Planting an idea

At the edge of the meadow Gawain tugs at the horse's reins and it stops walking. With the cart stopped at the edge of the forest, the redhead observes the landscape before him, a view quite different from the one from a month ago.

On this side of the stream, the workers have cleared about half of the land, which is no small feat given the huge pile of brush Gawain can see in the distance.

Dozens of workers are clearing the other half of the land: some are cutting down trees, others are carrying already-cut brush to the trash pile, and others are working in groups to pull tree trunks out of the ground. The latter seems to be the most demanding task, both in physical effort and time.

A small group is building a bridge over the stream that divides the meadow in half, a few workers are guiding oxen that pull the plows, and the other workers are plowing the field by hand with hoes.

"A month has passed and they have barely plowed a tenth of the land." Gawain sighs as he surveys the plowed area.

The village owns two plows and four oxen, all communally owned. Those two plows are pretty primitive in the redhead's humble opinion.

"There's no way they're going to succeed before the deadline at this rate..." He tightened his grip on the horse's reins. "I have to help them."

Gawain sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"I have to help them without giving myself away, without looking too smart or weird."

He gives the horse a gentle blow with the reins and it continues advancing along the road, when leaving the line of trees some of the peasants notice him, they stop working and point their fingers at him, others greet him.

Gawain recognizes most faces that greet him, Greenwood is small and he has a very good memory. The boy returns the greeting and stops the car in an area where the workers had left their possessions.

"Gawain! What are you doing here? Where is Galahad?" Marian runs to her son and he gestures for her to lower her voice, pointing to the baby who is still sleeping.

"Some knights passed through the village and stopped at the tavern. Genna had to stay to serve them." Explained the boy.

"So you came to bring us the food." Marian takes her son in her arms and kisses him in the check. "Why didn't Balor bring us food? That boy has nothing to do during the day but sing and play that lute of his."

Gawain shrugged.

He agreed to do this favor for Balor because it also benefits him, but that doesn't mean he's going to bother defending the teenager.

`Sorry Bal. You were the one who entrusted this task to a child and a baby, you will be the one who deals with the scolding. I'll just be a kind and helpful boy." Gawain hides a playful smile as his mother greets Thor.

The giant cub wags his tail from side to side and barks happily.

"What a good pup." Marian pats him. "You protected my boys didn't you? Well done Thor! Loki is watching the house in your absence?" His mother turns to him and Gawain nods.

"What is the boy doing here? Where is my wife?" Tobias, Genna's husband, approaches the small family and looks at the cart with a frown.

The redhead repeats what he said to his mother and Tobias curses Balor.

"That damn brat! He not only refuses to help us but sends a child to run his errands! When I get back to Greenwood I'll rip his ears off!"

Tobias is Balor's uncle on his mother's side, since Balor's mother died his uncle pampered him a lot since he reminds him of his late sister. Tobias even gave him a lute and taught him what little he knew about how to play it, so to see him pissed off at his nephew is a very rare sight.

`If I think about it, it is not so strange, Balor entrusted everyone's food to a small child. If I were an ordinary child I might have gotten lost on the way here or abandoned the errand to go play somewhere.` Gawain feels a little sympathy for the teenager but won't open his mouth to deflect Tobias's anger towards him.

"Tobias, stop growling and swearing like an animal and call everyone to eat." Marian puts her hands on her hips and glares at the man.

Tobias opens his mouth to say something and the intensity of Marian's glare increases, intimidating him enough that he complies.

Gawain looks admiringly at his mother.

`It takes quite something to intimidate a grown man like that, even more so in this world.`

Marian picked up a blanket and spread it out on the grass a few feet from the cart and motioned for her son to come closer.

"Gawain, stay here with Thor and your brother while I take care of distributing the food."

Gawain complies and sits on the blanket, he releases his brother from the baby carrier and lays him on the blanket. The baby stretches out and continues to sleep peacefully, ignoring the noise around him.

While the peasants come to eat, the redhead examines them more closely. They all look tired, exhausted even, but for some reason they don't seem miserable. They are smiling and joking with each other as they wait their turn in the line that has formed towards the cart.

`In Earth people complain as if the world were ending if the bus arrives two minutes late, or if God forbid there is a traffic jam. Here life is much harder, people have a thousand reasons to spend all day complaining but they don't. They enjoy the company of others and a meal as simple as vegetable soup with a piece of bread lifts their spirits.`

Gawain feels he is learning a valuable lesson by watching his neighbors: happiness lies in the simplest things in life. But a part of his brain, the part that is still firmly Damian Artois, wonders other things.

`Is their complacency due to religious indoctrination? On Earth the role of religion during the Middle Ages was mostly to convince the majority of the population that they have to endure the harshness of earthly life and work hard without complaint to earn eternal salvation. `

Suffer on earth in order to earn access to paradise. Gawain did not hear those exact words but he did hear a lot about the Seven Heavens, about the eternal life promised to those free from sin. He also heard about the duties of men: "Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One"

Greenwood has a small sept and every seven days Septon Umbert gives them a several hour sermon in which he reads passages from The Seven-Pointed Star and tells stories about the Seven Aspects of the One True God.

"Why the long face, boy?" Ralof came over with a bowl of soup in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.

"It's nothing, uncle." Gawain shakes his head, dismissing these thoughts, even though he has pushed them to a far corner of his mind they refuse to go away. "How are you?"

