The Knowledge Stone (14 page)

When the farmer was satisfied that the boy had grasped all the principles of agriculture and could manage fieldwork to a high standard, he turned his attention to farm maintenance, general management and employment practices.

Meanwhile, Old Malik had started to teach Joachim to read and write, coming to his house on several evenings each week. Joachim proved to be an apt and enthusiastic pupil and Old Malik, who had struggled with these things as a boy, was astonished and impressed by his rapid progress.

When he complimented him on his good work, the boy would answer: ‘It’s because you are such a good teacher, Master,’ and Old Malik would need to turn his face away to hide the tears of joy filling his eyes.

In a remarkably short period of time, Joachim could read and write to a good standard, partly because he was a bright and intelligent pupil who was desperate to learn and partly because he practiced these skills so assiduously in the evenings when he was alone. Old Malik now turned his attention to figure work and, over the following months, taught the boy about the meaning of numbers and how to manipulate them by means of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. These were difficult concepts for Joachim to grasp at first but he persisted with great determination and finally understood exactly what the various mathematical manipulations achieved.

Knowing how difficult all this was, Old Malik was once again delighted with the boy’s progress. Joachim’s understanding of numbers and their manipulation made his introduction to money very simple. Old Malik showed him all the coins that were used in their country and very soon the boy had completed with competence the various exercises and tests that Old Malik set.

‘I think you’re now a better money handler than I am.’ Old Malik laughed and regarded his pupil with pride.

‘No Master, I could never be better than you,’ was the boy’s reply. The two looked at each other with twinkling eyes of affection – two people linked by the common bonds of knowledge and respect.

At the neighbouring farm, Farmer Sistas had examined Joachim’s knowledge of farm maintenance and found that the boy had been well taught by Old Malik. The boy was familiar with the maintenance and repair of the various pieces of farm equipment that were used to prepare the ground; also with the animal harnesses which attached the work animals to the equipment. The farmer set him tests and the boy passed these with flying colours. The farmer found also that he knew how to build a good, stout fence, driving the posts precisely into the ground and nailing the horizontal rails neatly. He could also build a secure gate and carry out repairs to the foundations, walls or roofs of any type of farm building. He could even build a fireplace and chimney.

‘You have taught the boy to do these things well,’ the farmer told Old Malik during one of his regular visits to report upon Joachim’s progress.

Old Malik was extremely pleased to receive such a compliment, especially since it came from a man so well-respected in the community. Reflecting with pleasure on Farmer Sistas’s words later that day, Old Malik’s face darkened as he recalled how much of his earlier teaching of farm work tasks had been accompanied by anger, contempt and physical violence. He shook his head sadly as he recalled beating the boy and recoiled at the recollection of tender skin striped with purple wheals and crimson blood.

‘I was mad then,’ he whispered, ‘but I have changed, thank the Lord.’ He lifted his eyes heavenward.

Sitting outside his house on a warm evening, Joachim was supremely happy with his life.

‘I have it all.’ His thoughts were filled with joy. ‘I live here in this most wonderful of houses. I enjoy my work with my Master. I’m good at my work but every day, I’m getting better and better. I can read, write and count numbers and I also know money very well.’ He thought affectionately about Old Malik. ‘He has taught me so well and now he is teaching me all the other things he knows about the world. And now Farmer Sistas will start to teach me about people and how to make them work with contentment.’ He felt he would burst with happiness and was desperate to share it with someone, because unshared happiness is an ache, an agony, almost physical in its intensity.

A slight sound made him look around and there was the slim figure of Giana walking towards the farmhouse.

‘Giana,’ he called, ‘come and speak to me.’ He remembered his resolve to have a private conversation with her. Now he had found his chance.

The girl hesitated, then replied: ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ he persisted. ‘It’s not yet time for the evening meal.’

‘No,’ she said again, ‘I don’t want to.’

He was surprised. ‘Giana, please come and speak to me. I want to tell you about all the things that have been happening to me.’

‘I don’t want to hear about it.’

He was taken aback by this forthright reply. ‘What’s wrong? Come and sit here. I want to speak to you about your sadness.’

After a moment or two of indecision, the girl walked over slowly and sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair beside him.

‘What’s wrong?’ he repeated his question.

Now she looked at him, a flash of anger in her dark eyes: ‘It’s all right for you, with your lovely house to live in and being taught to be a good farmer.’

