Chapter 719 The footprints of the giant, the abyss of mortals
Shortly after the angry gravel messenger left, news came from the border.
The heads of shepherds were built into a small pyramid, and no one dared to sell wool on the border except those who took risks.
In just one month, the wool imported from gravel has decreased by 30% to 50%, but the price has increased by more than 20%.
For the nobles of the gravel primordial , the loss was not that great.
Because of the special geographical location of the gravel, the climatic and hydrological conditions are comparable to those of the mountain counties of Thousand River Valley, and only farming can be cultivated in some river valley basins.
Its biggest advantage is that it has rich pasture resources and a warm and humid environment suitable for raising sheep.
Therefore, the original gravel people are divided into two categories: one is the shepherds who build huts on the wasteland to raise cattle and sheep, and the other is the farmers who build cities and farming in the valley area.
At present, most of the nobles in the gravel field are farming nobles, and they are also the Noen people who first converted to the Messiah religion.
The gravel aristocrats who mastered the important water and land routes and food rely on one hand to force the shepherds to work for them.
Use high-priced food and water sources to exchange for low-priced wool.
That is, the taxes in the original area of gravel are based on sheep rather than cash.
The wool of gravel can compete with the wool of Golden Wool Beach, and the biggest advantage is that it is cheap.
And this cheapness is entirely based on the suffering of the shepherds.
The Thousand River Valley was blocked before, and the nobles did not have to rely on the Thousand River Valley to digest wool. It was a spontaneous trade by folk shepherds.
They were just greedy for the profits of this trade, but after being beaten by Meliati, they did not dare to help the Lea people invade the Thousand River Valley directly.
From the perspective of Horn and even a group of high-level monks, life is nothing more than a bit sad.
But in Nanmander County, among some Nanmander County families who make a living from this, the sky is simply falling.
Before the twilight could penetrate the mist of South Munde County, old Laver had already squatted in the bullpen to milk the beast.
The black and white cows howled deep, and the black and pink Rufang rose and fell between Lao Laf's rough palms, and tiny foam appeared in the iron bucket.
The Non cow, who spent four months in textile labor, was looking at him with his gentle almond eyes, and the white air from his nostrils formed ice crystals in the cold wind.
"If you use some more force, you can fill half a barrel." Old Laver's wife stood outside the fence wrapped in a faded wool shawl, as if comforting the cows, and as if encouraging Old Laver, "Can you change it at the market Three pounds of rye. ”
I don't know if it was an illusion, but Old Laver felt her voice like a broken dead branch blown by the north wind, with fine cracks.
The fifteen-year-old little Laver suddenly poked his head out from behind the wood pile, and his nose was red with cold: "Dad, can I take a sip? Try the salty..."
"This is to be sold for money!" The mother's voice suddenly became sharp, and the cow was so shocked that she shook her tail, and Little Laver was even more shocked.
"If you don't give me, don't give me. Why are you howling?" Little Laver thought that his complaining voice was not heard, but he felt a tearing pain in his ears.
"I have to go to Monk Ansel to learn to settle the score later. Uncle Laroll gives you the quota, but you are just thinking about eating!"
Old Laver looked at his son who was making a hoarse sound of killing pigs. His face was round but covered with scars of wind, frost and frozen cracks.
The milky white liquid swayed on the wall of the bucket. He suddenly pushed the iron bucket to the boy: "Drink it."
When Little Laver swallowed greedily, his mother turned her face away, and the red light of the setting sun leaking from the top of the cowshed shone just shone on her trembling shoulders.
The silver coins that were originally used to buy new spindles, the chirping sounds of the textile machine in the middle of the night, now turned into the milk foam on the boy's lips.
They also borrowed some money from outside and bought the cow.
Now that the price of wool has increased and the trade volume has decreased, monk Ansel even used the original price to process the materials at a loss, but after all, only a very small number of people can be assigned this qualification.
Old Laver couldn't get the red ball out of the bag.
The stew in the cast iron pot is boiling as the twilight dyes reddish thatched roof.
The mother, who returned from the bullpen, took out the venison wrapped in oil paper from the deepest part of the oak cabinet - the rest of the last Holy Spirit Day, with a blue gray edge.
She sprinkled with the last bit of rosemary, and the sound of grease sizzling at the bottom of the pan, which complemented the evening bells of the country chapel.
