Spring plowing has just begun, and April is the planting season in Mexico.
Shulot sat on the edge of the field and looked at the busy farmers in the village. Most of them were bare-chested, with a loincloth tied around their lower bodies, bare feet with thick calluses, hunched backs, and waving simple earth-digging stone sticks.
Sweat flows on the newly burned farmland.
Fortunately, Mexico does not lack salt. The long coastline, scattered city-state rule, extensive commerce, and salt mines scattered everywhere prevent the people at the bottom from suffering from salt deficiency and edema. Xiulote remembers that the three capitals
Near the city, there is a huge salt mine, which is also one of the trade goods of the city in the lake.
Strictly speaking, before the arrival of the colonists, the life of the Mexican tribes was actually pretty good. Shulot thought.
The city-state's management of its subordinate villages was very loose, and there were no high taxes imposed on Eurasian farmers in this era. Food was plentiful and salt prices were low. Even in barren mountain fields, an Otomi man only needed to plant three to five acres.
If we survive, there will be no terrible spring famine. If we plant high-yielding sweet potatoes in the mountains, we can still raise another child.
"Except for the extremely densely populated Valley of Mexico, fields in other areas are far from reaching the upper limit of cultivation. As long as there are enough iron farm tools, we can usher in new great development just like the two Jin Dynasties developed Jiangnan." The young man's thoughts wandered far away again.
China, a hundred thousand miles away, was also developed in history.
Later, Xiulote took a handful of mud from the field and carefully identified the soil type: it was between hydrophobic sandy soil and hydrophilic loam, which is a common sandy loam in the Mexican plateau. This kind of soil has excellent water and fertilizer properties.
Yes, it doesn't require much modification and is a good agricultural soil.
"As long as a canal is built from the Leman River in the south, the dry fields in the entire Otopan region can be transformed into irrigated fields." Xiulote looked at the south with some longing, "The yield of the fields can usher in another breakthrough. From '
Lower field' is promoted to 'middle field' or even 'upper field'."
"And if you want to really achieve high yields, you still need to apply fertilizers. River mud, piles of manure, and the most recent natural fertilizer, struvite." Xiulote recalled.
America is a famous source of struvite. The nearest gathering place for struvite is the island off the coast of Baja California in the west, which is a sacred place for birds to inhabit. A little further away is the most famous struvite from Chile. In my memory, Bolivia and Peru
They fought a famous "Struvite War" with Chile.
Shulot looked at the fields and meditated. The warriors spread out nearby, sitting on guard while sitting down to rest. In the villages within the control area, everyone was more relaxed. Their weapons were tied behind their backs with hemp ropes, and they only carried shields in their hands.
A young warrior took out a water bag. Before he drank it, he walked up to Shulot and handed the water bag to the young man with a sincere face: "Priest, this is the last bag of wine that my wife brewed with her own hands."
, please drink."
Schlott smiled and stretched out his hand to take it. Bertard, the bodyguard beside him, saw that he had arrived slowly and slowly. He took the water bag, opened it, smelled it, and then took a sip directly.
"Nice tequila." Bertard smiled at the young warrior, "I'm a little thirsty, let me drink some first."
"Want some salt?" The young warrior also smiled.
"No, I like this bitter and happy taste. It reminds me of my previous life." Bertard sighed slightly. After saying that, he took two more sips before handing it to Xiulote.
The young warrior named Kusola has been following Shulot since his funeral in July last year. In the blink of an eye, nine months have passed.
Xiulote knew that he came from a commoner family in the city-state. He had a wife and a newborn son. Xiulote watched him bury his son's umbilical cord under the city of Guamare a few months ago.
, and promised the warrior’s expectations.
Taking the water bag, Shulot was not in a hurry to drink it. He first took out a small clay pot, poured a little salt on the back of his hand, licked it quickly, and then took a sip of tequila. There was a salty taste in his mouth first, and then
Astringent taste, followed by a slight punch.
"Without distillation technology, light wine tastes pretty good." Shulot thought.
