floor. Danniella held her tongue. “You and I both know,” he continued, “that the true owner of the land is the one who works it. The man who puts his sweat and blood into the earth and cultivates life from the otherwise worthless dirt. The ground respects men like you, not some fat, would-be nobleman living of the hard work of others. No, I came to see you, for I know you would be someone who would understand and respect what I have to offer.”
“And what would that be?” asked Zachery.
The man reached into his cloak and pulled out a closed fist. He held his hand out and let the contents fall onto the table into a small, ominous pile for all to see.
They were seeds. Large, black corn kernels, seemingly dead and worthless to the naked eye.
“Seeds?” Danniella almost laughed.
“I’m sorry, stranger,” Zachery said with a sombre face. “But you’ve been misinformed. I have all the seeds I need to plant a crop.”
“I know,” the man said menacingly. “But have you managed to grow them yet? Has anything grown in this god forsaken hole in the past month?”
“Of course it has!” Danniella spoke in her father’s defence. “The ground we’re standing on is the richest in the land!”
“Oh, do not delude yourself, girl,” the man snapped. He looked back to Zachery. “Nothing grows! Only insects and vermin will grow in your fields! And now the lord wishes to marry off your only daughter and to take the land from you, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Danniella.
“Danniella, go outside and tend to the pigs,” Zachery said suddenly.
His daughter looked up in surprise. “But, Father...”
“Go! Now!”
With a wounded expression, Danniella left in silence.
Zachery glared at the man. “Who are you really?”
“Who I am,” the man said, “is of no importance.”
“How do you know so much?” asked Zachery.
“Oh, come now, farmer! I know many things, and I am ignorant of many things. But none of this is of any relevance,” he leaned across the table. Beneath the hood, Zachery could just discern the shape of the man’s face, hollow and gaunt. “What I give to you, farmer,” the man said, “is salvation.”
He rose from the table. “Follow me,” he said. “I will show you.”
With Zachery in tow, he walked to the middle of the nearest field. “The earth is fertile here, yes?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” asked Zachery.
“Why indeed,” the man said. He again reached into his cloak, and this time pulled out a flower. A red rose that seemed no worse for wear despite being kept in the man’s clothes. Zachery watched as the man allowed the flower to fall from his grasp and onto the ground.
Before his eyes the rose began to shrivel and die. The moisture evaporated from its petals until it was nothing but a dry husk. The man chuckled to himself as Zachery gasped in horror.
“What manner of devilry is this?” he demanded.
“The blackest kind,” the man replied. “It would seem that someone has placed a curse on your land. A powerful one.”
“I don’t believe in curses,” said Zachery.
“That matters not,” the man snapped. “The powers of darkness clearly believe in you.”
“But why? Why would someone want to curse my land?”
“I do not know, and I do not care,” the man said dismissively. “Even if you did, it would make no difference. Curses such as this are hard to break, and do not expire for some time. I can, however, offer an easy solution.” Again he took out the black seeds. “This crop that I offer you goes by many names. The one that I prefer is Loyalty.”
He handed the seeds to Zachery, who took them with a disgusted look. Zachery stared at them. To him they felt... wrong somehow. They were not the same as his normal corn.
“This crop will grow anywhere,” explained the man. “But it will thrive in a land such as this. The plant will grow, wherever you want and as quick as you want. No one other than you and possibly those you allow can care for it. But as long as you take care of it, the plant will take care of you...”
“And what do you want in exchange?”
The man looked offended. “Nothing serious,” he said. “The crop will grow tall and strong in this earth. And when the time comes, there will be more than enough to pay off your precious lord. All I ask for is for a small percentage of the final harvest when the time comes.”
Zachery hesitated. Then slowly he asked, “And how much will you give me?”
The man smiled. “As much as you need.”
They went back to his wagon, where Zachery found his daughter timidly trying to pet the man’s ugly, black horse.