He was mystified.

‘But your life must be very good, too, Giana. The Mistress is kind to you, you have a bed of your own and everyone is nice …’ His voice trailed off.

‘Listen,’ she said, her tone now hard-edged, ‘your life has changed in so many different ways but mine hasn’t. My life is just the same. I’m still a servant to the Mistress. All day, every day, I have to do everything she tells me to do. She may not be unkind to me like she used to but I still have to be obedient, all the time. Unlike you, I’m still treated as a little servant girl. No-one gives me a house and beautiful furniture. And I don’t eat at the table or talk as an equal to them.’ Having said this Giana burst into loud and bitter tears.

‘I don’t talk as an equal …’ the boy faltered. He was dumbfounded at what Giana had said – but he was beginning to see the logic of it. ‘I’ve never really looked at it from her point of view. Maybe I can begin to see what she means, now.’ His thoughts were a revelation.

‘Giana, I never thought …’ Again his voice faded away and he leaned forward to comfort her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she snapped, ‘I don’t want your sympathy.’ On saying this she jumped up from the chair and ran off towards the farmhouse. He looked after her sadly.

‘I should have known this. I should have been able to work it out.’ Joachim was blaming himself. ‘I must think what to do.’

The following day, while doing his farm work, he thought about Giana’s unhappiness many times and racked his brains to see how he could best help her.

‘Maybe I should discuss this with the Master.’ He looked across at the old man and thought how he would approach the subject with him. At the same time, intelligently, he tried to work out what his Master’s reaction would be. ‘I don’t want him to be angry with me. He might say it’s none of my business and then I won’t have helped Giana at all.’

Reflecting further upon speaking to Old Malik, the boy thought it most likely that the man would grunt something like: ‘Giana? Giana is the Mistress’s servant. I have nothing to do with her.’ That would be the end of the conversation and, again, Joachim would have solved nothing. ‘Better that I should speak to the Mistress myself,’ he concluded, feeling rather nervous at the prospect.

Although Joachim and Maretta had a friendly enough relationship these days, they did not usually speak on “serious matters”. She might not be pleased with his interference in her affairs:

‘I’ll need to think of a gentle way to introduce the subject,’ he thought.

By the end of the day, Joachim had decided how to approach Maretta but he knew he had to find the right time to speak.

‘It will need to be a time when Giana is not present,’ he told himself.

That very evening, the perfect opportunity presented itself. He had cleaned himself and had arrived at the farmhouse for the evening meal. Maretta was making preparations for the meal but both Old Malik and Giana were absent from the room. The boy knew that his Master was outside washing himself at the tub and so would not return for some minutes: ‘Mistress, where is Giana?’

‘She has gone to the dairy for some milk, Joachim.’ The boy noted that this was said in a friendly voice and decided to put his strategy into action.

‘May the Lord be with me,’ he whispered. Old Malik had recently converted him away from the spirits and he now worshipped “The Lord” like the Master and Mistress. ‘Mistress, I must speak about Giana. Will you permit it?’

Maretta was surprised. What could the boy possibly have to say to her about Giana?

‘Yes, Joachim, you may speak.’

‘It is possible that Giana may eat with us at the table? I feel unhappy that she is not sharing all the wonderful privileges you and the Master have given me. But I recognise I am like Giana. I am just a servant on the farm, like her.’

Maretta was very surprised. This had never occurred to her because, unlike Joachim who clearly was approaching manhood, she thought of Giana as just a little girl. It was true that Giana was several years younger than Joachim and was not yet showing the signs of becoming a woman. She looked searchingly at him and he blenched nervously under her gaze. She found she was touched by the concern of this young man for someone who was weaker than he was.

‘Joachim, I will think about this and discuss it with the Master.’

‘Mistress, I hope I have not displeased you.’ He was worried that he may have made things worse.

‘No,’ she reassured him, ‘it is right that you should have spoken – and, Joachim …’

‘Yes, Mistress?’

‘There are things you do not know about – but, in time, you will.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’ Joachim did not understand this enigmatic comment but was grateful that all seemed to be well. ‘I have done all I can,’ he thought.

