Read Chapter 20: The Harvest Trap

In July 1360, Rochefort made his largest move.

The harvest looked good.

That was the danger.

Concord agents began purchasing grain before it was cut, offering peasants cash at prices slightly above the previous year. Families exhausted by war accepted eagerly.

The contracts required delivery of fixed quantities regardless of crop damage.

Agnès saw the trap.

“If weather turns, farmers will owe grain they do not have.”

“And then?” Martin asked.

“They borrow. Against land.”

Matthieu traced clauses across several contracts.

“The lenders are Concord members.”

Rochefort was not merely cornering the harvest.

He was preparing to acquire indebted farms.

Martin needed a counteroffer.

The Free Hounds had no money for one.

So Chainbreak created grain notes.

Merchants and mills pledged future purchases at guaranteed minimum prices. Town guilds advanced coin. Abbeys provided storage. The Free Hounds guaranteed transport and physical security.

It was improvised, legally dubious, and immediately effective.

Farmers now had a choice.

Rochefort responded with legal decrees declaring the notes invalid.

Martin ignored them.

Then came the rain.

For eight days storms flattened fields across Artois. Some crops survived. Others did not.

Concord collectors arrived demanding contracted quantities.

At one village near Hesdin, they tried to seize livestock when grain fell short.

Free Hounds intervened.

No one died, but the collectors left without cattle.

Within days, similar confrontations occurred across the region.

Rochefort had prepared warrants for rebellion in advance.

Martin realised the scheme had another layer.

The Concord expected resistance.

Resistance justified confiscation by armed force.

Confiscated land could then be absorbed by allied estates.

“This is not about this year's grain,” Martin told Matthieu. “It is about owning next year's.”

The monk nodded grimly.

Martin called every ally he had.

Millers, guilds, abbeys, sympathetic officers, village militias, independent merchants. He asked them not to attack but to document every seizure, copy every contract, and refuse isolated enforcement.

“If collectors come to one village,” he ordered, “bells ring in five.”

The system worked.

Concord men found themselves facing hundreds of witnesses rather than a few frightened farmers.

French officers hesitated to enforce dubious warrants when clerks from Amiens were present recording names. English merchants refused to recognise seized grain when documentation showed coercion.

Rochefort's machine began to jam.

Then he changed tactics again.

A letter arrived from Paris.

A high royal authority had declared Martin Vautrin an enemy of the peace and ordered all loyal subjects to assist in his capture.

Attached was an offer of pardon for any Free Hound who deserted within ten days.

At the same time, English proclamations identified Chainbreak as a haven for brigands threatening legitimate trade.

The two kingdoms still fought each other.

But the Concord had persuaded both that Martin threatened order.

He read the proclamations to the company.

Will Hobb raised his hand.

“Does being enemy of the peace increase our pay?”

“No.”

“Then I object to the title.”

Laughter rolled across the yard.

Only afterward did Martin see how many men were frightened.

He was frightened too.

The difference was that everyone could see his face.

The grain-note scheme nearly collapsed on its first week because nobody agreed what a promise written by a mercenary company was worth. Town merchants wanted guarantees. Farmers wanted coin. Abbeys feared being accused of financing rebellion.

Martin solved none of these problems himself.

That became one of his more important lessons.

Ysabeau negotiated storage. Matthieu drafted language. Agnès convinced millers to accept notes at fixed values. Étienne de Merval, the Amiens treasurer, quietly advised how to structure the obligations so they resembled ordinary forward purchases rather than political currency.

Martin contributed what he actually possessed: armed enforcement against coercive seizure and a reputation for honouring pay.

“You are collateral,” Ysabeau told him.

“I dislike being a noun.”

“You are an expensive noun.”

The notes spread because each participant carried only part of the risk. No single lord could easily destroy the network without angering towns, abbeys, merchants, and villages simultaneously.

Rochefort's own strategy had taught them the answer. He built power through interdependence. They would do the same, but make the connections visible.

When the first farmer redeemed a note after harvest, Martin kept the cancelled parchment. It was worth only a few deniers.

He treated it like a captured banner.