kingdom of nations

Chapter 18 Murderous Intent

"What kind of boy do you think Cesar is? Stupid? Or brave?"

Faced with Amalric I's seemingly casual questioning, Heraclius couldn't help but feel a chill. He knew that the previous... grand scene had aroused the king's suspicion.

"I know that you arranged for the woman holding the child, but later... did you remind him, or did he do it willingly?" Amalric I continued to ask without waiting for Heraclius' answer.

Heraclius frowned, unsure how to respond to the king. Yes, to heighten the atmosphere and prove that Caesar's asceticism had indeed been rewarded by God, he had arranged for a woman. This kind of thing was common. Whenever a person, living or dead, added the word "saint" to their name, priests would naturally perform various miracles, such as images bleeding or weeping, the lame standing up again, the blind regaining their sight. Of course, there were indeed some priests who were blessed and could heal disabilities, but most of them were fake and forged.

But the huge momentum that followed was completely beyond Heraclius's expectations.

As Longinus was surprised, contrary to what we think, in this era, the nobles did not even consider themselves the same creatures as the common people or the lower slaves, and the priests, even the ascetics of sects like the Society of the Abyssal, would not easily throw away their kindness, either for money or for faith, and they were even more stingy than the Isaacs whom they hated.

Some people may think that Cesar is just an ignorant child who has no idea how much intangible wealth he holds. However, those poor, disabled, and sick people are also terrifying. Their hair is like thick felt, their skin is like thin paper, and their fish-red sores are oozing milky yellow and white pus. Their scars are like flying sawdust, and every friction will cause them to fall like snowflakes. What covers them is not fabric but a mixture of dust and dirt. They stink, like dead fish, they roar and whimper like wild beasts, and there is almost no light in their turbid eyes. If there are more than a hundred such people, even the bravest knight will retreat.

As soon as you see them, you know that these people have nothing to lose. They don't cherish their own lives, nor do they cherish the lives of others. Who dares to lend them a hand? No, they will only drag those who help them into hell!

At least that's what Heraclius thought before that day.

He should have found it funny, but he couldn't. He thought a child's innocence would be destroyed by worldly cruelty, but no, those who heard that a young saint was willing to bless anyone - those refugees who were too poor to buy indulgences or cross the threshold of the church, flocked to the church, but did not hurt others out of their eagerness and anxiety.

According to the knights who went with them, it was a bit crowded at first, but when they realized that everyone could get what they wanted, so many people, maybe hundreds or a thousand, suddenly quieted down. By the time Cesar finished his last day's work, even though the number of people had reached a terrifying number (the knights couldn't count them anymore), the order was still in place, and there were even people guiding and coordinating the team. So when Cesar donated his jewelry and robes, he immediately found someone who could be responsible for it.

"Tell me, how many people are chanting the name of Alasar right now?" Amalric I said thoughtfully. "And how would people describe my child, the king's son, Prince Baldwin? A poor fellow... who was favored by his retainers?"

This time, Heraclius was no longer feeling chilled, but was terrified.

After all, Cesar was not a man of this era. He did not know that his actions, which were just out of kindness and sincerity, instead aroused the jealousy of Amalric I. Especially as a servant, his "charity" to Baldwin almost put himself in a condescending position - God knows, a servant can be stupid, dull, mean, lustful, greedy, even cruel and cowardly... but he must not mistake his own identity... and pity his master.

How arrogant!

Heraclius was certain that Amalric I had already made up his mind to kill. If no one changed his mind, Cesar's fate would be no better than Witt's. With just a casual gesture from the king, the boy, who had been showered with honors and praise today, would quietly return to his lord on a quiet night. Those who knew would secretly mock him, while those who didn't would sincerely admire him and be filled with joy. He hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "Your Majesty," he lowered his voice, "Whatever you decide to do, shouldn't you ask Baldwin?"

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Baldwin's first action after leaving Amalric I's sight was to take a deep breath.

Amalric I was his father and his king. He should be loyal to him, obey his orders and follow his arrangements. But after so many things, he has changed a lot. At least he has seen how many ugly hearts are hidden under the flowers and splendor. Cesar may be a little... reckless, but his intentions are good. Baldwin also firmly believes that his background is not too bad, and he will become a knight in the future. Accepting a knight's gift is not unacceptable to Baldwin now.

The prince even asked Amalric I not to let anyone warn Cesar, saying that if the king's wishes did not change - he would rather have a less perfect friend than a submissive and obedient servant, "I will teach him."

In fact, Baldwin was not very sure. Although they had not spent too much time together, he realized that Cesar was a stubborn person. No, it should be said that although he had the body of a child, he had the willpower of an adult, which meant that it was difficult to change his mind and reverse his behavior - just like the previous practice, Chirac arranged a poor mother for him, but the good deeds that attracted hundreds of pilgrims were done by Cesar himself.

"Baldwin."

Baldwin turned around and was not so surprised to see his sister Sibylle, the only woman in this towering castle who could call him by his Christian name.

Perhaps because there was no major event today, Sibylle and her maid were dressed lightly and wore headscarves instead of henan hats. She waved her finger at Baldwin, signaling him to follow her.

They had not walked far when, on the side of the main tower, stood an exquisite Saracen-style courtyard. The gooseberries and cherries were lush and green, covered by boxwood, mulberry trees and myrtles. The four square flower beds were occupied by roses, irises, cabbages and lilacs respectively. Next to the cross-shaped path was a gurgling open channel. However, these were not the only things in this lovely world that deserved the servants' careful service. In the garden not far away, there were also mulak (a shrub used for cleaning teeth), henna (dye), alfalfa and garlic, as well as broad beans and leeks.

