I asked. “Why does anyone own any business?” returned Sancho. “To make money.” “But a nobleman—“ “Still needs money,” said Sancho. “Lots of it, in fact. It takes much more to sustain the life of a nobleman than a humble soldier like myself. Look around the city and you’ll find lots of decaying gentry who can’t even keep a decent house, much less one that can entertain the Count of Toulouse. And when you are paying off the Church and the viguier to look the other way while your wife practices her cute little heresies, then that will cost you a few pennies by itself.” “How much does he pay for that?” I asked. “The bishop came cheap, as you might have guessed, but the abbey didn’t,” said Sancho. “The viguier, on the other hand, is an old friend of his, so he got a bargain rate, but there are all the bailes to think about. And Foix is not the most lucrative county around, so it’s no surprise that the count had to cast about for some profitable enterprises.”
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