Chapter 17

Life on the estate is easier than in the forest. Paul thought as he worked in the garden. We don't need to worry about trees falling on us or branches snapping and taking our heads off.

Paul dug the potatoes that the kitchen would cook at supper. A young woman he hadn't seen before wandered into the garden. She wore a pure red ribbon and a large house badge in gold thread on her breast.

"Grounds Keeper," she said, "come here."

Paul put his fork into the earth and walked over to the young woman.

"My boot is untied."

Paul stood there for a moment before he realized she meant for him to tie it. He knelt down and retied the laces. His hands were awkward in the bitter air.

"What a terribly ugly bow," the young woman said. She pushed Paul over with her foot. "Remain there until the Gardener comes. Tell him I said to beat you."

Paul lay helpless in the dirt for the remainder of the afternoon. He tried to get up, but his muscles refused to obey him. The cold seeped into his body and soul. He would never have imagined being so helpless before he set out on this journey. He didn't like the feeling but it was becoming all too familiar to him. The cook came out.

"Grounds Keeper," she said into the garden, "I need some carrots." Then she turned her head and saw Paul and sighed and left again. In a little while the Gardener came.

"Get up, Grounds Keeper," he said, "I suppose she wants you beaten."

"Yes, Gardener."

The old man rapped Paul on the shins with his stick.

"That should do." He turned to go back into the house. "Finish the potatoes, the Book knows we can't let things like this get in the way of our work."

Paul told Daniel about the incident while they prepared to sleep that night.

"It seems strange that her Book tells her to abuse her staff so," Paul said.

"It may not state her responsibilities in quite that manner," Daniel said. "I expect her Book says something along the lines of keeping the staff in order and this is just the way that she finds to do it. The Book gives more latitude here than at home."

"Why would that be?" Paul said, "Are these people not just as much at risk of displeasing God as the people in our village?"

"It is a mystery, Paul," Daniel said. "But I've never claimed to understand the Book. It is about obedience, not understanding."

"I suppose so." Paul wasn't happy with the answer, but he couldn't imagine an alternative. He closed his eyes and went to sleep. He felt his legs twitching in the night as if they still shook off their enforced immobility.

The heavy snows came. Just walking through the snow was difficult. It melted and soaked into clothing and boots. Paul filled his time shoveling the path so that the masters of the estate didn't need to struggle through the inconvenience. Every once in a while, the young woman would seek him out and demand that he tie her boot. Though he practiced carefully, he could never tie a knot that pleased her. Paul often spent long times in the snow waiting for the Gardener to be fetched, so he could have a rap on the shins and be freed to go back to work. What am I doing in this place? The days were endlessly repetitive, yet Paul woke with a feeling that he inhabited a strange world that he'd never seen before. He stopped looking at the Page. It did nothing but counsel patience.

One day Gardener came and fetched Paul.

"You've not worked with the cauldron spawn have you?"

"No, Gardener," Paul said.

"Come," the old man said and headed off with his stick. Paul followed. They came to the wide open space in front of the house where the Master's peers parked their carriages. A group of men dressed in rags were listlessly shoveling snow into a wagon.

"Just watch them and keep them on task," Gardener said. "You're their Book, you must tell them each step to do. See?" He pointed to one man who was shoveling an already cleared spot. He moved the man until he was again shoveling snow. The men had an odd smell like meat that had just started to turn. It unsettled Paul. He tried to breathe through his mouth, but the odour pervaded everything.

"What happened to them?"

"They are the cauldron spawn." Gardener said, "Their will has been taken from them lest they displease God and doom us all."

"We don't have anything like this at home," Paul said.

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Gardener said and he walked away.

Paul spent the remainder of the day prodding and guiding the cauldron spawn. His awareness of their odour faded as his frustration grew. They didn't understand instructions other than 'start' or 'stop'. He had to physically move them into position, then watch them carefully to make sure that they didn't wander into trouble. If all people were as stupid as the cauldron spawn it would be impossible not to displease God. Paul felt a shiver down his spine at the thought. What if God were as frustrated with him as he was with the cauldron born?