"Ha! Lift your head and let me have a good look! Hm? That little face with donkey-hoof cheeks—doesn't look like some heretic heide who ought to be burned to death, nor some idolater gtzen who ought to have his head chopped off... Tsk, tsk! In this Moorish land crawling with infidels, I actually run into two Latins from the southern city-states?..."
"Heide? Gtzen?... You're Deutsche? Crusader mercenaries from the Holy Roman Empire?!..."
"Heh! Bürgerschaft! Ignorant city-state men! We're Bavarian knights, the famous Great Company of mercenaries! Back when we were cutting our way across the city-states of the peninsula, the citizens of your cities had to drop to their knees and beg for mercy the moment they heard our horns!..."
Beside the pine bridge on the bank of the Genil River, Christopher Columbus sat astride a mule with his younger brother Giacomo Columbus, facing a full squad of twelve Holy Roman Empire mercenaries. These fierce Bavarian mercenaries all rode tall warhorses and wore sturdy breastplates, closing in from every side with ill intent. The mercenary captain at their head smiled cheerfully, staring at the decently dressed city-state man before him as he moved his hand toward the knightly longsword at his waist.
"Latin from the city-states! Open those blue eyes of yours wide and take a good look at the words on my breastplate!... Oh, maybe you don't know High German? Then drop your weapon, kneel with your head to the ground, and kowtow to Sir Reinhard!..."
"Lord above! The words on your breastplate?... 'Gotes Feinde, haben keinerlei Barmherzigkeit und Erbarmen,' 'God's enemies receive no kindness and no mercy?'... Merda! How is that possible?! It really is the German Great Company?..."
Columbus's eyes went round as he looked at the line of words on Mercenary Captain Reinhard's breastplate. That was