"This is the Holy City." Simon looked at the vague city wall in the distance and muttered silently.
The city wall of Cologne is made of a mixture of solid stone foundations and wooden wall stacks. In the front wall, which is not too wide and long, there are two square arrow towers on the far left and right. You can faintly see soldiers walking through it. in it.
In front of the city of Cologne, there is an artificially dug moat that introduces the water of the Rhine River into it to protect the town.
There is a mottled iron cable suspension bridge at the main entrance of Cologne City, and people and horses are constantly coming and going on the suspension bridge.
"Master, stay away from that group of people." The fat man suddenly shouted to Simon in front, who was intently watching Cologne City.
Only when Simon came back to his senses did he notice a group of people dancing and looking very excited on the grass not far to his right. However, what is different from normal people is that many of them are missing arms and legs, and there are even some guys who wrap themselves in large pilgrim clothes and look like lepers.
"They are all sick guys, God knows who has pneumonia, who has dysentery, who has leprosy. They believe that when they get near the Holy City, their illnesses will lessen and they will be cured," Gabriel curled his lips, pulled out a piece of linen cloth from his collar, and covered his nose, "Even those poor people who have lost their hands and feet wishfully think that if they stay here for a long enough time, their hands and feet will grow back on their own. , it’s so ridiculous.”
Simon just frowned and looked at these ignorant patients. He couldn't help but pinch the horse's belly with a little force and speed up through this small diseased land.
At the gate of Cologne, there were several soldiers wearing cloth turbans and turbans, old multi-layered clothes and somewhat torn sleeveless leather vests. There were two soldiers lazily leaning against the city wall in a more comfortable posture, looking boredly at the people and goods coming in and out of the city gate.
Another man wearing a dyed cotton coat who looked like a tax collector and two other soldiers wearing half-covered stuffed turbans who were responsible for simple searches were busier, urging the trembling people with impatience on their faces and a bad tone. Weiwei, the obedient merchants and farmers, move quickly and don't waste time.
"Next, come here quickly." The tax collector said coldly without raising his head. At the same time, his hand was still holding a quill pen quickly and recorded on a piece of parchment the name of the merchant who had just entered and the type and quantity of goods he brought.
"Hey, hey, Crota, that seems to be a noble lord." A soldier with a slight wink cupped his hand at the tax collector who was still recording, and whispered in his ear.
"Hmm?" Tax Collector Crota raised his tired face, and carefully looked at Simon who was walking slowly and the family crest pattern on his burqa with his red and dull eyes, and then He immediately put on an ugly smile and stood up from the simple little chair, "My dear lord, welcome to Cologne. Although I also want you and your men to go directly to the city, according to the instructions set by the bishop, According to the regulations, you have to make a small filing record before you can enter."
"Then stop talking nonsense and hurry up." The fat man was a little annoyed at his cold shout just now, frowned and waved his hand at him.
"No problem, sir," the tired tax collector smiled, sat back on his little broken wooden stool, picked up the quill that had been touched to gray black, and dipped it into the small wooden table used for tax collection. Ink on the corner of the table, "May I ask, Sir, are you..."
"Simon of Dorsten, the destroyer of Norman pirates." The fat man interrupted the words of the evil tax collector.
"Okay, eh," the tax collector seemed to have suddenly become energetic and seemed to be trying to remember something, "You, you are, you are the one who has been discussed everywhere in the city recently. You wiped out three ships of Norman pirates. Sir!"
"It's me." Simon didn't know that his story had spread to Cologne so quickly. Maybe Ludwig had been to Cologne before him.
"Anyway, Sir, I just want to say that it was well done. Those damn barbarians killed my relatives in Bruges. It's really..." The tax collector changed his listless look and looked excited. He was talking colorfully and gesticulating like this. The ink stuck to the tip of the quill pen he held in his hand also splattered everywhere with his hand.
"Do your business quickly, we are still waiting to enter the city!" The fat man once again interrupted the tax collector who was talking unhappily. The latter scratched his head angrily and buried his head in writing on the paper.
"Okay, sir, it's all done." The tax collector waved to the soldier next to him, who immediately stood beside the wall of the city gate and made way for him.
Passing through the dark inner hole of the city gate, there is a small semicircular square in front of you, and your vision suddenly becomes clear. What accompanied it was a mixed stench that was already difficult to describe in words.
The first thing Simon saw was a large wooden table next to the arch of the tower next to the city gate. Several soldiers wearing chainmail pot helmets, padded short robes and striped leather jackets were squatting in front of the table and using wooden cups. Drinking beer and chatting, an older soldier next to them simply fell asleep.
