The low tables were raucous with revelry. Steaming pots of herbaceous stews, all things green and formerly growing, fighting for and winning pride of place from the meats, stood proud on the tables. And that meat put up a stiff fight. Snake was fast becoming a favorite and not just for Ethan.

  Food ran freely and, if wonders will never cease, a bit of beer! Ethan took a small, covetous sip from his cup as he blessed Ermina for it. Birch sap? It wasn’t something he’d heard of before, nor was it likely to fight for a place on the tables of the rich and mighty.

  But right here, and right now? It was divine! Now, if it wasn’t quite so limited in quantity. He gave the small cup an evil eye for a moment. Then sighed.

  “Now, Now.” Ermina chuckled, sipping at her own cup gingerly as she fidgeted on a small pillow. “Jocundus pushed himself to collapse just to fast ferment this much. More will have to wait for the sap to finish flowing and some time to ferment naturally.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “The sap will flow for a month or better, according to the Timbermen, though most of the harvest will be in the first two weeks. After that, it will only take a half week to a week for the first fermentation. It’s-” She tapped the cup before them, “-on the weak side, as beer goes, and it won’t keep long. But then-“ She gestured out to the tables before them where the small keg had been emptied into 60 smaller clay cups, and most of them were empty already too. “-it wouldn’t anyway.”

  “And the second fermentation?”

  “I don’t plan for any this year. Hopefully, Miro will come back with sufficient forest wine to tide us over till next. Where-“ She gestured in front of herself for a bit, then flicked her fingers at Ethan.

  “-we can upgrade the production if we so wish. In the meantime, and to answer your question, the second about doubles the alcohol strength at the expense of taking five times as long to ferment. At that level it will reportedly keep for a year or two if stored out of the heat.”

  “That’s not bad.” Though he’d leave off worrying about upgrades until next spring was a bit closer. “Three weeks for the first large lot...” He mused, considering. “And how much will that be?”

  “I shifted assignments when I learned all this was possible-” She offered, and not apologetically at all, not that he blamed her for it. He’d have done the same! “-and diverted a significant amount of manpower into getting the trees tapped. Not just the close-in stands either. Ranging up the valley and up the mountains to either side. All told, six to eight hundred gallons of sap.”

  Ethan choked. “How the hell are we going to handle that much? Just the amphora-“ he trailed off, trying to remember how much clay they’d turned over to the potters.

  “Are not enough.” Ermina finished for him. “I used every vessel they’d made and started requisitioning wooden buckets, clay pitchers and even cooking pots. We’ll need to lay in a larger supply for next year, or carve out a brewery with dolia-” The stationary massive clay vessels, usually buried to maintain temperature and to support the walls, were a staple of most wineries or breweries. He wondered if stone cisterns in a cave wouldn’t do it better. “-to handle it. Still, it’s not as bad as it sounds. We’ll drink the current vessels dry before we need the next set.”

  Conner snickered on his left. “Oh, aye. Wes will do that.” At a pointed glare, he cleared his throat before continuing to talk. “I’ll even volunteer for it!”

  “And me My Lord!” “And me My Lord!” “Me to My Lord!” The calls came fast and frequent from all sides.

  “Even you, Master Boldrick?” Ethan asked, giving the stout figure to his left, and the two other equally rough men beside him an amused glance.

  The Mason blushed but still nodded. Vigorously even. “It’s been a hard winter, begging your pardon My Lord, but the small things in life-“ He raised his nearly empty cup, “-often give the most pleasure.”

  “Aye Milord, tis a pleasure and one wes badly missed.” Niscious the Quarryman chimed in with Carpenter Marisus nodding along.

  “Agreed, and I hope we will have many more such ‘small’ things soon. But regrettably, I didn’t just call you all to drink my limited beer. Have a look at this, will you.” Ethan pushed his empty, and nearly polished clean, plate away and pushed his chair back. Making room for the men, and Ermina, around him to view the small box of formed sand.

  The river valley all the way down to the great forest was displayed, if a bit roughly, and small flags of parchment on twigs laid out a rather grandiose build plan. One they’d mostly worked out months ago.

  But when men plan, Gods laugh.

