kingdom of nations

Chapter 322 The Persuader (Part 1)

Goru stepped out of the wooden hut, stretched comfortably and thoroughly, though the stretch was somewhat incomplete—in the previous war, those barbaric Turks had chopped off his arm. Now, one of his sleeves was empty.

He looked down at the burlap lining floating in the air, smiled and cursed. His wife was still as thrifty as ever, but this little bit of fabric didn't matter to him at this point.

The farmer, who had suffered for decades, squinted and took a few steps into the bright morning light, tears even welling in his eyes. Before him was a lush vineyard, and behind him stood a large, beautiful, and neat wooden house, large enough to accommodate all his family and livestock. It was newly built, costing half of Goru's pension, and sturdy enough to last a hundred years.

Next to it were stone enclosures for livestock, containing three sheep, a chicken, and a cow. The cow's enclosure had a shed on top, and behind it was a vegetable field that rivaled a vineyard. These things cost Goru the other half of his pension.

In the past, Goru's first thought would have been to hide all the money away in a place where no one but him would know, not even his wife and son. Who knew what would happen in the future? Famine and disease always come unexpectedly, like a shadow.

Families like theirs cannot withstand even the slightest setback.

But he's not worried about that at all now—three years, a full three years! Not only those miscellaneous taxes, marriage tax, livestock tax... even the poll tax has been waived.

When Goru first heard the news, he thought he had heard a joke that could be told all the way to hell.

At that time, he had just woken up from his high fever. Not only was he alive, but his wounds had also been examined. Although the person who examined his wounds was not a noble priest, but just a peasant soldier like himself—he stopped the bleeding and bandaged the wounds as the priests had instructed.

Some people still died, but Goru was lucky; he made a full recovery.

During his recovery, he also ate many things he had never eaten before, things like "mana" that he mistook for gifts from God to saints, fragrant eggs, sweet wheat porridge, and salty soup...

Not only did he not die, but he also felt stronger, and within a few days, he was able to get up and help others take care of the wounded.

At that time, he felt it wouldn't matter if he had to go to the battlefield again, as long as he could eat an egg again. The others felt the same way. When they were summoned, they felt a little regretful because it was dusk, and the eggs were to be distributed every morning.

"How wonderful it would be to have a golden egg yolk in your mouth when you're about to die," someone muttered. Goru thought so too. But the knight had gathered them not for any other reason than to give them money and then have them return to their hometown, just like when he recruited them. There was a knight, two squires, and a priest accompanying them.

Goru felt as if he were in a dream. He stumbled home, clutching the purse containing gold coins (disability pensions were much larger), and wearing a neat, unpatched linen outfit. Only when his wife rushed out and hugged him tightly did he finally feel a sense of reality.

His eldest son did not return with him, and no one cared—there were many who had gone at once, perhaps four or five, but none of them ever returned. But it seemed that the god of fortune had finally smiled upon Goru. Although his eldest son was separated from him, the latter, though not very tall, was a strong young man—think about it, the fact that he could take on the task of plowing with oxen and pulling the plow showed that he was very strong.

A knight chose him and put him to some kind of "sweeping" work, which Goru didn't quite understand. But later, according to his eldest son, he and some other chosen men were scattered in some forests and wilderness around Nicosia and were given weapons, though very simple, such as spears or iron-tipped flails, and some even carried pitchforks, but it was enough to deal with the fleeing Byzantines.

They had completely lost their former swagger and were now staggering and in a sorry state.

Goru's eldest son had captured a Turk who was tearing apart a rabbit on the spot. He saw that the man was wearing a leather hat, and took advantage of the situation to thrust a spear into his face. The sharp tip of the spear pierced through his cheek and reached his other ear. The arriving knights cheered loudly and told him that he might have really captured a Turkic lord. The knights not only gave him a reward beyond what the lord had promised, but also decided to take him as their squire.

His son could rise to the top in one fell swoop.

Undoubtedly, but Goru was still hesitant—because not long ago the village tax collector had come to tell them that the lord was planning to form a lord's army. What did a lord's army mean? Goru didn't understand, but he could ask the tax collector—these Venetians, though nominally tax collectors, were now in charge of almost everything, and the people would ask them anything they didn't understand.

Although the tax officials would occasionally order their servants to slap them a few times if they got annoyed by the questions, wasn't being slapped a few times a normal part of life for farmers?

The tax collector said that the lord's army was a group of soldiers always ready to go to war, an army like a knight-lord, who would not have to farm, tend grapevines, or raise livestock.

