Selling the House
Finn heard the urgent roar, like the howl of a wild beast, coming from the Blacksmith Shop. His body trembled instinctively, and a hint of tension and habitual fear flashed across his face.
He took a deep breath, as if trying to suppress the hope and courage that had been ignited during his conversation with Tommy, in order to face the still harsh reality before him.
He nodded quickly to Tommy, his voice low but exceptionally clear and firm. "I understand, Tommy. I... I'll talk to my parents when I get home tonight and try to get ready. Don't worry, I'll be there on time!"
Tommy nodded vigorously, his eyes filled with trust and encouragement. "Okay! It's settled then! I've already told Lex. Tonight, when the moon is high in the trees, we'll meet at the abandoned threshing ground behind Old Jack's house on the west side of the village."
"It's a remote place, nobody goes there at night. Remember, be careful and don't let anyone see you!"
"Behind Old Jack's house... the moon is above the treetops..." Finn repeated softly, memorizing the time and place. "I've got it!"
The two said no more. Finn gave Tommy one last look, his eyes filled with trepidation about the unknown journey ahead, but even more so with determination.
He turned abruptly, head down, and jogged back to the scorching, noisy, and oppressive shed of the Blacksmith Shop, his figure quickly swallowed up by the flickering flames and billowing smoke.
Tommy watched him leave, a weight lifted from his heart for a moment, but then another weight rose within him.
He didn't leave immediately, but stood there, listening intently.
Sure enough, Old Barton's even louder, angrier shouts immediately came from the Blacksmith Shop. Words like "dawdling," "lazy," and "asking for death" could be faintly heard, accompanied by the dull thud of the hammer hitting the anvil, as if the hammer was not hitting the iron, but Finn's body and heart.
Tommy's heart clenched. He could imagine Finn bowing his head, enduring the insults, and desperately trying to quicken his movements to appease his master's anger.
Just then, as if sensing something, the tall, burly figure in the Blacksmith Shop, with a full beard and wearing a heavy leather apron, Old Barton, suddenly turned his head. His eyes, reddened by the furnace fire and sharp and suspicious like those of a hawk, swept straight towards the direction where Tommy was standing through the smoke and light from the shed!
The gaze was full of scrutiny and hostility, as if questioning why this unfamiliar face was lingering there.
Tommy was startled, realizing something was wrong.
He quickly turned his face away, pretending to be just an ordinary villager passing by watching the blacksmithing, while continuing to walk naturally, turning around and taking steps towards his home at a leisurely pace.
He could feel the gaze behind him like a thorn, following him until he turned a corner and disappeared from Old Barton's sight, at which point the oppressive feeling that followed him like a shadow dissipated slightly.
Tommy quickened his pace, his palms slightly sweaty. He knew the plan had to proceed as soon as possible; delays could lead to unforeseen problems. A shrewd and domineering local like Old Barton could cause unnecessary trouble if he became suspicious.
He almost ran back to his low, dilapidated hut, which was now about to be abandoned.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, a familiar aroma, a blend of firewood smoke, food fragrance, and the unique warmth of home, wafted out. My mother, Anna, and my sister Sarah, were both inside.
On a simple earthen stove, something was bubbling away in a chipped Iron Pot, emitting a mixed aroma of wild vegetables, rye, and dried meat.
The room was dimly lit, but exceptionally tidy. Clearly, the mother had begun preparing for her departure; many odds and ends of the household items had been packed or covered with cloth.
Seeing Tommy return, Anna, his mother who was busy at the stove, immediately wiped her hands with her apron and hurried over.
Her face showed fatigue, and her eyes were a little red, but there was a sense of relief and calm in her eyes. However, beneath that calm, she could not hide a deep reluctance to leave her homeland.
She walked up to Tommy, carefully took out a small cloth bag from her bosom, opened it, and inside were several well-worn, dull Silver coin and some loose copper coins.
"Tommy," Anna's voice was a little hoarse, with a hint of barely concealed sobs, "The house...it's been sold, it was...it was Village Chief John next door...he bought it."
She paused, her fingers trembling slightly as she stroked the few Silver coin, as if caressing a bygone era. "He only gave me... ten Silver coin. I... I told him that your father and the uncles and elders in the village worked hard for several years, brick by brick, to build this house. Just the timber and labor costs alone wouldn't have been enough for a hundred Silver coin... But he... he said houses in the village aren't worth much now, nobody wants them, this is the price, take it or leave it..."
Anna finally couldn't hold back her tears and they rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the rough cloth bag. "I... I know we're in a hurry to leave, there's no other way... we have to... we have to sell it..."
She handed the cloth bag containing ten Silver coin to Tommy, as if she were handing over not just some money, but the entire history and memories of this family's decades of turmoil.
Tommy looked at his mother's haggard face and the Silver coin in her hand, and felt a surge of anger.
Ten Silver coin! John, that vampire! He clearly saw that they, a widow and her child, were desperate to escape and wanted to take advantage of them to fleece them!
Tommy still vividly remembers how much effort and sweat his father put into building this house that could shelter him from the wind and rain.
Although the house was dilapidated, it was priceless in the hearts of my father and mother. Now, however, it has only earned them the insult of a mere ten Silver coin!
But he forcibly suppressed his anger, knowing that now was not the time to act impulsively.
He reached out, but instead of taking the cloth bag, he gently grasped his mother's cold, trembling hand and pushed the bag and his mother's hand back to him.
He tried to keep his voice gentle yet firm. "Mother, please keep the money. Ten Silver coin Silver coin fine. We're leaving soon, and this house is no longer important to us."
"The important thing is that we can leave safely and start a new life in Carnford. There is land and hope there, which are worth much more than this dilapidated house. Don't be sad. Dad in heaven would certainly want us to have a better life, instead of being trapped here to die."
As Anna listened to her son's words and looked at his increasingly mature and resolute face, her tears flowed even more fiercely, but at the same time she nodded vigorously.
She knew her son was right; no matter how reluctant she was or how wronged she felt, she had to let go.