Then he looked at the water bag in his hand. It felt soft to the touch, very light to hold, had a unique touch, and had good sealing properties. It was an excellent marching water bag.
"Did you do this yourself?" Shulot looked at Kusola curiously.
"Yes." Kusola nodded and explained enthusiastically, "This is a water bag made from a deer's stomach bag. Cut off the appropriate part of the stomach bag, then seal one end with a thread and tie it tightly, and make the other end
A flexible thread that can be tightened and released. Then roast the pine branches with fire to boil out the pine oil and apply it on the stomach bag. Finally, bake the stomach bag slightly with fire to allow the pine oil to penetrate and form, and it will become a water bag that can be used for a long time.
Already."
"Your hands are very skillful." Shulot admired.
Kusola seemed very happy: "My father is a craftsman, and he taught me a lot. I also often make some obsidian trinkets for my wife. When I go back, my son will probably be two years old, and I will make a wooden one for him."
Toy."
"Why do you want to be a warrior?" Shulot smiled and looked at Kusola's calloused hands. "You can become a very good craftsman."
Kusola scratched his head and smiled again: "Becoming a city-state warrior will give me a piece of land outside the city, and my wife can be less busy with weaving work. If I capture more prisoners in this war, I can
Get promotions and rewards. When your son grows up, you can provide him with better food for his warrior training. In this way, he will have the opportunity to become a strong jaguar warrior and even get a chinampa."
Kusola looked in the direction of Nanfang's home with a different look in his eyes. Hulot saw in him the responsibility of a man, the pursuit of a parent, and the longing for the future. Joining the army is Mexica.
The only way for people to change their class.
"Yes." Xiuluo nodded and said his sincere blessing. "Your son will become a Jaguar warrior."
Hearing Shulot's blessing, the young Kusola smiled happily. Bertard next to him also smiled.
"Commander Bertard, what about you? Why did you join the army?" Kusola was amused for a while, and when he saw the vicissitudes of warriors next to him, he also asked this question. Shulot was also a little curious.
"Me." Bertard looked leisurely at the setting sun approaching the horizon. His eyes became distant and deep, as if he had traveled through time and space and saw the past.
"I spent five years in the civilian military academy, then came of age and joined the army in the capital, where I remained for another twenty years. First on campaign with the great Moctezuma I, then King Assayacartel, and now
King Tisok."
Bertard smiled, "The army is my whole life. Here are my teenagers, my youth, my middle age, and my old age. Maybe in the end, dying on the battlefield like a samurai is the best thing."
ending."
"But you are already a fourth-level senior warrior. You have enough land and slaves. You can retire and return to the city-state. You can also be a military school teacher and live a happy life with your family?" Kusola said while looking forward to the fourth-level warrior.
Life, while looking at Bertard curiously.
Bertard just smiled. The hard military life left traces of vicissitudes on his face, and more traces were left in his heart: "My wife has gone to the red country and died together with my children."
It was difficult to give birth. So I didn’t remarry.”
"My only brother was killed in the battle last year." Bertard looked at the clouds in the distance, "When I go back this time, his wife will probably remarry, and I will adopt his daughter and inherit everything I have."
Shulot lowered his head slightly, feeling a little heavy. In this era, difficult childbirth is very common. Without contraceptive measures, and the extremely high infant mortality rate, women will fall into a cycle of constant pregnancy and childbirth.
Be careful, it will result in dystocia.
Therefore, in Mexica society, women who can continuously give birth to healthy boys have a very high status, just like outstanding warriors on the battlefield. Once a woman dies in childbirth, she is also regarded as a warrior who died on the battlefield and deserves respect.
When Shulot was very young, his mother died in childbirth while giving birth to her second child. He vaguely remembered his mother in this life, who was a very gentle woman who came from a civilian family in the city-state.
Later, his father married a new noble wife and had many concubines, who gave him many younger brothers and sisters. These new family members were not close to him and did not bother each other. If he had not been different from ordinary people since childhood,
He is highly valued and cared for by his father and grandfather, and he will probably stage a lot of bloody plots.
