The sun was setting in the west, like a huge and cold fireball, the sun slowly sank on the surface of the river, and when only half of it was exposed on the water, the whole surface of the river was filled with a layer of dark red flames as if it had been boiled by this fireball.

The evening view of the city of Burgos is beautiful, but this beauty is now stained with a frightening layer of blood.

The French reacted very quickly, and when they sensed that the situation was not right, they immediately prepared to change their strategy, but the changes on the battlefield were not so easy to grasp.

The Castilian army did not retreat as the French had expected, and although it did take Gonzalo a great deal of effort, he was able to hold his ground.

The fortifications built in the vineyards served to attract the French artillery, and when the barrage of shells smashed the vineyards to pieces, the French troops on both sides were subjected to heavy fire from the Castilians who had been prepared there.

The French general, realizing that the situation was wrong, wanted to regroup his troops at once, but it seemed that it was a little late under his order, and the attacking French army was already firmly absorbed by the enemy's fire, and when they tried to change formation, the Castilians seized the rare opportunity.

As the two sides drew closer and clearer to see the opposing enemy either gritting their teeth or fearing their faces, the musketeers advancing with the spearmen began to fire rows of bullets at them at close range.

As the soldiers fell to the ground, the French formation finally became disorganized, and they began to try to retreat slightly back and regroup, but once they moved, the more disorganized ranks were gradually torn out one by one.

The Castilian attack was resolute, and they approached the enemy in long columns of two or three long columns with sharp spears, and from time to time the buckshot from the ranks made all sorts of terrible noises against the armor and through the human body.

The screams came one after another, and the French army began to be unable to resist.

The battle ended before it was completely dark, and the French should be grateful for the short winter days that gave them the opportunity to retreat and maintain a minimum of dignity.

Looking at the French army as they retreated from the battlefield and gradually disappeared into the darkness, Gonzalo did not shout with joy like the others, but took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

It was a fluke victory, the French did not suffer much damage, they retreated in a good formation, and even some French cavalry tried to turn their horses around and fight to the death with the Castilians who were preparing to pursue.

Gonzalo stopped his men from continuing the pursuit, and ordered his troops to regroup around the town behind the vineyards, while sending scouts around the city of Burgos to keep an eye out for the French who might go out alone to raid the lone French.

"Fortunately," Gonzalo said to his officers, "if the French had kept even two or three guns against the queues on either side of us, the situation might have been the other now." ”

"But you put your troops in front of the vineyard because you thought of this, didn't you, so it means that you are more clever than the French."

One of the officers smiled and complimented Gonzalo, and in his opinion that saying "this is a fluke" in a humble tone after the victory was actually a disguised boast, so this man did not hesitate to compliment the queen's favorite general.

Gonzalo looked at the officer with a blank expression, he knew that these people would compliment him so much more because he was favored by the queen, at least none of them knew that he was actually saying this from his heart.

Compared to his model army, the Castilian army in the north did not satisfy Gonzalo, and even the victory just now seemed to him to be only a group of lame villagers who won another, more lame one.

The faltering behavior of the French army soon after the defeat reminded Gonzalo of the war that had taken place in Italy not long ago that he had heard about.

Both the Agrics of Rome and the Grenadier Regiment of Naples had faced the onslaught of the enemy, and according to some eyewitnesses, both armies showed an unusual tenacity, which on closer reading seemed to have nothing to do with bravery, and what they did was in fact more like the result of some kind of repetition without thinking.

This may seem strange to others, but Gonzalo was surprised and secretly sighed at the training of the two armies.

In the early days, Roman legions were able to sweep through Europe by virtue of strict discipline and honor as Roman freemen, but later the Romans became so vulnerable that they had to rely on barbarians to fight, and the Romans at that time no longer had discipline and honor to speak of.

Perhaps honor is worthless in this era, but discipline is still the key to victory on the battlefield, but just like the Roman legions, war has become a contest between large and small mercenary groups, and the poor discipline of mercenaries is often the key to either inexplicable defeat or inexplicable victory in a battle.

Gonzalo's Model Army had strict discipline, but now they were caught in the "sea of people's wars" in Andalusia and could not get out, and those Andalusian nobles relied on the advantages of local warfare to create all kinds of harassment and destruction anytime and anywhere, which made it impossible for the Model Army to get out for a while.

