Chapter Forty-Four: The “Trade” of Miners

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Fearing unexpected changes, Art arrived at the quarry that very afternoon to recruit (or purchase) soldiers.

The quarry stood against the mountain, with several hills cut open halfway through. The steep slopes of the fault were carved into multiple terraces, each tier occupied by miners wielding hammers, chisels, and picks to extract stone blocks. These large stones were carried by groups of three to five laborers along narrow paths beside the terraces down to a clearing below. On the ground, a dozen or so stonemasons hewed the blocks into rectangular slabs, which were then loaded onto iron-plated carts waiting nearby to be transported to various construction sites. Guard posts surrounded the quarry, both to prevent theft of the slabs and to stop the miners from fleeing.

According to the quarry overseer, there were over 120 miners in total. Their low status and harsh living conditions meant that even the most unattractive widows would not marry them; thus, most miners lived alone.

Led by the overseer, Art and his companions rode their horses to the workers’ barracks. Several foremen resting inside quickly rose to greet them upon seeing the overseer’s arrival.

The overseer explained, “These men come on behalf of Bishop Olof. They have been ordered to temporarily select a group of miners from the quarry to form a caravan that will travel south to procure materials for the Bishop’s church renovations.”

Art smiled and nodded a greeting to all. Ron and Kazak unloaded a bucket of light beer from their saddles and placed it on the wooden table inside the barracks.

Art pointed to the beer and said, “Foremen, thank you for your hard work. Consider this beer a token of appreciation from Bishop Olof through me.”

As Art invited the foremen to drink, the overseer pulled one trusted foreman aside. “You will gather the miners here shortly for this gentleman to select from.”

The foreman glanced at Art’s group, then hesitated before whispering into the overseer’s ear, “Sir, most of these miners are slaves or penal laborers sent to the monastery from various regions. Isn’t it improper to take them away just like that?”

The overseer’s eyes widened in irritation. “Whether it’s proper or not is for me to decide. Besides, these men are only temporarily assigned as laborers. With Bishop Olof’s men watching, they won’t escape. Once the task is done, they will naturally return.”

The foreman muttered a few words under his breath—“Who would believe they’ll come back? Looks like we’ll have to report deaths from sickness or violence again”—but, intimidated by the overseer’s usual harshness, he obediently carried out the order.

After giving the instructions, the overseer turned to Art. “Sir, you must hurry with your selections. I still need to resume quarrying the stone slabs.”

Art smiled and nodded in agreement.

The clear clinking of copper bells rang overhead as groups of miners began gathering at the wooden barracks. Soon, seventy or eighty stood in the clearing before the building.

Seeing most of the miners assembled, the overseer gestured to Art to proceed.

Art placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist, climbed onto a small wooden platform in front of the barracks, with Ron and Kazak standing straight behind him. His voice rang out clearly:

“Brothers, I have been sent by Bishop Olof to temporarily recruit laborers and guards to accompany my caravan south to buy goods. You all know that Provence and Lombardy are at war now, so traveling south is dangerous. But I won’t let you take the risk in vain. Those who join me will be well fed and clothed along the way, and receive a weekly wage of five pennies. Your duties will be to drive the carts and carry the goods; if you encounter bandits or highwaymen, just lend a hand with a stick to bolster our defense...”

A murmur ran through the miners. Many had been slaves and prisoners at the quarry for years, enduring daily exposure to wind and sun, swinging hammers and breaking stones, doing the work of cattle and horses while eating like swine—there was no harsher life on earth. Without much encouragement, several miners were already eager to volunteer.

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Art’s voice rose again at the right moment: “However, since this is a mission for the Bishop, I must be selective. First, only able-bodied men—no elderly or infirm. Second, only those without families—no husbands, wives, or children. Third, only the brave and strong—no cowards. Those who meet these conditions, step forward. I am recruiting only ten men; once full, no more.”

Before Art finished, a miner about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing loose hemp trousers and bare-chested, stepped forward.

Art nodded to Kazak and Ron, who jumped down from the platform and approached the miner. Kazak inspected the man like one would a beast of burden, squeezing his muscles and checking his teeth. Passing Kazak’s initial assessment, the miner moved before Ron.