  “The lake ice will be traversable for another week at best. The rivers less than that. And we have a rift worthy of harvesting-” He pointedly tapped his empty plate before pointing back to the map, just south of their Valley, “-across that river. Which means we need a bridge on it. Fast. But it only needs to last for a few weeks.”

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  “Weeks?” Andrew offered, considering both the map and his plate. “Why not leave it up. Treat it like a farming node!” He dished up another serving as emphasis.

  “No’ enough men.” Conner tossed in bluntly. “Yous need twenty-five to fifty men on guard outside. Even with fortifications. An a full hundred man sweep any time yous want to send in harvesters.”

  Ethan nodded. “We have to many other commitments.” He raised a hand against the small grumbling protests. It really was an amazing meal. “If this rift had cropped up in three or four years? We’d build a stone ring about it and farm away, for food, spices and experience. But it’s not and we don’t. There are four more minor rifts within a day's march of here we still need to clear and probably more downriver.”

  He paused, looking out at the much quieter room. The commons and even servants were paying close attention. Might as well. “And the three we closed were the weakest the scouts could find. Babies' first rift for green troops. You did well.” He offered in a much louder voice to the twenty slightly less green Hastati who’d won the toss for tonight’s invite. “But understand it gets harder from here.”

  Ethan let the suddenly somber mood last for several seconds, then smiled. “But the loot and experience get better too!”

  “That they do My Lord. That they do!” Conner echoed, leaning back and already starting a story, expanded considerably from what Ethan remembered of it to say the least, about the rift at Anglesbrook. He held in a shudder. That had been…. Rough.

  “My Lord.” The Mason offered, pulling his attention back. It was hesitantly put, but he firmed up and looked Ethan in the eye. “It’s not that I’m unwilling, but fast, temporary and stone work don’t-”

  Ethan cut him off with a wave. “Understood, Master Mason. I do understand. You can’t get robust fast. Not without build points at least.” The man chuckled dryly at the sally. “But needs must. If not in stone, then Marisus there will build them of wood and rope. The longest and sturdiest logs are being held back for just such projects. And we might get better from this rift. Pick the right point and they’ll get us across. But that’s a short-term fix. I’d prefer they got us across in a place and way that helps our long-term goals as well.”

  He pointed to four separate locations downstream where the little flags bore crude sketches of a crossing. “After all, it’s not just one crossing that we’ll need.” The men nodded, if a bit glumly. Ethan tried not to hold it against him. It was going to be a mortal hard lot of work and balancing the desire of his Lord for speed versus the constraints of their crafts would make any man troubled.

  But he would not, could not, allow that to interfere.

  “A month and a half at the earliest. More likely two, and Sir Leosige and sa-Sir Miro will return with animals, carts filled with wine and grain, Gods be willing, and our crafters. Swimming the river through spring flood conditions just isn’t going to work.”

  Not with horses and cargo.

  “That means we need field expedient solutions. Now here-“ a day and a half to the south-east was a roughly outlined lake. It wasn’t a big lake, more of a widening of the river, but the water slowed proportionate to that widening. “A raft and a rope walk will tide us over. We can skip the bridge below it entirely.” He reached down and removed the flag. Regretfully, because that was a nice bit of grazing ground on the other side, and boats were a poor fit for moving large flocks.

  He tapped up above it –“and here, if Niscius can carve a road through that nasty rockpile, we can skip both crossings entirely. That would leave just one bridge at Promise.” A bit of a left-handed name that, the first ford and a sight he’d promised as a fief for one of his knights. But he hoped any scouts or visitors would take it very differently! The Emperor’s promise perhaps.

  The Mason stared. Glancing at the map then back at Ethan. “Just one? Not four?”

  Ethan smiled. “Three temporary bridges, one to become stone in the next year or so, a quarried stone road with a stone retaining wall and a rope-drawn ferry.” A manned ferry was harder to cross undetected than a bridge. Easier to deny access to a noble or his scouts as well. That would matter for a short while yet.

  Ethan considered it tapping at his lips. “And at least three stone guard towers.” He pointed to the top of the northwest meadow, to the north of the farm land and to the south at the entrance to what they’d claimed as Alfwin valley. “Not to mention a settlement at Promise and a road connecting it all.”

