CHAPTER 1183: CHAPTER 744: THE AUTUMN OF 1489 AD, SO-CALLED HOLY WAR

The Moorish village was filled with the scent of deathly silence. Judging from the burnt orchard outside the village and the destroyed canal at the entrance, this was once quite a prosperous village. At least in the territory of the Kingdom of Castile, there weren’t many villages that could build canals.

"Praise the Almighty! The Moors in the south of the Peninsula are indeed a laborious group!"

Old knight Lorenzo rode his horse, inspecting the plundered village with interest. He scrutinized an entire row of stone houses, the chicken coops fenced with wooden palisades beside the houses, and the large granaries faintly visible in the distance. As an old Venetian knight who owned and personally managed a manor, he was well aware of just how much wealth such a village could generate annually!

"Tsk tsk! Letting the fanatical and coarse Castilians conquer such a fertile land and slaughter these industrious Moorish farmers is truly a waste! They’ll only turn these wealth-creating orchards and farms into one poor pasture after another, then play with their ’beautiful’ goats."

Old knight Lorenzo curled his lips, looking at the entire dead village, and mocked heartily.

"Of course, Castile is, after all, a pious and warlike Crusader kingdom. Although they are penniless, with an annual income not even matching that of little Granada, they excel at burning, killing, and looting. Before grazing sheep and horses on the farm, they’ll certainly cleanse this land thoroughly, turning the compliant Moorish farmers into slaves to sell or nail them to the cross to burn!"

"Haha! Penniless Castilian paupers clinging to their sheep and praying desperately!"

Upon hearing old knight Lorenzo’s mockery, a dozen Venetian cavalrymen echoed together, laughing joyfully. They came here as Crusaders, and in these hills, they fought for the Almighty, shedding both blood and sweat. However, King Fernando of Aragon couldn’t even supply them with enough rations, and they had to spend their own money buying from the black market in the camp.

Thanks to the leader, young knight Giovanni Tran, whose family was affluent and generous. Otherwise, everyone might have ended up like those impoverished knights of the Peninsula, borrowing loans guaranteed by the Church from Jewish merchants and then going mad with poverty, searching everywhere to rob and kill Moors.

Everyone burst into laughter, except young knight Giovanni, who furrowed his brows. He felt that the Castilian knights, though poor, held a firm faith, even to the point of being fervent and fearless!

In a real battle between a squad of Castilian knights and an equal number of Venetian knights, even if the Venetians had better armor, it might not guarantee a victory. At present, all parties are allies in the Holy War, each with their own ambitions and secret disagreements, is this really good?

"Ahem! Giovanni, I recall there’s a military market outside the camp in Basa city that sells Moorish slaves."

Old knight Lorenzo turned his head, looked at the young knight’s expression, and laughed as he diverted the topic.

"Praise the Almighty! You are to inherit a vast enterprise. The Tran family has several large manors on the Italian Peninsula. When you return to the camp in Basa, you can buy a few skilled Moorish agricultural slaves or craftsmen cheaply. In Venice, the hiring price for such skilled hands is quite high! ... Of course, young Moorish slave girls have their own charm, perhaps even of noble birth, you could buy a few more..."

"Uh... buying a few Moorish slave girls? Of noble birth?..."

Thinking of the exquisite appearance of Moorish women, young Giovanni licked his lips, indeed somewhat tempted. He hesitated for a moment, looked at the old knight’s smiling expression, and lowered his voice.

"This doesn’t seem right, though? What if my father finds out..."

"What are you afraid of! Your revered great-grandfather, Governor Niccolo Tran, at the age of over fifty, witnessed the fall of Constantinople. He felt greatly distressed and lamented for a long time, even spending a hefty sum to ’rescue’ a batch of young Byzantine noble ladies from the Ottomans..."

Old knight Lorenzo smiled like a sly old fox.

"You see, you’re also rescuing! You’re rescuing the ordinary knights selling slaves. When this Holy War is over, and there’s nothing left to plunder, how many indebted Crusader knights will fall into poverty, bankruptcy, and wander the land? So, even for the sake of the Almighty, it’s something that ought to be done!"

"Throughout this journey, you’ve seen it. The so-called noble Holy War in the south of the Peninsula is nothing more than the Church and the Great Nobility financing, with knights and militias providing the manpower, all together plundering the prosperous Moors, isn’t it? In the end, those who manage to plunder enough enjoy success and fame, while those who don’t end up in debt. And where do all these monies end up? They ultimately turn around and fall into the Church’s pocket! The Jewish lenders are merely gloves, to be discarded at will..."

"...Oh Almighty, I’ll go find a well! After running for so long, the warhorse needs to drink!..."

Hearing the old knight’s words, young knight Giovanni broke out in a sweat on his forehead and hurriedly spurred his horse away. He knew what Lorenzo said was all true. He also knew that behind the loans given to the devout Crusader knights, there were the Great Nobility from Venice, including his own family.

The Crusader knights shed blood and fought fiercely, only for the lion’s share to eventually fall into the hands of the Church and the Great Nobility. But such matters, he was unwilling to dwell on. Thinking too much about them might shake his faith.

"Ah! Such steadfast faith, but still too young!"

Watching Giovanni gallop away, old knight Lorenzo shook his head. He sighed lowly, rare for him to seem somewhat wistful.

"Old Sylvester had me bring you to the Peninsula to participate in the Holy War, not just to earn some credentials and bravery for you! You need to know, as the heir of the Tran family, you will inevitably assume a position as a Venetian senator, dealing with the Republic’s secrets, and secretly trading with the Roman Church, Jewish merchants, the Ottomans, Arabs, Tatars of Crimea, even the Moors of the Southern Continent! ..."

"You will have to navigate a complex world; how can you be like an ordinary knight, becoming merely a pious and brave believer? ...You must realize that the age has changed, it’s no longer like during the times of the Crusades! ..."

"...Well, it’s alright, time is on your side! Anyway, this is how we all came through..."

Old knight Lorenzo trotted on his horse, following far behind young knight Giovanni, as his thoughts drifted back to his own youth. It wasn’t until Giovanni stopped by a well and uttered an angry curse that Lorenzo’s expression changed, and he galloped over.

"Giovanni, what’s wrong?"

"Vaffanculo! Damn it! Damn it! Ugh! These reckless knights, damned paupers!"

Giovanni angrily spewed several curses, then pointed to the darkened well.

"Cazzo! Damn it! The well is filthy, unusable!"