Matt, who was full of grief and anger, forgot about his fatigue. It was not until the moon hung on the treetops that he dragged his legs as heavy as lead, opened the shepherd's small stone hut, and exchanged two rabbit skins for a bowl of hot soup and wheat paste and a bed made of hay...
He set off again at dawn.
At sunset on the fourth day after leaving the valley, the tall spire of the Tyniec Church was already faintly visible.
Hurrying quickly, Art arrived in Tyniec in one day less than usual.
Looking from a raised hill, Tyniec not far away was dyed a golden red by the setting sun.
Tyniec is a square wooden and stone castle common in the Central European plains. It was expanded based on the military fortress during the Roman Empire. The castle has a circumference of about 800 feet and is surrounded by stone walls that are 200 feet long on all sides, 30 feet high, and 7 feet thick. There are four round wooden arrow towers (watchtowers) built at the four corners of the city wall that are ten feet higher than the city wall and can accommodate six garrison soldiers. There is a giant double oak door twelve feet high and ten feet wide inlaid with iron bars on the north and south of the city wall. A ten-foot hard dirt road runs across the north and south. The interior of the castle is neatly divided into four parts with the road as the boundary. The southeast is a free market dominated by low wooden houses surrounded by fences; the southwest is mostly wood and stone structures arranged slightly neatly, consisting of double-story residential buildings and A commercial district consisting of taverns, fur shops, weapon shops, blacksmith shops, and tailor shops; to the northwest is the slave market; to the northeast are messy and dense slums, where fleeing refugees, beggars, and bankrupt yeoman farmers gather...
The square castle-style Lord's Hall is located in the center of the castle, looking across the north-south avenue from the Tyniec Church with square walls, domes and tall stone towers. This castle with a long history is one of the direct fiefs of Ivrea Otto, the Marquis of Burgundy, and is managed by the Marquis' retainer, Viscount Pierre Yagen de Dieng.
When Ate arrived at the South City Gate, the sun had already set below the horizon.
"Stop, open the bag and check!" A city gate guard holding a short spear, wearing cotton armor, a sheepskin jacket, and a semicircular helmet stopped At.
At took off his rabbit-skin felt hat, revealed his face, and smiled at the guard.
The guard recognized Ater and slowly put away his short spear. Art gently pushed the guard's shoulder, took him aside, stretched out his hand and handed over five pfennigs, which was equivalent to two or three days' salary of a young and strong laborer in the city.
The guard looked around, then turned around and told Art that he had to take out five pfennigs because the tax collector at the city gate had changed, and he had to give the new tax collector some sweeteners, otherwise Art would have to pay heavy taxes on this big bag of furry mountain goods. Art looked at the tax collector sitting behind the long wooden table at the city gate, nodded to the guard, and took out five pfennigs from the money bag. The guard took the copper coins and put them into the money bag sewn on the inside of the leather jacket. He turned around and rushed to the tax collector and other people at the city gate. One of the guards nodded...
Hate, who had paid the "special commercial tax", was not interrogated by the tax collector when he walked into the city gate. Art and his large bag of fur mountain products passed through the tax collector like air~
"Everywhere you go, it is a virtue, and money is God's messenger!" Art slandered.
But Art was still very happy. According to the standard of "one tax per ten", Art's bag of furs needed to pay a commercial tax of approximately forty pfennigs. Because he knew the city guards, he only paid a "special commercial tax" of ten pfennigs to enter the city smoothly.
After passing through the city gate, Art went straight to the southwest side of the castle, where there was an inn that was both a tavern and an inn. After paying the owner five pfennigs, Art was taken to a small room on the second floor of the inn by a bartender. Art put down his bag, took out three penny coins, turned around and handed them to the bartender, and ordered the bartender to bring a decent dinner to the room.
After a while, the bartender brought dinner on a tray - a small piece of fine wheat bread, a bowl of wheat paste with coarse salt, two pieces of roast pork, an apple broth in a clay pot, and a glass of sour fruit wine brewed by the inn. After finishing this expensive dinner like a storm, Art's internal organs were greatly satisfied.
Having dinner and refusing the tavern girl who knocked on the door, Art dove into the sheepskin blanket on the wooden bed. It’s not that Art is a clean person, it’s just that he feels that living is not easy and he really doesn’t want to die in the dirty bellies of these women...
…
The early morning sun stung Art's eyes, and Art shook his heavy head and walked out of the room. Obviously Art didn't sleep well. The noise of the drunkards downstairs last night continued until late at night. As soon as the drunkards quieted down, there were bursts of gasping and piercing obscene laughter from the room next to him~
Coming to the first floor, there were only two bartenders in the empty hall cleaning up the mess left by the drunkards last night. Art found a table by the window and sat down, beckoning to a young bartender who was thirteen or fourteen years old.
