The journey took four days. Outside London, the landscape changed completely — vast fields stretched into the distance, where hardworking farmers were sowing crops under the fading light of September.
Francisco leaned forward, watching them curiously. "Are they planting wheat?" he asked, puzzled.
The ambassador followed his gaze and nodded. "That's right."
Francisco frowned. "But isn't wheat supposed to grow in warm climates? We're entering winter."
The ambassador gave him a long look, as if reconsidering how clever the young man truly was. After a sigh, he explained, "It's a variety called winter wheat."
Francisco went silent for a moment, then suddenly slapped his forehead. "That's right! I remember reading about it in one of Arthur Young's Annals of Agriculture."
The ambassador raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly did you manage to read those books? Aren't they banned by the Spanish Crown?"
