118 This Starry Night Is Not the Same as Last Night

Hansel’s judgment was hardly reliable, but his wife’s intuition was far more dependable.

At this very moment, Sanchez and his second son were indeed in the shed belonging to the former cowherd, the Brown-Rodriguez family. While there is no such saying in the medieval world as "a lean camel is still bigger than a horse," the logic held true: even as a shed, the one belonging to the Brown family was significantly better than the one occupied by the serf mother and son, York and Tamara.

Observe this dwelling. The ground consisted of deliberately compacted hard mud; the roof was made of premium, fresh thatch; the walls were fashioned from sturdy, freshly cut branches; and in the corner lay a pile of high-quality, fresh straw. Everything was fresh—even the breeze filtering through the gaps in the walls that had yet to be filled felt unusually crisp and clean. On a sweltering summer night, a cool breeze would typically be a delight. Unfortunately, having grown accustomed to their former mansion, the Brown family found little joy in moving into such a place so closely connected to nature.

"Sanchez... thank you... for the grain you brought... *huff, huff*..."

The former cowherd, Mr. Brown-Rodriguez, had likely suffered lung injuries when he was trampled by the oxen a while back. Lying diagonally in the pile of straw in the corner, he managed only half a sentence before he began to wheeze heavily. He pressed a hand against his chest, gasping for air until he gradually recovered some strength. "If... if it weren't for you... and Wright helping out all this time... we... we really wouldn't know... what to do..."

"Don't talk about that. We are brothers!" Sanchez sat directly on the ground, holding Brown steady with a look of deep concern and worry on his face. "Rest well, don't talk too much, and don't dwell on things. Only then will you recover faster. In a little while, once you're feeling better, I'll find a way to go and plead..."

"Hahaha..." Hearing his brother’s words, Brown let out a strained, bitter laugh. "In a little while... once I'm feeling better..." He repeated the words. Ten days ago, the spirited former cowherd gripped his chest so hard that his robe wrinkled under his fingers, his voice filled with despair. "Time... my body... don't I know it myself? Time... where is there any time left!"

"But... but..." Sanchez faltered for a long time, unable to think of any comforting words. With a deep sigh, he patted his brother’s shoulder gently. "No matter what, just don't move around. Lie still and sleep for now. At least that will make you feel a bit more comfortable."

The shed was quiet. Sanchez helped his brother settle into the straw, and after a while, the latter gradually closed his eyes, his furrowed brow smoothing out as his breathing grew rhythmic and steady. Once his brother was sound asleep, Sanchez stood up and walked over to his nephews, his expression heavy. "It’s getting worse."

"Yes," replied Baker, the eldest son of the former cowherd, who had injured his shoulder in the accident and could no longer lift his right arm. "Ever since we moved here, Father’s condition has only deteriorated."

Sanchez heaved another sigh.

"Uncle," Green, the younger son, hobbled over, "will you help us?"

"Of course," Sanchez nodded without hesitation. "You are my nephews; I will certainly help you."

Green hesitated, stammered for a moment, and finally blurted out, "Can... can you be a bit faster?"

"What are you saying?" The eldest son glared fiercely at his brother. "Are you blind? Don't you see the grain our uncle just brought?" Ignoring his own pain, Baker turned to his uncle in a panic. "Uncle, don't be angry, don't mind this fool!"

"Uncle, I was wrong," Green quickly explained. "I definitely didn't mean to rush you, nor do I hold any resentment. It’s just... Father really can't hold on much longer!"

"Sigh! I know, I know. Baker, don't blame Green. I know all of this." Sanchez didn't take offense, though his tone grew heavier. "It's just that now is truly not a good time. After all, the summer corvée labor hasn't ended, and the village oxen haven't fully recovered. The masters surely remember everything quite clearly. Once this period passes, after the autumn harvest, when the sheep and chickens are fatter, I will go and plead with the steward. I will do my best to keep you out of the manorial court, or at the very least, find a way to get you assigned to lighter work."

"Thank you so much, Uncle!"

"It’s a good thing we have you, Uncle."

Baker and Green thanked him profusely.

...

Sanchez offered words of gentle comfort.

"Regardless, you’ve had to lose more grain and livestock because of us." After the gratitude and comfort had settled, Green sighed. "Sigh, if it weren't for the bastard born to that old scoundrel William, we wouldn't be in this much trouble, and you wouldn't have had to pay such a high price."

"Ahem," Baker coughed softly beside him.

"Why can't I say it!" Green said indignantly. "It’s the truth! We didn't do it on purpose! Rocks falling from the mountain, the herd going crazy, the hillside collapsing—these were accidents! How can you blame only the cowherds for such things? And if it had just been the oxen incident, the masters would certainly have been angry and beaten us severely, but..." Green grew more agitated. "If that bastard from William’s house hadn't suddenly popped up to treat the cattle, the masters would surely have only locked us up for a few days before letting us out to tend to the herd again. At least... at least that would have prevented the injured oxen from getting worse!"

"Sigh!" Baker, the elder son, let out a heavy sigh. "What's the use of saying this now? We are no longer the cowherds! Besides, the Baron has already agreed, and there’s even a new cowherd now."

"How can it be useless?" Green’s face was full of defiance. "We are injured, but our skills remain! The scoundrel family that stole our shed has no way of managing such a large herd! Once an accident happens, the masters will remember us soon enough!"

