Chapter 242 Spring Ploughing, Military Settlements and Farmland

The wind in June was strong and continuous, driving the layers of clouds and mist. It rose from the big lake in the Gulf of Mexico, and after half a month, it finally arrived on the plains of Lake Patzcuaro, bringing the first rain of the rainy season.

The sound of raindrops fell, and the drizzle from the sky fell on the half-barren land of Lake Patzcuaro, making the soil softer and more suitable for agricultural cultivation. The drizzle flew, soaking the endless cultivated farmland, and also wet the young men who were busy working in the farmland.

The weather in June has already started to get hot, and thousands of young men are collectively farming in the fields, like a busy ant colony. Looking from a distance, it is quite spectacular. Most of the young men are bare-chested, with only a loincloth tied around their waists, a bamboo basket on their backs, and a digging stick in their hands to maintain the coolness of their work. The fields under the feet of the young men have been simply marked with wooden sticks, divided into obvious strips, and each person has his own length to complete.

The old militiaman Chivaco used both hands to push the digging stick into the field, and then rotated it to dig a small hole one finger deep. Then, he took out a few corn seeds from the bamboo basket behind him, carefully put them into the small hole he dug with his hands, and then used his feet to slightly gather the ash from the burned grass and wood, roughly filling the small hole, and the planting pit was completed.

Then, the old militia took a step with his right foot, and skillfully dug the next hole at a distance of more than half a meter. He has been doing these farming tasks for more than ten years, and he is already familiar with them. Picking them up again at this time, there is a kind of intimacy and peace from the heart.

The drizzle caressed, the breeze was leisurely, and half a day passed in a hurry. The old militia plowed for more than a hundred steps in a row, then straightened up and sighed leisurely. He looked up at the cloudy sky, wiped the rain and sweat off his face with his hands, and shook his hands vigorously. Then, he turned around and looked at Weziti, who was lagging behind.

"Stupid, hurry up! The sky is dark, and the rain is expected to get heavier. Finish the morning work early and go to the pergola to rest together."

"Yeah. OK."

Weziti, wearing a headscarf, looked up at his uncle. Although he looked small, he was much faster than a young man like him in farm work. He responded sullenly and continued to dig with the stone blade on the tip of the digging stick.

"This scene is really lively! It's like a nest of bees collecting honey."

The old militia took a break and looked around. He first saw the busy crowd of young men around him and sighed. Then he tilted his head to look at the long strip of land he had cultivated.

This narrow strip was newly demarcated by the master, called "mu"; and then it was stipulated that one step on each side was a "step". Each mu is 240 steps long and one step wide, and the master's men inserted wooden sticks in advance to mark it, and each mu is half a step apart. The young men just need to keep their heads down and work in a line. The planting of each mu is still the same as before, first planting corn, then beans, and finally pumpkin.

Chihuaco is an old farmer. He stretched out his hands and carefully calculated for a long time, and he roughly figured it out. In a normal year, on ordinary land, the harvest of this mu of land is about 80 kilograms of grain, with corn as the main food and beans as the supplementary food. In addition, there are an additional 100-200 kilograms of pumpkin as a grain to fill the stomach, and the pumpkin leaves can also be eaten as vegetables. The corn in the field cannot be planted too densely, and one foot can only plant a pit with one step, otherwise it will not produce corn.

In general, the harvest between fields fluctuates with the land, and is also related to precipitation, fertilizer, light and heat. On the fertile land near the lake, the harvest will increase by 20%, while on the poor and barren land in the mountains, it will decrease by 20%. Tropical areas do not worry about light and heat. Generally speaking, the biggest limitation is precipitation.

In terms of precipitation, the Patzcuaro Lake area is a valley in the plateau, similar to the Sichuan Basin, and the annual precipitation is similar to that of the Texcoco Lake area, at 1000-1500 mm. The precipitation from the mountains on both sides will converge into streams, so agricultural production is not short of water, but the rainfall is unevenly distributed, and there is a risk of flooding during the rainy season.

The climate type here is tropical savanna climate, with an average annual temperature of more than 20 degrees, divided into distinct dry seasons and rainy seasons. In August and September, when the rainy season is at its peak, the area of ​​​​Patzcuaro Lake will expand significantly, so planting in the lakeside area must be particularly cautious, and slightly higher fields should be built, or like the Mexica, floating fields on the water should be built.