"Bring me a simple meal." He said and handed over a penny. The bartender took the penny and turned around and walked into the tavern kitchen.
Matt rubbed his eyes and looked through the wooden lattice window at the alley outside the hotel. The heavy snow a few days ago had melted and turned into puddles in the mud. There were several vendors carrying baskets selling apple bread at the alley. City residents in twos and threes passed by the alley with their necks hunched, rushing to their respective places of survival. This southern castle woke up.
"Please use it slowly." The bartender brought a bowl of oatmeal with a wooden spoon inserted.
After finishing the oatmeal in a few mouthfuls, Art picked up the change of two soubis on the tray and asked the bartender to hand it to him. This is a small copper coin produced locally. Roughly six sopes can be exchanged for a pfennig.
The little bartender happily took the two soubies, and looked at Art with a hint of flattery. You must know that in the city of Tyniec, a prime-age laborer who takes care of his own food and accommodation only earns two pfennigs a day, while a bartender who takes care of food and accommodation only earns five pfennigs a week, which means his daily salary is less than five soubips.
"Man, I want to buy a pack donkey, but the winter market has passed, and the small market has to wait for about ten days. Do you know where else can sell it now?" Art wanted to buy a pack donkey to help him transport prey and furs to make some money, otherwise he would not be able to change the status quo on his own in his lifetime.
The little bartender lowered his head and thought for a moment, then turned around and muttered a few words to the other bartender.
"The mule and horse caravan has left, but a grain trading house in the north of the city went bankrupt last month. The grain house used to have a lot of pack horses for transporting grain. The mule and horse caravan bought a large number of them some time ago. There may be some left. You can try your luck." The bartender ran over and told Art.
Matt asked for the detailed address of the bankrupt grain store and asked the bartender to help him take care of the goods before leaving the inn. The bankrupt grain store is located in a row of stone houses on the northwest side near the slave market. The door of the grain store is ajar, and there is no trace of pack horses on the hitching posts in the open space in front of the door.
Matt was a little disappointed, and when he was about to leave, the door creaked, and a fat old man wearing a felt hat, leather jacket, and cowhide winter boots walked out.
"Good day, buddy, did you come here so early to buy food? Oh, I'm really sorry, the food store has gone bankrupt and closed. You can go to the free market or the food store next to the church." The old man looked at Art and reminded kindly.
"Good day, sir, I heard that there is a group of draft horses for sale in the grain store, and I plan to try my luck." Art bowed slightly to the fat old man.
"Hehe, man, I am not a gentleman. I am just a commoner and the owner of this house. It seems that you are unlucky. As you can see, the cattle have been sold out, and the owner of the grain store also left Tyniec last night. Poor guy, the entire grain caravan was killed by bandits, and his only son was not spared." The fat old man sighed softly, and drew the Holy Cross on his chest with his right hand.
"Thank you, God is with you." Art said and turned and left.
"Hey, man, what kind of animal are you going to buy? A pack horse?" As soon as Art took a few steps, the fat old man stopped him.
Matt didn’t want to waste time, but out of politeness, he turned around and told the fat old man that he wanted to buy a donkey to help him carry goods.
"Well, I don't have a donkey, but I do have a strong mule. The owner of the grain store couldn't pay the rent for the past six months, so he sold the mule to me at a discount. He planned to sell it to a nearby manor after the spring, but I can sell it to you if you want." The fat old man was struggling with nowhere to raise the mule, so he boasted even harder about how strong the mule was and how shiny its fur was.
At was said to be a little tempted. Although mules eat more and have a more stubborn temper than donkeys, mules carry heavier loads, run faster, and have greater endurance.
At sunset, Art and the old man agreed to visit the place where the old man temporarily stored his mules, and then returned to the inn.
At this time, the inn became lively again. In the corner by the window, a squire from the suburbs, a businessman in a bright woolen winter coat and several free people from the city were surrounding a knight, listening attentively to him telling all kinds of adventures and anecdotes he had experienced in the war and on the journey.
This knight has a big beard, but he is not very old; he has broad shoulders, a tall figure, but is very thin, with short brown hair on his head. He wears a leather coat with traces of iron armor, and a belt made of copper buckles. On the belt is a short knife with a horny scabbard, and a long sword for traveling hanging on his waist.
They just sat there chatting, and from time to time they would wink at the shopkeeper and ask him to pour some wine.
"Noble knight, you have seen a lot of the world!" one of the citizens said.
