A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

She felt as if she weren’t getting married, but committing a crime.

"I’m just fulfilling a husband’s duty to his wife." Eric caressed her hair, her earlobe.

Eric, however, quite enjoyed this feeling.

It made him feel as if he were still with the new bride he’d met for the first time.

"Today is Friday, a day that belongs to God. We must remain pure." Feeling Eric’s breath draw nearer, Matilda placed her hand against his chin.

She then broke free from Eric and hurried to the front of the procession.

A small village lay a short distance ahead, its few wooden houses surrounded by chestnut trees and interspersed with vegetable gardens and animal pens.

On its eastern side stood a slightly more magnificent building bearing a Cross.

A Knight galloped away, and an order echoed through the procession. "By order of the Marchioness, we will join the farmers of Hildesheim for Sunday Mass!" the master of ceremonies at the head of the column shouted, and the band began to play.

Accompanying Eric and Matilda to the small village were dignitaries and Nobility from nearby cities. Judging by their stunned expressions, they were not enthusiastic about mingling with the local farmers. It had rained the previous night, leaving the ground muddy and mixed with livestock manure.

Many did not want to leave their carriages, disapproving of the Marchioness’s grand display.

This was precisely the effect Matilda wanted. She had deliberately chosen the day after a rainfall for her tour.

The contrast with the disgusted expressions of the dignitaries and Nobility would make the effect even greater.

’A tour that clearly comes at a personal cost leaves a deeper impression on one’s subjects.’

As it happened, God had favored her; it had been raining for the past several days.

Her mother, Beatrice, had always taught her to cherish gatherings like these.

These surprise appearances were often the only way for a feudal Lord to check how their Vassals treated the serfs entrusted to them. It was a chance to broadcast her benevolence and Reputation as the Supreme Lord, while also disciplining her lower Vassals and tightening her control.

The wind ceased blowing against her face, making the short walk pleasant. Sunlight cast a warm glow over the fields. Though still fallow, they were swollen with the recent rains, full of promise. Something in the air seemed to begin to thaw.

Here and there, flowers were already in full bloom. Children celebrated the arrival of summer by picking flowers and weaving them into wreaths; some were hung on the small Church, others on tree branches.

The Marchioness handed a Coin to a little girl who was looking after her younger brother. The girl was possibly an orphan.

Then, Eric gave her two pieces of white bread. The little girl’s eyes lit up the moment she saw it, but she restrained herself, bowed to Eric, and ran toward her brother, clutching the bread.

White bread was made from refined wheat flour, giving it a lighter color and a finer texture. It was expensive, typically a food only the Nobility and the wealthy could afford.

The village children gathered around as well. To prevent a scramble, Eric gave each of them a piece.

After the Mass, the Marchioness addressed the entire community in the open area before the Church. "Thank you for your hard work over the past year, which has made these fields so prosperous and beautiful. My husband and I pray that God and the Holy Mother bless you and your families with good health."

Her eyes swept across the villagers’ faces. "Who is the headman of this village?"

"Martin," a chorus of voices answered.

An old man with sparse white hair and a thick beard stepped forward and knelt at the Marchioness’s feet. Matilda told him to rise, and Kuno produced a small leather pouch from his Cloak, handing it to Martin.

"This money is for the whole village," Matilda explained in a clear voice.

’With the entire village as witness, the headman won’t dare take the money for himself.’

"I know the difference between hunger and fasting," she added. "With this money, you can last the next few months, until the first vegetables of the new season are ready to be harvested."

"May God glorify the holy name of the Marchioness! O benevolent and generous Marchioness, may your life be full and happy. We wholeheartedly congratulate you on your marriage, and we offer the same blessings to our new Lord, the Marquis of Tuscany. Your marriage is a grace bestowed upon us from heaven! May God bless your union and grant you long-lasting happiness and health. Our village will surely prosper in peace and tranquility under your protection!" the headman shouted at the top of his lungs, dropping to his knees.

The villagers then erupted in cheers.

Matilda blessed Martin in the name of God. Then, a pretty, freckled girl stepped forward to present a wreath to the Marquis on behalf of the village.

The girl placed a wreath on Matilda’s head, and then another on Eric’s. Because of their height difference, Eric voluntarily bent down, a gesture that made the pretty girl blush.

It suddenly occurred to Matilda that he was only nineteen.

Eric was so mature that she often forgot.

...

On the way back, they abandoned the carriage.

Eric had "commandeered" Matilda’s white horse.

The white horse seemed to prefer Eric to Matilda. When Matilda tried to take the reins, the mare trotted over to Eric’s side and nudged him with her head.

After mounting the horse, Eric chuckled and extended an invitation to Matilda, a small act of revenge for her earlier trick.

To Eric’s surprise, she accepted.

On their previous outings, she had always insisted on riding her own horse.

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