56 Faith

Aikeli Village, the Church.

As Wu Qingchen found both his paths blocked and was engulfed in the ocean of aunties and grandmothers, Pastor Playa had just stepped out of the village’s only stone-built structure.

The summer weather changed swiftly; at some point, the clouds had vanished and the sun emerged once more. Stepping outside, the pastor immediately squinted, raising his right hand to shade his forehead.

Another night without proper sleep... How many times has this happened in recent days?

Sunlight filtered through his fingers, and the pastor’s steps felt unsteady, his face a bit pale—this had become his norm lately. Ever since the village’s herd was injured, he hadn’t rested well. Yesterday afternoon, as evening prayers began, the agricultural official appeared at the church and did not leave until deep into the night, keeping the pastor engaged in endless discussions about further arrangements for the aftermath, not even sparing the time for dinner.

The two even drank two full jugs of creek water...

His tongue still tingled now...

At this thought, the pastor involuntarily licked his lips, feeling once again dizzy and parched. The feeling was far from pleasant, yet thinking about it brought a faint smile to his lips.

The hardship was worth it.

Last night’s discussions with the agricultural official yielded tremendous results for Aikeli Village. The official had abandoned his previous mad plans of “forcing villagers to pull ploughs,” “gathering all healthy oxen,” and “requiring recovering oxen to complete all summer tasks before being freely used.”

In the final arrangement, freshly decided in the dead of night: summer tasks could be postponed; uninjured oxen could be lent among villagers; recovering oxen, after completing some summer tasks, could be used to till their family plots; next year, as long as a farming family paid more than half the set farm tax, the remainder would not require the forfeiture of livestock and could be postponed for about half a year...

And so on, and so on...

Such sweeping changes could hardly have been made at the official’s sole discretion; his eloquent explanations undoubtedly reflected the baron’s intentions.

The shift from harshness—even madness—to gentleness and kindness was dramatic, yet not abrupt nor unexpected. The original severity stemmed from the near-devastating blow to the village, with little hope for recovery and a bleak future. For the lord, the term “long-term benefit” had lost relevance for Aikeli Village, so squeezing short-term gains to offset losses was the only rational choice.

Now, gentleness prevailed because the injured herd had not suffered the mass deaths that were feared. Most oxen recovered well; some miraculously returned to the fields. Even among the ten most endangered beasts, none were disabled or dead—only two, though much improved, still couldn’t stand due to the severity of their injuries.

While the situation still affected the lord’s land, the village’s summer tasks, and the villagers’ lives, compared to the original grim expectations, the catastrophe had shrunk to something the baron could easily bear. Thus, long-term interests reappeared, mercy became worthwhile, and kindness followed naturally.

For the most part, the interests of farmers are directly linked to those of the church, and this case was no exception.

Yet last night’s discussions brought more than just these benefits to Playa’s church.

This year’s tithe needn’t be worried about—the losses would be covered by the baron himself. The previously promised additional offering was doubled, a substantial sum. With this boon, not only could the church in Aikeli Village wipe away years of arrears, but there would be a considerable surplus.

This meant Pastor Playa could finally shed his greatest worry regarding the imminent three-year parish inspection.

With most of his troubles dispelled, Playa’s steps, though still unsteady, grew lighter.

Of course, none of this came for free. Throughout the nearly sleepless negotiation, Playa not only gained but also gave.

Notably, the pastor’s unsteady steps and pale face, the hard-won gains of last night, stemmed from the results of his nearly sleepless, feverish days prior.

What Playa contributed was the complete method for treating oxen, recorded in hurried ink on rough wooden sticks and a small scraper, plus the herbal samples gathered over two days.

Three days earlier, after morning prayers, he finished his conversation with Wu Qingchen about “deeper treatment methods.” As Wu prepared to leave the church and begin treating the herd, Playa hesitated, but ultimately went with him.

For an entire day, the pastor, with floating steps and bloodshot eyes, indelibly imprinted Wu Qingchen’s treatment process into the deepest recesses of his mind.

Considering the constraints of the medieval world, countless experts—zoologists, botanists, mineralogists, physicians, veterinarians, advisors—sacrificed countless brain cells and lost innumerable hairs to devise a method for Wu Qingchen that was not only uncomplicated but almost crude.

Such a method was easy for any pastor with basic knowledge to grasp. With Wu’s intentional guidance during discussions, Playa learned quickly. Back at the church, after careful reflection, the pastor, convinced there were no problems, finally resolved to set aside his pride and, with great care and anxiety, personally treated the church’s own lightly injured ox—demonstrating the method’s effectiveness in the most direct way.

