It snowed.
Though Belgium's snow was nothing compared to Scotland's, it was hardly good news for people with nowhere to shelter from the wind and rain.
At least there was no shortage of wood in the forest. Woodcutters and hunters built little cabins there to make charcoal or process game, and such houses were common in the colonies too, especially in newly reclaimed areas. Life was harsh, but at least they could find peace.
"Why can't we live here?" a ragged old man asked.
No one echoed him, but the eyes of the equally ragged people around him silently condemned the official.
"We have provided shelters with food and hot water. You can have a happy Christmas," the official said hoarsely.
"Don't try to fool us!" a young man in the crowd said.
"Look at this." The official pointed aside. Two policemen were noisily nailing up a wooden board bearing a notice: "As long as you meet these conditions, you will not be forcibly conscripted."
"Don't listen to them! If we believe his nonsense, when we come back we won't even have a place to stay!" someone in the crowd roared.
The crowd broke into discussion. Their so-called "homes" were really just shacks, whose plank walls looked as though they could be kicked through with one foot. Naturally, they could be torn down just as easily. The shacks contained all their "property," and the villagers allowed them to "stay" there.
Much of the Low Countries lay below sea level. It was impossible for private individuals to reclaim land from the sea on their own, especially when it came to sea dikes. Amsterdam was not like the land of certain hereditary lords; without the sea dikes, the city itself would be gone. Thus, the Netherlands had developed a unique tradition: land