As for the fertility of the fields, in this era when there was a lack of iron farm tools and large livestock, and deep plowing was impossible, the only solution was natural fertilizers, fallow and burning. The spacing between corn plants was so large that beans were used to fix nitrogen in order to maintain sufficient nutrient supply.

"Well, the harvest of four acres of land, more than 300 kilograms of grain, plus wild vegetables in the field, is just enough for a young man to consume for a year. Is this what the great master said about "one stone"? "

Thinking of this, Chivaco raised his head and counted the strips he had to complete, which turned out to be exactly ten fingers. The old militiaman exhaled deeply again. He complained in a low voice, but a smile appeared on his face.

"It's really cruel, a young man planting ten acres! When the harvest is in October, I guess he will be so tired that he will spit in his mouth and collapse like a fish on the shore. But ah, I'm really looking forward to the scene of harvest!"

"Uncle, I'm done. This is too much work, more tiring than before in the village, let's take a break!"

Vezti finally caught up. Panting, he pulled Chihuaco along and walked towards the shed between the fields. These neat fields were clearly visible, and every few miles there was a large thatched shed. There were several large barrels in the shed, some farm tools and seeds were piled in the corner, and in the middle was a simple altar for the main god. It was raining today, and the sun was not too strong. When the rain stopped, it would be impossible to work under the sun at noon, and we had to rest in the shade.

As the two approached, two Mexica warriors appeared in the shed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and chatting. The weather was really hot, and they were not wearing armor, but holding war sticks and hanging sharp bone whistles around their necks. These two warriors were the supervisors of this field. They were responsible for supervising the work of the young men, guarding the main god altar, and also responsible for looking after the farm tools, buckets and seeds in the shed.

"You."

Seeing someone approaching to rest, a young warrior raised his eyes and glanced at them, and was about to scold them. Another older warrior hurriedly stopped and pulled his arm.

"Let them rest. They have made great contributions and have met His Highness. It is said that they will be made nobles!"

The young warrior swallowed the rest of the words. He looked at them twice, then turned his head and said in a low voice with hatred.

"They are just Prepecha militiamen who betrayed their old master. They don't have any extraordinary martial arts, but they can be made nobles of the alliance and stand above us!. Hey, His Highness said that he would give us land and reward us for our merits, why hasn't he done anything yet? Instead, he asked us warriors to take care of the chores in the fields."

"When has His Highness made a wrong decision? Regardless of their background, whether they are traitors or not, it is His Highness's consistent practice to reward those who have made contributions, and everyone has always believed in it. Some time ago, His Highness had already issued rewards of gold, silver and cloth, and promoted the ranks of warriors. ? There is a shortage of people now. If you are really given land, will you plant it yourself? We just listen to your Highness! "

"Your Highness is of course right. It's just that gambling is not allowed in the army, there is no fun in the city, and even women are forced to work. These gold and silver are not of much use in our hands! .As warriors of the alliance, we must always find a future on the battlefield. As long as we collect enough captives and heads and make enough merits, we can become a military noble in the future! What future can there be for hanging around in the fields. "

Hearing this, the old warrior also sighed. His eyes showed a desire for fighting, like a wolf lurking with claws and fangs, enduring secretly, but he continued to persuade.

"Keep the gold and silver in your hands. Even if you can't spend it here, you can spend it in the market in the heart of the alliance. When my family moves here from the heart of the alliance, we will all establish a foundation here. Building houses, buying vanilla, and buying slaves later will all require a large amount of money."

"As for merit, following His Highness, are you afraid that you won't have any merit? After fighting one battle after another in the Western Expedition, everyone is exhausted and needs to rest for a few days. When the autumn harvest is completed, we can go out to fight again and plunder more people and food!"

The young warrior nodded with an expectant smile on his face. At this time, Chihuaco and Vesti had already walked into the pergola. The Mexica warriors simply greeted each other and stopped talking.

Chihuaco returned the greeting with a smile on his old face. Then, he walked to the wooden barrel, scooped it with a wooden ladle, and drank the water directly from the ladle. The cold well water flowed into his throat, eliminating the heat on his body, and it also brought a little sweetness and saltiness.

All this water was pumped from nearby deep wells by the laborers, then put into wooden barrels, and transported in the morning by a new type of wheeled cart. The great master has a requirement that everyone is not allowed to drink lake water at will during the rainy season. They must drink clean well water or stream water. The alliance has never lacked salt. There is a large salt field near the capital. The great master asked the laborers to add salt to the water to better maintain the physical strength of the young men.

