"Marino, don't be afraid! The Lord protects us!"
The mountain wind blew by, and the old knight Luo Lunzuo looked solemn, with his beard and hair spread out. He stretched out his hand, held Marino's hand firmly, and asked in a deep voice while giving him courage.
"Tell me, what are the symptoms of the plague?!"
"Ah! It's possessed by the devil!!"
Marino finally plucked up the courage to cry out in fear. After a while, he tried to calm down and then described it carefully with some fear.
"I have heard some people say that... the symptoms of this plague, at the beginning, are fever all over the body, and a large number of red spots on the arms, back and chest. But after a day or two of the onset, the person who gets it is like being possessed by the devil. They will scream and scratch like crazy! In the end, they will all be covered with gangrene and their muscles will ulcerate and die..."
"Yes! Yes! I once approached the blocked camp at night and heard all kinds of terrifying shouts, just like the devil!"
Hearing this, another servant, Marco, couldn't help but speak, and even his voice was trembling.
"Lord! That painful and crazy sound is like coming from hell!"
"Yes, yes! The Lord testifies that after that night, people started to be burned the next day! Many people were burned, and the smoke was so big!..."
"This is the devil's curse, the new Black Death!"
Frightened and chaotic echoes came from the mouths of other subordinates, giving this unknown plague another layer of mysterious terror. The retinues present have all experienced hundreds of battles. Even if they face several times the number of pagans and are bombarded by artillery, they can still maintain the courage to fight!
However, once encountering the power related to the devil and encountering this invisible terror, all the courage and will to fight seem to be defeated in an instant. This is the knight in the Middle Ages. While he believed in the Lord, he also feared the devil.
"Damn it, the new Black Death!...Now, something really big has happened!..."
The old knight Laurent Zuo had a sullen face and thought for a while before taking a deep breath. Then, he looked at the bewildered and frightened young knight Giovanni and made a decision.
"Giovanni, we are not going back to camp!"
"Huh? Not going back?"
"Yes! With the blessing of the Lord, we got the news in advance and avoided the dangerous new plague! This plague has broken out in the siege camp. Although we don't know what it is specifically, many people will definitely die! Let's go back at this time, You are just playing chess with Death and seeking your own death!"
"Ah! Yes, Lorenzo, you are right! Then, where should we go?"
"We went directly north, first retreated into the Kingdom of Castile, found a safe village, and replenished some food. Then, we walked non-stop, all the way northeast, to the port of Valencia, a thousand miles away!
"What? Traveling thousands of miles all the way to the port of Valencia?!"
Hearing this, Giovanni looked surprised and hesitation flashed across his face.
"Are we going to quit the jihad right now?"
"Giovanni! How long has it been and you are still thinking about the Holy War? Since old Sylvester asked me to bring you here, I will take you back intact... instead of Go back with a corpse, or a pile of burnt ashes!"
The old knight Lorenzuo looked majestic and his words were harsher than ever before.
"Since we have decided to stay away from the plague, we must avoid it to the end! After we arrive at the port of Valencia, we will find a ship to Venice. Then, we will immediately take the ship back to the Republic. The holy war on the peninsula will never be with you from now on. I have nothing to do with it!”
"This! This?...Leave the Holy War like this?..."
Hearing this, frustration and unwillingness appeared on the face of the young knight Giovanni. But under his reluctant expression, his body relaxed a little. The old knight Loren's left eye flashed, and he could see the choice in Giovanni's heart. This young man's body is very honest, but he still can't hide his face and needs a step up.
"Giovanni, it's settled! Your father, old Sylvester, once said before coming here. If you encounter a big decision, you have to listen to me! This is my decision and yours. Father’s decision!... Let’s leave now!”
"Huh?...Your decision, and father's decision...father's order..."
Young Giovanni paused for a moment and sighed. He turned his horse's head half-heartedly, and was about to leave with the old knight Lorenzo, when he suddenly saw the Moore prisoner tied to the packhorse.
"Lorenzo! We are leaving. What about this Moorish messenger?"
"Well...the Moorish messenger..."
The old knight Luo Lunzuo pondered for a moment, and the corners of his mouth gradually turned up. Before leaving the jihad battlefield on the peninsula, he might still have time to teach the young Giovanni the last and most critical lesson.
"Giovanni, if it hadn't been for this sudden plague, the mountain city of Barcelona would have fallen very quickly... But after this plague, the direction of the next war is somewhat difficult to say..."
"Ah? Lorenzo, why do you say that?"
"Witness the Lord! Think about it, the morale of the Crusaders in the siege camp was low. Now that the plague has broken out, many Crusader knights from all over the world will leave... the Castilian army Morale is naturally even lower..."
The old knight Luo Lunzuo smiled slightly and pointed out the situation of the Holy War, as if he had a plan in mind.
"Although King Fernando of Aragon is good at planning and cunning, he is not an inspiring handsome man! On the contrary, Queen Isabella of Castile is brave, pious, decisive and fearless, just like Joan of Arc. A commander who can inspire people in desperate situations!”
"At present, an unprecedented plague has broken out in the siege camp. Once the plague spreads, the morale in the camp will drop to the bottom. King Fernando in the camp does not have the ability to calm the morale of the army. If he delays it for more than half a month at most, and if he resists the odds for a month, withdrawal will be inevitable!"
"Luo Renzuo, that is to say...the Moorish defenders in the mountain city of Basa can survive this round of siege as long as they hold on for one more month?"
Hearing this, the young knight Giovanni blinked. He looked at the Moorish prisoners on the packhorse and suddenly realized that the Moorish messenger he had captured might become the key to changing the overall situation of the Jihad!
"Ah! So, what about this messenger, the news he brought back?..."
"Yes! He is very crucial."
The old knight Laurent stroked his beard, lowered his voice, and asked with a smile.
"Giovanni, if the mountain city of Barcelona can hold on and King Fernando returns without success...then our retreat at this time will become a wise choice in the eyes of everyone. And the Moors survived this round of siege, and Ca Styria's entire army retreated, and if they want to organize an attack again, they will have to wait until at least next spring. With this extra half-year gap, the Moors may be able to sort out their internal affairs and resist for another two years..."
"The Jihad has been going on for eight years now. In order to supply an army of 60,000 people, the Castilians spent at least 30-40 million Malawidi copper coins, which is more than 700,000 to 1 million gold ducats. The debt they owe to our Republic of Venice is between 300,000 and 500,000 gold ducats... Since the church has come forward to guarantee it, the annual interest rate on this jihad debt is only about 10%, but the interest is also included in the principal... .”
Having said this, the old knight Lorenzo smiled, as if he was no longer a glorious knight, but a greedy businessman.
"Giovanni, do the math. If the war continues for two more years, how much more will the Castilians owe us?"
"Ah! If the jihad continues for two more years, the interest paid on the old debt to the Republic alone will be 70,000 to 110,000 gold ducats! And including the new debt, there will be at least 200,000 more new debts! Add in the interest of 20,000 on the new debt...that’s the size of 300,000 gold ducats!”
As the heir to the Venetian Parliament, there is no doubt about Giovanni's ability to settle accounts. He bent his fingers slightly and counted twice quickly, even his fingers started to tremble.
"Lord! In other words, the value of this Moorish prisoner may be... 300,000 gold ducats?!"
