The wind in June is strong and powerful, riding on the layers of clouds and mists. It rises from the large lake in the Gulf of Mexico, and after traveling for half a month, it finally arrives in the wilderness of the Patzcuaro Lake District, bringing the first rainy season.
A rain.
The sound of rain fell, and the drizzle fell from the sky, falling on the semi-barren land in the Patzcuaro Lake District, making the soil softer and more suitable for agricultural farming. The drizzle was flying, soaking in the endless cultivated land.
The farmland is also wet, and among the farmland, there are busy young men with their heads down.
The weather in June has begun to get hot. Thousands of young adults are working collectively in the fields, like a busy ant colony. It is quite spectacular when viewed from a distance. Most of the young adults are bare-chested, with only their waistbands covered.
A piece of crotch cloth is tied between them, a bamboo basket is carried on the back, and a digging stick is held in the hand to maintain the ease of labor. The fields under the feet of the young men have been simply marked with wooden sticks, divided into obvious
Bars, everyone has their own length to complete.
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, worked hard with both hands, thrust the digging stick into the field hard, and then rotated it, digging a small hole as deep as a finger. Then he took out a few corn seeds from the bamboo basket behind his back and dug them with his hands.
Carefully put it into the dug small hole, then use your feet to gather the ash from the burned wasteland slightly, and roughly fill the small hole. The planting pit is now complete.
Then, the old militiaman took a step with his right foot, and dug out the next hole skillfully from a distance of more than half a meter. He had been doing these farming tasks for more than ten years, and he was already familiar with them. At this time, he started again
Picking it up, I felt a kind of kindness and peace from the heart.
The drizzle was gentle and the breeze was gentle. Half a day passed by in such a hurry. The old militiaman plowed for more than a hundred steps before straightening up and sighing leisurely. He looked up at the dark cloudy sky and wiped it with his hands.
He wiped the rain and sweat off his face, and shook his hand vigorously. Then, he turned back and looked at Weziti, who was lagging behind.
"Silly wood, hurry up! The sky is dark, and the rain is likely to get heavier. Finish the morning's work early, and let's go to rest under the arbor."
"okay."
Weezti was wearing a turban and raised his head to glance at his old uncle. His seemingly small body could do farm work much faster than the young man like him. He responded with a dull sound and continued to use the digging stick.
The pointed stone blade digs up.
"This scene is really lively! It's like a big nest of bees collecting honey."
The old militiaman rested his feet and looked around at the situation. He first saw the busy people around him and sighed. Then he tilted his head and looked at the long strip of land he had cultivated.
This kind of long and narrow strip was newly drawn by Mr. Da Da, and it was called an "acre"; and then it was stipulated that one step on each side was regarded as a "step". Each mu has 240 steps long and one step wide, and it is determined by Da Da Da in advance.
The master's men put wooden sticks to mark each acre, and each acre was spaced half a step apart. The young men just kept their heads down and worked in one line. The planting of each acre was still the same as before, planting corn first, then beans, and finally
Plant pumpkins.
Chihuaco is an old farmer. He stretched out his hands and carefully calculated for a long time, and then he roughly understood. In a normal year, on ordinary land, the harvest of this acre of land is about 80 kilograms of grain.
Corn is the main grain and beans are the supplementary grain. In addition, there are 100-200 kilograms of pumpkin as miscellaneous grains to satisfy the hunger. The pumpkin leaves can also be eaten as vegetables. Corn in the field cannot be planted too densely. Only one step can be used to plant a hole, otherwise it will form a hole.
No stick.
Generally speaking, the harvest in the fields fluctuates with the land and is also related to precipitation, fertilizer, light, and heat. On the fertile and good land near the lake, the harvest will be significantly increased by 20%, while on the poor and poor land in the mountains, the harvest will be reduced.
Go to 20%. Tropical areas don’t have to worry about light and heat. Generally speaking, the biggest limitation is precipitation.
In terms of precipitation, the Patzcuaro Lake District is a valley in the plateau, similar to the Sichuan Basin. The annual precipitation is similar to that of the Texcoco Lake District, ranging from 1,000 to 1,500 millimeters. The precipitation from the mountains on both sides will turn into streams.
As a result, there is no shortage of water for agricultural production, but the rainfall is unevenly distributed and there is a risk of flooding during the rainy season.
