I built a manor in the Middle Ages

Chapter 187 Crossbow (Part )
No one has ever delved into the reason why the Agate River is so green, except Peter.

Coming out of the toilet, he washed his hands in the stream and reached out to grasp the pebbles on the shallow shore. The man, who always hid his face under his cloak all day long, muttered to himself, "Maybe there's too much algae?"

A gentle breeze blew by, and no one could answer him, after all, his voice was too soft.

But even if someone heard it, they probably wouldn't understand it.

It’s not that I don’t understand what water algae is, but it’s simply difficult to understand his accent.

If a man from Andalus were here, he would certainly say that he had taken on the bad habits of a pagan.

After washing his hands briefly and preparing to return to the apple orchard, a big man suddenly appeared from the side of the road, pushing a creaking wheelbarrow towards the smelly toilet. Peter frowned and quickly walked away from this man who didn't look too smart.

"Building toilets and not polluting rivers is probably an old Roman practice."

Peter walked away muttering to himself, unaware that Hans was looking at him curiously from behind and muttering, "What are you talking about?"

He walked to a small hut with ease, took out a pair of scissors, held them with one hand, and started his pruning work today.

The apple tree had been growing for a year, and unnecessary branches would affect the development of the main branches. He had copied many similar agricultural books and was very familiar with this.

It's funny to say that there were Jews in Aleppo. When they saw the grafting, they were even more surprised than I was. They shouted that it was an evil devil's trick. As a result, they were beaten out with sticks by those pagans with all kinds of braids.

The apple orchard was not big, but it still took the one-armed man a while to work. After taking a short breath and coaxing away some blind birds, he rushed to the church without stopping.
——That was his temporary residence.

"His castle is made of wood, but his church is made of brick and stone. He is indeed a pious lord."

Peter admired this small but beautiful church. He pushed open the door, picked up a thatched broom, and began to sweep the church without leaving any gaps.

This was something he did every day, and he would not stop until it was almost spotless, and then he would pray.

The silver vessel emanated the fragrance of flowers, and only then, feeling at ease, did he remove his hood.
Sweat flowed down his left cheek, which was charred and looked like mud.

Touching the wrinkles like furrows in the fields, Peter forced himself not to fall into those painful memories.

"Great Lord, please guide your lost lambs."

Peter lowered his head and recited silently, with only the birds singing outside the window.

After a while, when he wanted to pray again, he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of horse hooves. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw a tall knight charging on a small path in the field. The grass on both sides was blown off by the whistling figure. Behind the horse, about ten big men were running continuously.

Peter knew that this was another military training exercise.

It has been half a month since he came to the place called Knight Castle. He has already witnessed two military training sessions, each lasting a whole morning.

This surprised him a little. After all, even at the edge of the world, he had only seen such strength under the command of those powerful caliphs.

Not to mention, almost all of the ten men were wearing armor.

The dust in the sky dissipated, and the running people lined up again after a short rest and began to swing their spears.

Peter hesitated for a moment, put on his hood and walked out of the church.

"Ryan, you've been learning swordsmanship for three years and have made some progress. You can learn to read someday."

At the front of the crowd, Ryan, the leader, was practicing with sword and shield. Hearing the words coming from horseback, he scratched the back of his head and said, "Master, I still need to learn to read."

"It's enough if you can read. Besides, my knowledge of reading is useless. With my wife and old housekeeper Eck here, I don't need to manage the manor."

"You should learn as long as I'm told to. Why are you asking so many questions?"

Luke glanced at Ryan. The boy didn't understand the importance of knowledge, but he did.

As a potential knight, he didn't want Ryan to be illiterate.

Seeing Ryan agree with a bitter face, Luke threw the broken lance aside.

The lance has been improved and a certain counterweight has been added to the back.

However, there is still no iron spear head, which is a bit regrettable.

"Sir, if Ryan wants to learn to write, I can do it for him."

At this time, Peter, who heard the conversation, walked slowly over and bowed to Luc.

