kingdom of nations

Chapter 64 I care about this one, and I care about this one too.

"The Templars never gambled on anything," Walter said.

This statement is not very credible. Perhaps after becoming a Knight Templar, the knights would stop the bad habit of gambling, but no one is born a Knight Templar. Common people would gamble with a handful of wheat and a bowl of beans, let alone knights who can at least afford a set of armor and have a surname?
"This isn't a gamble made by ordinary people for money or beauty," Cesar said. "We're betting on ourselves, and then we'll see what God says."

Walter's face was gloomy. "You mean the Holy Inquisition? But kid, just based on what you just said, I can convict you. You shouldn't equate the Holy Inquisition with gambling."

"God never forbade people from gambling. He forbade deceit, greed, and vanity. This law encompasses much more than just money—what we are trying to verify is something more sacred, sir."

Cesar said calmly.

Oh, a knight steward thought to himself, his voice is also very nice, not chaotic or rude, and every word is clear.

"You've been saying that the Templars follow only one master, the Lord in heaven, or His representative on earth. Now, we can't invite that respectable servant of the Lord here to act as our guarantor, so we only have one person left to rely on.

That is the only master of all things in heaven, on earth, and in the world."

"I know there's a way. It's for two knights to duel before God, using their blood and lives to defend their honor and fight for the right to speak. But you're not a knight," Walter said, frowning. "If Amalric I came before me, I might be willing to give it a try, but you're not qualified."

"Outside the Golden Gate lies a cemetery where tens of thousands of the dead rest. The Isaacs say that at the end of the world, a savior will enter through the Golden Gate. At that time, every dead person in the Holy Land will be resurrected and judged. My lord, you and I are both mortals of flesh and blood. One day, we too will lie in stone coffins, awaiting that day."

So, on that day, when we stand together before the angels and saints, waiting for the result, do you think they will say, this is an adult, this is a child, this is a knight, and this is a squire?
No, before the glory of Heaven, all human beings are equally small and humble. When they pick us up, they don't look at the thickness of our bones or the number of our teeth, nor do they look at whether there is gold or swords in our tombs. They only look at whether our souls are pure, firm, and tenacious.

"Besides," Cesar smiled brightly, "I don't think I can compete with you, sir. You've truly fought for God, while I haven't even tasted the blood of a battlefield. All I rely on is your devotion to God and your compassion for the weak."

Geoffrey coughed, and then the room was filled with coughs, starting with him and the other stewards, and even Walter's entourage was no exception.

Walter felt very comfortable listening to it: "So what do you want to do?"

Everyone listened intently, only to see the little attendant do another astonishing move. He opened his belt and took off the glittering silver-plated chain mail, which piled up on the ground like a curled-up pangolin - and his body was still filled with a milky white light like moonlight or sunlight.

People say this because this light is softer than sunlight and brighter than moonlight.

It looked so soft, but only Walter, who had tried it himself, knew that it was not fragile.

"I am willing to pledge my life and faith for my master, King Amalric I," Cesar said. "I have heard that your sword was given by St. Paul. It will never break or rust. Even stone and steel will be like a piece of cheese before it..."

"Do you want me to stab you with that sharp sword?"

"That's right. Please use it to pierce me, chop me, three times. If I take a step back, groan, and shed a drop of blood, it means that God and the saints are on your side and you are righteous. If not..."

"You want me to surrender to Amalric I?"

"No, I only hope that you can extend your mercy to more people, those who should not have become victims in this battle," Cesar said sincerely. "No matter who wins or loses the war between you and the king, they will be grateful to you, praise you, and pray for you."

Walter looked at him for a long moment and grinned: "You were just cursing my failure, you little bastard." He stretched himself, and those who knew him knew that he had been convinced. Geoffrey remembered that when he met César, César was most concerned about what the Templar of Tortosa liked and cared about the most - he thought César was going to try to bribe or threaten him.

"You asked me to pierce you with St. Paul's sword," Walter said, "but I must remind you that you've already used up your last chance. I will show no mercy. Although I know you're deeply favored by the saint, just like a clash of cavalry, no one knows the outcome until the very last moment. When you lie wailing in a pool of blood, please never forget that this was your own choice."

