kingdom of nations

Chapter 66: The Last Mercy (Part )

Cesar, who was waiting in front of the king's tent, could clearly see the situation on the battlefield. The Knights Templar were able to enjoy various privileges, glory and money for a reason. If the knights of the Holy Sepulchre were like bulls, they were the lions hunting the bulls. In the first confrontation, there were obviously more yellow Alaskar crosses falling off their horses than red crosses.

But there was a team of elite soldiers led by William Marshall in front of the king's tent. Amalric I did not know William, but that did not prevent him from knowing how to use him - for example, at this time, William Marshall went straight to the strongest enemy. The strange thing was that they felt the same saint, Saint Patrick.

"Now it depends on who the saint is willing to protect." Amalric I murmured.

Two strong and tall horses galloped towards each other, and their knights put down their lances. In the collision, neither could do anything. When the lances broke, they drew their swords and hacked at each other on the horse until the horses could hold on no longer. First the Templar, then William, they rolled off the saddles and jumped up again.

The longsword broke and was replaced by an axe. The axe handle cracked and was replaced by a hammer. The shield shattered into pieces and the helmet was chopped off. Both men were covered in blood, but not much of it belonged to them. These knights who had visions of saints were like steel meat grinders on the battlefield. They collided, clashed and dodged each other, like a whirlpool full of sharp blades and blunt weapons. Ordinary people would inevitably be covered in bruises if they got close.

Baldwin was as nervous as Amalric I. The battle was at a stalemate and almost all the knights had dismounted, either being knocked off their horses or pulled down. Less than a hundred feet away from them, three Templars were fighting with a group of Knights of the Holy Sepulchre who had also fallen to the ground.

They held up shields and wielded swords and hammers, or spears and axes in one hand. One of them was particularly fierce. Even though he was surrounded by three or four enemies, he was not at a disadvantage. He raised his shield with one hand, knocked away a knight's sword, and stabbed with the other hand, stabbing the sword into the heart of a squire who was only wearing quilted cotton armor.

He drew his sword and turned to face another enemy, who leaped high with a spear and axe raised, thrusting the hard point into his shield in an attempt to wrest it away.

He almost succeeded, even though the Templar stood firm, but his companions rushed forward, raised flails and spears, and knocked the Templar to the ground - this was almost the end for a knight, but no matter how eager they were, they could not cut through his defense.

"Come again, come again!" someone shouted hoarsely, "The saint's favor is limited!"

If one chop is not enough, then chop it ten times. If ten times are not enough, then chop it a hundred times!

But this Templar was not only brave and blessed with great grace, but also had rich combat experience. Even in such a terrible situation, he did not panic. He covered his heart, abdomen and other vital parts with his shield, and at the same time, he kicked the thigh of an attendant, causing him to stagger back, and a gap was immediately created in the encirclement.

"Don't let him stand up!" a knight shouted hurriedly, but it was too late. The Templar's sword pierced from bottom to top into the gap between the hem of the other knight's chain mail and leggings. He screamed and retreated while pressing the bleeding wound. Before his companion could curse, the Templar had already stood up, and the advantage he had gained before was gone.

He raised his sword and entangled it with the long sword of the Templar Knight. The infantryman who had raised the spear and axe ran over again, trying to repeat the same trick. This time it seemed to succeed. The spear and axe once again pierced deeply into the shield, but a huge force came from the shield, forcing his body to lean forward. At this time, the Templar Knight raised his head high.

He slammed his head into the spear-and-axe infantryman, and the sharp corner of his helmet pierced into the opponent's face. With a wail, the infantryman held his face, took two steps back, and fell to the ground.

Then the Templar turned to the knight who was still fighting him, and while pulling out his spear and axe with one hand, he used the reverse force to kick him in the abdomen, and then swung his spear and axe at him, hitting his helmet.

He no longer had a shield, but he had two weapons. He charged into the crowd, unstoppable. A stray knight swung his chain hammer, but the Templar tilted his head and the chain hammer grazed his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.

"He has no favor!" someone shouted excitedly.

One man immediately rushed forward, grabbed the handle and one of the hammer heads of the chain hammer, and strangled him by the neck, while another man raised his dagger and stabbed at his throat, which was exposed when he raised his face. The Templar caught the sword tip. The iron chain on his glove rubbed against the dagger, making a creaking sound. He let out a loud roar, turned with all his might, and actually broke free from the shackles behind him, and pierced the neck of the man behind him with a spear axe.

But even here he was exhausted, and the king immediately called Heraclius: "Go quickly," he said, "and don't let anyone kill him!"

Heraclius immediately jumped on his horse and galloped away. The king did this so that if the knight was dying, Heraclius could at least give him the last sacraments.

