A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Eric suddenly asked, "Do you always ride like a man, Miss?"

Until now, Eric had been speaking Latin.

This time, he spoke High German. He hadn’t been learning it for long, so he could only manage simple conversations.

"Like a warrior," Matilda corrected him. "I hate sidesaddle."

Riding sidesaddle was slower and required an attendant on the ground to lead the horse.

Matilda understood Eric’s words, but she replied in Latin.

Just then, a horse’s neigh echoed from behind them, along with the sound of several Knights falling into the mud.

Matilda’s horse, the Andalusian, was throwing a tantrum. It apparently thought it was being stolen, so it viciously kicked one of the Knights, sending him sprawling into the mud. Then it began to struggle, trying to kick even more Knights to the ground.

"A horse befitting a warrior," Eric remarked.

"My lord, we can’t handle it!" shouted the Knights in charge of the Warhorse.

"You need to earn her trust. She’s a Warhorse. Stay clear of her legs and pat her neck," Eric replied.

"I think giving it a good kick is more like it," grumbled the Knight who had fallen in the mud, clutching his chest.

"Fine. Then the next time we talk, I’ll use my feet," Eric snorted.

The Knight quickly raised his hands in surrender.

Matilda frowned, put her little finger in her mouth, and let out a soft whistle. The sound soothed the Warhorse’s temper, and it settled down.

The Knights then smoothly helped her onto a flatbed cart.

The army then set off again. Matilda said nothing for the rest of the journey.

However, the little girl she was holding chattered endlessly.

"Are you one of the Normans?" Vagina asked, looking at Eric.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because all Normans are bald," Vagina said, pointing at Eric’s head.

"That doesn’t sound very friendly, child."

"Just like the way you all treated Morrello just now."

"Who’s Morrello?"

"The horse."

"So you’re avenging him."

"Yes."

"’Do not say, "I will do to him as he has done to me; I will pay him back for what he has done,"’" Eric tried to teach her.

"Huh?" Vagina didn’t understand.

"Those are God’s words," Eric reminded her.

"But you’re not God," Vagina said innocently, though Eric suspected she was being deliberately difficult.

"..."

"Where were you born?" Vagina asked.

"Normandy. Where else?"

"Apulia, for instance. It’s full of Normans, a den of Norman villains."

"Even if the Normans are wearing Monk’s Robes?" Eric retorted.

He was starting to find this amusing.

"Even if the Normans are wearing Monk’s Robes. My mother says they hide women under there. Though I don’t quite understand how a whole person can fit under a robe." Vagina’s assault grew more intense.

"What kind of women?"

"Whores," Vagina said without the slightest hesitation, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"You actually know about such things?" Eric was a little surprised.

"Of course. I know everything," Vagina said, tilting her head back proudly.

"Tell me about it, then," Eric humored her.

"They perform manual labor involving the structure of the body," Vagina continued with a perfectly straight face. "But it’s not too tiring, and they earn a lot of money. That’s what my mother told me. I think it must be something like being a doctor."

"Ah, so that’s how it is," Eric nodded, as if he’d just had a great revelation.

"It seems you don’t know anything at all," Vagina said with a laugh.

"Of course not. I’m a proper Cultivator," Eric said.

"So where were you born? Be specific. Which town?" Vagina changed the subject.

"A town," Eric replied.

"A big town?"

"Just a town."

"What’s its name?"

"Town."

"This ’Town.’ Is it near any mountains?"

"No."

"What about hills?"

"No."

"Near a lake?"

"No."

"Farms?"

"No."

"All towns are near farms."

Vagina was displeased with Eric’s evasiveness and tried to look clever.

"In that case, yes," said Eric.

"It’s near farms."

"Yes."

"Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. What about trees? Is the town near trees?"

"I suppose so."

"I’d like to revisit the question about the hills. You seemed unsure," Vagina said, feigning a serious tone.

"Yes, it’s near hills."

"But you were certain about the mountains. So, no mountains."

"None."

"And the name?"

"Town," Eric answered again.

"No town is named ’Town,’" Vagina said with a frown.

"Mine is," Eric said with a smile.

"Nonsense," the girl said, unconvinced.

"What does your father do?" Eric asked.

"He’s a Lawyer. He’s one of the Lombards and lives in Florence. He comes to see me every month, though it’s not always just for me," Vagina said with a smile.

"Ah, that explains it. Speaking of which, I know a girl just like you. Her father’s a Lawyer, too, but she’s much more obedient than you are." Eric thought of Jeanne. ’Although, she’s not always so obedient either.’

’Maybe I should bring her here.’

"That’s not polite at all. You’ll never find a wife. Even though you’re a Monk, you’re a Norman Monk, so you’ll try to find a wife eventually, but you won’t be able to."

"I already have one."

"What’s her name?"

"Her name is Wife," Eric said, laughing.

"Nobody’s name is ’Wife’!" Vagina grumbled.

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