"Eat." The mother handed the plate to her husband. When the golden brown steak was served, Little Laver's Adam's apple immediately rolled violently and looked at his father like a puppy.
My mother's copper spoon fell with the sound of breaking wind, and red marks instantly floated on the back of the boy's hand, just like the crescent moon at night.
"This is for your father!" The woman's voice was like a broken string.
But Lao Laver didn't see it. He cut off half of the meat cut with a knife and pushed it to his son. The oil star splashed on the coarse hemp tablecloth, making dark spots dizzy.
"The vultures in the gravel can't pick up my bones." His thick voice trembled and rippled the pickled vegetable soup in the pottery bowl. "When I come back from the border guard, I can not only repay the money I owe, but also get back Buy three cows."
The mother, who was still holding her son's ear, suddenly covered her face with an apron. The sob sound leaked out from behind the burlap, mixed with the crackling sound of charcoal bursting in the stove:
"Muriati, this white-eyed female wolf, we were bullied like this, and she even rejected the proposal to attack the gravel primordial...
The gravel original bullies us like this, she doesn't even give up any of her.
How long has she been an autocratic public? In the end, the saint grandson was the one who allowed us to live a good life...
If I had known it would have been better to choose the Crown Prince as an autocratic prince. The North County people said that they could not marinate the sausage without spices, so they immediately went to beat Black Snake Bay..."
"Silly woman!" Old Laver's fist slammed the wooden table, "Do you think spice-cured meat can fill your stomach?"
The roar frightened the jackdaw under the eaves, and the sound of wings flapping from the night.
No mistakes, one song, one content, one in 6, one book, one bar, one reading!
"If you have the ability, go and yell with Moriyati, you will know that you will bully me!"
"Is that a question you can talk about? If we can do what we are like now, it is all the graciousness of the Holy Father..."
Taking advantage of the quarrel between parents, Little Laver hurriedly broke his ears from his mother's hands and stuffed his flesh into his mouth.
The fat flowed down the corner of his mouth to his chin. Zhu Bajie was like eating ginseng fruit. He sucked the meat into his stomach with a thunderous sound, and a "burp--" sounded in his mouth with satisfaction.
After dinner, the family was still speechless.
Little Laver and Old Laver practiced the dagger in front of the fireplace, while the mother sat next to her packed luggage and sewed her clothes in tears.
As the moonlight climbed up to the top of the holly tree, Laroll moved into the yard with a pottery jar: "Cousin, I brought you the wine."
Old Laver, who smelled the scent of wine, immediately rushed out of the door. Looking at the thin Larol, he said jealously: "You lucky dog, Monk Ansel, you have a relationship. This time you draw lots. You're hit again."
Larole smiled bitterly: "The damn gravel original man made the price of wool more expensive than velvet, so I can only barely pay the loan. Will you talk when you go into the house?"
"Talk outside, just like when I was a kid."
Two men squatted beside the millstone, holding wooden cups and drinking honey wine made of acorns.
"I'll go to the border this time, and I'll rely on you at home."
"Don't worry, no one will bully them."
"If I haven't come back for three years, you'll sleep on Tatalie's bed."
Larole turned his head suddenly, and carefully identified it, confirming that Old Laver was not joking before shaking his head: "She will poke my eyes blind with a spindle."
"She will understand." Old Laver looked at the window frame with dim lights, and the murmuring of Little Laver recited the multiplication table was vaguely heard, "It's like your father stuffed half a bag of oats in your house. My mother."
"My mother was so angry at that time and came to argue."
"Yes, in the end your father pulled her away..."
When the Qiming Star rose, the sound of cows rumination came from the cowshed, and the sound of the wheels of the transporting troops and horses rolling over the frozen soil woke up the entire village.
Tatalie stuffed her husband's wool socks into the canvas bag and suddenly touched the iron ring hidden at the bottom of the sock.
This was given by an old blacksmith when they got married, and the irises pattern on the ring was long been smoothed out by time.
When the sleepy little Laver chased to the entrance of the village, the morning mist wet his linen shirt and pressed against his back.
He saw his father throwing the wine pot to Larole, and saw his mother holding the ring until her knuckles turned white, and saw the ruts carved two dark scars on the frosty ground.
It's like the golden thread on the robe of the gravel messenger.
(This chapter ends)