Everyone present couldn't help but feel nervous. Even Geoffrey wasn't so sure. It was easy for the knights to judge the degree of divine favor each other had received. They just needed to pray for a long time, whether to pray aloud or silently, and how long it lasted and how strong it was.
Those who lead them must also understand the status and characteristics of each knight, so as to avoid improper command, causing the agile falcon to have its feathers broken in the storm, and leaving the exhausted hound to face the angry bear.

Anyone who had met Cesar would praise the depth and purity of the divine favor he had received, and the speed with which he received responses was so fast that it seemed as if the saint was watching him at all times. However, Walter had been a Templar for nearly ten years, and before that, he had already earned the reputation of "the strongest knight" in the Terre region of France. If he had not been sufficiently pious and only interested in fighting, he would have long had a place in the court of Louis VII.

And what he said before was not an empty threat. Although the Knights Templar were considered brutal beasts to pagans and heretics, Walter was the most unscrupulous among them.

But on the other hand, the method proposed by Cesar was the most beneficial to him - except for simply ignoring the matter, he stood there motionless, and the experience accumulated by Walter in countless duels and battles became useless. It seemed that the only thing left to measure the two was the divine favor.

The problem is that the Holy Favor will gradually accumulate and intensify over time. Moreover, he has never been on the battlefield. Even if he has faced a giant bear, how can a sharp and heavy sword be compared to the fangs of a beast.

People have instincts. When they see a sword coming, they will subconsciously want to dodge. Some cowards may even be so frightened that they don't even think about dodging, and can only scream and shout. If Cesar had only said that he was willing to withstand three blows from Walter, Walter might not have accepted his challenge so easily.

But since he said that he would not take a step back, nor would he cry out, nor would he shed a drop of blood, this meant that he was full of faith in God. This alone surpassed countless people, allowing him to gain the admiration of the Knights Templar and stand opposite Walter.

Since he said so, Walter said no more. He knelt on the cross with his hands bare, recited a very short hymn, and then called out the name of St. Paul loudly. Light shone from the darkness, and he raised his hand and grasped a bright cross sword. Flames surged around it, as if it was passed directly to him from the hand of an angel.

"One," he said.

There was a flash of light, like pure white silk pouring in the air, and he slashed at Cesar's left arm with a sword. Alas, although the Templar said some cruel words in his rage, he still left some room when it came to taking action.

Although the bones were separated, only a monk at the Pope's side could reconnect them - while the blood was still flowing and had not changed color - if the child's arm was cut off, he could only survive as a one-armed man, and could not become a knight, but could only go to a monastery, but at least he could still survive.

There were no wails, but there were no sounds like crashing or knocking. Two priests from the Grand Master of the Knights stepped forward. Although they were Knights Templar, when they received the blessing, they were "given" rather than "enjoyed." In other words, they were both the Grand Master of the Knights and priests, responsible for praying and healing the knights. But almost at the same time, Walter had already stepped back, lowering the tip of his sword to the ground. Everyone saw that the child was still standing there. To confirm whether he had moved, powder was sprinkled at his feet, so even if he just moved his toes, it would be clearly visible.

The two priests rushed forward to investigate, as if that was their original purpose. "I see clearly," said one of them, "he has not moved."

Another priest checked the place where Cesar was hit by the cross sword. A large piece of cloth was hanging from his left arm, but only the cloth was lost. "He didn't bleed," the priest confirmed.

The other Knights-General also checked—they would be witnesses when people asked about the trial.

"Two, then." Walter waited until the witnesses dispersed before raising his cross sword again. Everyone watched his expression, wondering what his first strike would feel like: steel, or hard wood? Or perhaps linen and wool? No one would think Walter would waste his blow; it would be an insult to himself and his faith.

The sword whistled and people's faces turned pale with horror. This time, it was heading towards their necks!

Could he not avoid it? Could he not cry out? Even if it was just a hoarse sound from his throat? The fine flour was right at his feet. He didn't even need to move, just a tremor would leave a clear mark on it.

This time they could even see that the muscles on Walter's cheeks and arms were bulging high. The Templar twisted his waist and let out a dull roar. His strong body and sturdy arms were like a spring that was tightened and then suddenly relaxed - even the giant who was killed by David would be beheaded by this sword!

But, oh, everyone saw it clearly! The sword lashed at the little follower's delicate neck like a whip, as if the next moment they could see that beautiful head flying into the air, blood being thrown into the air like a ribbon, and they could almost smell the sweet fishy smell.

