Act Three: The Laws of Engaging with the World (Part Seven)
seven
"Why does he want a horseshoe with seven holes?" Yubi asked. "Do Westerners all use horseshoes with seven holes?"
“This is a Frankish tradition,” Schumacher explained. “Long ago, there was an archbishop in England who was a blacksmith. One day, the devil disguised himself as a man and went to his blacksmith’s shop to have his horseshoe nails made. Schumacher recognized the devil’s true form and, while the devil was asleep, drove seven nails into the devil’s feet. The devil was in unbearable pain, and Schumacher used this to blackmail him, saying that from then on, the devil could no longer ride a horse with nails into a mortal’s house. After that, this story became widely known, and people began to nail horses with seven nails to represent good luck.”
"So, shouldn't it be that any horse with seven nails is a devil's horse?" Yubi casually let his thoughts wander. "Why do people think that having seven nails is a symbol of good luck?"
“That’s a novel idea.” Schumeer thought about it seriously for a while. “Who knows? That’s how the story got out, and that’s how everyone heard it.”
“Only if you are the devil can no devil harm you.” Yakov had been listening to their conversation from horseback for quite some time. He coldly commented, ending the pointless topic, “There will be no Crusaders on this road, that’s what you said. And now, there’s a whole bunch of Hospitallers in the city, asking about my origins.”
“I said almost certainly not, not definitely not!” Schumeer reached up to touch his ear, his mouth moving rapidly again. “The Knights Hospitaller coming to a place like this might be to establish a new outpost for financial business. But think about it, the gatekeeper probably mistook you for one of their men when we entered the city, otherwise we probably wouldn’t have been able to get in. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Yakov wanted to get angry again, but then he realized there was some truth to what Yakov said, so he forced himself to calm down. "Buy what you need quickly," he said irritably. "We must leave before the city gates close."
They returned to the crowded street. Only then did Yubi realize that the town was like a beautiful, lifelike specimen, its feathers gleaming on the outside, but its flesh rotting inside.
The streets stank horribly. Yubi wondered why he hadn't noticed this when he entered the city. Was he smelling like this when he entered? Excrement was everywhere—human, horse, pig, sheep—making it impossible for him to even step. Yakov didn't put him back on the high saddle with his shoes off the ground; instead, he told him to walk on his own. The crowd surged forward, and Yubi, being short, was swept along in the flow. Women carrying baskets on their heads, children leading dogs, monks with turbans—good heavens, that middle-aged man's belly was as round as a melon; he practically took up half the street! Had a rat just scurried under the fruit basket next to him?
"Yakov, slow down!" Yubi gripped the cross-shaped cloak with one hand and pressed his other hand tightly against his money pouch. He had learned his lesson and was no longer letting his guard down. "I can't keep up!"
Yakov ignored him completely, pushing his way forward with the reins, making way for the horse in the chaotic crowd. Yubi learned to slip between the broad back and the horse, walking without stepping on Yakov's shoes. He helped Yakov translate, following him from stall to stall, buying black beans, alfalfa, straw, and pale beer. When the vendors saw the cloak with the cross on it, some showed immediate respect and offered words of blessing, some were hesitant and fearful, and some wore their disgust and indifference on their faces, simply waving him away. Yubi couldn't understand. He asked Schumer, "What's going on? Why are they doing this?"
Schumacher smiled meaningfully. "That's what happens when everyone sees you as a reckless, eccentric believer. It's not a good thing for everyone."
Yubi pondered the meaning of those words, but didn't quite understand. Yakov was exchanging gold and silver coins for baskets of grain, and soon the horse's back was overflowing with food. The horse, too, was restless, wagging its tail and rearing up in refusal. Yakov was clearly perplexed; he hesitated, holding the baskets.
“You can’t mistreat this animal!” Schumeer quickly stopped him. “It can’t carry it!”
“From here to the Danube, the horses will starve to death if they don’t have enough food for half a month,” Yakov said. “We need to buy another horse. But the horse market doesn’t open until tomorrow.”
"Why make it so complicated? Why don't you just exchange the gold coins for promissory notes?" Schumeer crossed his arms. "I told you that before."
“Don’t even think about it,” Yakov said in a muffled voice. “I will never exchange gold coins for scraps of paper.”
“What about something else?” Yubi tried to interject. “You could buy something valuable, something more worthwhile than gold coins, like…”
He noticed Yakov's helmet pointing straight at him, as if waiting for him to answer the question. Yubi suddenly realized that he seemed to have the most right and responsibility to speak on this matter. This gave him a surge of courage; he straightened his back and cleared his throat.
"Take jewelry and spices, for example. You can buy amethyst, rubies, sapphires, turquoise, or pearls. They are lightweight and valuable, much more convenient than gold. Black pepper, nutmeg, and saffron are also good spices, and they are more scattered than gemstones."
“Let’s go find the jewelers and spice merchants.” Yakov placed a basket full of grain on Schumeer’s donkey, causing Schumeer to shake his head helplessly. He immediately led the horse and started walking.
The market had so many stalls and shops, yet very few sold jewelry and spices. Now Yubi understood why Schumacher had said it was just a small town. Yakov went from person to person, asking, "Do you have anything good to sell?" Jewelers recommended glazes and enamels, spice merchants recommended sage and mint. Yakov didn't know much about these fancy things and just watched Yubi's reactions. But Yubi knew they weren't valuable, and he shook his head repeatedly. They asked all along the street, to no avail. For a moment, Yakov even seriously considered burying his gold in the mountains outside, to retrieve it later.
“If we just erect a simple tombstone,” Yakov hesitated in front of the stonemason’s stall, “no one will want to dig up a shabby grave even if they find one later.”
“If you insist on doing it this way, I have no objection.” Schumeer crossed his arms. “But I must say, you are a lonely man who is unwilling to embrace credit. What’s wrong with promissory notes?”
Yakov ignored him and looked at Yubi's expression. Yubi was feeling dejected because he had lost the use of his knowledge, and he hung his head unhappily. Yakov didn't bother to comfort him and turned to ask the stonemason about the price of the tombstone. Just then, he saw two mounted guards escorting a neatly dressed man, slowly moving from the end of the street towards the city center.
"Are they coming for us?" Yubi also noticed the guards' gaze.
“It seems so,” Schumacher said.
The group drew closer. Yakov moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, remaining motionless. A terrible premonition grew clearer in his mind. As he expected, the guards stopped in front of him, looking down at him from their horses. However, the leader politely dismounted.
“Honorable Knights, I pay my respects to my Lord and his servants.” He spoke in elegant Latin, though his pronunciation was harsh. “My master invites you to his residence to be entertained.”
"Master?" Yakov turned his head and asked.
“My master is from the von Brunel family.” The man nodded to Yakov. “He is the lord of Brasov.”
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