"With two cowherd assistants and the serfs helping out, how could there be an accident?" Baker shook his head slowly.

"I heard..." Green lowered his voice, "that for the past two days, the cowherd assistants and the serfs haven't been in the shed at night; they’ve been running off to harvest honeycombs for that bastard."

"Old William’s two sons are living in the shed now, too," Baker reminded his brother.

"Idra and Grace?" Green didn't hide his contempt. "With them? Can they manage a whole herd of cattle?"

Baker shook his head, disagreeing with his brother. "William’s family already had their own cattle, and the two brothers have at least been learning for so many days. If it were the busy summer season or if some chaos broke out, maybe they couldn't handle it, but what trouble could there be while sleeping at night?"

"If... I mean, if..." At this point, Green’s scrutinizing gaze crawled slowly across the crude wooden door, the drafty walls, and the patchwork support beams like a wary viper, as if a pair of invisible ears were hiding within the dead branches, straw, and unplucked leaves. After scanning the room several times to ensure no one else was listening, Green said in the lowest possible voice, "What if we... caused a little trouble for them?"

"What?" Kent, Sanchez’s son, who had been standing by his father’s side with his lips tightly pressed together since entering the shed, couldn't help but cry out. "How could we do that?"

"Hey!" Sanchez tilted his head with dissatisfaction, and Kent immediately closed his mouth.

"Why couldn't we?" Green answered Kent’s question according to his own logic. "Those two brothers have only been learning for a few days. How much do they know about cowherding? Just drop a spark, or add something into the overnight fodder... then, whether they want it to be chaotic or not, it will be."

"This..." Sanchez pondered, slightly raising his head. After a long while, under the obvious anticipation of Green and the less enthusiastic gaze of Baker, Sanchez slowly shook his head. "I don't think that’s a good idea."

As he spoke, Sanchez’s arm slowly gestured toward Brown lying in the straw, Baker with his immobile right arm, and Green with his limp. "The three of you as you are now—if you were discovered, you wouldn't even have a chance to run. Even if no one discovered you, it would be very difficult for you to pull this off."

"I know that, but... but..." The look in Green’s eyes as he stared at Sanchez was filled with deep pleading. "Seeing Father like this, I really can't wait any longer..."

"Sigh," Sanchez sighed deeply.

"Uncle, you are the only one who can help us." At this point, Green’s eyes reddened, his voice choking with sobs.

"Sigh," Sanchez sighed deeply again.

Green, with his head lowered, glanced slightly to the side and saw Baker give an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Uncle, don't worry," Green said, changing tactics upon receiving the hint. "I... I don't want you to go to the master’s shed. Just pretend you never heard this."

"We definitely can't get close during the day. And if it were at night, you’ve seen..." Green moved half a step with difficulty, revealing his left leg, which was twisted at an odd angle. "In my state, it would take a very, very long time to get to the shed. Plus the time to prepare, and the time to actually stir up trouble... we definitely wouldn't make it before that bastard and the cowherd assistants got there."

"Sigh," Sanchez’s response remained a long, heavy sigh.

"When the time comes, could you help keep them occupied outside for a little longer?"

"What do you want me to do?" Sanchez finally asked.

"The beehives! Uncle, you live nearby! You just need to knock on the hives a few times, or shake the wooden poles!" Green’s voice was fast and hurried, yet fluent, clearly having pondered this for a long time. "Those hives were just moved from the forest. If you bump them a few times, who knows, something might go wrong, and they’ll have plenty to busy themselves with."

"Hmm," Sanchez nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

The conversation reached a subtle turning point. After Sanchez fell into silence, Green found it hard to say anything more. The quiet atmosphere persisted for over ten seconds.

"Then, that’s all for now. Take good care of Brown."

With that, Sanchez tugged at his second son, who had only spoken a single sentence since entering the shed. "Let’s go, let’s head home."

Moving the "door" of the shed aside, Sanchez led his son out a few steps when Green, supported by Baker, chased after them.

"Uncle, please think about it. Just knock on the beehives, give us a little more time to cause some chaos, and let the masters know that William’s family can't be relied upon at all!"

Sanchez said nothing.

"You don't have to worry about anything at all. You know our brothers' skills very well! As long as there is enough time, we will never leave any traces. It will definitely look like it was Los's fault!"

Sanchez said nothing.

"When that happens, my father and both of us brothers are injured. We only ask to go to the lord’s shed and do the work those two outsiders are doing now. You have studied cowherding for so many years; who else could the cowherd position be for, if not you?"

Sanchez said nothing.

"Uncle, please think about it..."

Sanchez said nothing.

"Uncle, I beg you, please think about it! It’s really just knocking on the beehives a few times..."

"Knocking on beehives..." Sanchez finally said slowly, "That sounds quite dangerous, doesn't it?"

"No, no, no." Finally hearing a response from Sanchez, Green shook his head vigorously. "As long as you stand far enough away, it will be fine! You can rest assured, Uncle. When I was very young, I snuck off to poke at hives. As long as you stand far enough away and have a long enough branch, the bees will go away after a while."

"And if you stand too close?"

"Then it will just be leaving it for the bastard born to that old scoundrel, and we’ll let that damned Los get a taste of it."

As he said this, Green’s eyes were bloodshot. Or perhaps, they were gleaming with malice.