A farmer drove a wagon with two huge wheels along the rugged snow-covered ridge road, and the lean pack horse looked as if it was about to rock with every step, and one feared that it might suddenly collapse and die the next moment.

The farmer was tightly wrapped, so that although the weather was terrible for the cold after the snow, he was not in a hurry, but instead he curled his whole body in his great sheepskin coat, and sat down in the carriage and staggered to a nap.

A poet or a painter might have been inspired by the rugged roads and the surrounding snow, but the farmer was clearly not so interested, especially when his wagons were loaded with taxes in kind.

Centuries later, a record of peasants' taxes was found in the site of an old town hall, which actually states that "a peasant shall pay his lord 200 taels of wheat, 100 wheat, 10 roosters, 5 hens, 30 quintals of eggs, 5 barrels of honey, several strips of sheepskin, etc., etc., and so on, throughout the four seasons of the year......

Such a long list was not something that a single peasant family could pay all at once, and the lords apparently noticed that these taxes in kind were obviously affected by the seasons, so they divided them at different times, for example, wheat would be collected in two seasons, oats would be more relaxed, chickens and eggs of all kinds would be paid every month of the year, and honey would be concentrated after the summer and autumn of the year.

But even so, such a tax is indeed a bit heavy, not to mention the tithes that must be paid to the church, so for the peasants, even in the harvest season, life is often tight.

Especially in recent years, many places have been affected by abnormal weather, and even in warmer areas, the reduction in harvests is obvious.

This was a disaster for the peasants, although the lords of some places were merciful to reduce the taxes in their territories, but this was often very rare, and the vast majority of the lords still stubbornly collected taxes in kind according to the usual standards, and the church put away the dogma of mercy that they preached every day, and ordered all villages to fulfill their obligations to God, and tithes were absolutely not a child.

In this way, the territory was naturally full of complaints, but even so, the peasants finally had no choice but to load the things they could take out from their homes into the wagons and reluctantly send them to the tax collectors in the town.

There are 2 tax collectors in the town of Kasrela, which makes the town famous in the neighborhood.

This is because except in the big cities, there is often only one tax collector in a town, while Castlera has two.

The tax collector is not only prominent but also powerful in a town, and often even the mayor of the town is required to pay three points of respect to him, because the tax collector of a place is not subject to the control of the local governor, but receives orders directly from the higher lords.

The same is true of the tax collectors in the higher realms, which forms a rather peculiar way of separating finance and government, which was established under the supervision of Queen Isabella after the victory of the Reconquista.

This system undoubtedly stripped the lords of all levels of control over taxes to the greatest extent, and everyone knew that a lord could not do much without money.

The nobles of Castile were not unaware of Isabella's ambitions, they knew very well that the queen was trying to extort power from them, and it might not be long before she would take further measures, but even if they knew what was happening, the great prestige that Isabella had built up by recovering her land was like a mountain on their heads, so that the nobles could not act rashly.

The farmer's carriage was about to enter the town, and in the distance you could see the large arch bridge outside the town of Carsrela, which was many years old, and according to some accounts it seems that the bridge was there before the town of Carsrera was built, and it seems to have been in the time of the Romans.

The locals didn't care about the origin of the bridge, they had passed it for generations, and the only impression they had was that the tax collector would set up his hateful little wooden table in the open space next to the bridge on one side of the town, and then have the attendants next to him light a bonfire to keep warm and calculate taxes.

The farmer drove the carriage across the bridge listlessly, for there were not many people paying taxes to-day, and he was lucky not to stay on the bridge for too long to drink the river breeze, but even then he was so cold that his lips were blue, so when he finally reached the ground, he did not go to the tax collector first, but ran to the campfire and stretched out his frozen hands and roasted them.