It took them a long time to realize that all this was just their imagination. The little attendant was still standing firmly in the same place, motionless. There was no blood and no broken neck. Walter stood only three or four steps away from him, with an unpredictable expression.

"Come up and take a look." When Walter spoke, everyone woke up from their dream. They rushed forward to make sure that Cesar was still unharmed.

"Three." Walter said. People thought that this time he would roar, or make a feint, or fiercely stab the little follower's eyes. After all, as long as he could make him move or shout, the other party would lose. Even Cesar thought so - he saw the fierce light bursting out of Walter's eyes, which was colder and crazier than the mother bear who lost her cubs.

The cross sword was raised high, and the light was like the scorching sun. Even Cesar closed his eyes slightly uncontrollably, but the expected violent blow did not come. He heard a slight sigh from the crowd, and the sound was full of joy and praise. He opened his eyes and found that the cross sword did not chop down fiercely, but was gently placed on his shoulder.

"I think God has seen your faith," Walter said, lowering his hand and the cross sword dissipating on Cesar's shoulder.

------

In Amalric I's tent, Baldwin was not the only one who felt anxious. Heraclius was the same. But neither the former nor the latter could say, "Don't sympathize with those civilians who are like weeds, don't offend the Knights Templar, and don't show your strength and talent to everyone."

If Cesar was willing to obey such orders, he would now be nothing more than an insignificant servant in the Castel Santa Croce, and he could not even enter the Castel Santa Croce. When Baldwin contracted leprosy and was mocked by the servants re-selected for him by Amalric I, the king had already been furious and insisted on finding an impeccable companion for Baldwin.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he found it.

When a servant happily stepped into the tent and announced loudly that the king's envoys had returned safely and brought messengers from Tortosa, even Amalric I could not help but show his joy.

The irritable Walter de Lemesnil could even ignore the king's authority. It is not impossible that he regarded the envoys sent by Amalric I as a disgrace. The worst outcome would be that he would execute them and send them out of the castle. The best outcome would be that he would strip off their clothes, armor, and flags, and make them walk back to the camp in disgrace.

Baldwin emptied his trunk, hoping only that Geoffrey would try to save César's life.

But the result obviously exceeded everyone's expectations, even though they did hold onto a glimmer of hope - but when Cesar actually did it, they all felt intoxicated as if they had drunk a large glass of sweet wine.

Amalric I was still able to maintain the demeanor of a king. After confirming the location, time and approximate number of people of the battle with the Knights Templar of Tortosa, he gave them rewards and then showed a happy smile.

As soon as the outsiders left, Baldwin jumped onto Cesar and hugged his neck tightly. His face was flushed with excitement and he didn't even know what to say for a moment. Or rather, he wanted Cesar to talk about what happened in Tortosa Castle.

Of course, the first thing Cesare had to answer was the king's question, and he told him everything. When he said that Walter de Lemesnil's third sword was only placed lightly on his shoulder, Amalric I showed a subtle smile.

He would have done the same thing. Walter was nearly forty, and Cesar was only ten. Even if he won, would it be such a glorious thing? Losing was even easier. After the two previous attempts, an experienced knight would have been able to judge whether he could win the trial. Simply giving up the final blow would create a good story. People would only sigh at his kindness and generosity when they talked about it...

To be blunt, this favor might still be useful twenty or thirty years from now.

"You have saved me a great deal of time, manpower, and money," said Amalric I. "If you were already a knight, I would give you a horse, armor, and a retinue, but you are still a squire, so I grant you a wish. You can ask for it now or keep it, and I will grant it to you at any time."

Heraclius straightened his back and Baldwin held his breath, both of them guessing what request Cesar would make.

"I have only one request," Cesar said calmly. "Your Majesty, please spare the civilians of Tortosa Castle."

The king was silent, looking at Cesar with a stern look, and the tent was very quiet.

Did Amalric I vow to execute everyone in Tortosa Castle because they had dishonored and betrayed him? Of course not. It was only because of the obstruction and threat of the Knights Templar, as well as the entire Crusade, that he had to abandon his plan to chop off the heads of the masterminds and wash away the shame with their blood.

But a king's anger must always have a place to vent.

Because of this, the Knights Templar had already tacitly accepted the fact that except for a few people in the castle, everyone else would be executed by Amalric I to vent his anger. But now, a small follower boldly asked him to forgive everyone in front of him.

(End of this chapter)