Their daily food, drink, and even weapons and equipment were provided by their new master.

A farmer who also had several sons nodded knowingly. "Isn't that just like being an apprentice? Except that an apprentice might become a craftsman, while their sons might become soldiers."

Becoming a soldier is a dream come true. "So how much will we have to pay?"

The farmer asked hurriedly. He had also received some rewards before, but unlike Goru, he hadn't spent all the money at once. Now, if given the opportunity, he would like to send all his sons over, leaving only one to look after the house.

The young tax collector scratched his head, then said in Greek with a distinct Venetian accent, “Didn’t I make myself clear? It’s that the soldiers receive their money from their masters every month, not that you have to pay them.”

what! ?

The crowd erupted in a frenzy. Goru still remembers the ringing in his ears, just like when the tax exemption was first announced. Everyone was rushing forward, grabbing the tax official's clothes, trying to get to the bottom of things. The tax official was almost torn to pieces, and even let out a shrill scream, "Let me go! Let me go! Someone help me!"

Those who went to fight the master also got a beating, but even when they were beaten until they had bloodstains the width of a finger, they were still all smiles and excited.

Goru pondered for a long time, even giving the tax collector a lamb. The tax collector thought for a moment and then reminded him, "If you become a lord's soldier, then your son's master will be the lord. Conversely, if your son becomes a squire, his master will be the lord's knight."

Goru suddenly realized what was going on, so he sent his eldest son to enlist as a soldier.

The second son wanted to go with them, whether as a servant or a soldier. He was already an adult and in good health, but Goru wouldn't allow it. Without the head of the household's approval, he couldn't go anywhere and could only stay at home, working in the vineyard.

Goru didn't know if anything bad would happen if he let his overly "clever" son go to the army. He just had the simple, peasant mentality that their master was a good man and deserved to be served wholeheartedly—that they shouldn't offer him bad things, because that would lead to hell.

The second son did harbor some resentment towards Goru, but he was helpless. Besides, since he had been left behind, he had to consider his future marriage—marrying a girl was no longer as expensive as before. Now that there was no longer a worry about another mouth to feed, all the fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law had become picky. They would rather their daughters stay at home and eat beans and wheat for two more years than easily let them go out to marry. They insisted on choosing the best young man, preferably a soldier.

The only person he can rely on now is Goru.

Although Goru had invested all his money in his vineyards and his cabin, his eldest son, a kind and honest man, would send Goru his monthly allowance untouched. He said, "I have a place to stay, food to eat, water to drink, and clothes to wear in the camp. I have no need for money at all."

Goru carefully kept the money.

Besides, Goru didn't waste the last of his prime years in the vineyards.

He had a remarkable talent for numbers and a counting and calculation ability that surpassed that of other farmers, a fact that the village tax collectors had noticed long ago. If it weren't for the outbreak of war, they might have already recruited this farmer as a servant.

After the war, the burden on them suddenly increased—don't think that just because the lord exempted them from taxes for three years, they could lie around all day and do nothing.

Instead, the lord assigned them more tasks—to count the population, measure fields and even dense forests, swamps and rivers, especially the lord's newly acquired territories.

Those territories had once belonged to rebellious Cypriot nobles. In the previous year, because the Venetians were not yet familiar with Cyprus, these territories were temporarily managed by the nobles' former stewards without proper accounting. An ordinary lord might have let them do as they pleased, but their masters clearly did not.

In addition, he also had to reclaim the cities and ports he had promised to lease to the Knights Templar and the Knights of Goodwill. After all, he had signed the contracts with them as a Catholic at the time, and now that he had been exonerated, he was a complete sinner, and all the previous contracts were null and void.

However, none of this mattered much to Goru; he was content with the rewards he received from those tax officials.

He turned and went into the house. His wife and children, who could stand and walk on their own, were already up. The only one in the house who could continue to sleep soundly on that huge wooden bed after dawn was his youngest daughter, who had been baptized not long ago. Now that Goru had money, he certainly didn't need to wait until his children were grown up to be baptized.

Goru even had his wife dig up the stillborn child and hold a new funeral for him—the child hadn't been buried long, but there were only some scattered bones left. Now that I think about it, he didn't seem to have any plump flesh; he was always loose and thin.

He stood before his youngest daughter's swaddling clothes for a long time, gazing at her. She was the most beautiful of all Goru's children, perhaps even the strongest. Her mother had faced great danger during childbirth, but Goru had returned with a generous reward, ensuring his wife had ample food and time to recover. This woman finally had a second chance to produce milk after her eldest son. This less abundant milk caused the child to grow rapidly, almost doubling in size to that of her second son.

