Spring 850.
As the weather gradually warmed, the mines north of Stirling began to operate at full capacity. To meet the lord's production targets, the mine manager, Caesar, decided to hire more miners to work the iron ore. There were currently 400 people working in the iron mine: 100 freed slaves, 50 Vikings, and 250 prisoners of war.
The first two needed wages and bonuses, and to cut costs, Caesar repeatedly asked for more prisoners of war, but was refused. Desperate, he resorted to recruiting former freed slaves, and personally escorted the new employees on tours of the mines.
"See, this is our mining district,"
said Caesar as he and 30 new employees arrived at the mine. The earth was reddish-brown and glistened like rust in the morning sun. A group of workers were burning wood on the ground and then pouring large buckets of cold water over it.
Huge clouds of white steam rose from the surface, causing the temperature of the ore to drop sharply. The thermal expansion and contraction caused numerous cracks to form.
The workers then inserted wedges into the cracks and hit them repeatedly with wooden mallets until the reddish-brown ore cracked.
The workers collected the ore in knapsacks, filled them, and carried them down the mountain. They then dumped the ore into heavily laden wagons, which took it several miles to be smelted.
Following the loaded wagons, Caesar and the new workers walked for two hours until they reached the north bank of the Forth River.
Within six months, a large ironworks complex with trenches and a wall around it was built. Within the gates of the wall to the north were barracks, to the east and west were warehouses, and numerous workshops were scattered along the river bank.
First, a sawmill was built, powered by water. The timber felled upstream was brought in, chopped into small pieces and sent to the coal mill, where it was turned into charcoal for smelting iron.
"Sometimes we sell the leftover charcoal to Stirling, on the other side of the river. The charcoal that is sold on the market actually comes from the charcoal burning shops."
Cassel gave the new employees a tour, and then showed them the hydraulic ore crusher.
Here, a group of workers were loading ore from a horse-drawn cart into several troughs.
As the water flowed, the water wheel turned, gradually raising the forge hammer to its highest point and then releasing it.
Bang!
Under the force of gravity, the multi-kilogram hammer struck the ore in the trough, then rose and fell again, repeating the process several times until the ore in the trough was broken into small pieces.
Workers used brooms to sweep the crushed material into an inclined wooden trough, separating out larger pieces of ore and throwing them back into the trough. The remaining crushed ore was poured into wooden baskets for transport to the next stage.
Seeing this, Caesar couldn't help but sigh. "Then we had to crush the ore with sledgehammers, which was the most grueling part. You're lucky you can avoid that."
Then the next worker placed the crushed ore and charcoal into a large, two-man cast-iron furnace and lit the fire. A hydraulic blower began to work nearby, continually pumping air into the furnace...
"Making cast iron takes a long time, so I won't look at it any more."
Caesar led the new worker into the warehouse and pointed to piles of cast iron ingots on the ground. "These are the ingots that come out of the smelter and are shipped to Tyneborough by ship. Cast iron contains a lot of carbon and is weak, so the smiths reforge it many times, turning it into wrought iron, which is used to make farm tools,
weapons and armor. They say there are more than twenty blacksmiths there, and with their apprentices, more than sixty masters."
Yawning, Caesar looked up at the blazing sun high in the sky and led the new recruit to the canteen for dinner. The food was simple:
fried fish, stewed fish, fish in a pan, vegetable soup and black bread.
"That's it. A little beer for dinner, white bread once every five days and mutton once a month. Eat as much
as you want, as you like."
Caesar sipped his fish soup. After the new recruits greedily gobbled up the food, he began assigning tasks. Less than a third of the workers remained at the ironworks; the rest were assigned to mining and transportation.
After sending off the new recruits, he casually glanced at the schedule and noticed that transport in the mines was taking up too much money, especially the twenty draft horses that pulled the carts. They consumed a huge amount of oats daily, and one horse provided food for eight miners.
"Alas! The horses, the riders, and the workers who carry the ore up all contribute to the transport costs. Now that the Duke insists on increasing production, I fear I will have to increase the number of draft horses."
Suddenly, Caesar remembered the strange device the Duke had mentioned: the draisine. Two parallel wooden rails were laid on the ground, on which the carts stood. Two draft horses were enough to haul more iron ore.
"Forget it. The camp is short of workers. We will think about it later."
Caesar returned to his study, about to take a nap, when he heard a shrill scream outside.
He ran towards the screams, heading for the hydraulic sawmill, where he found a worker with a completely pale face. A long saw wound gaped in his left arm, and blood was dripping steadily.
"Damn it! I've told you so many times to be careful."
At Caesar's command, two workers lifted the wounded man from the door panel and ferried him by boat to Stirling on the south bank of the River Forth.
Entering the city, the group hurried to the Temple of Notus in the center. The temple was a wooden structure with a high, sloping black roof. The columns under the eaves were decorated with carved statues of the Aesir: Odin, Thor, and Balder.
"Enter and be silent."
Behind the gate was the main hall, lined with thirty benches, where several residents were listening to the shaman's prayers.
Kaiso did not disturb them, instructing the miners to carry the wounded man to the right. After walking a few dozen steps, they approached an inconspicuous house. Inside sat a young shaman in a white robe, yawning and youthful, she looked no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.
"Again? Something happens in the mines every few days, as if this hospital was built especially for you."
The shaman rubbed her eyes and gestured for the wounded man to be carried to a wooden table.
After washing her hands, she gave the man a small mug of beer to drink, then stuffed a rag into his mouth and told Kaiso and the other two miners to hold him down.
"Put more effort into it, don't let him move."
After rinsing the wound with clean water, the shaman began stitching it up with a needle and thread. The veins on the man's forehead bulged with excruciating pain, like a river fish thrashing and wriggling on a cutting board.
Min…
As time went on, his strength gradually faded, and his resistance became weaker and weaker until the operation was complete.
"Let him rest for now, and don't let the wound come into contact with water." The shaman wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and wrote down the wounded man's name and information on a small booklet. At the end, she motioned for Kessel to sign the monthly check.
"Wait," said Kessel, noticing that two other miners in the camp had a fever and were asking for medicine.
"Understood," said the shaman, walking over to the right stove and brewing a medicine from willow bark, which she then handed to Kessel in a clay pot.