How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 200: Inheritance (1)

Dark clouds gather but no rain falls. The humid and dark air settles over a hill in Virginia. People dressed in black come and go, then stop.

Soon, particularly young and sturdy individuals among them step forward and dig into the earth with shovels. After digging to about shoulder height, they climb back up.

And into that hole, they lower a coffin.

The priest-cum-pastor sprinkles soil and flowers over it.

"John Courtney, we entrust your soul to God and lay your body to rest in the earth. Lord, may you resurrect John Courtney on the final day and grant him eternal life."

"...Amen."

"Amen."

"Amen."

Thus proceeds the funeral of an English man who settled in Virginia at the age of 30.

His wife had already died giving birth to their second son back in England, so there was no one to be buried beside him.

Mourners, including his two sons whom he brought to this land, commemorated his untimely death.

"Good heavens... not even fifty years old yet..."

"At least his children are nearly twenty, which is fortunate."

"What was the cause of death?"

"I don't know. His children came home and found his heart had stopped."

Those gathered in black mourning clothes whispered to each other.

The pastor-priest of this village, named "Clearwater" after the grape variety grown there, recites a Bible verse.

People bow their heads and listen to his words.

"Romans says thus:"

'Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned.'

"This means that through Adam, all people were destined to die. But the Lord sent His only begotten Son for these wounded and fallen people, so that as sin and death entered through one man, so through one man..."

But even amid this, some continue to whisper.

"Wasn't it said that when coming to Virginia, one would receive 50 hectares? As far as I know, Mr. Courtney had only received about 18 hectares?"

"Shhhh!"

"But that land..."

"Ahem."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Of course, the conversation couldn't continue for long.

Soon after the prayers and funeral for the deceased concluded, people dispersed and resumed their earlier conversations.

"Speaking of which, what happens to those 18 hectares? Will the government give up to 50 hectares again?"

"They should."

"Then how will the land be divided? Should the firstborn take more?"

"Why go that far? It should be divided equally. Anyway, the sons will become a bit impoverished."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, even if divided equally, that's only 9 hectares each, and the crops from that..."

People continued discussing what happens after death. The topic showed no signs of cooling down.

No, it was beyond that level.

"Then isn't it disadvantageous to have many children? The more children, the more finely the land gets divided?"

"Come on... if someone is dissatisfied, can't they just reclaim land themselves and claim it as their own?"

"Can they reclaim faster than the Knight Brigade? And would the Knight Brigade even manage such reclaimed land?"

The untimely death of a man named John Courtney quickly spread throughout the Virginia community, becoming a topic of discussion.

He wasn't particularly important. Just because his tombstone read 'Good Son, Good Husband, Good Father' didn't mean he had made significant contributions to the community.

However, he came to this land early and died early.

That alone was enough to make him a topic of conversation.

Europeans had been settling in Virginia for less than 20 years.

Similarly, most Europeans who settled in Virginia were either young single men or young couples without children yet.

In other words, they weren't at an age to think about death.

But time had passed.

They gradually began thinking about what comes after death. Naturally, one question followed:

'What will happen to my children's land?'

==

"Well... originally, our community agreed to distribute 50 hectares of land per immigrant household."

As Hewett spoke cautiously, everyone nodded.

50 hectares, about 120 acres, about 500,000 square meters.

It's about 38 times the size of my farm. It's enough land for anyone to live beyond mere subsistence—to live abundantly, lavishly.

Moreover, unlike in original history, they aren't just given land and told to reclaim it themselves. They are given already reclaimed land.

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Naturally, distributing land that can be used immediately is much more difficult than simply drawing a few lines on a map and saying, "This is now your land!"

That's why the pace of land distribution has been so slow until now.

But now more than 10 years have passed. To be precise, 17 years have passed since I arrived.

Ample time for a person's lifespan to come to an end.

The natives didn't care much about land. They had a loose concept of tribal territory, but the idea of ownership of the land itself remained foreign to them.

When someone among them passed away, the land naturally dissolved and returned to the community.

But it's different for Europeans with a clear concept of ownership, and Africans who had been under European rule.

For them, the concern of how to "inherit" this land was gradually emerging as an issue.

No one has yet received the full 50 hectares.

As mentioned earlier, 50 hectares is an area where anyone can live lavishly, and it's more than enough to be a landowner even in England.

"...Can't we just reclaim the land of the deceased? Haven't most natives already 'gifted' their land as they saw fit?"

Again, Manteo cautiously spoke up. Walter Raleigh shook his head in response.

"That's absurd. You still don't understand our people's desire for possession. Unlike natives who are taken care of by their tribes, how are people from the old continent supposed to live if their land is reclaimed?"

"Well... we could just distribute new land, couldn't we?"

"Hmm?"

"Until now, mostly couples came and received 50 hectares each, right? Now we could divide it and give 25 hectares to each person. Let's do it that way from now on. And when that person dies, we reclaim it."

"..."

"..."

Everyone, accustomed to land ownership, was about to object to Manteo's suggestion. It seemed absurd. But...

'...That makes sense?'