"Alright, everyone get to work!" Goru shouted.

Although the family had become wealthy, there was still no breakfast. However, Goru generously allowed each person to have a small bowl of goat's milk; even this meager amount of fat and lactose was enough to comfort their empty stomachs.

After a morning of hard work, they packed up their pruning tools and carried their baskets home. Goru saw a group of people coming from the road on the edge of the village. Goru immediately took the pruning tools out of the basket and held them in his hand.

Although it is made of wood, its tip has a sharp black iron blade, and in Goru's hands, it looks just like a knight's sword.

Seeing his wariness, the visitor immediately took off his hat and held it in his hand.

Goru noticed the shimmering seashells adorning the surface—pilgrims. He sheathed his weapon, but remained wary. "Where do you come from, sir?"

Although the other man's clothes were not luxurious, they were neat and without patches, and he was wearing leather boots. He was accompanied by several servants. He put his hat back on his head and looked at Goru with great interest.

Even in his village, it is very difficult for someone who has lost an arm to survive.

Even if they manage to survive, after a while they will have become beggars, or even just a pile of trash that can't be identified.

But the disabled man standing in front of him now had bright eyes, a ruddy face, and a proud and upright posture. He didn't look like he had lost an arm; rather, he looked like he had gained an extra one.

"I would like to ask for lodging, sir. Perhaps you have some water, some wheat porridge, and some eggs to satisfy our hunger."

Goru scratched his head in annoyance. "I do have a nice house, but sir, you have too many people with you. We may not be able to accommodate you."

If you wish, walk around my vineyard and then turn right. You will see a small chapel, and next to it is a red-roofed house. When you get there, explain your identity and purpose to the soldier—don't be afraid, they are the lord's soldiers, very polite—and he will arrange for you to stay at another family's home that is able to accommodate you.”

"Soldiers? Not village police?"

"There are police officers, but recently there have been more and more merchants and pilgrims passing through our area."

So our new lord ordered that a troop of soldiers be stationed in each village—to drive away ill-intentioned intruders and to guide the devout and honest good people, giving them a place to rest and eat.

The pilgrim couldn't help but glance at Goru again; it was the first time he had seen a farmer so logical and articulate.

Are you a priest or a relative of the person in charge?

"No, that's not it." It's just that when those tax officials were ordering Goru around, they inevitably taught him a lot of vocabulary.

Goru shook his head and didn't say anything more. Instead, he pointed to the small chapel he had mentioned, which had a large cross on it that could be seen from a distance. The man nodded to Goru and walked over with his attendants.

Goru breathed a sigh of relief; this wasn't the first time he'd encountered these pilgrims and merchants seeking lodging—mostly merchants.

After exempting the people from taxes for three years, their new master issued a temporary decree—a decree that made people think he had gone mad. Yes, although the Roman Catholic Church had issued a great excommunication against him, causing some to have reservations, he announced that for the next three years, Cyprus would exempt all merchants from transit and bridge taxes. Moreover, all goods stranded on the beach or left on the ground would no longer be seized by the lords. Merchants trading in Cyprus would only need to pay the original transaction tax.

This law caused a stir and frenzy among all merchants, not just the Venetians and Genoese. Even those in Frankish or German territories, once the news was confirmed, packed their bags and prepared to depart, regardless of their capital size.

Even if they don't have any goods on hand, they will still buy goods along the way to Cyprus.

What does it mean to abolish toll taxes?
This means their profits could increase dramatically in an instant. Moreover, those clever guys also realized that since the lord of Cyprus had exempted merchants from half of their taxes, it meant that more merchants would gather in Cyprus, giving them more trading partners and opportunities. Just as merchants would never miss a market, they would be even less likely to refuse such a grand event.

Excommunication? Whatever. Merchants are the kind of people who would sell themselves to the devil for money.

Goru's village is not far from Nicosia and also belongs to the new lord of Cyprus, which is why he was conscripted. It is indeed more lively and crowded than other places.

At least when the stranger arrived at the chapel following Goru's instructions, he didn't need to look for any red-roofed buildings. He could see the bustling, noisy crowd in the square in front of the chapel at a glance.

A group of soldiers and tax officials were patiently guiding them, "Line up! Line up! I said line up! Register where you come from, where you are going, and what goods you are carrying! No more than ten people are allowed. If there are more, someone can escort you to the nearest town. There is no room for so many people here!"
Spread out! Spread out! Don't crowd together!