"You look like a rat that is about to freeze to death," said the tax collector, dissatisfied, wrapping his thick coat around him, "hurry up, there are still a lot of people waiting in the back." ”

"Master, everything is here, just write it according to the number, do you know that I will still lie to you?" The farmer rubbed his hands back and forth, and then desperately rubbed his ears, which were almost unconscious, "It's been a hard time in the past few years, but I still collect these things every year, as long as I look at them casually, I can know how much." ”

"Are you complaining," the tax collector sent his followers up to inspect it, and glared at the farmer, "or do you think you should pay less?" ”

"We don't say that, we're not the kind of people who like to cause trouble," the farmer defended at once, rubbing his cheeks together until he was a little hot, and then he took out a ceramic flask in a straw bag from his bosom and handed it to the tax collector, "But I hear that the west side of town doesn't seem to be the same as yours, and this is always true." ”

"Oh yes, you know again," said the tax collector, who snatched the flask from the farmer's hand and pulled out the stopper, and poured two sips of the hot liquorice wine, which made his throat feel much more comfortable, which made his temper a little easier, he took another sip and threw the flask back to the farmer, and then looked to the other side of the town in the distance, and muttered, "Who knows what is going on, it's a little strange over there, I advise you not to think about it, you may know that there may be something going on here." ”

As he spoke, the tax collector waved his hand impatiently at the farmer, urging him to hurry forward with the wagon, which had been counted and emptied, to make way for the people behind.

The farmer muttered something as he walked forward, as if complaining about his bad luck to pay the taxes on the east side of the town, and he staggered into the town.

The farmer's carriage had not been long before it reached the center of the town, and then he sighed at the brownish-red cobblestone path in the center of the town square, which divided the town into two halves.

The reason why the town of Kasrela has two tax collectors is different from other places is that the town belongs to two different lieges.

When the Reconquista was in full swing, there was no place in the Iberian Peninsula that was peaceful, and even in the north, which was not occupied by the Moors, Christians were always looking forward to moving south, expelling the Moors, and recovering the lost territories.

At that time, countless Iberian nobles were involved in this protracted war, and many families spent generations, often in what seemed to be a never-ending war at the time.

In this way, it is naturally a very common phenomenon that the heirs of a family are told that they have died in battle one day after participating in the war, and this family has not only lost their heirs, but even the relatives of the seven aunts and eight aunts have died in the war, so that the family's territory has become ownerless and is taken back by his lord, and these ownerless territories are either annexed by the great lords, or they are rewarded again by them to the meritorious men who rose up in the war.

But before the nouveau riche had time to drink and celebrate the benefits they had received, either the heir to the original domain, who was thought to be dead, suddenly came back alive, or suddenly a relative of the original lord thought was dead came forward with irrefutable evidence of the inheritance.

Of course, the old lord will not give up, and the new lord will not be able to spit out what he has eaten in his mouth again, and then naturally there will be disputes based on their abilities.

From the two sides to the gang fighting, the conflicts that erupted over territory in the years after the war never stopped in Iberia.

This situation was of course a headache for the couple who wanted to quickly get out of the devastated predicament destroyed by the war, so after some contests and compromises with the old and new nobles, those disputed territories were finally divided into two, three, or even more in the name of the two kings after the trial of the noble court, and as these territories were constantly divided, even the same town had different tax collectors because of the different lords.

This is the case with the town of Casrela, which was originally owned by the Dudarin family, who were not very prominent in the Castilian court, but have a long history, and the family's earliest founder, Elsova Joan Dudarin, can even be traced back to the early days of resistance to Moorish invasions.

It's just that the family's luck doesn't seem to be good, and a few years ago, the Dudarin family was already sparsely populated, and soon after Queen Isabella announced the start of the war to end the rule of the Moors and regain the last lost territory, the news of the tragic death of the last descendants of the Dudarin family who had been full of blood into the war came from the news.

Then the town of Castle, without its lord, was finally divided among another new nobleman who had gained honor and wealth in the war, until one day a Dudarin appeared, and trouble ensued......

The farmer drove the wagon over the boundary that now divided the town of Kasrera into east and west, and no one noticed the farmer's relief as the wheels of the wagon ran over the cobblestones on the ground.

The carriage swayed slowly down the dirty streets until it came to a stop beside an alley.

The farmer walked into the alley with the empty flask, his pace slowing at first, then gradually picking up, until finally stopping at the door of a house after passing two more houses.

"That's it." The farmer muttered and walked up to knock on the door, but before his hand could touch the door, the door was already open, and then a short man who did not look tall appeared in the doorway, which made the farmer stunned, and instinctively said "I am ......"

"Come in, you look like a troublemaker from far away." The short man greeted with a frown, then turned sideways to make way.

The peasant's face was a little scornful, and he took off his hat from his head and went into the room with his hands in his hands, and then he saw the young man sitting by the half-open hearth, reading the letter by the fire.

