1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 173 War Bonus
Bang - Bang -

The cannons roared, thick smoke rose above the side, and there was a noise on the ship in the distance flying the blue iris flag. The French sailors ran around in panic, dragging their injured comrades into the cabin.

"They are preparing to retreat. Should we chase them?"

On the lookout of the Archon, the sailor loudly reported to the captain below.

"No need. The main purpose of our operation this time is not to destroy the enemy ships, but to rescue the refugees!"

"Just chase them away!"

On the deck, Giovanni Giustitiani responded, signaling the fleet to approach the shore and lower the lifeboats.

This is the Ligurian coast, and not far away is the port of Albenga, a Genoese port that has just been occupied by French troops.

After suffering a series of defeats at sea, the Kingdom of France vented its anger and resentment on the civilians of Genoa, burning and killing people in the area around the port of Albenga, leaving the people homeless.

When the commander, the Duke of Bourbon, arrived in Albenga, it had already been completely looted. The knights were of course disdainful of doing the work of mercenaries and robbers, and they firmly guarded several important military locations and granaries, thus avoiding greater losses.

The Duke of Bourbon was so angry that he started cursing, but it was too late. The trust of the people of nearby Genoa in them had dropped to the lowest level. The citizens in the city closed their doors and windows, leaving only hateful eyes behind the curtains.

The situation in the countryside was even worse. Farmers and fishermen who had lost their homes fled in all directions, hiding from the French mercenaries roaming the countryside.

They wanted to seek refuge to the west, but were blocked outside the city by the tightly closed gates of Genoa. Some nobles who had defected to the French teamed up with bandits to take advantage of the situation and rob people. For a time, the western half of the Ligurian coast became a living hell.

Under this circumstance, Isaac signed the refugee resettlement decree, requiring his ships to protect the Genoese refugees as much as possible and take them to North Africa for dispersed resettlement.

The Grand Consul, led by Giovanni, was one of them.

"Which ship is this?"

On the deck, the first mate looked at Giovanni.

"The fifth ship has the largest number of people this time. I'm afraid one ship won't be enough."

"It's okay. We have enough transport ships."

The first mate frowned and kicked a lazy sailor hard on the butt.

"I just don't know how many of them belong to the third level or even the fourth level?"

Giovanni shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he didn't understand.

According to Isaac's order, the people captured from the French coast and the refugees brought back from the Genoese coast would be divided into four levels in order to better determine their fate.

Most of the people on the south coast of France belonged to the first class of farmers and fishermen. There were very few second class craftsmen. They were usually forced to convert to Orthodoxy and assigned to areas with harsh conditions to reclaim wasteland.

If they refused to obey, they would be transported to the slave market in Bilinchi and sold.

Today, Birinci is the largest slave trade market in the entire Mediterranean region. Slave traders will transport slaves to Mamluk, Syria, Karaman and even the Ottoman Empire according to their quality, and consume them in brutal wars or heavy labor.

The situation of the refugees in Genoa was much better. The proportion of craftsmen increased significantly, and their destination was better. They would be settled in major cities and join local handicraft workshops. They were also much more tolerant in terms of beliefs.

"By the way, Captain, why haven't I seen His Majesty's main fleet recently?"

"They haven't been seen since the naval battle last month."

"Some say they went to the South. Is that true?"

the first mate asked doubtfully.

"Don't meddle in things that shouldn't be your business!"

Giovanni said sternly.

"What's the matter? Have you not gained enough recently? Do you still have the mind to care about these trivial matters?"

"No, no. The recent income is equal to that of the whole of last year. Last time, we captured a French nobleman and the ransom was so high. Tsk tsk, he wouldn't be happy if it was less. What do you think..."

"If I can make more money, I will quit and become an instructor at the Carthage Nautical Academy, and send my two sons to the Royal Knights Academy, hehe..."

"Oh! I can't believe you still have such a dream. Why don't you plan to let your two boys follow in your father's footsteps and continue to be sailors?"

Giovanni looked at his subordinates in some surprise.

"Oh, it's too hard. I don't want to do this again..."

As they were talking, several sailors scooped up the merchandise floating on the sea and placed it wetly on the deck.

These things came from a French merchant ship that had just sunk.

"Oh? Bordeaux wine!"

The sailors cheered and smashed the bottles, greedily sucking the wine into their mouths.

"Country people are country people. In my hometown of Constantinople, there are many better wines than this!"