"Yes! Not many of you have seen this kind of world." The knight replied proudly.
"There will be more in the future. I went to the city of Bogdan in the south of Provence last year. The prosperity and wealth there..." The businessman looked fascinated.
"Where is Bogdan?" a citizen interrupted.
Because this place is gone now. This summer Duke Witott instructed Earl Walder Burley to capture Bogdan.
As soon as Art stepped onto the wooden ladder with his left foot, his heart skipped a beat. The name "Ward Burley" was too harsh. It was this robber-turned-Earl who planned to frame and annex the Wells family's territory. After that, he continued to send people to hunt down the Wells father and son, in an attempt to eliminate the root cause and eliminate future troubles.
"I heard that there is going to be a war. Duke Vladis of Provence cannot stand the barbaric behavior of the Principality of Lombardy. He has sent the Marquis of Corray to lead the army to station in Verno, north of Bogdan, and then sent Count Olesny to gather the army in the north of the mainland. I have purchased the armor and horses needed for the expedition and am ready to defect to Count Olesny..." The knight's high voice continued to sound.
Throughout the morning, Art's soul struggled in agony. The knight's words ignited the flames of revenge for the original owner. In troubled times, this was an excellent opportunity. He could follow the knight to defect to Count Olesny. He would personally cut off Walder Burley's head and use Walder Burley's blood to wash away the shame...
But just as the blood boiled, the new owner of this body suddenly poured a ladle of cold water on it.
Regardless of whether he can defeat Walder Burley with his bandit army, now Art is just a hunter hiding in the valley, just a strong lamb. He who joins Count Olesny's army can also be a light infantry or archer. If he is lucky, he may become a peasant captain. Then what? Being used as cannon fodder in a certain battle, buried under a certain wet turf; or having one arm cut off in a certain siege, and spending the rest of his life hiding in a dark corner with the other arm, waiting for a soubi dropped by a well-meaning passerby...
"This is not what you want!!! Did you return to this world just to die for others? You are not afraid of death, but you cannot die in vain! Have you forgotten your father's last words "until the lamb turns into a lion"? "The two souls in Art's body are constantly fighting and fighting...
It was not until noon that reason overcame impulse, and the original owner and the new owner reached an agreement on "Xu Tu's resurrection"...
Art, covered in sweat and with white lips and black lips, shuffled out of the room.
A bowl of pea soup and a piece of rye bread. After a simple lunch, Art regained his color. After leaving one pfennig for food and five pfennig for the room, Art went back to his room, picked up the goods and left the tavern door.
The sun was almost setting, and Art came out of the last tailor shop dripping with sweat. Throughout the afternoon, Art walked through tanners, fur shops and tailor shops. According to the tanners and merchants, Art's fur was as cheap as the leaves picked from the ground. Art kept repeating the hard work and danger of hunting, the smooth color of the fur...
In the end, a good-quality bearskin was sold in the fur shop for only 120 pfennigs, while a mediocre deer hide was exchanged for 60 pfennigs, because as the empire’s forest laws became more stringent, deerskin became more and more in demand. A slightly damaged wolf skin was sold to the tanner for twenty pfennigs. Five fox skins and six mink skins were exchanged for one hundred pfennigs at the tailor's shop. Thirty pounds of smoked venison were exchanged for twenty-five pfennigs in the back kitchen of the lord's hall. As for the remaining pile of furs of hares, squirrels and other small animals, the fur merchant picked them out and threw away twelve pfennigs.
Yate was a little helpless. The big market had passed, a large number of merchant caravans had left Tyniec, and the prices of many commodities had begun to drop. The hard work and adventure throughout the autumn only paid for less than 340 pfennigs.
When we arrived at the base of the city wall on the southeast side of the free market, the sun was only shining. Except for the large and small markets, this place is usually very quiet, and many simple wooden sheds and straw mats are empty. Following the fat old man's instructions, Art quickly found the simple sheepfold.
The fat old man was looking around on tiptoes. He was worried that the young man would regret not coming, and then he would have to spend money to keep the mule.
"Oh God, you are finally here, but the old man is freezing to death." The fat old man rubbed his hands and took a few steps forward.
"Uncle, why don't I come here? It's getting dark. Let's take a look at the mule." Art's eyes were immediately attracted to the mule.
This is a mature horse and mule. It has a thick head, slightly longer ears, slightly thin limbs, narrow hooves, short blue-black mane, and a long tail. It is about five and a half feet tall. It is closer to a horse in height and body shape. Its braying is like a donkey and has the characteristics of a horse's neighing.