"Let's hope that Don Bavi will soon come to a deal with the Queen." Gonzalo was not interested in the court struggle, but the current situation forced him to be very interested in the negotiations that were taking place in Barriaridud.

Only by quelling the rebellion in the south as soon as possible could the Model Army be able to quickly move its troops north.

Gonzalo knew very well that although he had defeated his opponents in two battles, it did not mean that he really had an advantage, perhaps he did destroy many enemies, but because the enemy occupied the two northwestern fronts, he had to be exhausted on the battlefield, which was very bad for him and his army and for Castile.

Gonzalo now hoped that his model army would be mobilized to the north as soon as possible, at least so that he could deal with one enemy without worrying about being copied by another.

The streets of Burgos were full of dejected French soldiers, the wounded fell on the side of the street and screamed, and from time to time one or two amputated limbs and severed hands and feet would be thrown into the roadside ditch, and some French soldiers would rudely break open the doors of the houses connected to the houses and steal wine or other food and drink.

The French army, which had only been raging outside the city before, and there was still some restraint in the city, became tyrannical because of this defeat, and for a time the city of Burgos was full of looting, cursing, revolt and massacre.

Despite the anger and protests of the Castilian nobility, the French commanders did not want to prevent this situation, and the demoralization caused by the frustration of defeat on the battlefield had to be vented, and what better way to do that than to indulge his men in the sack of the city.

"We will not be here for long," said the commander with some reluctance, "but it will disappoint the king, who has ordered us to stay in Burgos at least until the winter, and then return to Navarre after the spring of the next year." ”

"It's just a small defeat, we can still hold the city," one officer objected with some dissatisfaction, "Is it just because of such a small defeat to escape?" ”

The commander glanced at his disgruntled subordinates and said nothing, the French commander knew more than these soldiers.

He knew from the king's emissaries that the rebellion in southern Castile might soon be quelled, so if they could not defeat the existing Castilian defenders at the outset, the situation would change when the enemy brought in more troops from the south, and it would be questionable whether they would be able to safely withdraw across the Eboro.

So he must not let the situation develop so badly that he will not consider running for his life.

"But the king has ordered us to make contact with the Portuguese, and the troops we have sent are probably about to enter Galicia by this time, and if they retreat at this time, they will have no way to retreat." His men were a little worried, saying that he did not understand why they had to retreat at the slightest setback, and that the city of Burgos made them very comfortable, and here they were dukes, princes, and kings, so that they were very reluctant to leave the city.

"Of course it's not right away, but we have to be prepared." The commander thought about the reinforcements that the Castilians might send from the south, but he comforted his men, "And those Galician nobles, isn't there any of them who will help us, since then our men can go directly from Galicia to Portugal, I mean if that time comes." ”

The chaos in the city of Burges continued into the night, and under the cover of the night, more evil spread throughout the city in the darkness, and the sound of screams for help could be heard from time to time, and sometimes the dull sound of muskets echoed in the night sky.

The terrible turmoil did not subside until dawn, and no one could tell how many evil things had happened during the night, just as no one could count how many corpses had been loaded into wagons and carried to the cemetery behind the church.

Alexander looked out into the street from behind the window of a humble house, and a carriage had just passed the doorway toward the cemetery, the carriage staggering and looking heavy, and the blood that had flowed through the cracks in the planks had gathered into scarlet spots in the puddles on the potholed road.

"It shouldn't be like this." Alexander sighed, what the French had done that night was beyond his imagination, and although war could make a usually kind person strip off his disguise and reveal his true nature, the actions of the French still made this act seem so cruel and ruthless.

He had not come to Burgos to witness the terrible events of that night, but he had seen such a tragedy that made Alexander feel like a traitor who had colluded with foreign enemies.

After the capture of the city of Burges, the French army divided Galicia with the obvious purpose of forming a blockade with the Portuguese between Barriaridud and Galicia in the northwest, and then they could take advantage of the opportunity to quickly occupy Galicia.

This idea is not ridiculous, as the inextricable links between Galicia and Portugal make the situation in the region seem delicate.

If the French and Portuguese could really cut off the link between Galicia and Valaridot, the situation would at least become more complicated.

Only now, Alexander is not in a very good mood.

What had happened in Burgos had left him in a bad mood, and the madness and savagery of the French had surprised him and made him wonder if his plans should be changed.

