Chapter 4

Sid spent the day picking apples and acquired fifteen pinches. He was one pinch short of four quad, when the paymaster called it a day. Dropping off his last basket, he went over to the apple tree with the broken branch. It was almost more than the knife was capable of doing, but he managed to cut the branch from the tree with it. The knife broke when he started to trim the branch. Disgusted, he picked up the pieces of the knife and headed to the temporary camp where the other workers stayed.

As he walked, the owner and the paymaster joined him. Looking from side to side at the men bracketing him, Sid asked, “What’s a man to do for food around here?”

The owner answered, “We provide a good stew for the workers. My wife makes it and we are quite proud of her abilities as a cook. You won’t be disappointed by her stew. We provide one mug of watered wine with the meal. If you want a mug of ale, that’ll cost you a pinch. If you want more watered wine, that’ll cost you a pinch for a pitcher.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Sid. Watered wine was the staple drink in this world and contained just enough alcohol to kill off anything that lived in the water, but not enough to get drunk. Even kids in this world drank watered wine instead of just plain water. Plain wine was undiluted, but from what Sid had learned was still weaker than the wine that he knew at home. Ale was the stronger drink and was basically reserved for men.

“Are you staying here for another day?” asked the owner. He was concerned about Sid’s presence. He had heard how easily the man had taken care of Clem and it seemed strange for the man to choose to work in such a menial job.

“If you’ll have me, Sir.”

Convinced that Sid was there to rob them, the paymaster asked, “Why are you here?”

Holding up the branch, Sid said, “As a number of people have commented, I’m without a weapon. I’d like to fix that situation with this branch, I figure that it will take a full day to turn it into a reasonable weapon.”

“A day?” asked the owner surprised by the answer. As far as he knew, once the branch was trimmed it could be used as a weapon.

“Sure. Have to clean it up, remove the bark, and allow it to dry out a little more. I’ll have to live with letting it dry overnight, although it looks like the wood is already pretty dry. A month in a smokehouse would be better and nine months at a lumber yard the best, but I can’t wait that long. Then I’ll fix the ends with wet leather, and allow the leather to dry,” answered Sid as he went through the process in his mind. Although metal bands at the end would be better, dried leather would serve well enough to keep the wood from splitting the first time he jammed the staff into something hard.

The paymaster had served as captain of the guard at the Rider citadel until his brother had taken over the position. He knew exactly what Sid was saying. He’d watched an armorer go through a similar process, but he had used metal end caps on the staff. Not many people actually knew how to build a quality weapon. He asked, “So you came here to pick apples so that you could make an applewood staff?”

“Yes. That and this place is on my way to where I need to be,” answered Sid. He knew what was bothering the paymaster. His eyes flicked down to the massive sword encased in its sheath. He had no doubts that the paymaster knew how to use it.

“And where do you need to be?” asked the paymaster.

“That’s my business,” answered Sid.

The paymaster moved his hand down to his sword. In a calm voice, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Sid Jones,” answered the young man watching the paymaster to see if he went for his sword. He could sense that others were watching the exchange. He guessed that they were additional guards in the employ of the paymaster.

“Jones? Are you kin of Gerald Jones?” asked the paymaster at hearing Sid give himself the unusual clan name.

“Yes,” answered Sid surprised to hear his uncle’s name.

“How is Gerald?” asked the paymaster pretending a familiarity intended to test the young man. To falsely claim kinship with Gerald Jones would be a major transgression.

Sid couldn’t hide the sadness that the question invoked. In a tired voice, he answered, “He passed away.”

“Oh,” replied the retired soldier realizing that no one would claim that unless it was true. He could see the effort it took the young man to give his answer. Nodding his head, he asked, “So are you willing to swear on the honor of the Jones Clan that you aren’t here to harm us?”

Sid stopped and looked at the paymaster with an angry frown at the accusation that he might be there for reasons that were no good. The owner of the orchard edged away, surprised at the sudden tension between the two men. This was too much for him to deal with; he was just a farmer trying to get his crops harvested. One of the guards stepped closer to provide support to the paymaster.

With real anger in his voice, Sid asked, “You want me to swear on my Clan Honor?”

