Horses for food1
Chapter 66: Horses for Food 1
The concubine nodded to indicate that she understood. She had already made preparations. The grain she had previously purchased from several family friends had all been delivered to the palace's farm. Originally intended as a supplement for military rations, the emperor later sent 1.2 million dan of military rations, leaving a surplus with the purchased grain, perfect for exchange while she waited for Chu Huaibei to notify her of her departure.
The concubine's caravan took a long detour to avoid encountering the Mongolian army, and first went to the smallest Tuoba tribe. When the tribe leader saw the caravan manager, tears almost rolled down his face.
"You are finally here. I thought you would not come this year. My people are ready to starve to death."
The manager looked at the tribe, which had nothing left except tents and people, not even a dog, and sighed in his heart at the cruelty of war. Fortunately, they had a prince, otherwise their fate might be even worse than theirs.
"Yes, my master sent us here. After hearing that Mongolia was heading northwest, he predicted that you would be in trouble."
"Thank your master for me, but now we have no cattle, sheep or other items to exchange. What would it take for you to exchange precious food with us?" After the excitement of the initial meeting subsided, the patriarch's face turned into a bitter one.
"Chief Tuoba, don't worry. My master said that if you have extra horses, you can exchange them for horses. If you don't have any, you can exchange them for gems. If you don't have any gems, you can buy them on credit. Next year, you can catch wild horses on the grassland to pay the debt. Chief, are you willing?"
The steward saw that the patriarch was not wearing any accessories, and guessed that when the Mongolian army came, they looted all the living things, including cattle, sheep, horses, and even gems.
It was obvious that when the patriarch and the two tribesmen beside him heard that they could buy on credit, their eyes flashed with a desire for life.
"Can we really buy on credit?"
The patriarch asked cautiously, fearing that he had misheard the pronunciation.
"Indeed, it is possible. The master said that next year one wild horse is worth fifty kilograms of wheat. If you eat it sparingly, fifty kilograms of wheat can feed one person for two months. You can discuss how much grain you need on credit."
"Also, let me remind you that if someone owes money and doesn't want to pay it back, the caravan coming today may not be the same as the one coming next year."
The steward wasn't as kindhearted as his master, and had already spoken harshly. He had been in contact with these small tribes for quite some time, and they were always more obedient towards opponents with stronger military power.
When the patriarch heard this, he seemed a little terrified, because he knew the master behind this manager.
When he was young, he couldn't resist his curiosity about the Central Plains, so he ran to the trading market on the border on his own, hoping to dress himself up as a Central Plains person and go to Youzhou City to take a look.
Before he could even enter the city, he was stopped by the city guards, who were about to execute him for espionage. However, he happened to meet the Princess of Zhenbei, who was leaving the city. After inquiring about the situation, she ordered him to be released, only driving him ten miles outside the city.
He was only fourteen years old that year. Although he was reckless, he was brave and careful. Even when he was pressed to the ground, he turned his head and wanted to take a look at the princess mentioned by the city guard.
Of course, he didn't see the real person, but he remembered the special emblem of the palace carriage and the pattern of the tokens worn by the servants.
The manager in front of him did not have anything on him to represent his status, but when he came to the tribe to trade for the first time, he saw a token hidden in the manager's arms amidst the clinking of glasses.
There was only the word "Ling" engraved on the token, without any information about the owner, but the pattern was exactly the same as the one on the Zhenbei Palace he saw when he was young.
His knowledge was not extensive, and it was possible that other nobles also used this pattern. However, he believed that the only one capable of finding a small tribe like theirs in the northwest was the King of Zhenbei.
Not every noble family has the confidence and ability to do business on the grassland.
"Manager Zhang, don't worry. We will capture as many wild horses as we owe you for the grain you've borrowed. We won't default on our debts. Your master is our tribe's savior. How could we possibly repay him with evil? If we do, Changshengtian will punish us."
The clan leader suppressed his excitement and made a promise to the steward.
"Well, that's the best. I also brought a lot of charcoal this time, which I can also buy on credit. Next year, I'll trade it for wild horses: one hundred pounds of charcoal for one wild horse. Now that you don't have cow dung as fuel, it's going to be hard to survive the winter."
Originally, the chief planned to let two or three families sleep in one tent and use the little remaining cow dung for warmth, but he didn't expect the caravan to even bring charcoal!
"May the Eternal Heaven bless your master with health and longevity. We, the people of the tribe, will always remember your great kindness to the Tuoba tribe."
"Well, the master is kind-hearted and cannot bear to see innocent people suffer. I will live a long and healthy life with your auspicious words. Now, you two can discuss the quantity among yourselves. I will go out and wait for your news."
Seeing that the patriarch was so happy that he didn't know what to do, the steward left the patriarch's tent first.
The tribesmen who had been staying in their tents came out one after another. When they saw the familiar caravan, surprise and sadness burst out on their faces at the same time, making their expressions slightly distorted.
The manager simply returned to the caravan, leaned against the supplies and watched the people of the tribe from afar.
As for why they weren't worried about the Tuoba tribe directly robbing them, they could still understand why they had enough to eat every meal. Without them, these small tribes wouldn't even have salt to eat, and exchanging with Mongolia would only make them suffer more.