The three of them fell silent, looking at the distant sunset and the distant red clouds together, falling into distant nostalgia.
After a long time, Kusola asked Bertard: "Chief Warrior, why do you want to follow the priest?"
Bertard looked at the sunset and answered after a long time: "Because, I want to change something. What about you?"
Kusola smiled sincerely: "At first, I felt that the priest was so powerful at such a young age, and I wanted to follow him to find a career and a future."
Shulot also smiled and looked at the young warrior in front of him: "Then what do you think now?"
Kusola thought seriously for a while and then said: "I think you, priest, are different from other nobles. You are very good to us civilian warriors, and you also teach us writing and knowledge. You are also very good to the common people. You
He is a good person."
Shulot was a little moved in his heart. He had heard the nobles praise him and recognize his knowledge. He would only smile. But this was another voice that recognized him as a person, but he was very moved.
"You two guys have made me feel embarrassed. Let's go, let's go eat." Shulot smiled and stood up, pulling up the two warriors, and everyone around him also gathered and began to prepare dinner.
The dinner was a bit special. Everyone first sat around the campfire in the center of the village, grilling tortillas, stuffed with chili and refried beans. The village elder then presented two special foods: a thornless cactus and red dried cactus fruits. He
He also took out a clay pot of tequila, which is an important treasure of the village. He expressed his heartfelt gratitude and respect for the spring plowing ceremony of Xiulote.
This kind of cactus is the "mibonta" loved by various tribes in Mexico, and it is an important vegetable. Hulot first took the roasted cactus and took a bite from the tip.
The Mibonta is grilled just right, and the skin is very thin. It should be specially cultivated. The stem meat is very tender, and it tastes like a mixture of cucumber, celery, and zucchini. When you eat it in the center, it is more juicy and has a light refreshing taste.
Sweet, like fruits and vegetables combined.
Then Shulot picked up a fist-sized dried cactus fruit, which looked similar to dried dragon fruit. There were many small seeds in it. He took a bite and it was very sweet. Shulot's eyes lit up and he took two more bites.
The sand feels slippery. The elder told Xiulote that this was last year's dried fruit. The fresh cactus fruit will be more delicious in October.
Everyone drank more wine, and the warriors started making noise in front of the bonfire. Soon, when they were full of wine and food, some warriors danced war dances by the fire, while others watched and booed. Other warriors sent by Totec
They shouted loudly, asking the Otomi girls to come over and perform a dance. The village elder stood there with a look of panic and embarrassment.
Shulot waved his hand and asked the warriors to quiet down.
"Have a rest early, gather your strength, and return early tomorrow morning." Shulot ordered, dignity appeared on the young man's face. Then the warriors gave up and left as promised.
The village elder quickly fell to the ground and thanked him. After the bonfire dinner, the boy went back to sleep. The elder gave up his house: the best wooden house in the village, which was kept clean and tidy.
Shulot was about to thank the elder when he saw the elder pulling a young girl, saying that she was his granddaughter, to accompany the priest. The young man looked at the girl who was about the same age as him, she lowered her head shyly and stood timidly.
Next to the elder, the young man's face, which had been extremely majestic just now, suddenly turned red with embarrassment.
Bertard smiled softly, stepped forward and said a few words to the elder about the traditions of the Mexica warriors, and then the elder quickly apologized and took the little girl away.
Farmers, craftsmen, warriors, and nobles. Boys, young people, middle-aged, and old people. Lords and followers. Boys and girls. All kinds of bits and pieces of life came to mind in Shulot's mind.
He thought about the life of the Otomi people, the life of the Mexica people, and even the life of the entire Mexican tribe. Pictures flew around, and finally settled on the little girl's disappointed but relieved smile before leaving, and the boy smiled too. And then
Amidst the chaotic thoughts, I fell into a deep dream on the soft grass bed.
On the floor next to him was Bertard, who was quietly guarding him, looking into the distance at night.
This chapter has been completed!