Holding his hands away from his sword to prevent an outbreak of violence, the paymaster answered, “I asked if you were willing, not that you had to swear on your Clan Honor.”

“Either is an insult,” said Sid, barely able to keep his hand from striking the paymaster. A man could be asked to swear upon his honor without insult, but swearing upon clan honor was reserved for major agreements between clans. Only leaders within a clan could make such an oath. A person that made such an oath without full rights would be hunted down and killed by the entire clan. The same punishment was served upon a person who broke such an oath.

“Spoken like a true member of a clan that produced a man like Gerald Jones,” replied the paymaster with a smile. He had reacted like a man who was actually authorized to swear on the honor of his clan. Shaking his head, he said, “An imposture wouldn’t have reacted with your anger. If you hadn’t reacted so, I would have killed you where you stood. You need not make any oath. I trust you not to harm us.”

Sid relaxed a little at the explanation. It had surprised him at how angry he had gotten at the request and he wondered why. He replied, “Your trust is safe with me.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” said the paymaster with a smile

“I thought it was free.”

“It is. That’s why I’ll buy you dinner,” replied the paymaster with a laugh. As they walked to where the food was being served, the man said, “I’m Gregor of the Rider Clan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Gregor,” replied Sid. He tried to remember what he could of the Rider Clan. It was one of the older clans in this world, and had started as a tribe of nomads. They had eventually settled in a western area of the land, built the Rider citadel, and raised horses. In time, members of the Clan had spread across the land. Being a member of the Rider Clan on Chaos was almost as common as having the name Smith or Jones on Earth. The core of the clan still lived and worked in the citadel. Since so many people were named Rider, the core of the clan didn’t recognize most of the people claiming to be clan.

The two men stood in line to receive a bowl of stew. After receiving it, they took seats around a fire to eat and talk. Sid was pleased to learn that the owner had been telling the truth when he had boasted about his wife’s cooking. The stew was very good. The watered wine wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected. After they had finished the meal, Sid used one of the broken pieces of the knife to strip the bark off the branch.

As he worked, Gregor talked about his time spent as captain of the guard at the Rider Citadel. Sid listened to the man learning more about life here on Chaos. Upon learning that Gregor had once been Captain of the Guard at the Rider Citadel, Sid knew that Gregor was a member of the core Rider Clan. Only a true clan member would be allowed such a high position of responsibility. He asked, “So why did you step down as Captain of the Guard?”

“Tradition,” answered Gregor.

“Tradition?”

“Our roots are as Nomads. At the age of twenty-five, we are expected to leave the Citadel for five years and see the world. When I return, I’ll get a homestead and raise horses,” he answered.

Sid nodded as he listened to Gregor answer his question. From what he understood, getting a homestead from within a clan was about the same as becoming a Lord in England. He was expected to have a standing army and to provide men upon request by the Clan Leader. For performing his Lordly duties, he would have a voice in the Clan Council.

Sid asked, “So the fellow that’s sitting over there is a retainer?”

“Retainer? I’m not familiar with the term,” answered Gregor.

“He works for your clan,” clarified Sid wondering if the term carried over into this world.

“No. He works for me,” said Gregor with a frown. He wondered how the Jones Clan operated. The idea of a person working for a Clan rather than an individual seemed very odd.

Realizing that he had touched upon a concept that was not known here on Chaos, Sid shrugged his shoulders and said, “I just came from a place where that was common.”

“Oh,” replied Gregor.

Sid finished removing the bark from the branch. He examined it for a good straight section, finding that the main length was a little shorter than he would have liked. The result would be about four and a half feet long rather than the five feet that he wanted. The missing six inches would be a problem in a fight unless he took the time to practice. Frowning, he decided that it would have to do.

Looking at the broken knife, he knew that it would take forever to trim the ends off of the branch. Gregor noticed and called out, “Derek, come here for a minute.”

The man that had been watching over them stepped forward and nodded his head towards Gregor. In a very soft voice that didn’t carry far, he asked, “What do you need, Sir?”

“Run up to the barn and get an axe for me.”

The tone of voice suggested Gregor was used to giving orders without the need for explaining them. The man walked off at a reasonable pace that was not a slow walk or a scurry. Gregor turned to Sid and said, “An axe will let you trim that little stick of yours.”

