Chapter 44

"WHAT is your name?" With boundless curiosity, Hong Tao asked in English.

"..." The slave raised his head, still looking bewildered and dull, but his eyes started to blink.

"What is your name?" Clearly, this person did not understand English, so Hong Tao switched to French and asked again.

"…%￥#￥! Ransom %%￥￥!" This time he finally spoke, but his words were too fast for Hong Tao to understand, except for one word: ransom! It was pronounced in Latin.

Having many wives was useful; Hong Tao knew many languages, but he wasn't proficient in any of them. He stopped learning after a few phrases. He was best at English, average at French and German, could manage Russian, and could understand parts of Latin, Italian, Spanish, Mexican, and Portuguese, but speaking them was very difficult. Knowing too many languages had mixed them all up in his head.

"What is your name?" Hong Tao couldn't be sure if the person was speaking Italian or Spanish, but it was definitely a Romance language. Most European languages are simplified versions of ancient Latin, similar to the dialects in different provinces of China. As long as you speak slowly, you can understand a bit. This time, he switched to German and asked again.

"Frederick Karl von Hohenstaufen! Frederick Karl von Hohenstaufen! Ransom, ransom! Roman Emperor! Waaah..." The white slave, upon hearing German, immediately shouted, pulling on the ropes as if trying to break free, extremely agitated. But he was quickly whipped to the ground by the Hindu priests. However, he didn't give up, looking at Hong Tao with pleading eyes and mumbling in Latin.

"Brother Luo, I have a request. Could you lend me some money? I want to buy this slave. I wonder how much they are selling him for?" Hong Tao was interested in this white man lying on the ground, muttering and making the sign of the cross. Europeans who could travel to the Song Dynasty were very rare, as there was no Suez Canal at the time, and the Arabs were in the way, preventing Europeans from coming over.

"You want to buy a Da Qin slave? Do you understand Da Qin language?" Luo Youde was surprised again. Da Qin people were extremely rare in the Song Dynasty. It was said that Da Qin envoys had visited the previous dynasty, but no one had ever seen them. They only heard from Indian merchants that there was a Da Qin country west of the Parthian Empire, from which glassware was traded. Now, recalling that Hong Tao claimed to know how to make glass and could speak Da Qin language, could it be true!

"The people of Australia are not from one race; they are made up of refugees from many countries. I also speak Indian languages, which I learned from my neighbor." Hong Tao knew about Da Qin, as historically, the Chinese often referred to Europeans as Da Qin, possibly referring to the Roman Empire. As for the origin of his languages, he could just make up stories. As long as no one found Australia, no one could debunk his lies.

"Brother Hong, you are truly talented. Let's go upstairs. These people won't leave for a while. We need to negotiate with the interpreters from the Maritime Trade Office. I'll have the staff at Zhenhai Tower invite them." Luo Youde had no choice but to believe Hong Tao and led him into the tower.

"I'll find someone to save you. Stay quiet to avoid more whippings!" Hong Tao turned and shouted in German to the white slave before following Luo Youde into the tower. He himself didn't know much Indian or Southeast Asian languages, so he couldn't negotiate with the foreign merchants. Luo Youde was right; professional matters should be handled by professionals.

Luo Youde didn't find a seat on the first floor but was led directly to the second floor by a waiter. The waiter seemed to know Luo Youde well, but he was a bit puzzled by Hong Tao and the fisherman. However, he quickly put on a smile, not even noticing that Hong Tao and the fisherman were barefoot, and was extremely热情.

The second floor wasn't private rooms but tables separated by screens, which could be considered makeshift private rooms. The tables were far apart, and as long as you didn't speak too loudly, you wouldn't disturb others. However, Hong Tao was puzzled. It was noon, and both the first and second floors were mostly full, but no one was eating. They were all drinking tea, with at most a couple of small pastries on the table, and no food was visible.

After Luo Youde and Hong Tao sat down, the fisherman didn't sit on the chair but squatted by the window, head down, lost in thought. It was clear he was very nervous. This simple fisherman, who had probably never been in a tower in his thirty-odd years, would have run away if not for Hong Tao. Staying here was torture for him, as everyone stared at him with looks of disdain, contempt, and scorn.

"Brother, go to the dock and find my grandfather. I'm safe here. I won't leave until you come back. Go quickly and come back quickly." Seeing the fisherman's discomfort, Hong Tao couldn't bear to let him suffer any longer. Actually, those strange looks were more directed at him, but the fisherman didn't have his thick skin.

"Okay!" The fisherman was like he had heard celestial music. Without hesitation, he got up, still keeping his head down, and without saying goodbye, he slipped down the stairs, almost knocking over two waiters carrying tea trays at the stairwell, drawing their scolding.

The tea was like coffee foam, with two small plates of pastries, one of which Hong Tao recognized. He couldn't resist picking one up and tasting it. Hey, it was pretty close, a cream cookie! After asking the waiter, he learned that it was called "dripping cream snail," made with cream. Hong Tao was so surprised that he had lost interest. The impact of the past day had been significant, and the more he saw and heard about the Southern Song Dynasty, the more curious he became.

The Song people were quite efficient. Before he finished his cup of tea, a man in a black vest came upstairs and whispered to Luo Youde, then turned and went back down. A while later, he brought the white slave upstairs. The slave was no longer in shackles, his face and hands had been washed, and he was now wearing the clothes of a Song waiter, no longer just a loincloth. However, the body odor was still strong, as the Song people might not have been aware of the concept of bathing for white people.

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