As for the wheeled cart, the old militia also looked at it carefully with curiosity. This kind of wheelbarrow can be pushed freely on the muddy ground of the lake plain, but it is hard to say if it can be pushed in the forest with tangled trees. There are two wooden handles on the wheelbarrow, a board box for carrying things, and a big wheel below. The center of the big wheel is empty, with a circle of supporting wooden strips, all cut into neat lengths and supported, and there are two circles of shiny copper nails for reinforcement. Anyway, it looks time-consuming and laborious. It must be made with bronze tools, and the cost is also very expensive. It looks like something used by the masters.

Next to the old militia, Wezti simply drank two sips of water and came to the altar in the center of the shed. The altar was built with wood and stones, with the sun symbol of the Mexica main god on it, and a circle of dried grains around it, mainly corn kernels, kidney beans and pumpkin seeds.

Wezti lowered his head and prayed silently in his heart, chanting the name of the main god, praying for a good harvest this year.

In the past, during spring plowing, the village priests led everyone to pray to the god of harvest. Now the alliance manages everything, and the Mexica priests also tour and hold sacrificial ceremonies. It is said that the main god is very powerful and can take care of everything, including the harvest. After hearing the priests' stories, stupid wood was a little skeptical, but it was better to pray than not to pray, and see how the harvest this autumn is.

The two rested for two quarters of an hour and then returned to the fields to work. It was dinner time. At this time, the rain subsided a little and the dark clouds became thinner. The sun hid behind the clouds, and the dark edge of the dark clouds was dyed with a gorgeous red glow, which was inexplicably moving.

It was a hard day, but I only planted more than one and a half acres. It would take another five or six days to plant ten acres.

Chivaco wiped his sweat and took the tip of the digging stick. In less than two days, the stone blade had worn out a lot. He must have changed the blade once in the middle. Fortunately, it is said that the master has already made arrangements. The craftsmen in the city are using bronze tools to make spare farm tools for the young men who are farming outside the city.

The old militia has used bronze spears and knows that this metal is quite durable, but the output is rare and the cost is high, so it is always used first in tools and weapons. As for bronze farm tools, they can't be counted on for the time being.

In fact, digging holes during planting is actually okay, anyway, the soil is not turned over much, and the stone digging stick can be used in the same way. The real labor is the sickle during harvesting. If there is a sharp sickle, a lot of effort can be saved. As for sharpness, the obsidian blades of the alliance are the sharpest, much faster than ordinary bronze blades. However, the production of obsidian is limited, it wears out quickly, and the cost is also very high.

The old militia walked leisurely along the ridge of the field, looking at the horizon, thinking about his thoughts randomly. The young men around finished their work one by one and gathered into a marching team. The young men talked about today's meals, and the field became noisy. From time to time, someone saluted and greeted Chihuaco, and the old militia responded with a smile.

The Mexica warriors maintained the order of the team and returned together, leaving only one civilian on duty in the shed. The civilian had to sleep in the field and guard it overnight. If the farm tools were lost or the altar was damaged, it would be a serious crime to cut the hair, whip or even behead.

This kind of hard work of night duty certainly did not belong to Chihuaco. He is now the captain of the farming army, with a militia of 200 people under his command. Yes, the young men are all surrendered soldiers of Tarasco, and now they are arranged by the master to do collective farming work. Everyone is organized in the form of an army and stays in a collective camp. They have to get up on time every day, pray, have breakfast, and do farm work until the evening, then pray again, have dinner, and then go back to the tent to rest.

Now life is to farm in the form of an army, and then feed themselves, and the surplus food is used as military rations for the expedition. The number of surrendered soldiers is calculated in tens of thousands, and now they are all dispersed, with battalions of a thousand people as units, and divided into thirty farming camps. The officers of each battalion are Mexica warriors, Mexica militia, Tarasco surrendered generals who have made contributions, or Tarasco surrendered soldiers who surrendered earlier.

Puapu is now leading this battalion of a thousand people, and most of the other old brothers are captains of two hundred people. Only Vesti gave up the position of captain and always followed the old militia quietly.

The crowd gathered at the end of the field, and then roughly separated according to different teams, and returned to the camp in a noisy voice. The captains of each team shouted and scolded loudly, and the young men marched in the shouting and chaos, and barely maintained basic order.