—Of course, during this experiment, Playa sent away Wu Qingchen, young Andre, and the neighboring farmer who watched over the livestock.

Afterward, his most precious little box lost two blank parchment sheets, replaced by two pages of rough, hastily drawn and invaluable records.

This was the method for treating oxen!

A tested and proven method!

A technique that gave his family’s herd an extra layer of security!

A means to cement his standing within the clan!

A tangible, visible benefit.

Such a gain was impossible for the baron to ignore. Yet in the medieval world, herding secrets, wheel-making tricks, cart-assembling techniques, even the messenger’s walking method, were family secrets never passed on. The baron could rack his brains and never understand why Playa would teach Wu Qingchen such a precious method, but he certainly wouldn’t dream of ordering Playa’s nephew to hand over the three parchment sheets in his cabinet on mere command.

As for directly targeting Wu Qingchen, at this critical moment, it would be no different from snatching the pastor’s parchment by force. As for the future...

The weather today, ha ha ha...

Fifty-six: Faith (Part II)

The way the aftermath was handled for the injured herd changed; the church received a remarkably generous offering; and now he had to stay up late and copy a method for treating oxen...

None of these causes and effects would be mentioned by the baron or the agricultural official, and Playa understood this perfectly.

As a second son, strictly raised since childhood, careful in conduct if not outright walking on eggshells, and after a decade studying under the master, he arrived in Aikeli Village and dealt with these ignorant yet cunning peasants for three years. With such experience, Playa had no worries for little Los.

The method for treating oxen, which directly concerned the fief’s interests, had been provided. As for curious glances, he would keep an eye out, and the little fellow wouldn’t encounter too much trouble...

However...

The pastor hesitated again...

Leaving little Los in Aikeli Village meant he’d get some care...

Yet even if the baron took Los away, for this child who had nothing, it would hardly be a bad thing in most cases...

Well, what difference does it make? Let it be...

Playa’s hesitation lasted only a moment. Having grown up through hardship and understanding the gulf of status, he knew well that whether Los stayed in the village or was taken to the lord’s castle, the care he’d receive from either would be similarly insignificant...

Ah... Such a sensible, hardworking, clever, honest, reliable child—who can even heal injured oxen—why must he be a farmer’s son...

Ultimately, Los’s birth was simply too humble. If only he were a gentleman—or even just the steward’s son—Playa would have quickly taken him as his true student.

Walking and thinking these things, Playa unconsciously passed the church, the wooden cottages, the vegetable beds, and the slopes, following the winding village path towards the fields and stream.

Here, the road trodden by generations of villagers, already narrow, grew even tighter. Unconsciously, the pastor slowed, lowering his head to watch his steps. Just as he rounded several lush shrubs, he paused slightly—his peripheral vision caught some movement to his right.

At that moment, before he could look up, he heard several uneven but respectful calls of “sir” from both sides.

“Ah, it’s you all…” Playa looked around. Cleo, Adcock, and Hansel, along with their sons, scattered across the plots ahead. Tools lay at their feet, baskets sat on either side of the path. Through the wind-stirred rags covering the baskets, Playa glimpsed boiled peas and oat porridge inside.

Noticing Playa’s arrival, the group paused their work and bowed deeply in his direction.

“Good day, Cleo, Adcock, Hansel…” Playa glanced at them one by one. “Been working long?”

“Yes, sir.” Cleo, closest to Playa, bowed again. “Started at dawn…”

“You…” Playa frowned, recalling, “The oxen at home were injured, right? How are they now?”

“Quite well, sir, almost ready for the fields.”

“Thanks to you, sir, the oxen are recovering quickly.”

“Sir, the ox is up again. Los checked yesterday and said it’s fine now.”

At this, Cleo, Adcock, and Hansel nodded in unison, smiles appearing, their gratitude evident.

“Good, good, all’s well…” Playa smiled too, remembering last night’s discussion, and added, “Before the oxen are fully recovered, you can’t return to the fields. Are you aware?”

“Yes, last night, the watchman visited…”

“Don’t worry, sir, Espiel told us…”

“Sir, we won’t do that, you can rest assured…”

As Cleo and the others replied, Playa observed them closely. The farmers’ expressions were sincere, their voices calm. This reassured the pastor.

“Good, good, as long as you know…” Playa nodded absently, looking around, and suddenly frowned. Only then did he notice that the farmers seemed rather crowded together.

“You…” The pastor pointed to the plot before him. “You three families… Are you all working together?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This plot…” Playa hesitated. “I recall it doesn’t belong to any of your families?”