The very next day, when the time of the evening meal came, Maretta laid a fourth place at the table. When Giana brought the platters and bowls, she was puzzled by the extra place at the table and enquired: ‘Mistress, do we have a guest for the evening meal? You have not mentioned it and I have not prepared extra food.’

‘No, Giana, we have no guest,’ the woman replied with a smile, ‘the Master and I wish you to sit at the table with us. We want you to have all your meals here from now on.’

Giana was astounded. ‘But, why?’ the words stumbled out.

‘Because you are now a grown up girl and soon you will be a woman. And because you are a good servant.’

The girl could not believe her good fortune and tears of joy filled her eyes. ‘Oh thank you, Mistress, thank you Master.’

Maretta glanced significantly at Joachim, sitting quietly (and innocently) in his place, and nodded imperceptibly. The boy flushed with pleasure. He hoped fervently that this would make Giana happy. He looked at her now, settling down in her place at the table, and was glad to see her face wreathed in smiles.

Farmer Sistas and Joachim were now concentrating on the most complex parts of farm management – strategic organisation and people. Now that the boy could read, write and count, he kept the farm accounts and dealt with many aspects of money, making only very rare mistakes. He was also taught how to work out the best strategy for the farm and set everything out in the Farm Book, so that this could be constantly reviewed and, if necessary, amended during the seasons.

Where many farmers in the region planned their activities virtually on a day-to-day basis, Farmer Sistas was a meticulous strategist; this was why his farm was so efficient and known to be easily the most productive in the region. This was the position formerly taken by Old Malik’s farm when it was managed by his father. So Farmer Sistas trained Joachim rigorously, testing him to the limit on strategic matters. The boy was quick to learn and the farmer was delighted with his rapid progress.

‘I have trained others for this work,’ the farmer told him, ‘but you are easily the best of all my pupils.’ Of course both Joachim and Old Malik were delighted to hear this.

Finally, Farmer Sistas came to the employment and management of workers on the farm.

‘Joachim, this is a very serious part of farm work,’ he told the boy, ‘and it is of great importance that the right workers are employed on fair terms. You must now learn how to handle people and how to motivate them to give you the best work they can give.’

Joachim was awed at this prospect – in fact, it terrified him!

‘But Master, I am only a young farm boy. How can I make grown men work well?’ His heart thumped within him. He had not been awed by any of the things he had learned from Farmer Sistas and Old Malik. It had been very hard work but it was wonderful to be able to do all these things well. But how could he, Little Joachim, hope to command workers, grown men, much bigger and stronger than he?

Farmer Sistas smiled, looking across at this sincere and increasingly impressive young man, not only acquiring new knowledge each day but rapidly growing towards powerful adulthood.

‘Joachim, I will teach you and then I will prove to you that you can do it – and do it well.’

The following weeks were filled with teaching about employing and handling workers.

Firstly, Joachim was taught and tested on recruitment and command: ‘So how many men will you employ?’

‘I will consult the strategy and see how many I need,’ the boy answered immediately.

‘How much will you pay?’

‘I will find out the level of pay in the region and then I will pay according to their ability and experience.’

‘How will you treat your workers?’

‘I will expect them to work well. I will be firm and fair and treat them with justice and respect.’

‘How will they treat you?’

‘They will treat me with respect and do what I ask them to do.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘I will warn them and give them a chance to reform. If this fails I may have to terminate their employment.’

‘Will you need to supervise every worker personally?’

‘No. If I have a large number of workers I will form them into teams with a leader. The leader will be responsible to me and I will pay him more money.’

‘Will you train any of your workers in new skills?’

‘Yes, I will always want to develop my workers. The better they are the better the work they will do for me.’

Farmer Sistas was delighted with the results of his teaching. Joachim passed all his tests with flying colours.

On Joachim’s next visit to the neighbouring farm, the farmer said: ‘Joachim, your teaching is now complete and I am confident you can apply all the skills of a very good farmer.’ Joachim flushed with pleasure. Old Malik would be very pleased when he heard. ‘The only thing you lack now is actual experience of commanding workers. Come with me, please.’

Rather mystified, Joachim followed the farmer across the spotless farmyard and round the edge of a field. In the distance, Joachim could see three men, offloading posts and thick planks of wood from a cart. These were big, burly men, bronzed and stripped to the waist, their well-developed muscles rippling as they handled the heavy wood with ease. As the farmer approached, the men stopped work and greeted him.