The old militia led his own team, like leading a group of turkeys, and shouted non-stop. After a few days of collective labor, these young men have already had a general rule. At least they would not stop halfway to relieve themselves or catch hares in the grass. This could also be the effect of the whip of the Mexica warriors.

At the front of the queue, Puapu was marching with a stern face. He finally became a hereditary noble lord, but he still had to lead his men to do such hard work in the fields. Master Huitu was now full of dissatisfaction, but he did not dare to vent, because this was a task that His Highness strictly required and valued.

A few days ago, when the spring plowing began, His Highness even went to the fields himself, leading a group of senior commanders and generals, and each planted more than one mu of land. A legion commander who looked like a monkey was very good at farming and even planted two mu in the same time. Since His Highness and the commanders demonstrated it personally, officers at all levels naturally did not dare to neglect it, at least they had to wait until this storm passed.

Master Huitu thought about the good days after the storm, and a smile gradually appeared on his face, but a team of neat and orderly Tuntian troops gathered in front of him.

Seeing the pace of the opposing army, Puapu's face froze. He looked around for a moment and recognized that this was a thousand-man camp composed purely of warriors. Among the thirty military camps, there were about four or five such warrior camps, all of which came from Tarasco warriors who surrendered in previous battles. The team in front of him was extremely neat, and the battalion commander was the young "Sky" family leader, Horta.

Horta, who was not far away, had a gloomy face, like a creditor collecting debts. His subordinates were loyal family warriors who had always been self-contained and united, and His Highness did not dismantle and reorganize them.

In the past two days, terrible news came from the northwest: the Sky Family, which had been passed down for two hundred years, had been completely cleansed by the Feather Prince and disappeared from the Lake Chapala area. His Highness personally summoned the Sky Family leader for this, comforted him with kind words, and promised to give him a Mexica noblewoman as his wife, so that the Sky Family could establish a foundation in the alliance.

In the face of His Highness's comfort, Orta Nono responded, feeling quite grateful in his heart, but unable to smile. The hatred accumulated in his heart made him always long for revenge and fighting, longing for the day of conquering the Chapala Lake area.

Under the leadership of the commander, the two farming camps gradually approached each other. Pua Pu weighed for a moment, then stopped first and signaled the sky warriors to go first. Orta nodded proudly and walked away, but after only a few steps, he remembered something and quickly returned to the front of the gray earth warriors.

"Gray earth Pua Pu?"

"Respected Sky Family Master." Pua Pu's face changed, but he bowed his head first.

Orta, who was born into a hereditary noble family, bowed his head to return the greeting. He squeezed out a stiff smile and looked at the new noble with a shallow foundation in front of him.

"Gray Earth Noble, I need your help in something. Please do not refuse."

"You say."

"Your Highness requires us to cultivate the land. Each person in the camp will complete ten acres. One camp will have thousands of people and ten thousand acres."

"Indeed."

"All the people in my camp were born warriors and are not very good at farming. Can you send some young men who were born farmers to help?"

Pu'apu was silent for a moment before he smiled and nodded in agreement.

"No problem. Generals Prepecha should help each other."

"Okay!"

Horta finally showed a sincere smile. He patted Pu'apu on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"Dear Gray Earth Noble, I will tell your Highness about your help to me. May the Lord bless us! May we accumulate enough food as soon as possible to conquer the remnants of the damn kingdom!"

Faced with this blessing, Master Gray Earth was stunned for a moment and smiled.

"Lord God bless us! May we become the sharp battle axe in the hands of His Highness! May His Highness lead us to pacify the four directions of the feudal state!"

"Haha!" The two looked at each other and laughed at the same time. The dim sunset glowed all over the earth, and the laughter of the surrendered generals of Prepecha echoed in the desolate wilderness after the war and floated over the newly reclaimed endless farmland. This laughter was hearty, with a chilling murderous intent and full of golden hope!

The author carefully checked the relevant agricultural information, and then sorted out the agricultural data and conditions of this era. Agriculture is the foundation of ancient civilization. Population, economic scale, military maintenance, including a series of systems of the protagonist later, all rely on agriculture, so we will strive to be true and reliable. In addition, in the author's words in the book friends circle, several relevant maps are posted for your reference. Well, I'm trying hard to ask for votes!