"Man, are you satisfied? Although this guy's appetite is a bit larger than that of a donkey, he is not selective about food, easy to feed, has great strength, and has great endurance..." The fat old man saw Art's expression, and the deal would probably be successful.
Art really liked this strong mule and couldn't help but get close to it and touch its fur, look at its teeth, and pat its shoulders and hips ~
"Uncle, please give me a price." Art said cheerfully.
Art bought the mule for seven hundred and fifty pfennigs. That night, the sales contract was signed at the fat old man's house. Of course, Art did not leave his real name, but made a sign of the cross.
…..
At was about to return, so early in the morning he put a bow on his back, a sword on his back, and led the green mule to the saddlemaker's shop.
The saddlemaker is a bald old man with a white beard. He started working as an apprentice in a saddle shop at the age of fifteen and is now the oldest saddlemaker in Tyniec. There were seven or eight saddles of various colors hung on the wall of the saddle shop, including exquisite and gorgeous yew leather saddles inlaid with silver, and simple pine wood and iron saddles, but Art was attracted by a birch leather saddle inlaid with iron.
"Child, you are very discerning. Half a month ago, a bearded knight came here and gave me a blueprint to make this saddle. The left and right saddle plates of this saddle are very common, but the front and rear saddles are very different..." The old saddlemaker stroked his beard and walked to Art to introduce it in detail.
Att saw this improved Mamluk saddle in Jerusalem when he participated in the Holy War with his father. At that time, Art was seriously injured by the Saladin cavalry riding on this kind of saddle...
His thoughts returned to the saddle shop. After Art explained his purpose, the old saddlemaker asked the apprentice to lead the green mule to measure the shoulder width and chest circumference.
"Child, you are asking for it too urgently. I don't have any suitable saddles ready-made here. So, if you don't mind, I have some old pack saddles and discarded saddles. I can quickly make a saddle for your mule. How about it?" The old saddlemaker proposed a makeshift solution.
Att readily accepted the old saddlemaker's suggestion.
While the old saddlemaker and his apprentice were remaking saddles, Art was walking through the grain store, bakery, blacksmith shop, weapons shop, tailor shop and grocery store in Tyniec. He spent forty pfennig to buy sixty pounds of shelled wheat in the grain store next to the church, and spent thirty pfennig to buy ten three-pound rye bread in the bakery; a set of thick linen The long-sleeved winter coat cost him eighty pfennig, an flat axe, a saw, a chisel, a steel file and a few wedge nails cost him sixty pfennig. The weapon shop cost him an old, repaired sheepskin bow pouch for five pfennig. Finally, he spent twenty pfennig at the grocery store to buy a bag of coarse salt weighing about one pound, a small clay pot of strong ale and some trivial items.
The sun began to set in the west. When Art came to the saddle shop carrying a large bag of things, the old saddlemaker and his apprentice were saddling the green mule.
The hastily modified saddle was not exquisite. It was mainly a pine wood inlaid iron-covered saddle with a soft and hard double-layer saddle drawer, a strong leather girth, a pair of old stirrups, repaired stirrup leather, two sheath ropes at the front and rear, and a tail chief... The old saddlemaker was very careful. He also changed the reins of the green mule, put on a saddle cover, trimmed the hooves, and nailed the shoes.
Matt took out a silver mark and paid it to the old saddlemaker, refusing the change of four pfennigs. A complete set of solid leather saddlery cost one hundred and forty pfennigs, and Art knew that the old saddlemaker didn't make much money from this deal.
When he had packed up and was about to ride on the back of the mule, Art looked back at the saddle on the wall, thought for a moment, picked out a silver denier from the money bag, turned around and gave it to the old saddlemaker.
“Please put a silver cross on the front saddle of that saddle, and tell the bearded knight for me - may God be with him.” After saying that, he got on the mule and walked away.
Coming out of the Tiniec saddle shop, the sky was already flushed with the sunset, and the city gate guards ignored the pedestrians and caravans leaving the city. When Art was riding a green mule out of the city, three riders were returning to the city with more than twenty light-armored short-spear infantry. They were the team sent by the Sheriff Viscount Dion to exterminate the bandits five days ago. Looking at their tired and dejected faces, they obviously returned without success.
The knight with the square flag at the head of the team looked at the tall green mule curiously. On the saddle of the mule was a traveling dagger on the left, a hunting bow with horns on the right, and a bulging horse mattress cover on the sheath rope behind the saddle. Sitting on the saddle in the middle was a young man with a fair face, long hair and short beard, eyes like an eagle, wearing a long linen lining and a bearskin turtle.
Yat lowered his head, gently pinched the mule's belly, and left quickly.