The soldiers' spears and shields were casually leaning against the moss-covered wall next to the arch. Simon even suspected that any thief with more dexterity could steal their weapons under the noses of these drunkards and slackers.
Under the double-story wooden and stone houses surrounding the square, various vendors set up their stalls - some were on the first floor of the house, and some simply built a wooden shed outside the house and spread their stalls on the top. Some boards and hay.
In the small square, there are vendors selling everything. At least now Simon can see at a glance the horse vendors next to the stables where several batches of horses are kept. The stalls are filled with bulging sacks of dry food and various There are grain sellers of dry goods, weapons dealers with long pole weapons, swords, axes and shields in large wooden barrels and weapon racks at the entrance of the pawnshop, and butchers who have two large tables of fresh meat in the shed and are cutting the meat with a cleaver, etc. .
There was an endless stream of pedestrians coming and going, including mercenaries wearing cotton armor and segmented helmets with stuffed turbans; there were children walking through the crowd with backpacks on their backs to help their parents work; there were farmers carrying farm tools and agricultural products; There are female townspeople wearing simple tunic dresses; there are pagans wearing exotic clothes, and there are also pilgrims wearing tattered clothes and covered in mud...
In fact, in this dark age of slow economic recovery, most residents in towns were not actually engaged in handicrafts and commerce, but had to work on the farmland of the fief bishop outside the city wall like farmers in nearby villages. Therefore, Simon saw Many townspeople were covered in dirt and dressed like farmers.
"Master Simon, the bishop has a rule. In addition to paying a tax of one-tenth of the value of the goods, all goods passing through Cologne must also be sold in the city for three days before leaving the city," Gabriel looked at Some extremely simple small stalls said, "So you will see many such small traders selling all kinds of strange things. Sometimes if you are lucky, you can meet a slave trader, and you can buy some unpaid items." The ransom men and women were made serfs and maids.”
"I see. No wonder there are special people filing records when entering and exiting the city." Simon nodded with sudden realization. He had just seen that the small merchant who had entered the city a little earlier than him had found a small open space to unload the goods on the carriage with his assistant. It seemed that he wanted to set up a simple shop like many other colleagues.
"By the way, Master Simon, should we find a place to stay first, or should we go directly to the church to find the bishop?" Gabriel turned his head and asked Simon, who was looking around curiously.
"Let's go to the tavern to find a place to stay first." The long journey made Simon feel that he was almost exhausted.
"No problem, sir. I know a good tavern. One of my former comrades works there. I heard that he is doing well now. Maybe he can give us some discounts." Gabriel twirled his beard and looked away. Deeper into the inner city.
"Then let's go, you can clear the way." Simon nodded and said to Gabriel.
What Simon and his party didn't notice at all was that in a dark and damp alley next to the small square entering the city gate, several pairs of greedy and shining eyes like wolves were staring at them.
"Marcy, are they them?" A guy wearing a tattered pilgrim's hood licked his lips maliciously and glanced at the man next to him holding a rusty military battle pick.
"Look, look, Komet, what I said is indeed right," the man named Marcy weighed the military pickaxe in his hand and said with a proud smile, "I knew they would definitely come. Cologne. Let's go, let's go to Domini the Vulture now. The code is "Fat Sheep Enter the Fence..."
………
"Distinguished gentlemen, do you need any money?" In front of the tavern, there was a small wooden table. A man with black hair, black eyes and a hooked nose, wearing red linen clothes, said when he saw Simon coming on horseback. Helping people, he immediately shouted enthusiastically, "Come on, I can satisfy all your desires for money!"
"That damn cunning Jewish moneylender is fooling others again." The head of a middle-aged man with a curly beard poked out of the window of the nearby wooden house, looking indifferently at the guy downstairs opposite who shouted loudly every day, which made him extremely disgusted. .
"It's better to say less. Be careful of those lunatics making you into a little wax figure, stabbing you with their nails, and using black magic to curse you. There are too many such things." The middle-aged man's wife patted you. The shoulders of the middle-aged man with curly beard, the latter just sighed and left the window.
"I just got the Viking trophies and I am far from needing to borrow money to maintain the operation of my territory and daily expenses." So Simon and his group just pretended not to see this and almost knelt down to compliment their moneylender, like Simon. He rode the horse to the stables of the tavern.
"As expected, he is a poor, stingy and arrogant country bumpkin knight." The moneylender, who had a hot face but a cold butt, was a little angry and dissatisfied, but he quickly suppressed his emotions and returned to his small table.
