kingdom of nations

Chapter 330 Arthur of Aquitaine Returns
"Master Goru..."

"Master Goru."

Good morning, Mr. Goru.

Goru walked past the villagers with a smile on his face. He did not show arrogance because of their respect. Instead, he humbly took off his hat, placed one hand on his chest, and bowed slightly to return their greeting.

Although in Goru's memory, the bards' chants and the rules established since the beginning of time all said that lords are always arrogant, whether knights, officials, or priests, especially priests—if ordinary villagers are cattle and tools to knights and officials, to priest lords they are ants crawling in the dust, and unless he wants to squeeze some oil out of these ants, don't expect him to lower his head and look at them.

But in Cyprus, this trend has slightly reversed in recent years—perhaps because their lord is a man who truly has humility ingrained in his very being.

He dressed simply, ate a simple diet, and had no interest in luxurious spices or fine wines.

He disliked silk and rarely wore jewelry. Although Cyprus's tax revenue had reached an unbelievable figure over the past three years, he used all of it to maintain fortifications, fortresses, city walls, and to support the army.

Not long ago, he also purchased thirty warships and sailors and oarsmen from the Venetians. Cyprus originally only had a small naval force gathered from various families, and it was getting weaker and weaker. It was not only unable to fight against the navy of the Fatimid dynasty of Egypt, but it could not even deal with a few scattered pirates.

It was also due to the constant civil wars within the Fatimid dynasty that Cyprus could have survived until this point.

He still resided in the Governor's Palace, but the merchants who came to see him said that although the palace was magnificent, it was clear that some parts were quite old—the merchants' eyesight was certainly no less than that of Count Étienne.

The glass is no longer shiny, the murals have faded, the courtyard has fewer flowers and birds vying for attention, his wife no longer wears bright colors, and the statues, fountains, and even the servants in the governor's palace still say that, in order to reduce the servants' workload, some rooms in the governor's palace have even been sealed off and will only be reopened when guests visit.

In fact, even ordinary farmers like Goru don't mind working for their masters in the winter; it's something they're used to doing, and they don't care about their food and drink—he has plenty of extra grain at home now.

But he heard that only strong, able-bodied young men would be conscripted, and that they would be recruited to build city walls and fortresses. In addition to daily food and water, they would receive wages, which were in no way inferior to the wages they would earn working outside.
"How can he be so good?" Goru was completely baffled. "How can there be such a good person?"

He looked at his wife, who was mending a garment by the faint red light of the coals by the stove. "That's enough, stop mending. We can leave this work for tomorrow."

“Tomorrow I want to go to the vegetable garden, pick some vegetables, and sell them by the roadside.” Three years ago, Goru’s wife wouldn’t have dared to do that. No, she wouldn’t have dared to even contradict her husband. In those difficult times, everyone’s temper was bad, and the head of the household was even less tolerant of others going against his will.

It's very possible that she'll get slapped across the face the moment she says those words, even if it's just to do more work or for the good of the family.

But now, it's not just his shoulders and body that have broadened, but also his heart. He doesn't care at all about his wife's rebuttals. "Are there still vegetables in the garden? It's almost November."

“Yes, some gourds,” Goru’s wife said, her hands moving constantly. “They’re all grown up. If we don’t pick them and sell them soon, they’ll get old and won’t taste good.” She couldn’t help but click her tongue as she said it. “Won’t taste good”—how could a peasant woman say such a thing? Before, as long as they weren’t starving or sick, they’d eat anything—grass, tree bark, mice, insects, or even horse dung… Now they were actually saying what tasted good and what didn’t.

But she quickly consoled herself, saying, "These are meant to be sold to passing pilgrims and merchants. If the quality isn't good, they might not sell."

"It doesn't matter if we can't sell them," Goru said, as if he could read her mind. "We'll just eat them ourselves."

But those were watermelons—a fresh vegetable for Cypriots and most outsiders, which their lord had traded with Saracen merchants—who had complained that they weren't sweet enough… Thank God, they were easy to care for, bore fruit in a year, and even if they weren't big, they were edible, easy to store, and very juicy—making them a favorite of pilgrims and merchants.

It also has to be sweet—isn't that manna that God gave to the Isaacs? Anyway, Goru's wife wouldn't be that greedy.

Before Goru's wife could even utter the word, a pair of small hands slapped heavily on her knees. It was her youngest daughter, her last child. Laura was staring at her with wide eyes: "Eat, eat, eat! Watermelon!"

Goru's wife smiled; their daughter was bigger than most boys her age. People who saw her thought she looked more like a gentleman's child than a peasant woman's. And wasn't she?

Her appetite is now comparable to that of her brother when he was four or five years old, which is a good thing. In the past, a child who could eat like this would not grow up. If there were such a sign, a careless mother might accidentally "smother" him in her arms one night when she turned over.

Well, Goru's wife secretly made up her mind that tomorrow she would deliberately break a melon and save it for her youngest daughter, Laura.

Of course, the other people in the house will also get a share.

