Ch 38: Books

Three workshops commenced operations, and Vig enjoyed a long-awaited peaceful time, usually riding around and hunting some game to improve his meals.

Whiz~

An arrow whistled into the grass, startling a furious roar. Instantly, a dark brown wild boar appeared in everyone’s sight. While it was spinning in place, Vig aimed at its neck and shot another arrow, but it was slightly off; the arrow pierced the boar’s buttocks.

Realizing the attack came from nearby humans, the boar’s massive body charged directly. Meanwhile, Vig shot another arrow, hitting its forehead; however, the arrowhead was blocked by the hard skull, only piercing a layer of skin.

“A ferocious beast.”

He sighed. Seeing this, the six shield-bearers who followed closely behind him threw iron axes and picked up spears, gathering around the Lord.

After being hit by multiple iron axes, the boar was momentarily dazed. It shook its head, and its speed unintentionally slowed down. Facing six sharp, cold spear points, it instinctively sensed danger, circled the crowd, and was hit by another arrow.

This time, Vig precisely hit the boar’s right neck. Crimson, foul-smelling blood sprayed out along the arrow’s blood groove, and the fletching trembled with the boar’s final struggle.

After a while, the huge, heavy body collapsed to the ground. Two shield-bearers thrust their spears into its abdomen, confirmed the game was dead, and used knives to cut up the body.

Roughly estimated, the boar weighed about four hundred catties. Its tusks were sharp, like spears, and its size surpassed most of its kind. Vig instructed the shield-bearers to keep the head; after processing, it could be hung in the hall as an ornament.

After a long time, the shield-bearers cut it into four parts, and four horses carried it back to Tyne.

Catching this game meant they wouldn’t have to eat fish for the next few days. Vig was in a good mood, whistling a light and cheerful tune until he saw several well-dressed men and women standing in front of his house.

Gentlemen?

Coming to see me on their own initiative—it can’t be good!

Dismounting, Vig walked straight into the Lord’s Hall. Before he could sit down, a woman cried out for him to uphold justice.

“Speak. What is the grievance?” Vig yawned, placing his hands on the armrests of the seat, casually observing the group of visitors.

The weeping woman was over forty, with a thin face and occasional coughs. A pair of children followed behind her.

On the other side, two men looked like father and son. The father held a document filled with Anglo-Saxon writing.

During their dispute, Vig roughly understood the reason for this dispute. The father and son insisted that the woman’s husband had owed three pounds of silver before his death and now couldn’t repay it, demanding she repay it with her property.

In response, the woman said she had never known about this debt and refused to repay it.

Vig: “Three pounds of silver isn’t a small sum. There should have been a witness at the time. Where is he?”

The woman replied, “He went south last year to be loyal to the king and died in battle.”

The debtor and the witness were dead. Vig was very troubled and looked at Micham beside him, asking him to carefully examine the contract.

“Date, place, witness, amount.”

Half a minute later, Micham sighed regretfully, finding no errors.

This is trouble. Vig unconsciously tapped the armrest of his seat with his right index finger. “Her husband owed three pounds of silver. What did he plan to do with it?”

Father and son said in unison, “To buy books from the Roman period; he seemed to be planning to study heretical doctrines.”

Books? Vig immediately perked up. “What kind of books?”

The father and son looked at each other. “Uh, we don’t understand Latin.”

The woman also showed a puzzled expression, claiming she had never seen these old books. At this time, someone behind her quietly muttered a few Latin words and quickly fell silent.

“Who’s speaking?” Vig looked around and found the sound came from the girl behind the woman. “What did you just say?”

Noticing the Lord’s posture slightly leaning forward, his eyes sharp, his left hand resting on his sword hilt, like a wild beast about to prey, the girl’s face turned pale, and she quickly waved her hands, indicating it had nothing to do with her.

“Ahem, Sir,” Micham coughed. “If I heard correctly, she just muttered ‘Commentarii de Bello Gallico,’ which translates to Anglo-Saxon as 《Commentaries on the Gallic War》.”

Hearing this, the father and son rejoiced. “Yes, he did mention ‘Gaul.’ Haha, his daughter admitted it.”

At this point, the woman understood her denial was exposed. In anger, she tore at her daughter’s dark brown hair. “Damn Herigifu, it’s all your fault for talking! What did I tell you before I left? I should have sold you to a slave trader!”

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” the daughter hurriedly dodged, and the woman chased her around the hall, annoying Vig.

At this time, Micham leaned over and whispered a suggestion in his ear. “Sir, mostly theological books are circulating on the market now. Books like the 《Commentaries on the Gallic War》 are rare. Why not buy them at a low price?”

“That seems reasonable. Let’s consider them textbooks for learning Latin.”

Knowledge is priceless. After a moment’s thought, Vig spoke, “So, Herif, what exactly are the books your father left behind? Tell me the names, and I might buy them.”

“Sir, my name is Herigifu,” the girl instinctively refuted, but her mother grabbed her ear and yelled, “Tell him!”

Then, the girl recited a series of Latin words. After Micham’s translation, they were roughly as follows:

《Commentaries on the Gallic War》 fragments, 《On Orators》, 《On the Republic》, 《On Constellations and Fate》, 《Travels in Andalusia》, 《The Natural Rituals of the Caledonians》.

Micham tried his best to suppress his emotions. “Sir, the total value far exceeds three pounds of silver. Buy them quickly! Reselling them to Southern booksellers will make a huge profit.”

This can make money?

That’s right, after all, the author of the first book is Caesar, and the authors of the second and third are Cicero. Just these two names can attract those booksellers.

Vig cleared his throat. “Fine, since you are powerless to repay the debt, this Master will spend three pounds of silver to buy this pile of scraps. Send the books over another day, and if the contents are correct, I will give the money to your creditor.”

“No, it’s too cheap! This is my father’s life’s work. He spent decades in the wool business to collect these books. Mmm…” Herigifu strongly objected, but she had no decision-making power. The woman feared the Lord would change his mind, covered her daughter’s mouth, and immediately announced her acceptance of the transaction.

After treating the guests to wild boar, Vig belched and returned to his bedroom, sighing at the high cost of medieval knowledge.

Three pounds of silver, the value of twenty-four oxen, or a small manor of over two hundred acres. And this was a bargain price. Books were so expensive. No wonder knowledge has always been monopolized by the Church.