  The man’s eyes were growing with every addition. His hands tugging at already sparse hair as his lips visibly bit back what he no doubt wanted to say.

  Ethan took pity on him, and didn’t let it linger. “All of it needs doing. Eventually. What we have to lay out, is what is possible by when. Priorities are going to be access first. Promise up as a visible settlement second, then the protection third and the common trade road last.”

  The smith rubbed his chin, and after glancing to either side and getting nods of approval began to speak for all three. “If yous has the timbers, we can throw the bridges up in a week or so. Split the logs lengthwise, put in some rough footings and a few guide ropes. All at the same time if wes have the ropes in place and yous can spare a crew of 20 for each.” He scratched a bit harder, then continued, “And if we can get the timbers moved.”

  “But…” He hesitated, then after a small nudge from the Carpenter, continued with a grimace. “With green timbers and the long winters, it’s a waste of a beautiful piece of wood. I’d not trust them even as far as next spring.”

  Ethan simply nodded. There were costs associated with every venture. He would pay these.

  “Guard towers are half a month to a month for a crew of 20 with a Mason overseeing it. And that only because of all these perfect stone bricks!” He nodded with satisfaction, then shrugged. “A proper stone road will take years. Two centuries of workers and five masons might finish a mile in three months.”

  Ethan winced. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was unwelcome. They have to settle for something considerably less proper, and likely not stone. “And a village at Promise?”

  “Depends on if you’d consider a, hmm, different solution Milord.”

  Ethan waved him on.

  “Wes have 11 Stone Masons, like myself, and wes getting pretty tapped. Not to mention transporting stones down dat far will have to wait for bridges and carts that wes could be using elsewheres. But wes do have five Tamper Masons without much work at the moment.”

  Ahh. That wasn’t a bad idea. If the quality could be counted on. “They work with pressed earth, yes?”

  “Ah, a bit more than that Milord. Wet soil, clay, river silt and a bit of animal blood mixed and hammered into a frame till it compacts near as hard as stone.” He wavered then muttered with a gleam in his eye. “Weak stone mind you, and only near as hard.”

  Ethan hid a snort. A Stone Mason had opinions on packed dirt, who’d have guessed.

  “Still, I’ll give Tiberius this, it’s warm in the winter, and for buildings that aren’t in a cave, they’ll need that. And if you face the buildings with fired clay, they handle the wet and snow just fine. Have to touch it up every now and then, but an extra scoop of clay is pretty cheap as far as maintenance goes.”

  “How do you fire an entire building?” Andrew broke in. “A kiln that big…” he trailed off but with a skeptical look in his eyes.

  “No’ so bad as all that Sir. Yous just pile hot coals on a thin coat of sun-dried clay, then cover it with earth.” Niscius offered. “No’ much different than how we prepare a rock face for quarrying.”

  The Mason nodded along. “It’s a labor-heavy task Milord, but not a skilled one, and the materials is already there. A river will have clay and silt handy and not like animal blood will be hard to come by.”

  A rumble of amusement emerged. No, it most certainly wouldn’t be.

  “Alright, it's cheap, it's available and it's warm. Now drop the other shoe.” Ethan offered.

  “Shoes Milord. There’s a few of ‘em. It don’t do ceilings well so you’ll need timbers. It takes a good bit of maintenance, cheap, easy maintenance, but it’s still work. It don’t stand up to a onagar or a ram and it don’t look nearly so nice as stone.”

  The Carpenter coughed, loudly, giving the Mason a stink eye. “It don’t!” He repeated, while the other two looked away. Mark that as an opinion then.

  “Yet you still recommend it?” Ethan asked.

  “Haaa, it’s a tool Milord, and much as I’m opposed to it on principle, it’s a useful tool. With the work we have lined up, and the distance being what it is, it’s the right tool for this job.”

  The Carpenter cut in with an almost eager nod. “It’ll do it right Milord. For a village in the winter, it’ll even do it well.”

  Hmm. And it could start almost immediately if they sent a work crew down before the river melted…

  It was a thought.

  ___