Partnering with the French and then capturing Castile in one fell swoop, Alexander had planned this before, but now he felt that he had to reconsider the advantages and disadvantages of this plan for himself.

Alexander's goal was the Castilian throne, which would never change.

For this he could cooperate with his enemies, just as the smoke of the battlefield had not yet cleared, and the blood of the dead soldiers had not yet dried up, he could consider making peace with Louis XII.

But the actions of the French in Burgus thoroughly infuriated him.

War is cruel and terrible, and you can't survive long on the battlefield without a ruthless heart.

Alexander remembers that it was said that "the most brutal of all wars is the war of faith, because under the pretext of defending the faith, man can do anything terrible".

Such a war would involve everyone, military and civilian, man and woman, and no one would really be immune to the horrific killing

But even so, the massacre of civilians is intolerable.

Another carriage passed by the door, and looking at the red blood stains that had penetrated the blanket on the cart, Alexander couldn't help but feel an indescribable bitterness in his heart.

"It really shouldn't be like this," Alexander whispered to himself again, knowing full well that if he continued like this, he would be further and further away from the crown.

He had to make a choice.

The throne of Castile is coveted, but if the French are allowed to continue in such madness, the accumulated resentment will be enough to cause great trouble for him to claim the throne.

I believe that by that time, he will most likely become a rat crossing the street.

"Sir?" Schell called in a low voice, although he knew that he should not disturb his master at this time, but Schell still walked over and whispered, "There are some people, they want to see you." ”

Alexander nodded in understanding.

Alexander was met by several elderly men, who still looked terrified, and who were obviously frightened by the terrible events that had happened the night before, and who were still terrified even when they saw Alexander.

Seeing this scene of these people in front of him, Alexander couldn't help but have a strange look on his face, he knew the origin of these people, when he saw the "political legacy" left to him by Count Mordillo about the many arrangements arranged by the Count of Mordilo over the years, Alexander was amazed by the foresight of Count Mordigro.

But these people in front of him still surprised him a little.

These were veterans of the Reconquista, and some of them even fought with Gonzalo.

However, that was a long time ago, and the last conquered kingdom of Granada had surrendered to Isabella and his wife 10 years earlier.

It was hard for Alexander to imagine for a moment what role these elderly men who had been away from the battlefield for too long could have played, and if he had cooperated with the French, perhaps they would have been of some use, but it would have been a bit whimsical if he wanted to borrow them to take Burgus from the French.

"Sir," a man with a slight limp under his feet leaned forward, and when he saw Sher immediately staring at him vigilantly, the man stopped and bowed to Alexander with a slightly flattering smile, "We used to be sent by the Earl, and when the Earl followed the king to teach the Moors, we were all his soldiers. ”

Alexander nodded slightly, he knew that Count Mordillo had traveled to and from the Iberian court as an emissary to Naples, but it was Castile that he had stayed for the longest.

When he decided to trade his sister for an illusory opportunity, Count Mordillo accompanied King Enrique IV on his expeditions to the remnants of the Moorish lands in the south.

However, at that time, the power of the Moors in Iberia was already in danger, and apart from the kingdom of Granada, the only few Moorish strongholds entrenched in cities on the southern coast of the peninsula were ready to collapse in the attack of the Castiles.

Therefore, Enrique's so-called expedition at that time was purely for show, so that the accompanying Count Mordillo naturally had no chance to prove whether his military ability could be compared with his conspiracy.

So although Alexander knew that there were a number of pawns left by the original count in the city of Burgos, he did not think that these people would play a big role.

As for the present, he felt that perhaps it was time to reconsider his plans, at least until he was sure, not to clash with the French.

As if to see Alexander's doubts, the man limped to the corner, he picked up a strip for ventilating the hearth, tossed it in his hand as if to test the weight, and then the man grabbed the ends of the strip and twisted it hard!

With a muffled "hum" from the man's mouth, the strips were twisted together in half, and then, under Alexander's surprised gaze, the man again straightened the strips with force.

Standing on the sidelines, Schell couldn't help but take a step forward, one hand grasping the hilt of the saber stuck in his waist, and the other hand holding the handle of the musket.

"Sir, I have fought with the Earl," the lame man said to Alexander, still nodding his head, but his eyes sparkled as he looked at the honest-looking companions standing aside, "We are all so." ”

Looking at this group of people, Alexander couldn't help but fall into deep thought.