It won't do you any good!

Don't you know how to follow the rules? You barbaric Franks!
Follow me, follow me! Anyone need a guide? Raise your hand if you need a guide! Trustworthy villagers! It only costs ten copper coins each time. Ten copper coins can be pooled together to guide two teams at a time, not exceeding fifty people!
I'll take you to the nearest city!

As the soldiers said, groups of more than ten people were forcibly dispersed because the villages couldn't accommodate so many people. They said they could sleep on the road, in the square, or in tents pitched by the woods, but the soldiers wouldn't allow it.

The merchants complained incessantly, but none of them showed any anger or claimed they wanted to go back. They were all in a hurry to get to Nicosia. The village tax collectors had been talking themselves hoarse and eventually had to resort to the stick. Fortunately, most of them were still reasonable (at least in the face of the stick) and were willing to pay ten copper coins for a guide to take them to a nearby town.

These guides weren't the original trailblazers or messengers—that's a craft, not something everyone can do. But almost all of them had been conscripted before, traversing the route from their own villages to neighboring towns, and then all the way to Nicosia—some particularly clever ones diligently memorized the route and boldly walked it back and forth several times to solidify their memory.

They then made a fortune using this skill, and will likely continue to do so. At the very least, they won't have to worry about business for the next three years.

A sharp-eyed soldier had already spotted the newcomer. Unlike Goru, he could tell at a glance that although the man was dressed simply, he was definitely a nobleman—a nobleman who had come on a pilgrimage. He quickly pushed the person in front of him to his companion and stepped forward to bow deeply to the newcomer.

The pilgrim seemed pleased with his keen observation, and casually tossed a silver coin to the soldier, who caught it with a grin, then turned and tossed it into a jar on the table.

The other man was somewhat surprised. Although no one explained it to him, he immediately realized that the jar was probably used to hold reward money—reward money for everyone—because another soldier walked over and threw a handful of copper coins into it.

This is a good idea. He thought to himself—these soldiers here wield immense power over merchants and pilgrims. It's impossible to prevent them from accepting bribes from merchants and rewards from nobles. But to avoid the disputes that come with such bribes and rewards, the best way is to divide the money equally among everyone. Since it's all divided equally, they won't be too eager or greedy, which could attract the dissatisfaction of outsiders or even cause conflicts among their own comrades.

"How many people do you have with you, sir?"

The pilgrim glanced behind him. "There are nine of us in total, including me."

“That’s really lucky. I think the village steward might have some extra rooms, not very spacious, but enough for you.” The soldier greeted his companion and then led them into the village, though registration was still required.

"The Knight of Adelaide? From Sancel? That's a very far place." The soldier said as he registered (he could write). "Where are you going? Nicosia? And Alaska, and of course, Bethlehem and Nareza. How many days do you want to stay on the island? You can certainly stay for a few days. Nicosia has everything now, and it would be good to take some gifts back to your family."

He could tell the pilgrim was quite wealthy. After handing the group over to the village steward, he added, "Our lord has decreed that a room for one night costs ten copper coins, regardless of the number of people—breakfast is provided: a bowl of wheat porridge costs one copper coin, and an egg costs two copper coins. If you wish to eat chicken, a rooster costs twenty copper coins, and a hen costs thirty copper coins. If you need cheese, cheese costs…"

The soldier methodically quoted the prices of most of the items.

The newcomer glanced at the steward—who showed little disappointment, clearly having grown accustomed to the soldiers' manners.

Finally, the soldier took out a rope and handed it to the pilgrim.

The pilgrim looked at him strangely, and he made a gesture: "Sir, if you want to eat an egg, and the egg is not as long as this rope when it is wound up, you can refuse to pay."

The pilgrim laughed. He never expected that the soldiers here would consider that the supervisor would use those underdeveloped little eggs to make up the numbers.

"Okay, okay, I'll remember." He smiled and put the rope into his pocket.

"The rooster must weigh over one pound, and the hen must weigh one and a half pounds. If you can't weigh them, you can take them to that red-roofed house, and someone will help you weigh them."

The pilgrim was already laughing uncontrollably. He gave the soldier another silver coin, but the soldier just held it tightly in his hand and didn't put it in his pocket.

“You are an honest man,” the pilgrim exclaimed sincerely.

The soldier just smiled sheepishly. "Our new master is very strict."

“I know that if he treats himself this way, then he must treat others as well.”

"You recognize him?"

“I not only recognize him, he also saved my life,” Count Etienne said calmly, removing his hood.

(End of this chapter)