"And my lord, the lance is indeed a good weapon, but I think you should practice mounted archery more."

Peter picked up the two-meter-long lance, stared at it for a moment, and suggested, "After all, I've seen horse archers in Aleppo. They were very fierce."

"Learn to read. You are indeed a good candidate."

Luke pulled the reins, thought for a while, agreed to Peter's words, and then told Ryan and others to patrol the city wall after practice.

Ever since the city wall was built, Luc always sent people to take turns to familiarize themselves with the wall.

A solid wall isn't just for show; it's a barrier against attack. You can't wait until that day comes to prepare. "Peter, I've thought about learning horse archery, but I don't have a good bow."

Luc raised his short bow. After three years of continuous exploration, he found a way to mass-produce short-term bows. Especially after the appearance of goat rope, it was just suitable for use as a batch of bowstrings.

As for the real hard bow, Luc did not fail to pay attention to buying it, but unfortunately, there were no bowmakers in places like Macon County, but there were saddlemakers. It seems that knights are the real main force in the Frankish region.

As for making it yourself, you have to wait four years for the bow frame to take shape.

After all, the bow frame is made of ash wood.

"Why don't you send someone to Lombardy? Perhaps there are light bows from northern Italy there that would be very suitable for horse archery."

"Actually, the English yew longbow is superior, but it's more suitable for infantry combat, and you might not be able to buy one."

Peter did not despise the idea of ​​bows and arrows. On the contrary, he had witnessed the power of the rangers in Aleppo with his own eyes and was quite positive about bows and arrows.

Having traveled all over the country, he is quite familiar with the conditions in various places.

"Besides, your army also needs to be equipped with some long-range weapons."

"Oh? You think so too?"

Luc dismounted, only to find that the pilgrim had the same idea as him.

Luc discovered this problem while inspecting the city wall.

He built so many battlements, it would be a waste if he didn't put some long-range weapons there.

Stone javelins are not very suitable.

But he thought differently from Peter. He didn't want an archer who still needed training.

He wants a crossbowman!

The crossbow has always been a powerful weapon.

Especially, it does not require the user to be very talented.

In fact, if we really want to break it down, the weapon that was truly despised by the knight class and even banned in some places was the crossbow.

The killing power is high and the training degree is low. An ordinary farmer who has trained for one month is likely to kill a cavalryman who has trained for ten years.

This is an unforgivable act by the knights.

"Little Maiman's craftsmanship is getting better and better. He should be able to make a crossbow."

"By the way, Peter, why are you suddenly telling me this?" Luc handed the warhorse to Eugene and suddenly thought of a suspicious point.

Peter is not Jean, not a professional warrior.

He was a supporter of Lynn in Macon County back then, so he might have been exposed to some of Cluny's ideas, such as the prohibition of armaments and war.

Why aren't you praying in church today, but instead telling yourself to learn horse riding and archery?
Peter's answer surprised Luc.

His chest suddenly began to rise and fall violently, and it took a long time for it to subside. Then, in a voice that was almost filled with suppressed anger, he said, "I hope that you can one day recapture Al-Andalus from the pagan invasion and defeat those damned Moors!"

"." Luc stared at Peter and slowly turned away.

What a lunatic.

"Since you no longer pray, I have a task for you. I'll give you a raft. Push it to the other side. Someone will come to pick you up in the evening. You can take them directly to the church. I'll come to find you in the evening."

"Who are you picking up?"

"A poor Christian."

"I understand."

Peter nodded in agreement; he liked the name.

Seeing the other party leave, Luke prepared to go to the lumberyard to inform little Maiman.

In addition to the crossbow body, the crossbow also needs a crossbow string, and he happened to have deer tendons to use.

But the most important thing is the crossbow.

Unlike javelins, arrowheads require real iron.

Just thinking of iron, Luc couldn't help but laugh
There is actually another reason why I want to make a crossbow.

——He found the blacksmith!
(End of this chapter)