A sailor from Constantinople stood aside, shaking his head, and pulled his good companion to start his usual boasting.

"My ancestors were real Constantinople people. They followed Emperor Michael VIII and grew up listening to the bells of Hagia Sophia!"

"Don't disbelieve me, I am really different from those farmers in the suburbs. My ancestors have been sailors in the port of Prausfilion for generations! When Emperor Isaac held the eagle flag and went north to Galata, I was by his side! Hey! That fire, tut tut..."

His companions were obviously not interested in what he said and started talking about interesting things that happened at sea.

"I heard that the King of France wants to bribe some captains to serve him. Is that true?"

"What can he give? Let us plunder their coasts? Haha!"

The Constantinople sailor had sharp ears and immediately took over the conversation.

"As for us, it is His Majesty the Emperor who is enlightened and allows us to collect tolls from the French and only pay one tenth of them."

"Some time ago, a French merchant wanted to make a fortune from the war and tried to secretly transport grain. He gave old Lille a large sum of money to buy peace."

"Hey! Guess what? Old Lill agreed immediately, and then informed another captain of the situation and asked him to rob the merchant! That was a——"

"Alright! The refugees are coming! Go to the transport ship and register them!"

The first mate came over and kicked the Constantinople sailor, knocking him off his horse.

More and more refugees gathered on the beach, and their cries and screams echoed along the entire coast.

These refugees who had lost everything no longer cared about culture, country, faith and ethnicity. They only knew that on the ships flying the double-headed eagle flag, there were not only thick bread and clean fresh water, but also hay beds in the bottom of the cabin for resting.

"Captain, there are too many people. The transport ship can't accommodate them."

"There's still room on some of the ships, how about we--"

The boatswain looked to Giovanni for his opinion.

"Let's do it this way. The French are frightened by the attack, and Venice will be dealt with by someone."

"We are safe for now."

Giovanni sighed and crossed himself.

The refugees swarmed towards the ships on the coast. Regardless of the waist-deep water, the men lifted their sons and daughters high and put them on the lifeboats, as if they were holding up the hopes of their family.

The deck of the Grand Consul was soon filled with refugees. As the sky grew darker, the crowd on the beach became more anxious, fearing that the fleet would leave.

Giovanni was also a Genoese. He hated the atrocities of the French and loudly directed the allocation of personnel, providing all possible help to his compatriots.

"I heard that people in Constantinople are very xenophobic. Will Emperor Isaac accept us?"

A voice was heard among the refugees.

"Your Majesty's mother is Genoese, and you are half his compatriots!"

"I am also a Genoese, and I am a high-ranking fleet captain, right?"

"Don't worry, you will be accommodated!"

Giovanni shouted in Italian, and the refugees gradually felt relieved when they heard the familiar accent.

He glanced at the crowd and was suddenly surprised.

At the edge of the boat, a half-grown boy was holding a book in the dim light of the evening.

Unlike the refugees staggering around him, he leaned against the side of the ship, his body swaying with the waves, firmly fixed on the deck, reading a book attentively, with longing and ambition in his eyes.

As if born to belong to the sea.

The refugees were led to the cabin by the sailors, and the crowd gradually dispersed, but the boy was still immersed in the book as usual, not noticing the crescent moon rising.

Giovanni was curious, so he stopped a sailor who was walking towards him and quietly came up behind him.

"There is an abundance of silk, which is used to weave fine gold brocade and various kinds of silk. It is a rich state, and all grains are cheap. There is a lot of game in the country, and there are tigers. There are wealthy merchants who take care of the taxes on their trade, and the monarch earns a lot of money."

When the boy read the touching parts, he couldn't help but read them aloud.

As an old Genoese sailor who had sailed on the sea for decades, Giovanni certainly knew the origin of this passage. The Travels of Marco Polo.

“It’s a good book, isn’t it?”

Giovanni tapped the boy on the shoulder, and the latter was startled and quickly closed the book.

The book was well-read and obviously loved by its owner.

"Do you like this book?"

The boy recognized Giovanni's identity from the tone of voice, nodded, and gradually let down his guard.

"Are you alone? Where are your family?"

There was a deep sadness in the boy's eyes. He shook his head, his eyes red.

"My father is a weaver, my mother is very gentle, and I have three brothers."

"The Franks came, and my father died under the knife of a mercenary to protect us."

The boy tried hard to keep his eyes open, trying not to let the tears flow.

"My mother and three brothers were separated."

Giovanni had a complicated expression and patted the boy's head.