“That’s right, sir… It belongs to Aveilia.”

“Then…” Playa’s frown deepened. “Why are you working Aveilia’s land? Where is Aveilia? What are they doing? Sick?”

“No, no…” Cleo hurriedly shook his head. “Aveilia is fine. Now working on the west side of the village, at the fork by the big tree, in my half of the plot…”

“Your plot?” Playa felt his mind stumble. “…You’re working for Aveilia on the east side, while Aveilia is working for you on the west… What’s the meaning of this? Is there some custom?”

“Well…” Cleo and the others exchanged glances. “…You don’t know?”

“No, I haven’t left the church in three days.”

“Oh, that explains it…” Cleo realized and explained in detail: “It’s like this…”

Cleo described how, with the oxen injured and unable to work, his family and other unfortunate villagers, like everyone, had to do their best to till their plots by hand.

Yet the results weren’t good. Even with all their effort, a day’s work couldn’t match what an ox could accomplish in half a day.

Human strength could never compare to oxen. Without them, everything became harder: plots were far, carrying tools was time-consuming; manpower was lacking, and freshly plowed mud turned hard again by afternoon; repetitive tasks wasted time…

And so on…

With these shared troubles, seven or eight villagers gathered and, while grumbling, someone suggested helping each other, combining efforts by proximity, exchanging plots for tilling.

Cooperation was simple: Cleo, Adcock, Hansel—those living on the east side—helped Aveilia and others from the west till plots on the east; those from the west, like Aveilia, in turn completed the work in Cleo’s west-side plots.

Families helped one another, saving time lost in back-and-forth travel, conserving precious strength wasted carrying heavy tools. Moreover, two or three families working together sped things up, and repetitive work almost disappeared.

“I see…” Playa understood, pondering silently for a long while.

“Sir…” Seeing the pastor fall silent, Cleo grew nervous. “Is this… wrong?”

“Not at all… Don’t worry, Cleo, you’re doing well…” Playa returned to himself, shaking his head with a hint of emotion. “The Lord’s brilliance is everywhere…”

“…Love your brother, love your neighbor, and they will love you… When the road narrows, extend your hands and support your brother. The path will level again, and the light will draw nearer… The poor and needy shall act justly…”

At this point, Playa paused, chuckled, and as he spoke these sacred words, he noticed the farmers wore confused expressions, their brows furrowed, eyes wide, all questioning him: “What are you saying? Are you speaking to me?”

Really, how did I start again…

This had become Playa’s habit lately. In these past weeks, carefully guiding Andre and young Los, whenever he encountered something, felt something, or was moved, he would recite the sacred words, using the Lord’s wisdom to guide his students.

Really, how did I start again… This isn’t the church, nor are those before me diligent students. What use are these words for farmers whose hearts remember only fields and livestock…

Thinking this, the pastor didn’t get angry. Long used to their ignorance and stubbornness, he waved his hand, feeling uninspired: “Forget it… Cleo, Adcock, Hansel, do a good job for Aveilia, just carry on…”

“Yes, sir.”

The group bowed deeply in unison.

After a few steps, sounds of farmers moving ploughs, digging earth, swinging hoes, and shouting to each other reached the pastor’s ears.

“Hansel, move the plough closer…” “Adcock… Where’s my shovel? Where’s the shovel?” “Bajet, Bajet… The rope’s fallen, the rope’s fallen!” “Craig, do you remember what the pastor said? Love your brother… What was next?”

Love your brother?

The pastor’s steps halted abruptly.

“Love your brother, love your neighbor, and they will love you… Then… then…”

“Then I remember…” This was Adcock’s second son, Nevis: “Next is when the road narrows… When the road narrows… When…”

“When the road narrows… extend your hands, support your brother, the path levels again, and the light draws nearer… The poor and needy shall act justly…”

Lord Almighty… What’s happened to my ears?

Playa turned sharply. In the fields, Nevis stood before Adcock, who recited the sacred words fluently and proudly. Around them, several farmers young and old, swinging hoes, pulling ropes, pushing carts, nodded, smiled, and raised their brows—all showing recognition.

Lord Almighty… What’s happened to my eyes?

Only now did Playa realize that when he recited the sacred words, the group of farmers, though confused, didn’t react as during festivals or worship when forced to enter the church—eyes closed, gazing at the ceiling, whispering and glancing around.

Now, he realized, their wide eyes and furrowed brows—if a bit more intense—were exactly the same as young Los and Andre when they listened to his teachings with full concentration.

Lord Almighty… What has happened to Aikeli Village?