British hegemon

Chapter 52 Being a Lord Isn't Easy

Milk House Estate has managed to survive to this day not only by borrowing money to make ends meet, but also because it has income other than land.

The ship "White Sail," now a spoil of war for the English, the Ramrush Bay fishing grounds, the saltworks on the sea salt flats, sheep on the pastures, as well as two windmills, a bakery, and a blacksmith shop.

These assets together can bring the Milk House Estate between fifteen and thirty pounds in currency or equivalent goods each year.

Of course, the wars of raiding British-occupied territories also brought in unpredictable income, which was one of the sources of income to keep the manor running.

"...In the livestock shed there are four oxen, a mixed horse, a blue mule, a donkey, and six pigs, and over at the pasture there are eighty-five sheep. Oh, and you just brought back a riding horse."

"We have quite a few farm tools now, including a horse-drawn carriage and more than fifty sets of farm tools, but we have too few oxen. Even including the oxen and horses of the manor's people, we only have eleven."

"As for money and food, as you can see, before the master went to war, he sold most of the winter wheat that had just been harvested, and he took some of the grain with him when he went to war. Now, including the ballast grain that you unloaded from the pirate ship, there are less than two thousand pounds of wheat left in the warehouse. If we are careful, it will be enough for the people in the manor to eat until the spring wheat harvest."

"Including the trade profits we received from the Baron today, there are only eleven pounds peps left in the vault on the second floor. The master also owed forty pounds in foreign debt before his death, which must be repaid after the autumn harvest. Otherwise, the one hundred acres of land on the estate will become the private property of those Irish merchants."

Roger's lips twitched slightly upon hearing this. "One hundred acres of farmland as collateral for a loan of only forty pounds?"

I just saw a clear record in the ledger of a land sale: a plot of one and a half acres of gently sloping farmland was sold to the estate's owner-farmer for thirty-nine shillings, which translates to more than one pound per acre. "The ledger records that each acre of land cost more than one pound."

The man with the bitter face shook his head. "Sir, that's land the lord sold to commoners. The one who lent us the money was an Irish merchant."

Roger understood that the lord's advantageous position was only relative, and waved his hand to signal the man with the bitter face to continue.

"In addition, there's wool, cloth, sea salt that's being boiled, and some wine and cheese in the warehouse, which should sell for about twelve or thirteen pounds."

Roger impatiently closed the ledger, the thin seven or eight pages of parchment clearly filled with the words "financial crisis" written in bold, hot letters.

"The manor originally had 63 households and 188 people, including 32 households of self-cultivating farmers and thatched cottage farmers, 20 households of serfs, 7 households of fishermen, and 5 blacksmiths, craftsmen, and veterinarians. This expedition was a disastrous defeat. The master and young master Colin were gone, two of the three soldiers were killed in battle, and most of the ten peasant soldiers were also killed or wounded."

"Of the twenty serf households, there are twenty-nine farmers, two shepherds, one cowherd and pig herder, two stackers, one cheese maker, plus three servants working in the manor, totaling thirty-eight laborers. Their underage children are not counted for now." Serfs were essentially the lord's property and the main labor force in the lord's own camp, so the man with the bitter face gave a detailed explanation.

"Those who need your direct support and salary include me, one shilling and two pence per week; Sergeant Marne, ten and a half pence per week; the fat cook, seven pence; the stable boy, five pence; the workshop manager of the salt-making workshop, the head of the estate, who is paid three-quarters of a pence per day during the salt-making season; and others such as the shepherds and plowmen, who will also receive some in-kind rewards after completing their respective tasks."

"Igor will be finished with his apprenticeship next year and will also receive five pence a week. The three serfs who come to work at the manor do not receive wages, but they are provided with two meals a day, and you must reward them with some grain after their work is completed. The three serfs, Bald Ponytail and Black Dog, are also now manor guards. Although they do not receive wages for the time being, they are provided with food and lodging."

The man with the bitter face muttered one last thing: "The army pay for the master's expedition is still in arrears."

"Fighting alongside the lord and getting paid! Isn't that all military service?" Roger questioned.

"This is a rule set by the lord and the baron to encourage the islanders to go to war. Not much, for those who go for more than twenty days, sergeants will receive an extra penny per day, and ordinary peasant soldiers will receive half a penny."

Roger was rubbing his forehead with his right hand, reclining in the chair behind his desk, unsure of what to say.

"Alright, you can go now. I want to be alone."

The man with the bitter face hesitated for a moment, then reminded him, "Master, you still have a few urgent matters to attend to."

Roger opened his eyes. What urgent matter could there be in such a tiny place? "Get to the important stuff."

The man with the bitter face walked to the desk, pulled out several parchment sheets of different sizes from the candlestick, and laid them out one by one. "The first one is the land inheritance document for the manor's self-cultivating farmers, which you need to sign."

Roger glanced at it briefly; it was the estate of one of the soldiers who died in battle: fifteen acres of farmland and a stone house, which would be inherited by his son.

"According to the law, his family needs to pay two pounds of inheritance tax, but the head of the family died in battle this year, and the harvest has not yet been completed. They cannot pay that amount, so we request that you reduce it a little." The man with the bitter face also looked troubled. He knew that collecting inheritance tax was one of the important means by which lords exploited their people, and it was also a major source of revenue.

Roger thought for a moment, "Reduce it by half, and first collect five shillings of inheritance tax from his family. The rest can be paid after the autumn harvest. All the people who die in battle will be treated the same way, and the rest will remain the same."

After saying that, Roger picked up the quill pen next to him, opened the ink bottle, dipped it in ink, and signed his name on the inheritance document.

The man with the bitter face quickly went up to open Roger's desk drawer, took out the Knight Colin's seal and red sealing wax, skillfully struck a flint and steel to light the wick, and let the heated sealing wax slowly melt and drip onto the parchment document.

Roger awkwardly picked up the copper stamp, pressed it into the sealing wax, let it cool for a moment, then removed it. A red eagle and black ship emblem was stamped on it. He blew on it and handed it to the grumpy-faced man.

"Is there anything else?"

"There is another land boundary dispute between Milk House Manor and Whitting Bay Manor that requires your personal intervention. Whitting Bay is Baron John's private estate, and the manor steward is very arrogant. Yesterday, he ordered the serfs to move the boundary stone toward our side, trying to seize the irrigated land by the pond."

"How about we form a joint court with Whitting Bay to jointly adjudicate the ownership of that land?"

Roger knew about these manor courts, but he didn't want to bother with them. After thinking for a moment, he looked up and replied, "This afternoon, have Baldy and Ponytail take a few farmers to remove the boundary stone for me. Tell Baldy and Ponytail that as long as no one dies, they can hurt a few blind bastards."

Bitter Gourd Face opened his mouth but didn't answer. He knew that the butler had taken advantage of the deaths of the Colin family head and the eldest young master to seize the land. The most direct way to deal with such disputes was to resort to force. The tougher the attitude, the less the other party would dare to provoke him.

"One last thing, there is a lawsuit in the Baron's court at noon the day after tomorrow. It is a dispute over irrigation of a river in several villages in the north of the island. They have already fought privately and several people have been killed or injured. The Baron will personally preside over the trial, and your presence in court is required."

"What does the dispute in the north of the island have to do with us? I'm going out to sea tomorrow, will you go in my place?"

The man with the bitter face nodded, immediately realizing what was happening. "Master, are you going out again?"

............