People in the Middle Ages, draw cards to get promoted

Chapter 261
"This place is really rich!"

At the market in Port Ella, all kinds of rare birds and beasts, rare treasures, are dazzling.

"Father, compared with Damascus, where is it more prosperous?"

When Old Hassan was young, he had been to Damascus. At that time, he was not a chief, and Damascus was still the territory of the Turks.

He recalled and considered, "Of course it's Damascus."

"It's just that although the port of Ella looks small, it has already begun to take shape. In time, it will not be much worse. No wonder several ports such as Aqaba are crowded and there are no people."

Cinnamon, cloves, pepper, cardamom, gemstones, gallant horses, silk fabrics from Tianzhu; Nubian slaves from Abyssinia, frankincense, myrrh; local refined plate armor, fermented grape juice, white Papers and tomes of theology.

An Abyssinian lion in a cage, ready to be a noble pet, or a fighting beast in the arena.

From Gujarat, the peacock with its wings spread like a screen.

A striped wild horse with black and white lines painted on its body surface.

All kinds of goods, everything that one expects to find.

Vendors displayed their wares at their booths, and more high-end valuables would generally be sold in more private shops next to them.

On the street, there are heavily armed patrols maintaining order.

There are large three-line characters written in various languages ​​on the public notice board.

The thief cut off his hand.

The cheater pulls out his tongue.

Tax evaders, property confiscated, exiled Sinai hard labor.

Old Hassan warned: "If you see it, take care of your own hands!"

In Alexandria, valuables such as spices and precious stones were subject to a heavy tax of one quarter.

In Port Ella, the tax officer named Muller also raised this figure to a quarter and called it a luxury tax.

As for the tax on basic materials such as grain, it was reduced to [-]%.

But even if it is a quarter, the spice merchant can make a lot of money, and he will never switch to a grain merchant, it is nothing more than earning less.

This series of heavy taxes is also the reason why the price of spices has doubled dozens of times when they were passed on to the European continent.

Because every time you pass through a place, you have to collect taxes, and every time you transfer a lot, you have to increase the price. Therefore, although Aila Port is very close to Aqaba Port and other ports, it can be crowded with the latter.

In the port, countless galleys are waiting for their berths to enter the port.

The hired workers on the wharf carried large and small packages and transported heavy goods to the warehouse.

Some city-state businessmen from the Apennine Peninsula also gathered here, preparing to be second-hand dealers, and transport the spices purchased here directly to the country via the Mediterranean route.

The goods carried by the old Hassan and his party were quickly sold at a suitable price.

The price given by the buyer is very fair and easy to talk about, and the price given is also full of silver dinars.

Old Hassan's son and a group of tribesmen laughed from ear to ear. If they were in Yanbu City, their goods could sell for a quarter of this price at most.

Old Hassan looked at the young people in the tribe, but there was not much joy on his face.

As it turned out, he had been tricked.

Port Ella is a paradise. People who settle here seem to be able to see the light on their faces. Even if they are tired, they are full of energy.

It was a look of hope for the future.

The lord here, the Earl of Lothar, is by no means a butcher.

Old Hassan couldn't help thinking of "removing the whole tribe" when he was talking to the traveler.

"Father, let's go to the tavern for a while."

Old Hassan looked at the tavern full of people, and wanted to scold him, because he is a devout Zoroastrian, how can he touch alcohol, a tool of the devil that makes people lose their minds?
But immediately thinking of the imam's pious and holy face, he couldn't help feeling a bit of resentment in his heart.

fraud!

Imams, lords, are all liars, they want us to be their slaves forever, lose our freedom, lose our future, and gradually die out like walking dead!

"Go."

"It's been a hard journey, everyone should relax."

The young people in the tribe were taken aback for a moment, completely unaware that the old-fashioned chief would agree to their request, and then cheered.

The atmosphere in the tavern was lively.

Many people got together and enthusiastically played a kind of picture called "Gwent card".

Although the boys under Old Hassan didn't quite understand it, they were still fascinated quickly. The majestic knight drawn on it made them fascinated for a while.

The tavern door was opened.