The men of the tribe gathered in the chief's tent, engaged in a heated discussion. The women and children gazed at the caravan's supplies from afar, their eyes filled with anticipation.
There was an unusually brave child who walked towards the steward.
His clothes were ragged, his left foot was a little sloping, and he looked about 5-6 years old. He was so thin that only bones were left, which made his head look abnormally large. His small face was thin with a sharp chin, and his eyes were frighteningly large. The black pupils took up most of the eyes, with very little white, much like a cat's eyes in the dark night.
The steward waved to the guards, signaling them not to use force to drive them away.
The child walked slowly to the steward, toe to toe.
"Eat. I'm hungry."
The child raised his head and met the steward's nonchalant eyes.
The steward raised his hand and pointed at the chief's tent.
"Go ask the clan leader for it."
The manager didn't have much sympathy for children of other races. Their relatives were unwilling to take good care of them, so it was not his turn to show kindness.
"Eat. I'm hungry."
The child stared at the steward and repeated it again.
The guard next to him was about to step forward to drive them away, but was stopped by the steward with a look.
"If you need food, you can exchange your gems for it. Or if you have the ability to catch wild horses, you can also exchange them for food."
The steward's request to the children was the same as what he said to the patriarch: everyone is equal when it comes to survival.
The child's dark eyes rolled around, clearly understanding what the steward had said. His face remained expressionless as he turned and slowly walked back.
The people in the caravan thought that the child had given up and still had some good feelings towards him. A child of this age, in a family with a little surplus food, would only make a fuss to achieve his goal.
It's very rare to find someone as calm as this kid.
After a cup of tea, the steward saw from afar the child leading a newly born pony towards them.
Along the way, the tribesmen looked at him in surprise, but he remained expressionless. He just gripped the reins of the pony tighter in his hands, and the finger bones of his two little hands had turned white.
The manager was no longer leaning against the supplies with a distracted look on his face. He was standing upright, watching the child in the distance walking towards him step by step.
Still standing toe to toe, the child handed the reins in his hand to the manager, with a hint of expectation in his blank eyes.
The steward reached out and took the reins.
"This pony can only be exchanged for ten pounds of wheat or twenty pounds of charcoal. What do you need in exchange?"
The child didn't answer immediately, but turned to stare at the steamed bun in one of the guards' hands. It was already noon, and one of the guards, feeling hungry, had taken the bun and nibbled on it.
"It takes ten of his food and one piece of clothing."
The child pointed at the steamed bun in the guard's hand and the cotton coat on the guard and spoke.
The manager raised his eyebrows. The caravan did prepare a few extra cotton-padded clothes, fearing that they would encounter a snowstorm like last year and get sick from the cold.
Looking at the pony that had just been weaned in his hand and the wound on the child's left foot, he was a ruthless person. No adult had appeared yet. He was either too ill to get up, or he was an orphan.
"Give him ten steamed buns and a cotton coat."
The guard quickly took out ten steamed buns and packed them with a handkerchief, then took out a cotton coat and handed it to the steward.
The steward handed the reins to the guard, took the things himself, and placed them in front of the child.
"It's yours."
After confirming it, the child took the bundle, sat down on the ground, grabbed a steamed bun and stuffed it into his mouth. His vicious look was like a wolf cub on the grassland.
After eating four steamed buns in a row, the child stopped and carefully wrapped up the remaining ones. Then he stood up, took off his tattered clothes, and put on a new cotton-padded jacket.
The cotton coat was unusually large for him. He stood there thinking for a moment, then tore the tattered cloth on the ground into several strips.
Tuck your waist in and tie it tightly with a cloth strip, then roll up the two sleeves that are too long until they do not hinder your movement, and then tie the sleeves with a cloth strip.
The steward originally wanted to help him tie his sleeves, but the child's mouth and hands coordinated very skillfully and he was able to tidy himself up without relying on anyone.
Everyone in the caravan looked at the child's performance, nodded secretly, and made an internal assessment, thinking that this child might be able to survive the winter on his own.
The child still picked up the completely tattered piece of clothing on the ground, tidied it up, and hung it on his belt. He picked up the steamed bun and turned to leave.
It was not until the end of noon that the patriarch came out of the tent, walked quickly to the steward, and told him the amount of wheat and charcoal needed.
The steward took out the pen and ink he carried with him, wrote two bills, and asked the clan leader to press his fingerprints on them after confirming that they were correct.
The clan leader excitedly took out a dagger and scratched his thumb, leaving two bloody fingerprints. Seeing this, the steward put the half-taken red mud print back to its original place.
Each of them received a bill, which the patriarch placed solemnly on his chest.
The steward ordered the guards to unload the goods according to the quantity and pile them aside.
The chief stood aside, watching the supplies slowly piling up on the ground, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least the tribesmen could survive this winter.
The steward informed that all the supplies had been unloaded and asked the clan leader to lead his men to count them.
"No need to count, the quantity you gave must be enough."
He turned around and called the men standing in the distance to move the things to his tent first, quickly completed the handover, let the caravan people rest first, and they went back to divide the things slowly.
More than twenty strong men came over and quickly cleared the area. The clan leader said to the steward, "Thank you so much. May the Eternal Heaven bless you with everything going well. You should rest first. I will be leaving now."
"Well, please do as you please, Chief."
The steward was also hungry and didn't want to continue being polite.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
