Tully looked down from the bridge. Away in the distance, to perhaps half a mile, there was a small settlement of tents and behind that there were earthworks stretching away; from the look of the thing it was more like a pair of embankments than a ditch. “I don’t envy the poor bastards digging in that boggy shite, nor do I.” “We’ve to talk to the poor bastards, you can ask them what the life is like,” Finnegan answered. “Best way to be sure of who’s causing trouble is to ask the folk who’re being troubled.” “And if they’ll not answer?” “Trouble them.” In the end, there wasn’t any difficulty in getting the various overseers and so on to talk. Mister Lien, the man-in-charge, wasn’t around today and Finnegan could see why not. Canal-building seemed to consist of mud, and lots of it, being carted from place to place by a small horde of laborers. Everyone else had plenty to say, mostly on the subject of mud, but occasionally on the subject of the fensmen who had all manner of clever tricks to play to interfere with the works.
What do You think about 1635: A Parcel Of Rogues - EARC?