Old Hassan saw those armored cavalry with wings on their backs again, this time, because he was in the same tavern, and even because they were closer, he saw it more clearly.

The so-called wings turned out to be just a pair of decorations, probably glued together with swan or crane feathers.

The armor on their bodies is like a complete steel plate, covered with a layer of gown, it looks like it is impeccable.

The crowd was a little envious. In their tribe, even an iron pot was a rare item.

These hussars politely asked the bartender for a few glasses of wine, sat on the wooden barrel by the bar and chatted in a low voice, drank them all, and then politely said goodbye to the bartender and left the tavern.

Someone said with emotion: "Your Earl's hussars are the most virtuous knights I have ever seen!"

"What kind of knights are they?"

A knight in a robe with the coat of arms of the hounds took a glass of wine in disapproval.

Compared with the barren Sinai territory, many knights who have territories there prefer to live in Port Ella.

"It's just cavalry, showing off their power all day long, ostentatiously, it's extremely ridiculous."

The knight's face was sour.

He has been dissatisfied for a long time that Lothar did not value these knights and chose to promote those former pagans as officials.

This is also a common problem.

As more and more knights turn to Lothar, these people are rarely entrusted with high positions.

This naturally caused dissatisfaction among some people.

It's just that Lothar doesn't care, he doesn't lack the loyalty of the knights, just get out if he is not convinced, the number of imperial knights is very rare now.

If there is a criminal offense, he will be executed or exiled according to the law.

Lothar's prestige and centralization in his own territory far exceeded the imagination of people outside the inner circle.

Old Hassan drank wine with the tribesmen and soon became slightly tipsy.

At this time, he subconsciously touched his pocket, and his face suddenly changed—his wallet was lost.

"Stop drinking!"

"Look for the wallet, is it missing somewhere?"

A group of people who were slightly drunk were suddenly shocked into a cold sweat.

The bartender reminded: "If you lose something, you can go to the hussars."

"Oh, by the way, have you paid your taxes?"

Old Hassan nodded quickly and said, "Of course, when the goods are sold at the port, they will be paid."

"That's fine. The hussars are obliged to protect your personal and property safety. Go find them."

Old Hassan was dubious, but with only hope left, he found the hussars who were patrolling the street.

"Stolen?"

The hussar's face changed slightly, and he smiled lightly: "Okay, we know about this, and I will solve this case as soon as possible."

Old Hassan hesitated to speak, and then listened to the hussars' instructions: "Don't leave the port of Ella during this time, the thief is probably an outsider, and they are people who have just been to the tavern. The scope is not large. They should It won't be long before you get your money back."

"Okay, thank you."

Old Hassan bowed quickly.

The group of people no longer had any leisure thoughts, so they found a hotel at random, crowded in a room and waited.

in the evening.

Someone knocked on the door.

The hussars I had seen during the day escorted a mournful young Bedouin boy to the hotel.

boom.

The heavy purse was thrown over by the Hussars: "Count it, is the number correct?"

Old Hassan hastily opened the purse, counted it roughly, and it turned out to be exact.

"Yes, my lord."

The hussars smiled and said: "It's good that the number is right. You can come to the square tomorrow morning to watch the execution. This little guy committed theft and has to have an arm cut off."

Old Hassan's expression froze, but there was a sense of joy in his heart.

That fucking is the lifeline of my whole family, you damn brat!

"Okay, we'll be there."

After finishing speaking, he took out another handful of silver coins from his purse, intending to hand them to the Hussars: "Thanks for your hard work, Master Knight."

The person who came quickly waved his hand: "No, this is our responsibility. We don't need your thank you - even if you accept bribes, your hands will be chopped off."

Old Hassan was slightly taken aback.

"Good night, everyone."

The hussars waved their hands.

"May I have the honor of knowing your name?"

The hussar paused slightly and said, "Just call me Ulm."

"Thank you again, Mr. Ulm."

"You're welcome."

Looking at the retreating figures of the hussars, Old Hassan hesitated for a moment, then suddenly chased after him.

"Mr. Ulm, my tribe and I want to move to Port Ayla and settle down..."

(End of this chapter)