Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar made his way north, and every day during his breaks, he would read a volume of Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars in search of tactical inspiration, while Alva would study and teach him the English language. In this era, knights like them who knew ancient culture and learned foreign languages were rare, and the children of the nobility only received a little superficial education when they were young, and often began to devote themselves to martial arts after the age of eleven or twelve, and if they had not ridden a horse after this age, they could only choose to serve God. Rodrigo, however, was not a rude barbarian, and although he could only read a few Latin texts, he always found time to try to read classical texts, which gave him a great knowledge of geography, and even some knowledge of birds and botany, but he did not understand Greek at all, and after buying a work by Agatias, he quickly abandoned the complex language. On the whole, however, he was already more learned than many bishops, earning him almost as much ridicule as reverence, and the nobles of the Castilian court sometimes referred to him as "schemer".

On the road north of the Erninga Avenue, the horses of the Spaniards became more and more conspicuous, and even without the luxurious silk robes, one could still judge the foreigner to be a noble man of good status. Rodrigo didn't care about the speculative gaze of the inferior, but he was very surprised that the roads and bridges in the counties along the way were well maintained, and there were no robbers on the way, and the "peace of the king" seemed to be maintained in this time of war, and when passing through some towns, there might be guards to check on pedestrians, and then he would take out the parchment he had obtained from London, and mark his origin.

"My lord, are we really going to Wales?" Alva looked at the dilapidated straw roofs along the way, becoming more and more disappointed, and sometimes even felt that if he had gone to Zaragoza, it might not have been worse, "I heard that in that barren mountainous area, only elves and savages haunt it, why would the English want to go to that kind of place to fight? ”

"I've heard that the Romans had mined gold, copper and lead in that land." The knight commented casually.

"Gold?" Alva's face immediately began to glow, and it seemed that the boring journey had immediately become full of fun.

To the north of Warwick, there were more and more soldiers on the road, and they followed the county magistrate to the northwest, and when it was dark the Spaniards saw twenty soldiers in a hotel, but they appeared to be led by a priest.

The Spaniards introduced themselves in the Anglo language, and learned that the soldiers were from Derbyshire, but that their governor had recently been expelled by the townspeople, and that the abbot had sent him to lead them into the army of the Count of Mercia.

"You are like a noble man who knows how to fight...... "The priest suddenly tried to ask.

"Well, I've been in a few wars." The Spanish knight replied.

"You know, because of the accident two months ago, our former abbot and county governor fled with precious stones and gold and silver, and this time we summoned the thyrne, and our county did not have the number of people gathered, and many of the troops that set out before were peasants from several estates in the abbey, and the Earl demanded that we give at least a hundred more thyr, or else we would have to pay a fine." The priest explained for a long time, and then asked the Spaniard, "Your Excellency, you have a good horse, and you have weapons and armor, and instead of being an ordinary mercenary, we should hire you to lead these people, and when the others arrive, they will also be handed over to you to manage, and we will give you sixty shillings, what do you think?" ”

It took the Spaniards a long time to understand that the priest had hoped that he and Alva could be two knights, so that, according to the usual custom, could be counted as military service in the Twenty Hyde estates, and it was estimated that this commission was much lower than the fine demanded by the Count of Mercia.

However, he didn't have any opinions, after all, he just wanted to go to war, and it wasn't a bad thing to be able to lead hundreds of people.

It's just that he didn't expect that these Derbyshire militia were originally used to guard Chester, and they would not be sent to the front line in Wales to fight at all, and since joining this team, he had to stop and wait for the follow-up troops to arrive at the assembly area, taking this opportunity, Rodrigo began to train these Thane and Chel, since most of them did not have horses, he let these soldiers practice fighting with shields and spears, those Chels obviously have no experience in fighting, they are basically tenant farmers who farm for the church, Not even as good as the average free peasant. The Spaniards, seeing that they had never touched their weapons at all, had Alva train them to fight with javelins, according to the custom of his homeland, and according to his idea, the terrain of Wales was almost as complex as his homeland, and that these skirmishers were more practical than to practice the art of large-scale battles.

"You must know that fighting a war is not always better when there are more people, but more importantly, you can use your brain." The Spanish knights were so new to the Sein that no officer was so fond of explaining the things of commanding a battle as this foreigner, and he even told the soldiers stories, mostly Greek and Roman stories, and the heroes of these stories were not like Beowulf who liked to conquer the enemy by martial arts and courage, but often used all kinds of tricks to intimidate or surprise the enemy.

The Spanish knight's swordsmanship was also very superb, and no one in the whole army could walk in front of him, and as for the terrifying war horse, let alone riding, it was a little difficult for these English Sayne to climb into the saddle, especially this guy was very short-tempered, and always seemed to like to kick people, and only Lord Rodrigo could control him obediently.

"My lord, how long are we going to wait in this hellish place?" Alva was half-tired from training the peasants during the day, and as soon as he returned to the camp, he asked aloud.

"How useful do you think it would be to take them to the battlefield now?"

"What does this matter to us, you are not their lord, even if you have any military exploits, it is estimated that they will belong to that dean at that time." Alva continued to complain.

"But if these people collapse on the battlefield, will the enemy show mercy to us because we are not their lord?"

Hearing his lord's answer, Alva had no choice but to agree, and in the days that followed, the Derbyshire militia, who had only been a garrison, continued their life in the barracks, training almost as hard as the king's Sein.