This child rendered her unable to have any more children. Logically, she should hate the child, since an infertile woman is of no value to a family, but she also had to admit that the family's situation improved dramatically after Laura's birth.

She is a lucky child.

Goru once said that some children are born with bread in their mouths.

As such, Goru's wife was finally able to develop some of the maternal love that a mother should have.

"Don't stray too far from the village," Goru instructed. Goru's wife nodded in agreement, but didn't take it to heart. Time changes people the most, even if it's only for a short three years.

In the past, bandits and refugees were always impossible to kill or drive away. Today someone is hanged from a tree for theft and robbery, and tomorrow another pack of hungry hyenas will appear.

Let alone a woman traveling alone, even men need to travel in groups to cross forests and wilderness—but now, she can walk alone from this village directly to Nicosia without worrying about anyone taking her melons for free, or stealing her money, or being kidnapped and sold into slavery by infidels.

Each bandit was worth a bounty, and not only soldiers and villagers, but even knights were extremely attentive to them.

At this point, Goru couldn't help but worry about their lord—whether he had enough money to spend.

He was called "Master" by the other villagers, initially with a hint of mockery, because he was often called upon by the tax officials to assist them. But as he became more and more familiar with counting and calculation, and more and more fluent, other people—whether pilgrims passing through or villagers who originally lived there—gradually came to ask him questions about numbers.

Calculations such as the unit price, quantity, and total price of items, or the number, weight, and size, or the essential currency conversions—the last of which Goru was willing to help these people with, but never participated in the buying and selling—although some merchants suggested that he do this, Goru immediately and righteously refused. Although he was a believer in the orthodox church, he also believed in God and would never do something that God strictly forbade.

“Goru!” a voice called out, waving at him. It was a young Venetian tax collector, and the soldiers had made way for him, a respect that was only recently bestowed upon him—just like the villagers’ sincere “lords”—Goru had recently gone to Nicosia and, along with more than a hundred others, had been appointed the lord’s pipers.

Piper – that’s an odd title, one that’s never been used before.

Judging from the name alone, some say that perhaps the lord wanted them to play a tune for him, but not everyone here can play the flute; others say that the position might be similar to that of an overseer, and they used the flute to summon people to work for the lord; still others, who are more knowledgeable, say that their lord, out of humility, did not intend to announce his arrival with a trombone player like the king, so he arranged for two people to stand by the door and announce his arrival by playing the flute.

But if that's the reason, it wouldn't require more than a hundred people. They were puzzled until the lord made the request to them in person, and then they suddenly understood.

The lord meant that he didn't have any particular hobbies in his life, only occasionally enjoying listening to bards sing and tell stories.

Although Cyprus has regained its former glory and more and more bards are gathering here, they still bring too few stories, and not all of them will necessarily come to Nicosia. So he hopes that these farmers or artisans, who have a certain prestige and popularity in their respective villages, can collect some stories for him and tell them to him regularly at the governor's palace.

"May I ask, Your Highness, what kind of story would you like to hear?"

After hesitating for a long time, a man who might have been a manager or a cowherd (in any case, someone who had dealt with important figures) finally dared to step forward and ask.

"Any story will do..." the lord said patiently. "Whether it's a wolf pack, a fire, a quarrel between two people, a cunning merchant, or even a couple arguing, you can tell me anything to make me laugh." So that's how it is, and everyone relaxed. Although the request was strange, and a position was specifically created for it, the lord had too many peculiar hobbies. Their lord had previously asked almost nothing of them, which had made the people uneasy. Now, with this job, they were actually quite relaxed and happy.

Some immediately rubbed their hands together, eager to start telling stories to their lord. The lord laughed and even allowed them to stay in the governor's palace—though it was just the soldiers' quarters—saying, "You can tell me your stories one by one."

Sure enough, some people were summoned soon after, followed by another group.

When it was Goru's turn, Goru was prepared. He thought for a moment and began to speak of his son, his wife, and the dangers and suffering he had endured. Other noblemen might have felt disgusted and averse to such tedious matters—Goru spoke while nervously observing the lord's expression, but as he expected, the lord showed no sign of hatred or boredom. On the contrary, he listened quite attentively and sighed at the suffering they had endured.

Finally, he gave Goru two silver coins and asked if he needed any other help. Goru, of course, refused; he was already doing just fine.

Not long ago, he had used his connections with the tax officials to get an advance on some money to build a wooden house for his second son.

Although the wooden house is not as big as the one he and his wife currently live in, it is enough to provide his second son with the means to get married. Now his wife is looking for a girl who suits her.

"Then what about your eldest son? Your eldest son should be starting to prepare for his wedding by now." At this point, Goru looked a little worried. Originally, his eldest son had indeed promised to get married a year later. He had even chosen a bride, but not long after, he came to Goru and said that he wanted to postpone the wedding. If the girl was not willing to wait for him, it didn't matter. Anyway, he didn't want to get married in the next three to five years.

"Oh, why is that?" the lord asked with interest.

Goru gave him a somewhat resentful look, "because he's determined to make a name for himself in the army before getting married."