“Please do not touch him!” the man called out, surprising her. “I am afraid my horse does not like little girls... not like that anyway.”
Danniella backed away as the man approached. “What did he do?” she asked her father.
“Nothing, don’t worry,” Zachery replied.
“Of course not,” the man called out as he pulled five large sacks from the top of his wagon and dumped them onto the ground. “For your father has only assured your freedom from marriage into the loud and boorish aristocracy.”
As Zachery went to examine the sacks of seeds, the man went to his horse and pulled another treat from his cloak. Danniella had only a quick glimpse, but she managed to make out the small, furry body of a field mouse before it disappeared into the mouth of the foul horse. She shuddered as the horse began chewing.
“How do I know that these seeds are real?” Zachery asked.
The man climbed onto his wagon and took the reins. “You do not,” he answered. “But, you lose nothing in that case. And I will never come here again. However, I can guarantee you that it will grow.”
“How will I find you once we have harvested?”
“You will not. I shall return, when the time comes,” the man replied. He whipped the reins and the horse moved off with a slow gait.
Zachery looked at the sacks anxiously, as did his daughter. Inside, if this horrible man was to be believed, they held the answer to all of their troubles. But out of the corner of her eye, Danniella thought they seemed to twitch and throb of their own accord. She looked upward to the departing wagon, but it had already disappeared, just as quickly as it had come.
“Do you really think that crazy old man could help us?” she asked her father.
Zachery stared at the sacks for a long time, trying to ignore the barely discernable movements that took place within. “I don’t know,” he answered finally. “But what choice do we have?”
They planted the seeds that same day.
They were all identical to the ones the man had shown them before, black and desiccated. As Zachery sowed the seeds into the deep furrows he ploughed into his field, he swore he could see them digging themselves in deeper.
Overhead came a loud cry, the caw of a crow as it watched the scene below. Zachery knew that where there was one, there would be others, all of them eager to feast upon the fresh seeds. He was glad that he had already put up Sydney, his trusty old scarecrow.
“Will the crows eat the seeds?” Danniella asked. “They don’t look very appetising.”
“I’m sure a hungry crow won’t be as picky as you,” Zachery joked. “But don’t worry. Sydney always takes good care of our fields.”
Danniella realised she was worried, but not about the crows. They planted their new crop and as the sun began to set, retired for the night.
At first light the next day Zachery went to his fields. At first glance there appeared to be no change in the ground at all, but as he looked closer, he saw tiny sprouts of green stems and leaves that had sprung upwards from the soil.
His heart rose in excitement. Quickly he travelled to all of his fields, and realised that the seeds had sprouted everywhere. The man had been right. Overnight Zachery’s luck had returned and with it, his sense of se
lf worth.
Strangely, however, Zachery found Sydney the scarecrow had somehow fallen off of his stand during the night. The rope that had held him bound with several thick knots had been skilfully undone. It was a mystery as to who or what would have done such a thing, but Zachery was too excited to care.
As he returned to the house, he found his daughter in the middle of the field examining the small sprouts carefully.
“Is the whole field like this?” she asked, just as excited as her father.
“Yes. Our luck’s finally returned!” Zachery replied, barely able to contain his happiness. “Now we must be careful. We don’t know if this strange crop requires any special needs, so we need to take care when we tend to the fields.”
His warnings were needless, however, as they soon realised that the crop took care of itself. Every morning Zachery rushed out to check the progress of the plants and found that they had grown significantly during the night. All he needed to do was ensure that the crop was well irrigated and remove any individuals that would disrupt the growth of others. Menial tasks that Danniella seemed content enough to take care of.
Zachery was happy to note that the successful planting had done endless good to his daughter. Once again she was back to her old self, often smiling and sometimes singing to herself when she worked. So happy was her demeanour that Zachery did not tell her of the initial strangeness of the crop.
It was the small things that he noticed first. Every day he would put the scarecrow back on its post and everyday he would wake up and find it lying on the ground. When he tried to pick