The Last Philosopher

A mess in the scullery

Earl was surprised to find the lads rounded up the Fenmark farmers in a quick and efficient manner. Apparently, the shiftless lot were capable of some good, with the right motivation. A manhunt was the most excitement these parts had seen in a generation.

Most of the dopes were now crowded around Earl. He was sitting at a square worktable, standing against a wall in mother Merrywithers' scullery. She'd been none too pleased about loosing her workspace. Now she had to use the real kitchen. The one that was kept clean in case some nobility ever happened to turn up for tea. But it was this or let a bunch of manky men into her clean spaces.

The room was warmer than comfortable. Like most farms, the Merrywithers kept their iron-stove burning all seasons. But it was bucketing down outside, and the farmers had looked like a bunch of wet cats standing outside. Besides, it fit, because the meeting was as much of a mess as the flour covered scullery.

Not everyone could squeeze into the small room. Some were standing in the entrance hall, others crammed into the larder. The door to which had even been left open. That was normally an ear-pulling offence, since the cooler room contained a lot of the family's perishables. There was one more door, but Nelson drew the line at letting them in the family washroom. Who knew what kind of unmentionables might be on display.

As the mess got going, Earl was forced to put Rascal outside. Because he kept growling at Ralph Traaker. Once the threat was gone, the men started yelling over each other. In this tiny space, he felt like a momma bird with too many screaming mouths to feed. In the end, to get the crowd to settle down, Earl reminded them that someone could be prowling around. And their women were home alone. In reality, he reckoned the thief would be the one in trouble if the Fenmark women got hold off him.

Once the farmers shut up, it took him less than ten minutes to explain what he'd planned. All Agalian farms have at least one loud horn in the house. They were for emergencies. Usually fires, but could be used in any situation where a farm needed their neighbour's help. The horns were how they'd catch the untrackable, but he was careful not to tell these hayseeds about the non-existent tracks.

They would all spread out, those without horses hiding in and around farms. Others along the trails. Many had horns, but they were only to be used once they were sure the suspect was spotted.

The idea was pretty basic, which would help among these non-thinkers. Anyone close enough to see the thief, would blow three short signals. Those who heard the three shorts, would in turn blow two longer signals. Finally, those who heard the two would blow one long signal. Once the horns started going off — everyone, except the youngest boys — would move in and surround the target from every direction.

Last but not least, he gave strict instructions not to try anything stupid. They were only to follow and keep blowing the horns until he arrived. But the rubes were too keen for Earl's liking. He'd just have to get there fast. Before their thickness overtook the little sense they were born with.

"We can't expect them to understand things they can't reason out for themselves, can we," he later whispered to Rascal.

Scratching the dog's ears, he would've thought the mutt looked worried, if he considered the dog capable of such things.

Updated: 08.11.2023