Free Web NovelChapter 57: Chapter 51: The Wretched
Through Eric’s "intimidation" and Hessin’s "betrayal," a total of 47 people chose to follow Eric.
This was a little over half the group. Of those who refused to join him, some decided to try their luck in Normandy. Most of them had a trade skill to make a living. A smaller number had relatives in Normandy, or planned to contact them for help.
After all, Viking Pirates only raided valuable targets, and among these people were some merchants or travelers with a bit of wealth.
Eric, however, liked this number.
To convince the group that he could cover their expenses, Eric decided to give them a small advance on their pay.
It wasn’t far from Bayeux to Rouen. The journey could be made in a single day if they hurried, or three days at a slower pace.
Still, there would be expenses on the road.
The purity of Norman silver pennies was a bit lower than that of English silver pennies.
So, Eric needed to exchange his English silver pennies.
Caen City. A certain silversmith’s shop.
"Cats? You have a fine sense of humor, Priest. Times are tough this year. Even if there were any cats, there wouldn’t be that many."
The speaker was a slightly plump, middle-aged man who seemed quite friendly. His eyes were perpetually squinted, as if he could never fully open them.
He spoke without pausing in his work. Standing by the furnace, he pumped the bellows, sending flames licking up to roast a chunk of copper. A bucket of water sat nearby, ready to cool the Metal.
Nearby was a rack with neatly organized tools: awls, tongs, a heavy trimming knife, and a pair of shears with small blades but long handles.
But the man wasn’t a blacksmith. He was a Jeweler named Bernou.
Jewelers often exchanged Copper Coins, Silver Coins, and Gold Coins with merchants from other lands to melt down and cast into various ornaments. With the right information, one could make a fortune from this kind of currency trading.
"Is that so?"
"Duke William only knows how to fight. The harvests have been poor for the last two years, but he hasn’t lowered the taxes. Many people in the countryside don’t have enough to eat, let alone the cats. You know, when people are truly starving, they’ll eat anything. I’ve been hungry like that before. It’s a terrible feeling.
You’re in a daze all day, your mind isn’t clear. In a state like that, a person will do anything."
"That’s strange. The sound of cats that night was incredibly disruptive."
Eric didn’t look at Bernou, his gaze wandering around the small workshop instead.
’I remember the sounds from that night so clearly,’ he thought. ’Could I have been delirious from hunger?’
"Looking to buy some jewelry, Priest? My work is quite famous in Caen. Even the Bishop and the Abbot patronize my shop sometimes." Bernou noticed Eric’s gaze and asked out of habit.
"You must make a good living then."
"I wish. When business is good, I have to share some of it with the master craftsman across the street. The guild protects everyone—it’s the rule, and they have people who check."
Bernou then chuckled and added in a low voice, "Although everyone still tries to find a way to earn a little extra."
"It’s only human."
Eric shrugged in agreement.
He then noticed four pairs of new shoes on a rack to the side. They were small, like they belonged to children.
"Your home must be quite lively. You and your wife must be very happy to have four children."
"They’re not my own, I adopted them. You may have heard, the people from Alençon and Mann are in a wretched state, and things are terrible for the rural folk right now."
"The Lord will be pleased with you. Still, that can’t be a small expense."
It’s hard enough for one person to raise a single child, let alone four.
"The guild covers some of the cost."
"Is that within the rules? Raising money for adopted children?"
"I told them I would choose one to be my heir. I don’t have a son of my own, anyway." Bernou’s smile was genuine.
"Ah?" Eric was slightly surprised.
"This shop was passed down to me by my adoptive father, and now I’ll pass it to my adopted son. It’s a good thing."
"Is that so?"
Eric let out a sigh.
"Alright, I’m about done here. Now, let me get those Norman pence for you." freёwebnoѵel.com
Bernou clapped his hands, left the room, and walked out into the courtyard by the entrance.
Eric followed.
He watched Bernou retrieve a jar from under a bench in a corner of the walled yard. Bernou removed the lid, revealing it to be full of silver pence stamped with the head of the Duke of Normandy.
"All this money, and you just leave it here?"
"The most dangerous place is the safest. I move it every time. I’ll find a new spot for it later."
Bernou poured the silver pence into a box, counting them out one by one.
Then he had Eric count them as well.
"Should I have someone escort you? It’s dangerous to carry so many Silver Coins, and things haven’t been peaceful around here lately. I hear there’s an ’Iron Mask Man’ running rampant in this area. You’d best be careful."
"I’ll be fine."
Eric waved his hand, dismissing the offer.
Suddenly, a young man at the entrance called out Bernou’s name.
"Bernou, hurry up! The trial has already started."
"I already told you, I’m not going! I’m not going to be a juror. I’m giving my spot to you guys. You all go ahead and deal with it."
"What’s going on?"
"It’s nothing. Just some poor woman accusing a Priest of killing her newborn daughter. She’s pressing charges to get justice, but it’s useless. The Priest’s brother is the Abbot of the Monastery here.
He’ll be presiding over the trial, and who doesn’t love their own brother?"
Bernou pointed in a direction where a noisy crowd had gathered. It seemed the trial had already begun.
Eric quickly spotted the woman. She was crying pitifully. Beside her stood a Priest in a Monk’s Robe, arguing her case with passion. He seemed to be acting as her Lawyer, though he appeared somewhat clumsy.
The man seated on the high platform was presumably the so-called Abbot. He was dressed in vestments worn only for Mass, sitting there with perfect composure, looking every bit the part.
"How pitiful."
"There’s nothing to be done. There are pitiful stories everywhere these days. We can only look after ourselves."
Bernou shrugged, a gesture of helplessness.
"Bernou, perhaps you could give your juror spot to me."
"What? But that’s a crime! The law says a juror’s position can’t be..." freēwēbηovel.c૦m
Bernou hurriedly waved his hands, about to refuse, but in the next moment, Eric grabbed his hand and pressed something into it.
"Oh, I think I’ve been feeling a bit unwell lately. My cousin, who has already become a Cultivator, came to visit me and is planning to help me out for a few days."
Bernou tucked the object into his pocket, then took out a bronze badge and pinned it to Eric’s chest.
The center of the badge was marked with the image of a hammer.
"Of course, Cousin Bernou."