The farmer's heart jumped, and his grip on his hat tightened, and after a few steps forward he was signaled to stop by the short man, and he stood there in silence in such a hurry.

The young man did not make him wait long, but after reading the page in his hand, he put the letter away, looked up at the farmer, and then said with a frown a strange frown, "You don't look like a soldier. ”

"My lord, I have been in the war," said the farmer, who immediately straightened his back, but then his shoulder collapsed, "but I am wounded, and now I have to farm to support my family." ”

"It's not easy to farm now," the young man asked casually, "if you want, I can arrange for you to make a living, and that's what you deserve." ”

"This ...... No, thank you," for a moment the farmer seemed to be moved by this promise, his eyes lit up, and his hand holding his hat paused, but then he shook his head, "I know what I can do, I can only farm except kill, but I am tired, I now have a wife and children at home, and I want to live a peaceful life with them." ”

Looking at the farmer who deliberately did not make contact with him, but just stared at the fire that kept beating in the hearth next to him, the young man was silent for a moment and then nodded: "I said that this is what you deserve, but since you are willing to live the life you have now, I will not force you." ”

"Thank you, sir, thank you!" The farmer nodded nervously, he didn't think it would be so easy, after all, he had sworn at the beginning, but now it seemed that this lord, who was respectful even to Baron Dudarin of Sikasrela, was not so difficult to talk to.

"The town of Kasrera belongs to the Dudarin family," the young man looked at the grateful farmer, "but now this is very unsatisfactory, I hope to help Baron Dudarin, what do you think?" ”

The farmer looked at the young nobleman, who seemed to him to be rather mysterious, and he did not know who this man was, except that he had suddenly been sent a letter asking him to come to see him, and it was evident that he did not want anyone else to know that he was here.

"Do one thing for me, and then you'll be free." The young man commanded.

"What do you want me to do?" The farmer asked in a low voice, and at this moment his originally dull appearance seemed to have undergone a slight change, and a pair of eyes that had never been godless shone on his dirty face.

"You're a soldier, so tell me how to lure out the enemy who has been hiding in the fortress?"

The farmer tilted his head and pouted: "What else can I do, provoke him, call him a soft coward, greet his whole family, and if it's a heretic, let their prophet go to hell, that's what they do." ”

The young man pondered for a moment and felt that this was indeed the case, so he picked up a money bag from the table next to him and threw it to the farmer: "Take it, the money is not much, but it is enough to survive this winter, do as you say, and I will make the town of Kasrela soon in turmoil because of disputes." ”

The farmer quickly took the money bag, weighed it in his hand, and then stuffed it into his pocket with satisfaction: "My lord, do you want the whole town to be in chaos?" ”

"As long as I can find an excuse for what I'm going to do next, after all, this is the territory of the Dudarin family, and I don't want the baron to make a mess."

The farmer nodded understandingly, bowed to the young man, and then without saying a word put on his hat and turned away.

"My lord, do you think this man can really do this?" When the farmer had gone, the short man came over, and he asked the young man with some concern, for he did not know much about the young nobleman who had suddenly appeared, but he knew that the baron was not only respectful to the young man, but also seemed to be a little afraid.

"Even if you can't do it, it's nothing, isn't it?"

The Elder smiled at the short man, and he could see that the Baron Dudarin's cronies seemed to be a little uneasy about his decision, but he didn't care, after all, as he said, it was not a big deal, even if it didn't work.

This answer obviously did not satisfy the short man, but he also knew that it was not something he could control, although he still did not know the origin of this young nobleman who did not even know the true or false name, but considering that even the baron was respectful to him, the short man could only endure the words in his heart and say no more.

The young man sat down again by the hearth, and he picked up the unfinished letter and continued to look at it quietly, and by the light of the fire shining on his face, the short man seemed to see the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, and a slight warm smile slipped.

The winter days were short, and the tax collector finally survived the day's hardship, and he ordered his follower to extinguish the bonfire, put away the wooden table, and then hop into the carriage in front of him, and led the convoy full of the tax in kind collected that day out of the town, escorted by two guards.

The lord's castle is not near the town of Kasrela, so it's a long way to go.

The team faded into the distance, and it grew dark.

As the procession of tax trucks faded away, the people of the town whispered curses at these hateful moths.

It's just that people don't know that this is the last time the people of the town of Kasrela see the tax collector.