It was early spring, and the weather was still fluctuating between warm and cold.
In Kitzby, a major northern trade town at the foot of the Carmel Mountains in northern Provence, Art had just emerged from the city clerk's office. He had spent ten copper fenny to obtain a document from the clerk, allowing him to recruit caravan guards outside the city.
Art ordered the four men waiting in the hallway, including Odo, “Take this document and go around the city walls. Tell the refugees about our recruitment. Just repeat a few phrases: ‘This afternoon, we are recruiting caravan guards in the north of the city. Anyone who passes the initial selection will receive two pounds of barley. Warriors ultimately chosen as guards will receive food, lodging, and wages.’ ”
Upon receiving the order, the men dispersed to the various city gates, spreading the word about recruiting caravan guards among the shanties along the city walls.
That afternoon, several large sacks of grain were piled on a wooden platform used for executions outside the north gate of the city. Odo stood on the platform, looking at the dense crowd of people below, estimating there were over a hundred, with more continuously gathering at the north gate from other areas.
Odo glanced at Art, who nodded, indicating they could begin.
Having experience recruiting vagrants in Tinietz, Odo, with practiced ease, spoke loudly to the crowd in the common tongue with a slight northern accent: “Everyone~ Quiet down~ Quiet down!”
Once the crowd quieted down, he continued: “You must have heard that we are recruiting caravan guards, but there are conditions for this recruitment.”
Odo paused slightly.
“First, our caravan guards must travel to Burgundy County in the north, and they may even have to fight bandits and robbers to the death. Second, it is best if they are young, strong men under thirty. Third, caravan guards must not be encumbered, so unless truly exceptionally brave, those with families will not be recruited. If you meet these conditions, you are welcome to come up and try. As long as you pass my test, you can take two pounds of barley. If you can pass the test of these brothers beside me, you can take ten pounds of barley. Those who pass both my test and my brothers’ tests will stay for a mutual contest. Losers will take their deserved ten pounds of grain and leave, while winners can go to my master for consideration as a prospective guard. If you are ultimately chosen by our master, you can come with us. We guarantee you will have enough to eat and wear, and at least ten fenny in wages each week. If you earn merits in the future, my master will also grant additional rewards. Everyone, if you want to claim free grain, hurry up.”
There was a buzz of discussion in the crowd. Most of those gathered and watching were young and strong; the old and infirm had given up upon hearing it was for caravan guards.
Seeing that everyone was just watching and no one stepped forward, Odo continued: “Perhaps you don't believe it, but just a few months ago, my brothers and I here were all laborers and vagrants. Look at us now! We eat and dress well every day. And look at our cloaks and capes—aren’t we imposing?”
After Odo spoke, he gave Ron a look. Ron also stepped onto the wooden platform and spoke loudly to the crowd below in a pure Provence accent: “What this brother just said is all true. I was originally the son of a farmer near Vilno. Earlier this autumn, my whole family fled north to Burgundy County, and we almost starved to death on the way. Fortunately, my master was benevolent and saved us, so I became his attendant. Since following my master, I have never lacked food. I even get to eat bread and drink meat soup every day! And my master will pay me wages regularly in the future. Our whole family survived and is living very well.”
Upon hearing Ron's familiar accent and seeing the young man in his imposing black cloak and cape, the crowd below imagined the life he described and couldn't help but feel a longing.
Ron continued to add fuel to the fire: “Especially you single brothers, what do you have left? Here, you have no food, no drink, just a worthless life. Why not show some manly courage and take a gamble with us? Our master is only recruiting ten people. If you keep hesitating like a woman, you'll miss your chance.”
The crowd stirred for a moment, then a man from the back pushed through and squeezed forward, saying, “I’ll try. I’m definitely getting this grain today.”
The man jumped onto the wooden platform and stood before Odo, saying, “Brother, can you tell if I'm eligible?”
Odo looked at the man's appearance; he estimated his age was over thirty, but his physique was still robust. He reached out and squeezed the man's waist, abdomen, shoulders, and arms. His bones were thick, and his skin was tough—his physique was acceptable. Odo then asked if the man had any other dependents at home. The man replied that he was alone. Odo felt that this man was strong and lacked the cunningness of a mercenary or a scoundrel, fitting Art's selection criteria, so he cleared the way for him to enter the next stage.
Ron, sitting behind a broken table, told the man, “Among the three of us, choose one of similar build to arm wrestle. If you can last thirty counts without being pinned down, or if you can pin down your opponent, you win.”
The man compared himself to the others and chose the strongest, Bass.
Bass rolled up his sleeve, placed his thick right arm on the table, and told the man, “Come on, like a man.”
The man glanced at the crowd below, then turned his head, sat down with a “thud” opposite Bass, rolled up his tattered sleeve, and placed his right hand against Bass's arm. Both began to exert force, and their arms started to tremble.
