Edmund had been the main one to put his foot down on that. He had dredged up dozens of half-remembered historical references, from the early Pilgrims in Norau, who had nearly starved before they gave up communal ownership, to the great debacles of the latter twentieth-century "communist"
states and communal farms, whichhad starved most of a nation for fifty years.
The last group, and this one was the scariest, was led by Brad Deshurt. He had proposed that Myron's farm simply be expanded and use the labor of the refugees to do the work. Despite his background in preinformation technology economics, the term "latifundia" was not part of his background nor was he willing to admit the resemblance to "slave plantations." But since Myron wasn't about to let a giant plantation be raised on bond labor, with the long-term implications that would raise, the argument was moot. In fact, the problem that Edmund was having with Myron was the exact opposite; he wanted regulations to prevent any one person from ever owning too much land. They had talked about it for hours the night before.
"Latifundia, either true latifundia with large numbers of semi-bond labor or corporate latifundia where the corporation owns the land and works it through hirelings, are eventually a given . . ." Edmund had explained.
"But . . . Edmund, the whole basis for a decent preindustrial democracy or republic is the small farmer. If you get latifundia, eventually you get feudalism, either implied or in fact. You either get the Middle Ages or the postslavery South. You don't want that,I don't want that. The only way to avoid it is to prevent any group from getting too much power."
"Every law against monopolies, especially land-holding monopolies, has failed," Edmund pointed out. "It's like laws against 'moral crimes.' If you create a law that involvesthat much money, either people will flout it or the lawyers will find a loophole. It's like the idiots who don't want hemp planted because it can be used as a drug. Great, it's also the best basis for making paper and rope, two things we need. People who want to get addicted to hemp can feel free. Trying to keep them from growing it, given that the seeds are available and the land is for the taking, is impossible. It's a law designed to fail.
And if you set up a law to fail, you set up the law to be ignored.
"No, avoidance of latifundi would be a good thing, but in all honesty there's no way to do it.
Initially, I'll agree that individuals cannot prove and register more than five hundred hectares during their lifetimes. But after it is proved and registered, it's open season. If someone wants to sell out, they can sell out. Assuming that there is any capital to sell it to."
"I hate latifundi," Myron grumped. "It was the corporate latifundia that put the stake in the heart of the small farmer. And you know where that led."
"To a huge argument about which came first the chicken or the egg," Edmund said with a grin.
"Truthfully, so do I, but open-market democratic capitalism isn't the best system of government in the world, it just works the best. Actually, there's a real question whether it's the best for this sort of society.
Arguably, we should be setting up a centralized dictatorship or a feudalism. Those are generally the most stable in this sort of situation. But we're not; we're going for the long ball of republicanism. History will tell us if we were right or wrong. Hopefully, if we're wrong, history will tell us after our grandchildren are dead."And through it all, the arguments continued to rage.
He had pointedly tuned out the current argument, which was specifically about minimal farming needs, and was looking out the window when he saw Tom's horse, first, then recognized who was slumped in the saddle. At that point he rapped the hilt of his poignard on the table.
"This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow," he said, standing up.
"Why? That's rather high-handed, isn't it? We're not evenclose to done!" Deshurt snapped.
"You can keep arguing if you want, but you're going to do it somewhere else," Edmund said, walking to the door. "Now."
"Oh, my God!" Myron said, standing up so fast his chair went over backwards. He had looked out the window as well.
"Out," Edmund growled. "Now."
"I'll be back with Bethan," Myron said, heading for the door. "Comeon . It's Daneh and Rachel.
Give the man somepeace will you?"
"Oh, if that's why . . . Edmund, we can meet tomorrow . . ."
Talbot just nodded his head as the group filed out the door, then strode quickly to the mounting rail.
"Daneh," he said, taking in the sight of her. He had already noticed that she was wearing a borrowed cloak, unlike her daughter. Now, as he got closer, he took in the look in her eye and the yellowing bruise on her cheek.
"Edmund," she sighed and slid off the horse. As he reached for her she flinched and then held out her hand. "I'm glad to be here."
"I'm glad you've come," he said quietly, standing away from her. "Rachel," he added, nodding at his daughter.
"Father," she replied. "Nice to see you, too. Finally."
"Come into the house," he said, nodding at the implied rebuke. "I'll have . . . I'll get a bath drawn and some food on the table." He turned to Myron's son and stuck out his hand. "Tom . . . thank you."
"Any time, Edmund," he said then shrugged. "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry I didn't find them . . . sooner."
Edmund's jaw worked and he nodded in reply, following Daneh and Rachel into the house.
"Tom," Myron called as his son trotted into the farm-yard. "Daneh looked . . ."
"I'll let Edmund or her tell you about it," Tom said, sliding off the horse and shaking his head angrily.
