A Proposal

At three in the afternoon, the battle was all but over. Most of the French were busy looting the spoils, while Vitus remained atop a low hill, watching the scene before him with cold indifference.

As he'd planned it, the infantry would pin down the English while the cavalry swung around to attack from behind, nearly wiping out the enemy. But the reckless, impulsive cavalry had disrupted the battle plan, greatly diminishing their victory.

Just then, Arthur rode up beside him. "Fortunately, the enemy arrived by ship in such a hurry that they lacked cavalry and artillery. This was a hard-won victory indeed. Goodbye, Mr. Doukas. I'll be waiting for you in Bordeaux, where we can share a drink."

Vitus stared at him in disbelief. "Bordeaux? What are you planning to do?"

Arthur lifted his visor. "I made arrangements in advance for some of our soldiers to flee with the routed enemy into Bordeaux. Once they take control of the gates, I'll lead the cavalry in a swift assault. We might be able to capture the city."

With that, Arthur led more than two hundred cavalrymen north. Behind them came a large force of Scottish light infantry. They carried swords in their right hands and small round shields in their left, and wore the simplest kettle hats. Their torsos had no iron armor for protection; instead, they wore padded garments sewn from layers of cloth, with thick tartan wool draped diagonally over their shoulders.

Unburdened by heavy armor, the Scottish infantry moved quickly. They jogged after the cavalry and soon vanished from sight.

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip by, Vitus led the Tuna Mercenary Group back toward Bordeaux along the road they had come. When the moon reached its zenith, he finally glimpsed the outline of the city walls in the distance.

The southern gate of Bordeaux stood open, with more than a hundred bodies scattered outside. Within the city, cries of agony and battle shouts filled the air. Vitus followed the main road to the city center, where he found Scottish infantry hauling away supplies.

Suddenly, a Scottish soldier with shoulder-length brown hair and indigo tattoos on his face blocked their way. He gestured for a long while, apparently trying to say that the city center belonged to the Scottish army and that the Tuna Mercenary Group should go somewhere else.

"Who do they think they are? A bunch of British barbarians, and they dare say that to us?"

The Greek mercenaries raised their weapons and shouted in protest. Some hotheaded men even swung their cannons around. A clash was moments away, but Vitus hurriedly stopped them. "Head to the docks in the east of the city. There should be plenty of good stuff there."

Vitus had guessed right. The English fleet had withdrawn in such a hurry that plenty of grain, arrows, and weapons had been left behind at the docks. Most interesting of all, someone had found the siege cannon abandoned earlier that day in one of the warehouses.

Having recovered his heavy cannon, Vitus was in high spirits. He went through the ledger item by item, then had the soldiers move the supplies into several adjacent warehouses and keep watch over them.

Halfway through the inventory, he stretched and stepped out of the warehouse. Hearing the commotion in the city suddenly grow louder, he guessed that other allied forces had entered as well.

"Marcus, Damien, hurry up and block the streets with carts and planks. This territory is mine! If anyone tries to force their way in, open fire!"

Then Vitus walked into the next warehouse. It was stacked with barrels of wine, and its wooden shelves held plenty of dried cheese and smoked meat.

"Hmm, what should I eat?"

After a whole day of fighting and marching, his stomach was growling. He started making dinner. First, he scraped the hard rind off the cheese with a small knife, spread honey over it, then put it in the bread oven to toast over a low flame.

While he waited, Vitus sliced a piece of smoked meat thinly and fried it in olive oil. Then he opened a barrel of wine and poured himself a full glass. By the time he finished, the cheese had turned golden brown on top. He carried his meal outside and found that the Greek mercenaries were cooking too.

The ordinary soldiers cooked in a simple, heavy-handed way. They set an iron pot over a fire in the open and tossed in whatever ingredients they could find: river fish, smoked meat, cheese, onions, chickpeas, turnips... They stewed the lot together.

Vitus couldn't be bothered to disturb them. He sat alone on the pier, taking in the night view. The Garonne River flowed slowly beneath the moonlight, its broken silver reflections trembling gently with the ripples. After a while, he gave a satisfied belch, had his subordinates help him out of his heavy plate armor, and found a quiet corner to sleep in.

By the next morning, Bordeaux had gradually quieted down after a raucous night. Arthur sent men to keep order and dispatched a victory report to Bourges. Vitus flipped through the inventory ledger, thinking about how to deal with the spoils.

He found the quartermaster, who told him that the grain had sold for two thousand florins. The remaining goods were harder to dispose of. Vitus haggled with the commanders of the various units and sold off the yew bows and arrows at a discount. The French weren't used to those weapons; they preferred Italian heavy crossbows. With few other options, he set up an open-air market at the docks and began selling the goods to the townsfolk.

After resting until mid-May, Vitus and Piero set off for Bourges again.

Compared with the previous month, the court in Bourges was much livelier, with the nobles split into several factions arguing among themselves. Vitus couldn't understand French, so he speculated to himself:

"This probably has something to do with Bordeaux. It's one of Europe's finest wine-producing regions and brings in hefty tax revenues every year. No matter who the Dauphin gives it to, the other nobles will be displeased."

The mood in the hall grew increasingly agitated. The arguments turned into a full-scale brawl, so Vitus stepped outside for some fresh air while he waited to be summoned by the Dauphin.

At ten in the morning, an attendant called Piero into the inner chamber. He came out some time later with a dark expression. "This is outrageous. Do they really think I can't do the math?"

Vitus asked, "Couldn't you reach an agreement?"

Piero suppressed his anger and kicked at the grass beside him. "The Dauphin proposed granting me a barony in Normandy, a region in northern France currently controlled by England. The condition is that the Rotten Herring Mercenary Group serves him, with all expenses paid out of my own pocket.

"This has to be a joke. If the Dauphin doesn't pay their wages, I'll have to use my own savings to cover them. I might even have to raid nearby villages from time to time, then borrow from Italian bankers. I doubt I could keep it up for even a year."

Piero then went over the finances in detail:

An ordinary mercenary earned 12 florins a year, while veterans with certain skills could earn 15 or even 18. A thousand-man Mercenary Regiment would cost an estimated 25,000 florins a year in total.

The end of the war between England and France was nowhere in sight. Assuming it lasted five years, the total cost would be 125,000 florins.

An ordinary French barony probably had five to ten villages and 2,000 to 5,000 subjects. After management costs and tribute, its lord would earn about 1,000 florins a year.

By that reckoning, even if Piero somehow managed to last until the war ended and the Dauphin honored his promise, it would take him at least 120 years to earn back the cost!

Vitus quietly reminded him, "If you die in battle, the matter of your title will come to nothing, and the Dauphin won't lose anything."

Piero sighed. "That's why I didn't accept the title. I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow. I never want to stay in this godforsaken place again."

After waiting a few more minutes, Vitus was allowed into the inner chamber. The Dauphin offered him an even higher price: he was willing to grant him a viscounty in English-controlled territory, on the condition that he swear allegiance to House of Valois and cover the expenses of the Tuna Mercenary Group.

That's it?

Vitus ranted inwardly, I have no ties to France. Why should I pay out of my own pocket to fight a war? The Eastern Roman Empire has a pile of problems waiting to be dealt with. I have no interest in doing charity work here.