The climate type here is a savanna climate, with an average annual temperature of more than 20 degrees, which is divided into obvious dry season and rainy season. In August and September, when the rainy season is at its peak, the area of Lake Patzcuaro will expand significantly, so the area around the lake
Planting should be done with great care, by setting up slightly higher fields or, as the Mexicans do, by building floating fields on the water.
As for the soil fertility in the fields, in this era when iron farm tools and large livestock are lacking, and deep plowing cannot be carried out, it can only be solved through natural fertilizers, as well as fallow and burning. The spacing between corn planting is so large, and beans are used to fix nitrogen.
Maintain adequate nutritional supply.
"Well, the harvest of four acres of land, more than three hundred kilograms of grains, and wild vegetables in the field, is just enough for a strong man to consume for a year. Is this what the great master calls 'one stone'?"
Thinking of this, Chihuaco raised his head and counted the long strips he wanted to complete. He actually counted exactly ten fingers. The old militiaman took a deep breath again. He complained in a low voice, but a smile appeared on his face.
"It's so cruel. A young man can plant ten acres! During the busy harvest time in October, he will probably be so tired that he foams at the mouth and collapses like a fish on the shore. But, I really look forward to the scene during the harvest!"
"Uncle, I'm done. It's a lot of work and I'm even more tired than I was in the village before. Let's go and take a breather!"
Weziti finally caught up with the progress. Panting, he pulled Chihuaco with him and walked towards the arbors among the fields. These neat fields were clear and distinct, and every few miles, there was a thatched awning.
A large pergola. There are several large buckets inside the pergola, some farm tools and seeds piled in the corner, and in the middle is a simple altar to the main god. It is raining today, and the sun is not too bright. When the rain stops, the sun will shine at noon.
You can't do any work, you have to rest in a cool place.
As the two approached, two Mexican warriors were revealed in the pergola, sitting cross-legged on the ground chatting. The weather was really hot, so they were not wearing armor, but they were holding war clubs and had sharp bone whistles hung around their necks. These two
The warriors are the supervisors of this field. They are responsible for supervising the work of the young men, guarding the altar of the main god, and also taking care of the farm tools, buckets and seeds in the pergola.
"you..."
Seeing someone approaching to rest, a young warrior raised his eyes and was about to yell. Another older warrior stopped him quickly and tugged on his arm.
"Let them rest... They have made great achievements and have met His Highness... It is said that they are going to be made nobles!"
The young warrior swallowed the next words. He glanced at them twice, then turned his head and said in a low voice with hatred.
"They are just Prepecha militiamen who betrayed their old master, and they don't have any extraordinary martial arts, but they can be made nobles of the alliance and stand on our heads!...Hey, His Highness said he would give us a land reward.
Gong, why hasn't there been any movement yet? Instead, we warriors have been asked to take care of the chores in the fields."
"When did His Highness make a mistake? Regardless of his background, regardless of whether he is a seller or not, it is His Highness's consistent practice to reward meritorious service, and everyone has always been convinced... Some time ago, His Highness had already distributed the gold and silver as a reward.
Have you been promoted to the level of a warrior? There is a shortage of Dingkou now. If we are really granted a field, will you be able to plant it yourself?... We just listen to His Highness!"
"Of course Your Highness is right. It's just that gambling is not allowed in the army, and there is no fun in the city. Even women are organized to work...the gold and silver are not of much use in our hands!...As members of the alliance, we
A samurai must find a future on the battlefield. As long as he saves enough prisoners and heads, and makes enough contributions, he can become a military noble in the future! ... What kind of future can he have by hanging out in the fields?"
Hearing this, the old warrior also sighed. His eyes showed a desire to fight, like a wolf that was lurking and suffering, but he continued to persuade.
"Keep the gold and silver in your hands. Even if you can't spend it here, you can spend it in the market in the hinterland of the alliance. When your family moves from the hinterland of the alliance, we will all lay down our foundations here. Later, we will build houses, buy herbs, and buy slaves.
Either way requires a lot of money..."
"As for the credit, are you afraid that there will be no credit for following His Highness? This Western Expedition has been fought one after another, and everyone is very tired. We have to take some rest. Wait until the autumn harvest is completed, and then go out to conquer again, and we will be able to do more disasters.
Grab some meat and grain!"
The young warrior nodded with an expectant smile on his face. At this time, Chihuaco and Wezziti had already entered the pergola. The Mexica warriors simply said hello and stopped talking.
Chihuaco returned the favor with a smile. Then, he walked to the wooden bucket, scooped it out with a wooden ladle, and drank water directly into the ladle. The cold well water flowed into his throat, eliminating the heat on his body and leaving him with
A little sweet and salty.
