A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Chapter 419: Chapter 295: Odor (2)

“Is there a difference?” The Bishop gently placed his finger on the Knight’s lips. “Think, dear brother, are you awake or are you asleep?

If you are awake now, then death is but a slumber.

If you are asleep, then how can you receive your reward?

But if you are now asleep in the dream of life, then when you die, you will awaken to enjoy your reward.

Your soul must be freed from Hell, but also from life.

Think again, my friend: if your life is Heaven, then what will you enjoy beyond the grave?

But if your life is Hell, how joyful you will be to awaken from it into eternal life!

Therefore, be grateful for every setback, rejoice in sorrow, and welcome despair, for these are the mirrors of Heaven, in which everything appears reversed.

Turn around, look within, and see your true face.

As it ought to be seen, as God sees it.”

The Knight was nearly in tears.

“If this is God’s will. I await death, my Father! I know I will die for my sins, and that my sins will be forgiven. Though I have lived a sinful life, I will be reunited with my father, there, in Heaven.”

When Bishop Admar of Le Puy could not explain, he did not berate or intimidate. Instead, he listened, offered comfort, and prayed to God together with the lost Knight.

….

Eric, the other Counts, and their armies hid in the shadows of the village, waiting for the Turkic supply convoy to arrive.

Eric made use of every building and every fold in the terrain of the ruined village, confident that only a lost Turkic scout might stumble upon them by chance.

At the edge of the village was a low wall, and Eric found a dozen or so bloated, rotting pig carcasses inside.

Eric refused to let the Knights bury or burn them. The smell was nauseating, and Eric hoped that any Muslim who saw it would rather eat dirt than go near that enclosure.

Eric also raised the wall. The wall blended into the surroundings well enough to conceal the presence of Eric and his men.

A well-hidden scout had reported some time ago that the convoy was less than half a mile away.

For the first time in a while, Eric felt a pang of worry.

The composition of his army was too complex, with far more uncontrollable factors than usual.

He suddenly recalled Belem’s curses toward Robert, and he too unconsciously muttered a curse or two at Robert.

‘That bastard. Ever since he took the throne, he’s become appallingly lazy. Instead of solving problems himself, he just pushes his messes onto others, which is why I always get dragged into some unnecessary predicament.’

“Damn him, I hope he drowns in some woman’s arms,” Eric cursed.

“Woman? Where’s a woman?” Belem lifted his head, looking around.

“You’re not much better!” Eric shoved Belem’s head into the dirt slope in front of them.

The mud from the slope clogged Belem’s nostrils. He coughed wretchedly, a sticky blade of grass hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Seeing Belem glaring at him furiously, Eric patted Belem’s shoulder and whispered with a grave expression, “Shh! Quiet down, Belem. I’m helping you.”

Belem froze, his expression baffled. He barely suppressed his anger. “Helping me? By shoving my face in the mud?”

Eric sighed, giving him a ‘you just don’t get it’ look. “Did you know that when the Turkic People march, they usually bring a Pagan Priest with them? These priests have special abilities. They’re especially good at discerning the scent of Christians, better than a bloodhound!

We’re lying in ambush so close. If your scent carries over, you’ll give away our position in an instant.”

Belem frowned. “Then why don’t you shove your own face in the mud?”

Seeing Belem take the bait, Eric replied with a straight face, “Because I’ve already taken precautions. I ate flatbread for dinner tonight. Think about what you ate tonight—yesterday’s leftover roasted goat. Let me tell you, Heretics are most sensitive to the smell of mutton.

Imagine smelling the aroma of roasted goat amidst a pile of rotting pork.”

Belem was speechless. He looked at Eric dubiously, then down at his mud-caked clothes, and smacked himself hard on the head, looking utterly regretful. “Ah! Damn it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I shouldn’t have eaten the goat of all things.”

Eric immediately chided, “Eating it is one thing, but you, you bastard, you even put cumin on it.”

Belem nodded, still half-convinced, and seemed to finally accept Eric’s “kindness.” He brushed the mud off his clothes and forced out, “Well, I guess I should thank you then.”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. What’s this between us? No need for thanks.” Eric waved his hand dismissively and quickly changed the subject. “Have you ever raided a convoy before?”

“Of course! I’m an expert’s expert. The one I remember most was when I was sixteen…” Belem’s spirits lifted, and he began to talk nonstop. “Gold, silver, carpets, silks. The profits were so great I could have bought a whole street of brothels in Bayeux.”

“You’d better not let the Bishop of Le Puy hear you. He has the power of excommunication,” Eric shook his head helplessly.

Belem glanced around, then leaned in and whispered laughingly in Eric’s ear, “The best brothel in Bayeux is right next to the Bishop’s Mansion. I hear there’s a secret passage between them.”

“I heard many of the prostitutes have spent time in the confessional next door. They know the process of atonement better than anyone,” added Guy, Eric’s Knight.

Just then, a pair of feet appeared beside Eric’s.

Eric looked up. It was Count Evler.

“Gloucester, our men are growing restless,” said Count Evler. “I don’t mean to interrupt such a fascinating conversation, I just wanted to ask when we will set out?”

Eric had originally intended to just grunt in acknowledgment but then changed his mind. “We’ll set out when that road is full of camels and Gulams. Before then, if your men are so agitated, I suggest you let them entertain themselves.

Chatting is my preferred method, but I suppose a lecture on courtly manners might also do the trick.”

“I must object. When the old king was alive, he always guaranteed that Evler would be at the forefront of the attack, just as at Hastings,” Count Evler said, looking coldly at Eric.

“Hastings is out of fashion. It’s all about the Trent River now, my Old Count,” Belem said with a sarcastic smile.

Even though Count Evler was only middle-aged.

Eric had no intention of getting bogged down in this, as it was pointless. “Today, you and your men will have the honor of leading the attack.”

Count Evler snorted and turned to leave.

“Greedy pig! Evler’s avarice is endless. He has the nerve to bring up Hastings when he’s nothing but an opportunist.” Belem spat in the direction Evler had gone. “This is just the prelude. Your compliance will only make him push for more.”

“There will be a chance to deal with him, but not now.” Eric pushed Belem back into his original position. “They’re here.”

“There’s still enough time.” Eric turned to Leif and Guy. “Make sure we aren’t seen. Get everyone to keep their heads down.”

Now, Eric was lying behind the wall, peering down into the valley through a deliberately made gap.

Eric watched the camel train slowly winding its way along the valley floor.

‘How long is this convoy?’

To ensure complete control of the situation, Eric had kept all his forces near the valley.

The plan was for Leif to take the Archers, Saxon Shield Soldiers, and a portion of the Dismounted Knights to form lines and block the exits at both ends of the valley.

‘No matter,’ he thought. ‘My Heavy Knights and men-at-arms will form a cavalry line, charge down the slope, and break the Turkic Cavalry on the flanks.’

Soon, two Turkic men rode forward on their horses, climbing the hill.

Eric hoped everyone was well hidden and had muffled any sound from their armor or Horse Harnesses.

The Turkic men reined in their horses and stopped a short distance away. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from their disgusted expressions, it was clear they had smelled the stench.

One of them urged the other to continue forward.

His companion flatly refused.

His lips seemed to form the words, [“If you care so much, go yourself.”]

In the end, the two Turkic men turned their horses around and went back down the slope.

Eric’s Knight, Guy, dry-heaved beside him.

Eric let out a sigh of relief. He must have been holding his breath without realizing it.