Originally, the majority of soldiers in the lord's army were Cypriots, with only a few Venetians and relatives or servants of the knights who had once followed Count Joseph II of Edessa.

The young Cypriots, though grateful for Cesar's generosity and determined to fight for him, mostly had their hearts set on their own families and land. In fact, some farmers even secretly went back to their homes to help their families with chores during the first year, which was quite understandable.

Before this, there was no concept of full-time soldiers in Cyprus; all peasant soldiers were recruited temporarily. After recruitment, they served their lord for only forty days, mostly during the off-season for farming. This is why all wars in this era were short-lived.

It is impossible to immediately instill in the sons of these farmers and artisans an iron will and discipline.

But just a few months ago, a group of Christian soldiers arrived from Venice and Arrassa. As soon as they entered the army, they immediately outshone the Cypriot lads. They could not match them in terms of focus, perseverance, tenacity, or honesty.

After several tournaments—of course, the tournaments for the common people were not as extravagant as those for knights, as they had no horses, no lances, and certainly no swords to fight each other like in a real war—they still had a way to determine who was better.

For example, there was the popular game of rolling a wine barrel—one person was placed in a wine barrel and another person pushed him forward, the fastest to reach the finish line was the winner; or carrying a wife—there were no women in the military camp, but they could carry another lighter companion on their shoulders and see who reached the finish line first; there were also archery, weightlifting, and chopping wood, all of which were events that could get these young men excited.

At first, the Cypriot lads had a physical advantage and it wasn't difficult for them to beat the outsiders, since the Cypriots looked weak and tired. So they did win at first. But three months later, the competition took a dramatic turn. They lost, and lost badly. The glory and rewards that originally belonged to them all went to the outsiders.

They couldn't even point out the unfairness in the competition—the referees were all Cypriots, and the disparity between them was something even the referees couldn't ignore, even if they went against their conscience.

Recent rumors suggest that they may face another major battle with the Saracens next year. In this battle, besides the original knights, the lord will select a group of his most elite soldiers to accompany him. What does that mean?
That was a holy war!

Even the Cypriots were unwilling to give up this opportunity. Besides, being able to go to war with their admired lord was a cause for celebration for the whole family. How could he be willing to let his comrades, or even those outsiders who suddenly joined them, take his place?

Although the eldest son spoke very vaguely, Goru understood what he meant.

The tax official's words still echoed in their ears: for ordinary people like them, the only way to climb the social ladder and achieve upward mobility was through war.

Moreover, the lord they followed was so just that he believed his eldest son would be rewarded for everything he had done—blood, pain, and life.

"What's wrong? Is this account difficult?"

Hearing the tax official's urging, Goru realized that he had been daydreaming again. He quickly lowered his head and used his only remaining hand to flip through the ledgers. These numbers were no longer a problem for him.

He quickly scribbled the numbers down on the sandboard with a twig, then did the calculations. Before long, he had figured out the account. The tax official patted him on the shoulder approvingly and took another set of accounts...

After finishing my work, even though I was outside, the light had already dimmed.

By this time, the villages of the Franks and the Apennines had probably quieted down; the torches had been extinguished, the livestock had returned to their pens, and the people had gone inside their houses. Only wild animals and thieves were out and about.

But in this village not far from Nicosia, another wave of busy activity is about to begin.

Experienced travelers will look for villages to stay in advance, but some people who misjudge the distance and their physical strength, or who are too reckless, will only think of looking for a place to stay at this time.

At this time, everyone in the village who could be of use would get busy, and Goru was no exception, even though he was missing one arm.

Are you a pilgrim?

“You could say that!” the man standing in front of Goru waiting to register answered in a loud voice. Goru couldn’t help but look up at him and only saw his chest. He wasn’t short at all, which made Goru gasp.

This guy was so big. He looked up again, almost knocking his hat off. He reached out and pressed it down, looking at the man with some awe. This man reminded him of the lord he had seen before. Even when he was sitting in a chair, he was almost as tall as them.

This knight was much more imposing than their lord.

He stood there, looking like a giant bear standing upright, but his fluffy, flamboyant golden-red hair made him resemble a raging lion. Goru couldn't help but subconsciously take a step back, but the man just grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth.

Seeing Goru's reaction, a soldier nearby quickly ran over and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Don't be nervous." The knight lowered his head, his shadow almost completely enveloping Goru. "I'm not a bad person. I'm a friend of your lord, and I've come to visit him."

Goru managed to compose himself and raised his only hand. He noticed that the other person's gaze was fixed on his empty sleeve. He was already very familiar with this look, a mixture of curiosity and surprise, after all, there were very few ways for disabled people to survive in this world.

"Name, sir."

“Arthur of Aquitaine…and his friends, family, and servants.”

There were more than a dozen of them, but with two knights and their families, the number of servants seemed rather meager.

Goru wrote the words "Knight Arthur" neatly, then looked at another knight who was also tall. He wore a hood, and shadows covered most of his face, but he did not inspire fear.

Because he was holding a child in his arms, who was probably only two or three years old and was proudly craning his little head to look around.

(End of this chapter)