"It's about what you'd expect I reckon."
"Damn," Myron said with an angry hiss.
"You know Dionys McCanoc?"
"That I do," Myron nodded. "And I'd guess he's not long for this world."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Edmund had the luxury of drawing hot water off of the forge, and fixing a bath for Daneh had been simple enough. She had withdrawn with a small vase of wine and some old clothes after which Edmund returned to the kitchen to face the wrath of his daughter.
"She was raped," Rachel said, looking up from a plate of cold roast pork. As the warmth and light of the room sunk in, she was beginning to realize she was safe. Deep inside she had feared through the whole journey that Dionys would reappear. But now, in her father's house, she knew she was protected.
Which, for some reason, was just making her angrier.
"So I gathered," Edmund replied sitting down across from her.
"No thanks to you,Father . Wherewere you?!"
"Here," he answered bluntly. "Right here. Trying to create something for you to come home to."
"Nice excuse."Edmund sighed and took a sip of wine. "It is not exactly an excuse. It is a reason. When I was asked to do the job, I recognized that one of the concomitant realities was that I couldnot go looking for you and your mother. I knew that you had both been home at the Fall and I knew that you were both resourceful. I recognized that you had a higher chance of something . . . I almost said 'untoward' but the real word is 'bad,' somethingbad happening to you and your mother. I chose to accept the larger responsibility."
"Well that larger responsibility got my motherraped, Father," the girl hissed. "You'll forgive me if I'm just a little pissed about that."
"Probably about as much as I am," Edmund answered. "But I will not second guess the choice. It is the one I made. I'll live with it for the rest of my life. As will you. And your mother." He noted that she looked down and he nodded. "And what choice is it that you wonder about, Rachel?"
"I . . ." The girl sagged and swallowed hard against a bit of pork. "We'd split up to forage. She went south, I went north. If only I'd . . ."
"Rachel, look at me," Edmund said and waited until she did. "If there is a God, I will thank Him for the rest of my life, and so will your mother, for that choice. Your mother is much older and wiser than you, and probably stronger as well, although you have great strength in you. But if I was forced to choose who to send into something like that, I would have chosen Daneh over you for all that I love her.
And so would she. Know that."
"I do," Rachel said in almost a wail as she dropped her face in her hands. "But . . ."
"Survivor guilt is a very false form of guilt," Edmund said. "We cannot undo the choices that we make in our life. And so many times, who survives or who is not wounded comes down to simple chance. Regretting that you were not raped is silly. And regretting the fact that somewhere in you you are glad it was not you is sillier."
"I never said that!" Rachel snapped.
"No, but you have thought it and you regret the thought," Edmund replied, firmly. "I'mold, girl. I'm so old it's hard for you to understand. And I know what it is to survive when others do not. And I know the evil thoughts that creep in. Face them, show them the light of reason. At first it will not help, but over time itwill . If you won't do that for me, do that for your mother. She is going to have herown thoughts that creep in unbidden. Small, petty, maddening thoughts. Yours will be easier in some ways and harder in others. And you will need to talk about it. But you need to have them under some control. For her and for the, yes, the 'larger' picture. We have done much here but there is much work yet to be done and you are going to be part of that doing. If you start it out in bitterness and hatred for those you love, and for yourself, the work will never be the best. And it deserves your best."
"How can you be socold about this!" Rachel shouted. "Don't you have agram of feeling in you?"
"Yes," Edmund said after a moment. "But I don't show it in the way that you think I should. You'll just have to decide for yourself. On the other subject, were the men involved just random passersby or are they likely to be more of a problem."
"Oh, I think they're likely to be more of a problem," Rachel said, lightly. "The leader was Dionys McCanoc."
For the first time in her life, Rachel started to understand why people treated her father with respect. For just a moment, something flashed across his face. It was an expression beyond anger, something odd and implacable and deeply terrifying to watch. And then it vanished except for a jumping muscle in his jaw and he was the same, plain, wooden-faced creature she had known her whole life.
"That is . . . interesting," Edmund said with a sniff. "I'll put the word out, wanted for banditry and rape."
"That'sit ?" she asked. "Just 'put the word out'?"
"For now," her father said coldly. "For now. People like McCanoc tend to end up killing themselves. If he doesn't do it for me, I'll find the time. But fornow, I have other things to do. Just as you do. You need to rest up.""And what areyou going to do?" she asked, looking out the window. While they had been talking the sun had fully set and it was clear that unlike during Faire, Raven's Mill rolled the streets up at dusk.
"Me? I'm going to work," Edmund said. "People, they work from sun to sun, but a politician's work is never done."
"Very funny, Dad."
"Edmund?" the voice said out of the darkness.
