British hegemon

Chapter 8 The Young Master Has Changed

Brodick Town has lost its former glory, especially when the island's lords are out on campaigns with their soldiers.

But today is Arun Island's wool market, which is held every six months, so the town is still quite lively.

The town is located near the mouth of the Glen Rosa River Valley, with a gravel road leading directly to the port. The Glen Rosa River flows past the town and into the sea, and upstream there are a few wooden houses, which are the largest brewery on Arun Island.

The town, with its cross-shaped layout, is quite large, with at least 180 houses in the market town, after all, it was once a "prosperous" maritime trading center.

But upon closer inspection, half of the houses on the outskirts of the town were overgrown with weeds, and many of the simple wooden houses on the outermost edge had collapsed.

Apart from a wool binding workshop and a small slaughterhouse/tanning plantation by the pond, the rest of the area had become a haven for stray cats and dogs.

The town originally had five or six hundred residents, but now only about one hundred and twenty or thirty remain, making a living by trading wool and general merchandise.

The central area of ​​the town is well preserved, but the island has been experiencing heavy rains for the past two days, making the streets even muddier than the fields.

At the end of the main street in the town, on a gentle slope, lies the Baron of Arlen's castle. The castle is fortified with high walls, and Roger could not see its entirety. Based on his vague memories, he knew that the castle mainly consisted of a church, barracks, warehouses, and the Baron's mansion.

Roger led the young stable boy and three thugs through the muddy road into Brodick Town.

In this half-acre mudflat, the islanders would exchange their meager remaining meat or grain, furs or eggs for things they needed but couldn't make themselves—pots, plowshares, ropes and socks, candles and salt, etc.

However, since today is the wool market, the main goods are naturally wool. Wool merchants from Argyll in the north to El County in the east will come here to sell their wool.

Many years ago, Aran Island was the second largest wool processing center on the west coast after Glasgow.

The town's wool merchants pooled their money to dig an artificial canal to divert water from the Glen Rosa River into a large pond on the outskirts of the town, to meet the large water needs for tanning and wool washing.

The used water was then diverted out of the town through another canal and returned to the Glen Rosa River, which flows into the bay.

There used to be five or six large wool and leather processing workshops around the Great Pond, but now only two small workshops remain, which are responsible for simply processing or bundling the wool purchased from the market, and then the island lords transport it to Ireland for sale.

Everywhere in the market town, there was malicious haggling, sarcastic remarks between neighboring stall owners, and cheap pastries for children.

Bards or itinerant performers loudly hawked their wares under the stone pillars in the center of the crossroads, while two busty women with heavy makeup flirted with passersby in front of the low, dilapidated houses along the roadside.

Roger's nose had become accustomed to the stench that filled his nostrils in this era, but being in the market town, the mixture of human and animal excrement and body odor still stung his eyes.

He closed his eyes, looked up to let his nose adjust for a moment, and waved to signal to continue.

Roger hadn't walked more than a few steps down the street when a fragrant aroma, amidst the pervasive stench, attracted him.

A makeshift food stall leaned against a collapsed wall, with a sloping roof supported by four wooden pillars. Behind it was a large fire, on which a large fork was roasting a leg of lamb. Next to it was a large pot, bubbling inside. On a table made of a broken door next to the pot were several wooden bowls filled with lamb soup.

It was nearly noon, and the small area was crowded with people, mostly small vendors who had come to the town to sell wool.

Roger jumped off the donkey, fumbled around at his waist, and was just about to spend a few silver coins to try it out.

The one-eyed food stall owner, who was turning the mutton over, looked up and caught a glimpse of the green-clad bald man on the street. Then, he saw the tall Roger walking towards them.

After a moment of focused attention, the one-eyed stall owner recognized the man walking towards his food stall as the second young master of the Colin family. He screamed in terror, "God, he's out!"

Roger couldn't understand why a grown man would let out such a shrill scream, but the scream successfully attracted the attention of half the street.

The young waiter at the food stall instinctively covered his face and squatted trembling against the crumbling wall.

Several vendors nearby hurriedly gathered their sour pears and rotten apples into willow baskets, women strolling on the street ran away, and even the two extremely ugly prostitutes hid in a dilapidated house and covered themselves with straw curtains...

Roger froze, still clutching the two silver pennies he had just pulled from his purse.

"What the hell have we done?" Roger finally couldn't help but curse out loud.

"What are you scum doing? Why are you hiding?" The bald man started yelling and cursing at everyone around him, while the two thugs beside him also pointed and cursed at the fleeing people.

Muttering curses under his breath, the bald man had already walked past Roger toward the large fire where the mutton was roasting at the food stall.

"Young Master Roger, you have a good appetite for your family's mutton. This is an honor for a lowly commoner like you. What are you yelling about? Do you still want to live on this island?" Before he finished speaking, he had already reached out and torn off a large piece from the roasted, golden-brown lamb leg. He grimaced from the burn and jumped back to Roger in a few steps.

"Young Master Roger, please try this first. If you like it, I'll get you more." The bald man offered it with both hands, as generously as if he were offering his own.

Roger had recovered from his initial shock. This scene was familiar; similar fragments often flashed through his nightmares.

I took the roasted lamb leg and took a bite. The taste wasn't as fresh and fragrant as it smelled. The lamb, lacking seasoning, had a strong gamey smell. "Take it and share it."

The bald man in green ran to the back with a happy expression, tore open a large piece of mutton and distributed it to his companions. When it was the young stable boy's turn, the bald man pretended to hand it over, then suddenly withdrew it and stuffed it into his own mouth with a sly smile.

The young stable boy pursed his lips, his face full of disdain.

Ignoring the actions of the thugs behind him, Roger slowly walked towards the large counter of the food stall.

The one-eyed stall owner thought Roger was going to steal the hard-earned money from the pottery jar on the chopping board. He was so frightened that he rushed forward to protect the jar, his voice trembling with tears, "Please, young master, spare this lowly man! My wife and children depend on this little bit of money to survive."

You could hear a pin drop around them, as if afraid that the sound of breathing would attract the attention of evil spirits.

Roger ignored him, walked over, opened his palm, and with two clinking sounds, two silver pennies bounced on the chopping board and spun around near the pottery jar.

The two crisp sounds of silver coins hitting the ground shocked everyone.

It wasn't until Roger left his stall and headed towards the castle that the one-eyed stall owner snapped out of his daze. He blinked his single eye, trying to dispel the illusion, only to realize that what lay on the counter was indeed silver pennies. "Young Master Roger, there are too many... too many..."

The shocking news that young master Roger had robbed them and then actually paid them back swept through the town of Brodick like a tornado.