Roger felt the ground vibrating regularly.

He saw that the Santiago Knight had laid a flat barrage.

Roger discovered that the other party's target was actually the shield wall in the middle.

He was a little surprised, and a thought flashed through his mind, that was not the right choice for cavalry charge, and it would be easy to fall into three sides.

The correct choice should be to face the side, so that you can calmly leave from the side after the collision.

Roger's brain was running at high speed. He thought, was the other party so arrogant that he thought he could break through the wall of spearmen and shields, break through the crossbowmen, and kill him directly?

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning pierced the sky, Roger understood.

The snitches in the middle were Jews, and the striking hexagrams on their shields stimulated these Santiago knights who were obsessed with killing pagans.

"St. Jacob!"

After the shouting slogan, there was another violent explosion.

The flying wood chips cannot tell whether they are from heavy rifles or huge wooden shields, and there is no difference in damage.

Who can tell whether the precious blood comes from a brave knight or a tough warrior, splashing like wastewater?

The twinkling cold light shines together on the sharp thatched pikes of the spearmen, and the iron swords that the knight unsheathed, passed away with life.

The impact of the Santiago Knights was as violent as a tsunami.

The defenses of Jewish heavy sergeants were as stubborn as reefs.

The blood-stained red sword cross is even more vivid.

The broken white hexagrams are still tenacious.

Roger saw the Jews fall in large numbers, but they never retreated, blocking the pace of the San Diego Knights with their lives and discipline.

"kill!"

The stonemasons and veterans on both sides rolled in the gun array, surrounding the attack on the knights who had lost their speed in the middle.

"Shoot the arrow!"

Crossbowmen shot the knight on the horse directly from close range.

Armor-breaking crossbow arrows pierce through exquisite armor.

The knight caught in the arrow fell like a dead leaf.

The remaining knights still fought to the death.

They shouted, "St. Jacob!"

They swung their swords left and right and slashed hard.

Roger saw that the black-robed leader was already rushing over with his infantry.

He estimated that he might be able to wipe out the Santiago cavalry.

But the price was that three heavy sergeants and a giant shield-carrying militia were surrounded and annihilated by the infantry caught by the opponent.

This is not something he can bear.

Roger must choose to give up.

He looked at the scattered and still fighting, Jewish sergeants.

Roger ordered:

"The Jewish sergeant stood there.

The rest of the troops retreated quickly.”

After the order was released, Roger saw the despair in the eyes of the surviving Jewish soldiers.

He turned and left.

When Roger entered the city gate, he turned his head and looked back.

He saw the Jewish soldiers who were still fighting, being swallowed up by the enemy troops swept like huge waves.

After entering the city, Roger was a little sad.

He was wondering whether he had the right to kill these Jewish soldiers.

He comforted himself that the superiors certainly had the right to do so.

For example, Alfonso of Aragon, he didn't even frown when he ordered his men to fight to the death.

Roger thought that Alfonso proved his rightness with victory.

He thought, isn’t there an idiom called “Ceyi is not in charge of soldiers”?

On the battlefield, isn’t that normal for the commander to sacrifice a small number of people for the sake of the overall situation?

No famous general has done this since ancient times.

As long as you can win, who will blame them? Who can blame them?

Roger laughed at himself: Roger, Roger, you are the kindness of a woman, you are not cruel enough, it is wrong for you to do this, you have to take the overall situation into consideration.

Roger felt that he had figured it out.

Although the desperate eyes of the Jewish soldiers still appeared in his mind from time to time.

Roger patted himself on the cheek with both hands to cheer up his spirits.

He said to himself in a concluding tone:

"Their death is worthless, not as the rabbi fears, for a foolish command, to die worthlessly, and that's enough."

So Roger left this matter behind his mind, and he had more important things to consider, and there was no reason to be entangled with such trivial matters.

Roger rushed back to the city lord's mansion.

He met two red-haired men, Shana and Zarro in the study.

Shana kept talking when she saw Roger.

Zarro added a few more sentences from time to time.

Roger couldn't understand anything they said.

Fortunately, in the huge Toledo, it is not difficult to find a translation that understands Basque.

Shana: "Uraka took Sir Danny away, and two other Norman Knights."

Zarro: "There are two of us."

Roger listened to the translation while watching the letter Shana brought.

Shana: "Her pomp is really big, she is full of people, many nobles, and more guards.

"I frightened the inn owner. Oh, it's the inn in Leon, you have lived in. The boss just lies on the ground and shivered."

Roger looked carefully at the stamp on the wax seal, which was Uraka's royal emblem.

Zarro: "Ulaka didn't enter the inn. She was always on the road outside. In her luxurious carriage, her subordinates took us out."

Roger used a knife to open the wax seal and unfolded the rolled sheepskin letter paper.

Shana: "Those people are really not things. Sir Danny doesn't want to go with them, they actually draw their swords.

"But Uraka is pretty good, and she is very polite to us. She saw me in the carriage and smiled at me.

"But the nobles around her hate me so much that they think I am ugly, so why am I ugly?

"I think they are ugly. They have nostrils facing the sky, and they are not afraid of rain, hum."

Roger listened to the translation and looked at the letter. He looked at the end of it. It was Uraka's autograph.

He started reading the letter from the beginning. The letter was written in Latin and the characters were very beautiful. I don’t know if it was written by Uraka, or maybe it was written by her royal literati.

Shana: "Uraka asked us to follow her or go west. I guess she was going to Santiago for a pilgrimage, and the path she was walking was the pilgrimage road we walked through.

“Along the way, she sent the imperial physician to treat Sir Danny and gave us good food.

"I want to thank her, but the guards outside her tent drove us away and prevented me from getting close to her tent.

"I told the guards that I knew Uraka, but they didn't listen, just to drive us away."

Zarro: "But they don't allow us to leave the camp."

Roger tightened his lips, and he tried to control his trembling hands.

Shana: "Later, when Uraka sent someone to ask us to go, I 'hum' at the guard.

"That's it, I lifted my head and 'hum' him like those annoying nobles.

"Haha, his face looked very ugly, but he couldn't do anything to me, so he still had to let me in."

Shana looks very funny, like a stingy cat, and the translator is smiling "eating".

Roger didn't want to laugh at all. He had a gloomy face, and blue veins burst out from his hand holding the letter, and the sheepskin letter paper was creaking and creaking.

Shana: "Ah, right, guess who I saw in Uraka's tent?

"Haha, you must not guess. I saw Elvira, your fiancée Elvira.

"I smiled at her, but she seemed to be in a bad mood and didn't talk to me."

"Enough."

Roger's voice was a little low, revealing the solemnity before the storm came.
Chapter completed!