Page 213 of Circle of Days
“Crazy it is,” said Pia, “but we’ve got to deal with it.”
“How?”
“From now on, we pretend that you’re the boss, Duff, and I’m just doing what you tell me. But you have to go and see the women who haven’t yet agreed. As soon as you personally ask them, they’ll join up.”
“All right,” said Duff. “I’ll visit the waverers this afternoon. I’ll be the male boss.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” said Pia.
A week later Shen returned.
The area immediately outside the Monument, where the nine stones had been put, was turned into a workshop by Seft. All the stones had to be trimmed to the same size and shape, with their tops flattened so that the crossbars could sit securely. The cleverhands were hard at work.
It was difficult, Seft knew. The only tool for the task was a stone hammer. The mason had to study the block carefully and guess where the weaknesses lay, then place his blow with great care and use just the right amount of force. It was like making a flint blade, but trickier, because sarsen did not flake as readily as flint.
However, Seft was worrying about the crossbars, still lying on the ground in Stony Valley but due to come to the Monument next midsummer. The uprights were a lesser problem. He knew how to get uprights in place and secure. It was not easy, but he had established the method and his team understood what they had to do. By contrast, when the crossbars arrived they would present a whole new set of problems.
A crossbar was less than half the size of an upright. However, each one had to be lifted to the top of a pair of uprights and set in position. To follow the pattern of the inner oval of the timber Monument, the crossbar had to fit exactly on top of a pair of uprights, edges and corners strictly in line. Trimming the crossbar to the right size and shape was not impossible, with careful measurement and skilled trimming. The two new challenges were: first, lifting the crossbar to that height; and second, adjusting its position precisely.
He discussed the problem with Joia when she came to the workshop to check on progress. His son, Ilian, listened attentively.
Joia said: “Once you’ve got the crossbar on top of the uprights, surely you can adjust its position?”
“No,” said Seft. “It’s far too heavy to be nudged this way and that.”
“Couldn’t you rope it?”
“We might have to try that, but it’s impossible for a hundred men pulling ropes to make tiny adjustments, perhaps move a giant stone no more than the width of a thumb.”
At that point Ilian broke in. He had now seen thirteen midsummers, and his voice had changed from a childish trebleto a shaky bass. He had learned a lot and was already a competent carpenter, and Seft was proud of him, but perhaps he was not yet ready to interrupt an adult discussion of a problem. However, Seft let him speak.
Ilian said: “Remember the peg-and-hole joints we made for the timber crossbars in the old Monument?”
“Yes, but that was different,” Seft said. “We needed to secure the wooden crossbars so that they wouldn’t slip off, for example in a high wind. The stone crossbars are far too heavy to be shifted by wind or anything else. Once we get them up, they’ll be there forever.”
Ilian persisted. “I’m thinking about getting the crossbar in exactly the right position, square on top of the upright. If there were pegs on the uprights and sockets in the crossbars, both carefully positioned, then each crossbar would just naturally slide onto the upright in the correct spot; in fact it could hardly rest on the top without slipping into place.”
“Oh,” said Seft. He thought about it. “That might work.” He looked at Ilian. “Good thinking.”
Ilian said: “And we could carve the pegs on the uprights while they’re here, lying down, more easily than later, when they’ll be standing up.”
Seft nodded. “Go and tell the men.”
Ilian went off.
Joia said: “That was amazing, for one who is hardly more than a child. You must be proud of him.”
“Very proud.” Seft smiled and nodded. “Though what I’m most proud of is the way he’s been raised. He’s never been beaten. Neverbeen told he’s a fool. No one played mean tricks on him. He was a happy child, and now he’s turning into a happy adult.”
“Not the way you were raised.”
“That’s right,” said Seft. “Not the way I was raised.”
Pia was surprised and dismayed at the return of Shen. I shouldn’t be surprised that he survived the war, she thought; it would be like him to slither away when things got tough.
He had moved into Troon’s old house, sharing it with Katch: Pia wondered how Katch felt about that.
The wheat stood high in the fields, almost ready to be reaped, and Pia was making a scythe, fixing sharp flint flakes into a curved stick, ready for the harvest, with Olin watching her. She discussed Shen with Duff and Yana when they came back to the house for the midday meal.