"Sheida, where've you been?" he said looking up from the endless paperwork and pushing his glasses down his nose. Daneh and Rachel had both gone to bed but he was still up burning the midnight oil.
"Even split like this, I'm being run ragged," she replied, her voice faint and her projection a half-seen ghost image in the lamplight. The vision was clearly the worse for wear, and Edmund shook his head.
"Get some rest," he said unctuously. "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."
She chuckled at the ancient joke and sat on the chair across from him. "You look pretty worn yourself."
"It ain't easy. We're up to nearly a thousand people; just making sure they're all getting fed three times a day is a challenge." He gestured at the paperwork, pulled off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "You heard about Rachel and Daneh."
"Yes,all about Rachel and Daneh," Sheida said with a sigh. "Something has to be done about McCanoc."
"I think Dionys is going to be less of a threat than I'd anticipated," Edmund said. "I'd expected him to turn up and start causing problems before now. Instead he's turning bandit."
"Don't underestimate him," Sheida said. "We're starting to piece together intelligence on Paul's supporters in Norau. And he's likely to be one of them; I think that Chansa authorized some illicit mods on him. Just before it all came apart the Council was presented with a formal mods challenge from the elves in regards to him. It would have taken a council member to allow them. So he may have backing you don't realize."
"That's as may be," Edmund said. "But, frankly, given his background in shitting all over social organizations, I'd rather have him as an outlaw than on the inside causing trouble. If I can get this damned town organized, he's not going to take it away. And that's my primary responsibility, as I mentioned."
"Agreed," she said. "And one that some people aren't rising to. I've got problems, old friend. I need some advice."
"Advice I've got aplenty."
"You're forming a democracy here," she said, waving out into the darkness towards the town. "But too many of the communities aren't. Strongmen are taking charge and . . . I mean it's getting feudal out there."
"Not surprising," Edmund said, taking a sip of wine well-mixed with water. "It's not entirely a democracy, more of a republic. They chose me and when I thought I was right I've run roughshod over a couple of votes. And there are times when I've wished I could just order people to do things or toss them out. We've done that in a few cases, people who wouldn't work, one thief. I've been tempted with a couple of yammerheads. And even more tempted in the case of a couple of 'minstrels.' "
Sheida chuckled. "You never did like minstrels."
"I like people who cansing, " he said. "I've got perfect pitch; listening to most 'minstrels' is positively painful. And getting someone who considers themselves a bard to actually work is . . . tough.
Even when there's no pins to throw them they think they can ride on generosity. Maybe in a few years they'll be able to. But not now."
"But the . . . strongmen," Sheida said."Call them warlords," Edmund said musingly. "Well, the first thing you do is tell them that they're not allied with you if they don't institute democratic reforms. Then you draw up a simple document that states what the rights of all persons are in your government and what the duties are of the local and overall government. Preferably you gather representatives from all the communities that are allied with you to vote on it, but get the outline settled before the arguments start."
"You're talking about a constitution?"
"Aye. And a good one. Just what happened to Daneh proves that we need some laws to hang our hooks on. Right now, if I went out and hunted down McCanoc and hung him from a tree, I'd be as much in the 'wrong' as he is."
"Nobody would question it, though," Sheida said. "Not and get very far."
"Sure, but that's not law, that's anarchy," Edmund pointed out. "At its base, all government is about ensuring that people abide by contracts. McCanoc violated an implicit contract that one does not force women to have sex, much less steal their rain gear when conditions are cold and wet. But with the Council's authority broken, there is no process to enforce the contract. Nor is it a written contract. Look at some of the historical models; you've still got access to them. Then write the constitution. Then, if any of the 'warlords' refuse to join, remove your support from them."
"I haven't been able togive much support," Sheida admitted.
"But youwill be giving support and more as time goes on," he added. "You're the only source of power available unless they go to Paul's side."
"And what if they do?"
"Then you deal with that as it comes," Edmund said bluntly. "This is a war. If someone wants to be neutral, that's fine. If they take the part of your enemy, then they becomeyour enemy. Makethat clear as well."
"One of them is Rowana," Sheida said. "Martin down there has set himself up as the local lord.
Including a . . . a harem I guess you'd call it. I haven't been able to sort out how much of it is voluntary, how much is desperation, and how much is forced. But I know that all those women didn't jump into his bed because he's God's gift to women."
"And if Rowana goes to Paul we'll have a knife pointed at our back," Edmund said, musingly.
"Well, that's all right, by the time he can get his act together, we'll be in a position to smash him if it comes to it. One of things you'll need to write into that constitution is how new groups are entered into it.
That is the way that geographical boundaries are settled, who has full voting rights, that sort of thing."
"Hmmm . . ." Sheida said with a distant look. "I've already accessed a few of the more well-known historical documents."
"And one thing."