I understood that Valentin needed more people for the company. But running around Astrakhan when the captains, local and visiting, have already raked everything out ... besides with a parched throat ... the idea is so-so.
I went to Rosalind's tavern. Rosalind, a former Deutsche and now a cocky Astrakhan merchant, poured illegally fortified wine for suffering Christians. I myself am not a Christian, it's just that my parents somehow didn't baptize me. For Rosalind I said that I was a Christian, it was almost true because I am not a Muslim.
I went into the tavern and sat down at a table in a dark corner, a sign that I wanted something stronger. Rosalind brought me "Fortified Cherries" and date fruits. At a table nearby, with his head resting on a dirty table stained with flies, a soldier, apparently a nobleman from Western Europe, was sleeping.
I started sipping wine, dreaming about how I would get drunk when we got to Moscow. Glorious Orthodox capital! You can drink there without fear of being hanged for it!
At this time, the soldier from the next table raised his head and looked at me with dull eyes.
"Damned monarchs ... kings ... dukes! They are yet teen and have married to teens! And they kind of rule the world!" He exclaimed furiously and dropped his head on the table again.
"Who is this?" I asked Rosalind as I approached the counter.
"The merchant Abdul-muscovite sailed the south and fired him," she answered. "He drinks without snacking and doesn't pay. I should kick him out. But the morality police will come straight away."
"How much does he owe you?" I asked her and paid for the sleeping drunk soldier. "When he wakes up, tell him to go to Valentin, he's recruiting a squad."
"And the Holy See blesses all this!" came from a dark corner.
The End.