After accepting the clay pot, Caesar still did not leave, demanding treatment for his stomach ailment, which caused the shaman to complain repeatedly: "
Why didn't you tell me before? Are you looking for a fight?"
She went to the medicine cabinet, took some mint leaves, crushed them, mixed them with honey, boiled them and handed the finished remedy to the shaman.
"Thank you for your help, Shaman Nina," Caesar put the medicine away and signed the back of the brochure with a quill.
Since the mines often received wounded people in need of treatment, he arranged with the temple for a lump sum payment at the end of each month to avoid frequent bills.
After work, Nina, too lazy to socialize with the others, returned to her desk to read.
Of the first class to graduate in 849, she was the most relaxed, and volunteered to take the least-occupied position of Temple Shaman. Unfortunately, Stirling Temple was responsible for the medical care of the mines, which greatly exceeded the workload of the other three counties.
This summer was the second class of students to graduate. Nina stretched, thinking to herself:
"Perhaps I should write a report to my superiors, asking for a transfer to the Orkney Islands, a coastal region at the northern tip of Britain. It
is sparsely populated and offers the easiest work."
Back on the north bank of the River Forth, Caesar inspected the conditions in the various workshops. He was furious at the irregularities of some of the workers, and cut their monthly beer rations.
Over the next few days, Caesar began to rectify the situation.
Surprisingly, compared to the ironworks, the northern mines were doing much better. The number of recent prisoner unrests had dropped significantly, while ore production was steadily increasing.
"Impossible!"
Since August of the previous year, the Duke had pardoned a large number of kidnapped peasants and slaves. The remaining captives were mostly nobles and gentry, as well as their confidantes. These people were determined to resist, and passive resistance was common, with escapes rare.
"I believe these people are secretly plotting a great conspiracy. They seem honest and submissive, and they will suddenly attack us as soon as we let our guard down." Caesar looked out the window at the setting sun, and a sense of urgency suddenly arose in his heart. He went into the dining room, selected fifty honest and reliable workers, and ordered them to go to the warehouse for shields and iron axes.
After the meeting, Caesar sent his men to Stirling, on the south bank of the Forth River: "Find the county governor and the sheriff and ask them to send reinforcements as soon as possible!"
After this, Caesar led a gang of workers to the mining district. Soon after, the sunset completely disappeared over the mountains, and night fell. A cold wind whistled in their collars, and the cries of birds and animals carried faintly across the mountains. The moonlight penetrated the clouds, stretching out their figures in a long chain, like a group of wandering souls wandering in the desert.
Following the tracks made by heavily laden carts, the group reached the edge of the mine in two hours.
At the foot of the mountain, a small clearing was enclosed by a wall. There were dormitories, warehouses, stables and a well, where two hundred and fifty people were housed: two hundred prisoners of war, thirty workers and twenty overseers.
Seeing the approach of dozens of heavily armed men, a furious cry came from the top of the watchtower: "Who!"
"It's me!"
Caesar snatched the torch from his subordinate, illuminating his face and those around him. "All of you are from the ironworks. No outsiders are allowed. Open the gates!"
Entering the camp, Caesar woke up all the workers and overseers and ordered them to arm themselves.
Thus, he gathered a temporary detachment of a hundred men, leaving a small group to guard the wall, while the rest of the workers ordered the prisoners to gather in the open.
"Search their barracks, do not leave a single corner untouched!"
Caesar's fears were soon justified. The workers began to find various contraband items in the barracks, including sharpened iron sheets, nails
half the length of a palm, and bacon and black bread stolen from the kitchens. It was clear that a large-scale escape was in the works.
He lowered his head, peering into the frightened and angry faces, singling out the most visible offenders and directing them to the overseers for individual interrogation.
Some time later, an alarm sounded from the watchtower, announcing the rapid approach of a large group from the south.
Caesar climbed the wooden ladder to the watchtower and saw numerous figures emerging from the darkness, torches in hand, quickly reaching the perimeter wall of the palisade. Having confirmed their identities, he ordered his men to open the gates and let Sheriff Snake and two squads of mountain infantry into the camp.
When they met, Baron Snake said sullenly:
"I heard your news: Sterling is in chaos. The sheriff, the judge, the temple shaman, the tax collector... I don't think anyone will sleep soundly tonight. You'd better find something, or many will write letters demanding their resignation to Tine."
Caesar pointed to a pile of trash in the open field. "The prisoners have secretly collected these sharp pieces of iron, nails, and food, planning to start a rebellion in two days when the rebel army arrives from the mountain depths to the north to support them."
Rebels?
The sheriff crouched on the ground, reaching out to pick through the scraps of iron and nails in the rubble. "How many rebels are there?"
"I questioned about ten men, and they all said they didn't know, but probably more than fifty, but less than five hundred."
"That's all?" The sheriff shook his head, not wanting to waste time on this amateur. He ordered his men to take prisoners, and the interrogation continued until the next morning.
"Sleep!"
The sheriff nudged Caesar to wake him. "We've determined that this band of rebels numbers about a hundred men, wintering in a valley dozens of miles from here. I'll lead a party to wipe them out, and you stay here and guard the camp."
Without waiting for any objections, the sheriff led three hundred infantrymen out of the camp and quickly disappeared from Caesar's sight.
Two days later, the cleanup party returned safely, escorting twenty-five grim-faced prisoners.
Caesar: "Have we won?"
"Barely." The sheriff removed his stuffy helmet. "Ten dead, twenty-five slow ones captured. The rest have left the camp and fled to the mountains. They will be back soon."
Over time, the members of the Mandarin Squad became more and more skilled at coordinating, until the ratio between us reached eight to one. Over time, the remaining rebels became more and more cowardly, scattering at the slightest opportunity, much to the sheriff's irritation.
"These boys are as cunning as rabbits. It seems I will have to find another way."
The clean-up completed, the sheriff led his troops back to Stirling. Before leaving, he suggested moving 200 prisoners to the ironworks on the north bank of the River Forth to provide reinforcements in case of trouble.
Caesar had his doubts. If the prisoners were housed at the ironworks, they would have to walk to the mines in the morning and back to camp in the evening – a four-hour journey, and production would inevitably fall.
'If we cannot shorten the journey. Should we equip wagons? No, two hundred prisoners of war require too many wagons.'
Involuntarily, Caesar thought again of the miners' path the Duke had mentioned. Under the pressure of the situation, he could only grit his teeth and try.