“One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen,” Ron loudly counted from the side.
“Twenty-three ~”
Slam ~ Bass suddenly exerted force, slamming the man's right hand hard onto the table.
Bass raised his hand and patted the man opposite him on the shoulder, saying, “Brother, take the grain and go home.”
Ron scooped two large bowls of hulled barley from a wooden barrel and put them into the man's cupped clothes. The man, with a face full of regret, stepped down from the platform.
Seeing that the first man had indeed received grain, a young man also stepped forward, jumped onto the wooden platform, and successfully passed Odo's first test.
In the second test, he chose Ron, who was of similar build, as his opponent. Unlike the previous man, he didn't recklessly use all his strength from the start. Instead, he and Ron held hands and maintained a stalemate for a while, then slowly exerted force, trying to outlast Ron. He locked Ron down firmly and held on for thirty counts. Although he was eventually pinned down, he still successfully passed the second test.
The young man came before Art. He knew this was the master who would make the final decision, so he bowed respectfully.
Art scrutinized the young man, who was under twenty, slender, and had somewhat sunken eyes.
“What's your name? What did you do before?” Art asked.
“Reporting to master, my name is Jason Fleming, seventeen years old. I am the son of a hunter from the foothills south of the Lamel Mountains. Last year, my father and I were taken by the village knight to Vilno to defend the city. As a result, my father was killed, and I escaped from the city alone.”
“So, you can use a bow and arrow?”
“I learned when I was little, but my father said that being a hunter meant living like a beast all your life, so he sent me to the knight's house to be a servant, and I haven't used a bow and arrow since.”
“We are going to fight bandits and marauders. Do you dare to come with me and fight to the death?”
“As long as you let me eat my fill and pay me on time, I dare!” Jason replied.
“Good, you can go to the side and rest for a bit. We'll have the final competition once everyone is here.”
Jason, having received Art's permission, stepped off the wooden platform and stood by the carriage, patiently waiting...
The two-stage selection process continued for half the afternoon. Odo and his three companions took turns guarding the two checkpoints. By the time the sun set behind the mountains, a large group of strong, solitary men had gathered by the carriage.
The initial recruitment trials had concluded. Nearly seventy people had come forward to apply over half the afternoon, about fifty passed the first test, and recruitment ended after twenty people passed the second test. Art only intended to select ten from these twenty to be patrolling Soldiers, and Art deliberately avoided recruiting too many Soldiers from the same place.
The crowd of onlookers had not yet dispersed. In this season, when the lingering chill of winter had not yet completely faded, it was a rare and enjoyable spectacle.
To ensure the remaining twenty men could perform their best in the upcoming trials, Art had Ron bring out some rye bread baked at a bakery in Kitzby so everyone could eat and drink their fill.
After the twenty strong men in front of the carriage had eaten and drunk their fill, Art stood before them and said loudly, “You are all the elites I have chosen from among many men. You are undoubtedly all suitable candidates to fight bandits with me, but I only need the ten best among you. So next, you will compete against each other, each choosing an opponent of similar height and build to wrestle. The one who is still standing will come with me.”
So, until dark, the open ground outside the north gate was filled with the sounds of strong men wrestling and the cheers and shouts of encouragement from the crowd, even alarming the city guards.
Only after learning that Art and his companions were recruiting caravan guards and seeing the sealed document issued by the clerk did the guards leave.
The results of the final showdown were in: ten young, strong men won the wrestling matches. Among them were noble servants, miners, laborers, farmers, and even deserters and urban vagrants (thugs). However, in the first round, those who looked like military ruffians or cunning individuals had been eliminated, so those who remained were considered relatively upright.
Art approached the ten strong men who were preparing to collect their grain and leave dejectedly. He said to them, “Gentlemen, although you were defeated in the wrestling matches, you are still a group of fine men. I offer you another chance to make a living. I have a fertile piece of land in the southern part of Burgundy County that needs cultivating. If you are willing to go north with me, I can allocate land for you to lease. I will not only provide you with food and lodging until the harvest, but I also promise not to levy any rent or taxes in the first year. If in the future you still wish to serve as Soldiers and earn a living, there will be opportunities…”
The remaining men were all strong, solitary individuals. Most could survive here by their strength. Except for three relatively honest and taciturn fellows who had worked as farmers and were willing to go north with Art to cultivate the barren land, the rest left dejectedly.
After retaining those who lost the competition, Art turned to the ten winners and said, “Brothers, from now on, you are my men. As long as you listen to me and fight for me, I guarantee you will have food and clothing without worry, and I will pay you wages on time. Now, let's all go into the city. Tonight, I will treat you to bread and meat soup in the city.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
After a hearty dinner and a night's rest in the open square in Kitzby, Art set off on his return journey with the newly recruited young men the next morning.