"Perhaps they boarded another boat."

The boy stepped aside gently, his eyes dim.

"If it weren't for you, the French wouldn't be so cruel..."

He muttered quietly.

"Boy, I advise you not to--"

The boatswain was interrupted by Giovanni's wave of his hand before he could finish his words.

"My child, you like to read Marco Polo's Travels and are full of longing for the sea and distant places."

"Then you should understand this principle."

Giovanni raised his head and looked at the beach that was getting farther and farther away.

"On the boundless ocean, there is only one truth, and that is the survival of the fittest."

"In the world of the strong, there is no place for the weak."

"We are not wrong, the French are not wrong, and if you want to take revenge on them, you are certainly not wrong."

"The only fault is that you are still too weak right now."

Giovanni raised the cross on his chest and kissed it gently.

"God provides us with faith and protects our hearts, but wealth and glory must be fought for by ourselves!"

"See the double-headed eagle flying in the sky? That is the emperor's flag. He is the most powerful lion, and we are the wolves under him."

"And wherever his sword points, whether it's the Mediterranean coast or far away in West Africa and South Africa, it will be our hunting ground!"

"The French are like a strong tiger, the Ottomans are probably like a savage boar, and the natives of West Africa and South Africa are like a strong tiger.

Giovanni shook his head in disdain.

"They are just a bunch of lambs."

"But these lambs have such tempting wealth. How can the lions and wolves let them go?"

The boy wiped away his tears and still held his book.

"If I could one day find the rich country that Marco Polo wrote about, could I also become a powerful person?"

"More than a strong man, you will be worshipped by everyone, the emperor will make you a governor, and your children will be able to study with the prince."

"But these are too far away, go get some sleep."

Giovanni patted his head, but the boy still did not move.

"I am fourteen years old and can go to sea. Please give me a chance to be your sailor!"

The boy looked eagerly at Giovanni.

After he finished speaking, everyone burst into laughter.

"You are fourteen years old? I take it, you are not even twelve yet?"

A sailor laughed.

"So what?"

The boy blushed.

"In my opinion, compared to storms, poisonous insects and ferocious beasts, the biggest challenge explorers face is the fear of the unknown!"

"And I have courage and determination!"

The boy's words were so powerful that Giovanni's gaze changed from surprise to admiration.

The last time I heard something like this was in the court of Carthage.

"What a courageous young man! How much do you know about the profession of a sailor?"

"Don't underestimate me. I grew up by the sea, watching ships passing by. Not only can I swim, I also know all the naval terms!"

The boy stood proudly, looking at the crowd around him with pride.

"Child, don't think too much. Find your mother and brothers as soon as possible, find a job as a dockworker in North Africa, and live a good life. That will be considered success."

The first mate stepped forward and sighed softly.

"There are many dangers on the sea, and you could die at any time, not to mention ocean exploration."

"I was originally a sailor of His Majesty's. During his first expedition to West Africa, I withdrew and voluntarily chose to stay in the Canary Islands."

"In the end, those who returned alive with His Majesty all became rich. Some retired after their success and bought houses and land in Constantinople and Bilinchi, while others became captains and fleet commanders and continued to sail the oceans."

"But I don't regret it."

"I have a wife and children, and I am very satisfied to be the first mate of the Grand Archon. It is worth having an extra drink every night for your Majesty's health."

"Go back, boy."

The boy remained motionless, staring at Giovanni stubbornly.

Seeing how determined he was, Giovanni's eyes were filled with admiration.

"Captain, aren't you still in need of a clerk? This child can read, so he should be able to do the job."

"Since he wants to stay here so much, why not let him have a try?"

The boatswain suggested.

Giovanni nodded slightly and looked at the boy.

"After the Battle of Constantinople, I converted to the Orthodox Church and was baptized by the Patriarch himself."

"If you are willing to convert, I can accept you and be your godfather."

"Thank you, Godfather!"

The boy immediately knelt on one knee.

"I don't have a son. I will train you well, and I hope you will always maintain the determination you have today."

Giovanni took off a ring and put it on the boy's hand.

Everybody applauded, and the priest on board made the sign of the cross.

The coast of Genoa in the distance was getting farther and farther away. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and the stars were shining brightly, pointing the way to the distance for the sailors.

"By the way, what's your name?"

The boy raised his head, and the entire galaxy was reflected in his clear eyes.

"My name is Christopher."

"Christopher Columbus."

(End of this chapter)