmer and priest walked down the slope, approaching the wooden bridge. They were still lost in their thoughts when, suddenly, a knocking sound came from above.

Turning, they saw Jeff on the rise to their right, slapping a large tree and calling out, “Hey… Alta, taking it easy with the oxen now that they’re nearly well? Going home so early? Serk, don’t learn from your father—if you don’t work hard, you’ll go hungry next year… Remember—”

Serk? Father?

“Quiet! Jeff, get on with your work!” Alta’s face changed, and he shouted sharply. Realizing his own blunder, Jeff’s voice stopped abruptly and he withdrew at once.

Alta glanced nervously at Playa.

Fortunately, the priest took no offense. He smiled and continued toward the nearby bridge.

As they reached it, Alta hurried ahead, stepping onto two freshly cut logs, still sprouting buds and leaves—clearly just laid in place. At that moment, Jeff’s voice sounded again from behind.

“Wait! Sir—wait a moment!”

Running up, Jeff stopped beside them. Seeing that Playa hadn’t set foot on the bridge yet, Jeff let out a deep breath, then stepped ahead of the priest, planting his feet firmly on the logs and bracing himself, panting. “Sir, you must be careful. The damned cowherd wrecked the old bridge. These logs were only felled a few days ago by Master Mon’s order—they’re not steady at all, and will wobble with the slightest pressure… One man can’t hold them…”

With that, Jeff shot a fierce glare at Alta. “And as for someone who never tells me about dangerous things like this—he’s just not to be relied on!”

Page (3/3)