Having seen battle, Ron no longer felt shy. Standing before the miner who was a head taller than him, he asked with confidence, “What’s your name, and why are you here?”

The miner answered openly, “My name is Obot. I was a slave, sold here.”

“Have you killed anyone?”

“No, but I’m not afraid to kill.”

“Good. You’re selected. Register over there.”

Obot stepped away from the crowd to a wooden table beneath the barracks where the overseer held a quill pen, circling his name on a parchment.

The second miner who stepped forward tried to flatter Ron with smooth talk and boasted greatly. Ron barely asked questions before rejecting him outright, following Art’s guidelines to exclude slick, streetwise, or excessively aggressive men who would be hard to discipline.

The third miner, punished to hard labor for accidentally killing someone in a fight, passed Kazak and Ron’s tests and was registered before joining Obot.

Then came the fourth, fifth, and so on...

Art’s criteria were not overly strict for these miners; about half the group stepped forward to be considered. But Ron had rejected nearly thirty men before filling the quota of ten—the overseer allowed Art to take no more than ten miners. Art also intended to cap the number at ten since the patrol unit itself counted only eighteen men. These miners were not like ordinary laborers; most were not trustworthy. Recruiting too many would negatively impact the patrol’s overall combat power and discipline. Thus, Art planned to further select from these ten later.

While the chosen miners returned to their barracks to gather belongings in preparation for departure, Art and the overseer slipped away to a private spot. Art handed over three large silver marks and six small silver deniers. The overseer weighed the coins, took one high-quality silver mark, inspected it, then happily placed it in his pouch...

...

That evening, Art and his two companions, with the ten miners, settled in a small inn north of Lusessen. Art treated the miners to a hearty meal of meat broth, oat porridge, and rye bread.

That night, Ron and Kazak planned to take turns keeping watch to prevent any escapes, but Art stopped them. These men would not run. Most were registered slaves and penal laborers; if caught escaping, they would face harsher punishment. Having promised them full meals, warm clothing, and wages, they were unlikely to leave on their own.

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Sure enough, early the next morning, Art opened his door to find Obot and several others waiting outside.

“Sir, thank you for the generous food and warm lodging. Please assign us today’s tasks,” Obot bowed respectfully.

Art looked at the group, bowing and bending their bodies, and said, “I think you have guessed that I did not just temporarily recruit you to be merchants. I have bought you from the quarry. If you serve me well, you will never return to being mining slaves. Although I purchased you, I do not intend to keep you as slaves forever. I will select suitable men among you to join my patrol unit. Once you become soldiers in my patrol, you will no longer be slaves or penal laborers. Even if you are not chosen for the patrol, if you serve me diligently for two years, I will restore your status as free men.”

The miners’ hearts leapt with joy; they had expected only a slightly better fate than being quarry slaves but now saw a real chance to regain their freedom.

“May God bless you, honorable sir,” the miners knelt down, heads touching the ground.

Art called the miners together.

“After breakfast today, I will select a few of you to accompany me into the city to buy supplies. The rest will stay and rest here at the inn. I will arrange your food and lodging, but do not wander about to avoid trouble.” With that, Art led them downstairs.

Ron had already prepared the meals. The miners had a large pot of pea and barley mush, while Art, Ron, and Kazak enjoyed salted meat broth soaked with bread.

Everyone ate heartily.

That day, Art, Ron, and several miners spent the entire day wandering Lusessen. They spent two thousand pennies to buy a wooden, iron-bound four-wheeled cart and a strong mule with a dark coat. They also purchased a batch of grain, smoked meat, farming tools, salt, and coarse linen cloth. They outfitted the ten ragged miners with rough cloth short jackets.

Art sighed again at the expense—over three thousand pennies vanished in a single day.

Unexpectedly, the miners who received the new roughcloth clothing were not pleased. They believed that the more generous their new master appeared, the more dangerous the road ahead would be...

After four days in Lusessen, Art led his group of a dozen or so people out of the city’s southern gate, heading back south. To prepare for potential dangers on the road, Art bought ten long sticks used in competitions from the city’s arena. The ten miners, unarmed otherwise, each carried a long staff for self-defense.

However, unlike the previous journey, their return trip was uneventful. In less than five days, they had reached the territory of Tinez.