The water was pumped out by farmers from nearby deep wells and put into wooden barrels, which were pushed by a new type of wheeled cart and transported in the morning. The Lord has requested that everyone is not allowed to drink the lake water at will during the rainy season.
You must drink clean well water or stream water. The Alliance is never short of salt, and there are large salt fields near the royal capital. The lord asked the people to add salt to the water to better maintain their physical strength.
As for that kind of wheeled vehicle, the old militiamen also watched it carefully with curiosity. What kind of wheelbarrow can move freely on the muddy ground of the lake area plain, but it is hard to say in the forest with tangled trees. There are two wooden handles on the wheelbarrow, one for carrying the load.
It is a cardboard box with a big wheel underneath. The center of the big wheel is empty, with a circle of supporting wooden bars cut into neat lengths, and two circles of shining copper nails for reinforcement.... Anyway
It looks like it is time-consuming and labor-intensive. It must be done with bronze tools, and the cost is very expensive. It looks like something used by gentlemen.
Next to the old militiaman, Wezti took a few sips of water and then came to the altar in the center of the pergola. The altar was made of wood and stones, with the sun symbol of the main god of Mexica placed on it, and surrounded by a circle of sun.
Dry grains, mainly corn kernels, beans and pumpkin seeds.
Weziti lowered his head, prayed silently in his heart, chanted the name of the Lord God, and prayed for a good harvest this year.
Usually during spring plowing, the village priests would lead everyone to pray to the God of Harvest. Now the alliance manages everything, and Mexica priests also travel around to hold sacrificial ceremonies. It is said that the main god is very powerful and can bring everything to a close.
, not to mention the harvest... Hearing the priests' stories, I was a little skeptical, but praying is better than not praying at all, and let's see what the harvest is like this autumn.
The two rested for two-quarters of an hour, then continued to work in the fields, and soon it was dinner time. At this time, the rain had subsided a little, and the dark clouds had become somewhat thinner. The sun hid behind the clouds, and on the dark edges of the dark clouds, it cast a gorgeous glow.
There is something inexplicably moving about the red clouds.
It was a day of hard work, and we only planted more than one and a half acres. We would have to work on ten acres for another five or six days.
Chihuaco wiped his sweat, picked up the tip of the digging stick and took a look. In less than two days, the blade of the stone had been worn a lot. The blade must be replaced in the middle. Fortunately, it is said that the boss has made arrangements for it.
, the craftsmen in the city are using bronze tools to make spare farm tools in the past few days to supply the young men farming outside the city.
The old militiamen have used bronze spears and know that this metal is quite durable. However, the output is rare and the cost is high, so it is always used first in tools and weapons. As for bronze farm tools, they cannot count on it for the time being.
In fact, digging holes during planting is actually not bad, since the ground is not plowed much anyway, and stone digging sticks can be used just as well. What is really laborious is the sickle during harvesting. If you have a sharp sickle, you can save a lot of effort.
When it comes to sharpness, the alliance's obsidian blades are the sharpest, much faster than ordinary bronze blades. However, the origin of obsidian is limited, it wears out quickly, and the cost is also very high.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! The old militiamen walked leisurely along the field ridge, while looking at the horizon, thinking randomly. The surrounding men stopped working in turn and gathered into a marching team.
The young men were talking to each other about today's meal, and the field became noisy. From time to time, someone saluted and greeted Chihuaco, and the old militiamen responded with a smile.
The Mexican warriors maintained order in the team and returned together, leaving only one man on duty in the arbor. The man had to sleep in the fields and watch over them all night. If farm tools were lost or the altar was damaged, his hair would be cut, whipped or even whipped.
It is a serious crime of beheading.
Of course, this kind of hard night watch work is not Chihuaco's turn. He is now the captain of the field army, with a militia group of two hundred people under his command. Yes, the young men are all surrendered troops of Tarasco, and now they are greatly
The master arranged for collective farming work. Everyone was organized in the form of an army and stayed in the collective camp. They had to get up on time every day, pray, have breakfast, and do farm work until evening, then pray again, have dinner, and then go to the camp to rest.
.
The current life is to farm in the form of an army, and then feed oneself, and the excess food is used as military rations for expeditions. The number of soldiers who surrendered was counted in the tens of thousands. At this time, they were all divided into battalions of a thousand people.
