Chapter One

“The Teller’s coming!” a small boy gasped. He had beaten his two friends up the long slope of the entryway, sprinting up the path, a brown straight line between the palisaded defences bristling atop the steep earth banking either side. He gulped enough air to shout again and eyes wild, face shining with sweat, he pointed down the valley. People stopped what they were doing and families emerged from dark interiors. Their thatched dwellings, virtually filling the bastion’s interior, were dotted about like massive burgeoning shaggy mushrooms and storerooms on their support posts had a jaunty look as if thoroughly pleased at having managed to sprout on what little ground remained.

Slowly a crowd gathered at the main east gate and the three boys raced back down the well-worn track to re-join their comrades escorting the Teller to his destination. Workers dotted on the mid-sections of the ringed defences stopped and stared. Some held iron picks, a few shouldered their iron-tipped wooden shovels, but the majority of men wielded trusty antler picks. Moving earth in the wicker baskets seemed to be a job for women and children. They all downed tools and descended like ghosts swelling the ranks of the young ones following the Teller’s horse as it plodded, head low, slowly ascending the narrow killing zone, its palisaded sides now crowned by watching faces.

The Teller was mildly surprised at the all the attention. Recognising the ruddy faced official waiting to greet him, he slid wearily from his horse not wanting to appear vaunted in his presence. The man offered a hand and beamed a practiced smile, not at him directly, but at an imagined distraction, just above eye level away in the middle distance.

As he was led through the throng, all watched intently, silently peeling back to form a funnel. The sound of hooves’ dull plod on soft mossed turf receded as the horse was led away to food, water and stabling in the lee of the palisade and the Teller, hurrying a few steps, caught up with the official, briskly leading the way towards the main hall. When attempting to explain, bad weather had delayed him, the man had merely returned an impenetrable stare. Even details of the Habren ferry being swept away, had made no impact. With the hall entrance looming ahead, he decided, ‘Best keep a still tongue.’

Inside, with eyes gradually adjusting, came the slow realisation of the true enormity of the dining board. He had heard tell of it, apparently split from a forest gi