“Yes, it would. Thank you,” replied Sid.

“You know how to make weapons. That’s a rare skill,” commented Gregor. He had been watching Sid work and noticed the care the man had taken in removing the bark and little imperfections in the surface of the wood.

“I only know how to make simple weapons. Bows, arrows, staffs, and such,” answered Sid as he ran a hand over the wood seeking out imperfections that could cut his hands when he used it.

“You consider a bow to be a simple weapon?”

“Let’s just say there are bows, and there are bows,” answered Sid with a smile. He had made exactly one bow in the past under the direction of his uncle, and it had been fairly crude. Despite the crudeness of his work, the result could launch an arrow straight and with sufficient momentum to be serviceable.

Gregor laughed at the comment, as he had seen some pretty sorry bows in his time. Growing up in the citadel, he had never had to make a weapon of his own. Weapons were purchased from master craftsmen who specialized in different kinds of weapons. If he were to lose his weapons, he would head to the nearest city and withdraw some money from a bank to purchase replacements. He hadn’t thought about learning how to make his own replacements.

In a respectful tone of voice, he said, “I can see where it is a useful skill to have.”

“Useful enough,” commented Sid.

Derek returned with the axe and handed it to Gregor. Gregor nodded his thanks and handed the axe over to Sid. After glancing at the edge, Sid commented, “Thanks for sharpening it.”

Derek shrugged and slipped into the background without saying a word. Gregor had watched the exchange with amusement. Sid got up and walked over to a woodpile and selected a simple log. It wouldn’t do to use the axe on the branch with it resting on the bare ground. Nothing would dull a blade faster than using it against the ground.

Returning to his spot by the fire, Sid set the log on the ground and then laid the branch across the length of it. Using a foot to hold the branch solidly against the log, he raised the axe and brought it down on the branch. The result was a nice single cut that was nearly square. He picked it up and examined the end. Satisfied, he turned the branch and repeated the process on the other end.

Gregor commented, “It looks a little short to me.”

“It is short, but I had to do it that way. If I had included a short section with a slight curve in it, the first time I powered the staff into a hard target it would have snapped,” replied Sid as he checked the staff for imperfections. He had done this under the watchful eye of his uncle more than once and seen the results of each mistake.

“I didn’t know that,” said Gregor looking at the young man with a lot more respect.

Sid removed the coin purse that had been taken from Clem. As he transferred the money from that coin purse into his, he found another nine pinches and a quad. At the moment, though, the leather of the purse was worth more to him than the contents. With the remains of his knife, he dismantled the leather coin purse and cut it into strips of leather. The strips went into his cup filled with the watered wine.

While the leather soaked, Sid sat back and considered how to quickly dry out the wood. He stuck an end of the staff over the fire and slowly turned it. It wouldn’t catch fire, but would dry it out. He’d have to be careful to dry it evenly or it would warp on him.

Gregor watched as Sid turned the staff and adjusted what part of the staff was directly over the fire. After five minutes, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Drying the wood. Dry wood is stronger than wet wood. Wet wood will warp as it dries and the staff could become useless by the time I need to use it,” answered Sid. He pulled the staff back and turned it around to dry the other end of the staff.

For the next several hours, Sid worked the staff over the fire. When it began to warp in one direction, he turned the wood so that the curved side was facing the fire. The staff would slowly straighten out. With time, the wood could actually be seen to be getting harder. Gregor watched Sid work. He was appreciating the skill the young man was demonstrating, while at the same time he was learning to make a staff.

It was late at night when Sid pulled the staff from over the fire and examined the wood. He was satisfied with the result. Nodding his head, he reached for his cup and pulled out a piece of leather. With care, he wrapped the leather strip around one end of the staff. Noticing Gregor’s attention, he said, “The leather is wet. If I wrap it tightly around the end, then when it dries it will become very tight. That will keep the end from splitting.”

Gregor nodded his understanding. He was making mental notes. When he left this particular job, he’d spend a couple of days making his own staves. The discussion around the fire had convinced him that it would be a good skill to have. His clan required the male members to travel on their own for five years. The official reason was to prove one’s ability, but Gregor knew that the real reason was to learn from experiences that wouldn’t be available within the citadel.