There was a stone bench under an exceptionally tall myrtle tree, with green grass beneath. Sibylle left her maid behind, walked toward it and sat down, her skirt falling to the ground like a large clotted bloodstain.

"Brother," she said softly, looking at Baldwin, "it seems you have made our father change his mind."

"King Arthur had twelve knights," Baldwin said. "In terms of purity, no one could compare to Galahad, in terms of bravery, no one could compare to Gareth, and in terms of handsomeness, Gawain was unmatched. But can you say that King Arthur's glory was dimmed even a little bit because of this?" "You are quite right," Sibylle nodded. "But the man beside you, Cesar..." She narrowed her eyes slightly and picked a branch of the most blooming rosemary. The dark green leaves were surrounded by lavender flowers, each one complete, fresh and tender, and looked very pleasing. "How old is he?" Without waiting for Baldwin to answer, "Nine, Baldwin, you are also nine, but you were destined to become the king of the Holy Land when you were still a toddler. When you were still a toddler, ministers bowed to you and generals knelt. All your friends and companions were of prominent families. Every one of your teachers was either a lord or a bishop."

The princess held out her hands and slowly took Rosemary in them. "But what about him? Putting aside whether he truly has lost his memory, everything he says, everything he does, every choice he makes... Do you think David and Abigail could achieve that? Baldwin, you might be able to do it, but who are you? A child whose origins are unknown, yet you can practically stand shoulder to shoulder with you in just a few months? Don't you feel... terrified?"

"Fear, perhaps," Baldwin replied calmly, "but as a king, as a commander, should I still fear the sharpness of a blade?"

"Are you sure you can control him, and not the other way around? Brother, you should have noticed that he lacks respect for those above him."

"I don't need respect, just loyalty."

"Without respect, how can there be loyalty?"

"And love, the love of friends and brothers."

"Although I hate to say it, Baldwin, you are a leper. You are healthy now, but as time passes, you will become weak, confused, and dull. You will suffer from illness and pain, and you will change. So will he. By then, even if you are powerful and influential, you will not be as healthy and alert as he is. He will be your knight, your valet, your minister, and perhaps even your general. He will know you intimately and... can do whatever he wants..."

"I still have time, sister. I will watch him, and if he is as you say, I will not hesitate."

"People praise your kindness, and I want to join in the praise. But, Your Highness, I lack my father's courage. I cannot leave such a dangerous man by your side without any restraints."

"shackles?"

"A flaw that cannot be escaped or hidden."

Baldwin lowered his eyes. The princess's slender but long hands - different from the cute little hands admired by the Franks, Sibylle's hands, although white, were not plump enough, with distinct joints, more like a man's hands. They were slowly crushing the whole rosemary. The petals trembled and fell, and the broken leaves burst into a rich fragrance.

"Lend him to me for a while," he heard his sister say slowly. "He will meet with an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"The kind that puts destiny back on track."

Baldwin immediately understood Sibylle's intention, and the disgust and fatigue he had suppressed in front of Amalric I finally surged into his heart.

In Frankish, English, or Apennines, the bad customs from the Mesopotamian region failed to enter the court because of the always pessimistic population. But how could Baldwin, who was on the Arabian Peninsula and surrounded by places such as Byzantium, Armenia, Egypt and Syria that advocated the use of eunuchs in the inner chambers, know nothing about this?
But in the Christian world, especially Alasarus, a man who is useless in bed will be regarded as a waste in the court and on the battlefield. Everyone will be ashamed to work with him, and even his enemies will not bother to fight him - let alone kneel down to him and be driven by him. By then, even if he has the handsomeness of Gawain, the piety and purity of Galahad, the bravery of Gareth, or the dignity of King Arthur, he can only become a shadow hidden in the veil.

It was too terrible. Baldwin did not say it out loud, and hid this thought in his heart. No matter what, Sibylle was his sister, and her original intention was for him... She might be a little cruel, and this approach could not be said to be the smartest, but... she was just a noble lady after all, not a knight or a priest, and he should not be so harsh on her.

"Forget the idea," Baldwin said softly but firmly, "I'm not that cowardly."

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"What's wrong?" Cesar asked curiously, "Is there sauce on my face?" As he spoke, he curled his fingers and wiped his lips.

He performed such a crude gesture with the grace and ease of a dance. Baldwin smiled. "It's nothing. You know I just spoke to Sibylle. Cesar, remember Damara? You've neglected her for quite some time in pursuit of your training. You're truly unfitted as a future knight. My sister sent me to punish you so you'll beg for mercy from Damara."

"I'll go." Cesar keenly felt that Baldwin's words were not entirely true, but he did not ask further questions: "Maybe tomorrow."

There was only tomorrow left. Heraclius had just confirmed with Cesar the time for the selection ceremony, the Epiphany at New Year's time, which was January 6th. This time was really delicate, because the celebrations surrounding the Nativity of the Lord began on December 25th and reached their peak on January 6th. Because December 25th was originally the Egyptian Sun God Festival, many priests and believers still disagreed with it, and believed that the Epiphany on January 6th was more worthy of celebration... and this day was also close to Baldwin's real birthday, which might sometimes be used to blur the intention of Amalric I to hold the selection ceremony for his son in advance.

Epiphany was not far away, and they would not only have to continue fasting but would also be even busier. Neither Baldwin nor Cesar wanted to think about what would happen if they were not chosen - before that, Cesar should really go and see Damara, otherwise they might have to wait until Lent to meet, and the long gap in between might be noticed by someone with ulterior motives.

(End of this chapter)