CHAPTER TEN“Acsády?” Father Ránoczy repeated, without pausing from his soup to look. “I hold him up as an example to my flock when they complain about conditions at Szelényi.”
Slightly taken aback, I lowered my voice. “Do they complain a lot?”
“Of course they do. So would you. They live as slaves, in abject poverty, completely at the mercy of the lord to whom they lose more than half their working week through robot. And robot — forced, unpaid labour in the lord’s fields, to the inevitable neglect of their own — is not the only feudal due, just the most hated.”
“I didn’t realize you were so... “ I broke off, a little confused.
The priest smiled. “Radical?” he suggested. “Oh I’m not. I merely dislike suffering. If it’s real radicalism you wish to hear, you could do worse than listen to