"I can't complain, I'd rather be working at the sawmill but this isn't that bad." Ralof shrugs and takes a sip from the bowl. "Tsk, Genna's food is not as good as my Gertha's."

"Aunt Gertha would be glad if she heard you say that." The redhead chuckles.

"She won't hear it from my mouth and not even from yours." His uncle gives him a warning look.

"Wouldn't it make her happy to hear how much you value her cooking?"

Ralof snorts and shakes his head.

"The last time I called her pretty, she turned that into an argument that ended with me sleeping outside in the cold."

`Old married couples are a mystery to me, tho mother and father are nothing like them and they have been married for over six years.` Gawain turns his head and sees his parents distributing food to their neighbors side by side.

Gareth and Marian always act as an extension of each other, moving in such synchronicity that their son finds it fascinating. Gawain has never seen them argue or fight, they are always loving and affectionate towards each other, although of course each one in their own way.

Gareth always gets up early and makes everyone breakfast, knowing that Marian has a harder time getting up in the morning. He constantly gives his wife something to show his affection, be it a flower or a scented soap that she loves. Physical affection does not come naturally to Gareth and he blushes if his wife kisses his cheek with their children in front of her, the complete opposite of Marian. She is a person who loves to pamper those she loves with affection, be it her husband or her children. Whenever Gareth has a tougher day at work, Marian always makes him one of his favorite meals, something that never fails to bring a smile to his face.

`Mother is a great cook.`

"Galahad is still sleeping?" Marian and Gareth sit on the blanket, each with a bowl of soup in hand.

"Hahah sleeps like a drunk with a belly full of beer and meat." Ralof laughs.

"Much more he won't sleep if you keep being so loud, uncle." Gareth says dryly.

"Are you telling me to shut up, boy?" Ralof narrows his eyes and looks at his nephew.

"Aye." Gareth's response is quick and his wife and son chuckle.

Ralof makes a sulky face and crosses his arms.

"Cheeky brat."

"Uncle, can you show me the plows?" Gawain interrupts his uncle before he starts arguing with his father. These playful discussions are always a joy to watch, but the redhead is on a mission.

"Huh? There's not much to see but of course, here it's obvious I am not wanted." Ralof gives his nephew a mock hurt look and stands up.

"Have fun." Marian waves at them with a smile.

"Watch out for the oxen," Gareth tells them.

"Watch out for the oxen, he says, as if I were a child." The old man mutters to himself. The walk is short and they are there in a few minutes, as Ralof heads towards the animals Gawain goes straight for the plow.

He examines it closely.

`A Roman plow, or whatever it's called here.`

The plow is formed by a long pole that is pulled by the animals, at the end of the pole is the handle (rear part of the plow where the person who tills holds it). Fixed towards the ground is a piece of iron resembling an arrowhead.

`Now I need to convince my uncle to invest the few coins he has to improve this primitive tool.`

Gawain crouches down beside the plow and puts on his best thoughtful face, even rubbing his chin.

"What do you think, my boy? It's not very elegant but without this it would cost us five times as much to plow the field." Ralof crouched down next to him.

"Isn't it too heavy?" Asks the redhead innocently.

"Haha, it is. A grown man can barely hold it but these oxen are beasts, my boy. They are stronger than five- no, ten men!"

The redhead nods and looks at the animals in admiration and then looks back at the cart in which he came to the meadow.

"An ox is stronger than a horse?"

"Of course it is! An ox is as strong as two good horses!" Ralof follows his line of sight.

"The cart is heavier than the plow, and the supplies on it are very heavy but a horse is able to pull it on its own and quite easily. Genna and Tobias's horse doesn't even look very tired after pulling the cart from the village to here! Why is that?"

At the words of his great-nephew Ralof blinks in bewilderment and looks from the cart to the plow.

`Came on, uncle. It's not so difficult.`

He rubs his chin thoughtfully and after a while he answers.

"Well, because the cart has wheels." He finally answers.

Gawain's eyes light up and he smiles brightly.

`Almost there.`

"The horse can pull the cart, which is heavier than the plow, because the cart has wheels and the horse does not have to drag the entire weight of the cart!" Gawain exclaims as if he just realized it.

"Exact!" Ralof opens and closes his mouth before smiling at his great-nephew.

"Then why doesn't the plow have wheels?"

At the redhead's question, Ralof blinks again.

"Wouldn't it be easier for the oxen to pull the plow if it had wheels?"

"Well, yes." Ralof narrows his eyes at the cart and nods. "If the plow had wheels..."

"Then the oxen will have it easier and they could work faster!" Gawain interrupts his uncle.

"..." The mechanisms of Ralof's brain began to turn and the redhead could almost hear them.

`I have already planted the seed, that is all I can do for now.`

At first Gawain had also planned to mention the piece of metal that plows the ground, that iron arrow is not very productive, but that is something much more complicated. Putting some wheels on the plow is easier and cheaper than forging a piece of metal.

`Time, money and simplicity. They are key.`

Gareth leaves his uncle crouched on the ground looking at the plow and walks over to the stream, he sits on a rock and starts throwing pebbles into the water.

`My words were those of a child, they were simple questions with equally simple answers. I didn't show my intelligence. Socrates was a genius, it's really easier to convince someone of an idea if instead of telling them directly you guide them towards it.`

***

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