, divided into thirty field battalions. The officers of each battalion were composed of Mexican warriors, Mexican militiamen, Tarasco generals who had made outstanding achievements, or Tarasco generals who had surrendered earlier.
Puap now leads this thousand-man battalion, and most of the other old brothers are captains of 200 people. Only Weziti gave up his position as captain and always followed the old militia quietly.
Everyone gathered at the end of the field, then roughly separated into different groups, and returned to the camp noisily. The captains of each group yelled and cursed, and the young men marched amidst the yelling and chaos, but barely maintained basic order.
.
The old militiamen led their own brigade, like leading a group of turkeys, shouting non-stop. After several days of collective labor, these young men have developed general rules. At least they will not stop halfway.
Relieve yourself anywhere, or catch hares in the grass. This may also be the effect of the Mexica warrior's whip.
At the front of the queue, Puap, with a straight face, was marching with the field camp. He finally became a hereditary noble master, but he still had to lead his men to do such hard work in the fields. Master Huitu is now
I felt dissatisfied, but I didn't dare to show it out, because this was a task that His Highness strictly required and that I took very seriously.
When spring plowing began a few days ago, His Highness even went to the fields himself, leading a group of senior commanders and generals, each of whom planted more than an acre of land. A regiment commander who looked like a monkey was very good at farming, even at the same time
Two acres have been planted. Since His Highness and the commanders-in-chief have demonstrated it themselves, officers at all levels naturally do not dare to neglect it. They must at least get over the limelight.
Mr. Huitu was thinking about the good days after the limelight, and a smile gradually appeared on his face. However, a group of army soldiers gathered in front of him with a neat appearance.
Seeing the pace of the army on the opposite side, Puap's face froze. After looking at it for a moment, he recognized that this was a thousand-man battalion composed purely of warriors. Among the thirty military camps, there were approximately
Four or five, all came from Tarasco warriors who had surrendered in previous battles. The team in front of them had a particularly neat appearance, and the battalion commander at the head was none other than the young head of the "Sky" family, Horta.
Not far away, Horta had a gloomy face, like a creditor collecting debts. His subordinates were family warriors who followed him loyally. They had always been self-contained and worked together, and His Highness did not dismantle and reorganize them.
In the past two days, terrible news has come from the northwest: the Sky Family, which has been inherited for two hundred years, has been completely purged by Prince Feather, and has since disappeared in the Chapala Lake area. His Highness personally summoned the head of the Sky Family for this reason, comforted him with good words, and promised
Give the noble daughter of Mexico as your wife, so that the Sky family can establish a foundation in the alliance.
Faced with His Highness's comfort, Ortanono felt grateful in his heart, but could not show a smile on his face. Full of hatred accumulated in his heart, making him always long for revenge and fighting, eager to conquer Chapala
That day in the Lake District.
Under the leadership of the commander-in-chief, the two field camps gradually approached. Puap weighed for a moment, then stopped first and signaled for the sky warriors to go first. Orta nodded proudly and walked away, only taking a few steps.
, he remembered something again, and quickly turned back to the gray earth warrior.
"Gray Tu Puap?"
"Dear Master of the Sky Family." Puap's expression changed, but he bowed his head first and saluted.
Horta, a hereditary nobleman, bowed his head in return. He forced out a stiff smile and looked at the newly-minted nobleman in front of him with a shallow foundation.
"Noble Gray Earth, I have something to ask for your help. Please don't refuse."
"You say."
"His Royal Highness requires us to farm. Each person in the camp should complete ten acres. One camp has thousands of people and ten acres."
"really."
"All the people in my camp were born as warriors and are not very good at farm work. Can you send some young men born from old farmers to help out?"
Puap was silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded in agreement.
"No problem. Generals Prepecha should help each other."
"good!"
Horta finally showed a sincere smile. He patted Puap on the shoulder and said with a smile.
"Dear noble dust noble, I will tell His Highness about your help to me. God bless you! May we accumulate enough food as soon as possible to conquer the remnants of the damn kingdom!"
Facing this blessing, Mr. Huitu was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said.
"The Lord God bless us! May we become sharp battle axes in His Highness's hands! May His Highness lead us to pacify all the feudal kingdoms!"
"Haha!" The two looked at each other and laughed loudly at the same time. The dim red sunset filled the earth, and the laughter of the Prepecha generals echoed in the desolate wilderness after the war, and also floated over the endless newly reclaimed farmland.
.This laughter is hearty and hearty, with a biting murderous intent and full of golden hope!
This chapter has been completed!