Amalric I watched Heracles walk away. He was about to ask Baldwin beside him if he had learned anything from this or what lessons he had learned, but he saw Cesar beside him with a worried look on his face: "What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen Walter de Lemesnil!" César said. He had left a vivid impression on the Templars, and Walter in particular. Ever since the war began, he had been searching for Walter's flaming cross sword, but he had never found it.

The king was immediately alert when he heard this. He was about to kneel down and seek the saint's protection, but he only heard a sharp warning: "The Knights Templar! The Knights Templar are coming!"

The sound came from the left side of the king's tent. There was a small and dense forest on one side of this flat battlefield. The king had sent people to check it out and stationed some light cavalry there, but only the Knights Templar and their black and white flags galloped out from there.

Amalric I was not too alarmed at first, as there was a team of knights on standby among them. However, he did not expect that the Byzantine cavalry suddenly rushed out and disrupted the knights' team. They might want to show off in front of their new master - but the vanguard of this Templar team was none other than Walter de Lemesnil.

His cross sword, blessed by St. Paul, was like a rising flame in the sunlight, and the bright white light was so bright that people could not open their eyes. The two cavalrymen were also wearing armor. As we said before, they were commendable warriors, but at the same time the two teams collided, Walter's cross sword made a sharp whistling sound.

At that moment, it seemed that what was torn apart was not the people, horses and armor, but a thin piece of parchment. The people, horses and armor were just a picture drawn on the parchment. They were neatly split into two, and the broken limbs and body parts fell in the dust raised by the horses' hooves, and blood then fell like a waterfall.

Seeing this scene, the remaining Byzantines shouted in fear and fled in all directions, leaving the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre caught off guard. Fortunately, the light cavalry arranged by the king had already stepped forward, and the arrows that had been ready to be fired fell from the sky.

Unfortunately, Walter was leading the elite of the Knights Templar, and they had just called upon their saint. They were heavily blessed by the saint, and the arrows had no effect on them, only shooting down a few servants.

The knights of the Holy Sepulchre finally had time to face the new enemies, but Walter's target was not them. Except for the knights who blocked his way, he ignored everyone else and only came towards Amalric I.

"This is your first battle," Amalric I said, mounting the horse Baldwin had brought him. "It's a good first battle."

This was the first time Cesar saw the king fight, and he was surprisingly no less capable than Lemesnil. Even though he could only cover a physical spear with holy light, rather than a holy object obtained through prayer like Baldwin or Walter, when fighting with Walter, he showed no sign of fear or hesitation, and was not at a disadvantage at all.

Although Baldwin and Cesar were also on the battlefield, the knights knew they were two squires when they saw they were not wearing helmets, robes, sword belts, or golden spurs (symbols of knights), and did not fight with them. Instead, they left them as their own followers - but the pressure they were under was equally heavy. Many of the Templars' squires and armed attendants were already adults, and some of them were blessed.

Even though they only saw dozens of enemies when they looked around, when the real fight started, the enemies seemed endless, and sharp swords could be thrust out from anywhere.

Cesar didn't even remember when his horse collapsed. He only remembered that several times he had to cover Baldwin with his entire body to save him from fatal injuries.

Baldwin's fighting style was indeed worrying, just like when he played chess. Although the prince was gentle, humble and kind in his daily dealings with others, he was like a madman when fighting. St. George's spear was like thunder that pierced the battlefield, even clearing a wide white mark, and then slowly soaked with blood.

Cesar's fighting style was relatively simple. The light that enveloped him not only made him fearless of any weapon, just like Sigurd who bathed in the blood of the dragon Fafnir, but also gave him the strength of King David. He only needed to move sideways or charge head-on to knock his opponent away, making him unable to get up again.

Like Walter and William, there was no enemy in front of him who could fight to the second round.

Those who saw him could almost predict the rise of a new star, but unfortunately he was still a squire, unqualified to fight a knight, and they could not challenge him. Cesar felt as if he had sunk into a quagmire of blood. Walter once said that the blood of pagans had once drowned him to his knees, and now he was in blood, his nose, mouth, throat, lungs, and eyes all filled with blood, the smell of blood, the sweetness, and the touch of blood that was first hot and then sticky.

He could hardly see the things around him, and could only distinguish friend from foe from the position of the bright white spear. That was Baldwin. Even if the people around him were crowded together, he just had to lean against Baldwin's back and swing his sword in the direction of the spear.

César might have killed one, ten, or even a hundred men. No one knew when they were free, until the king ordered Walter de Lemesnil to be tied up and walked slowly towards them...

Some people tried to stop the king. They were all from the battlefield and knew that children who experienced such a scene for the first time would either be so scared that they would be paralyzed and cry, or they would burst into vicious hearts and indulge in killing.

"It's all right," Amalric I said. "I trust them."

Heraclius had also arrived. After hearing this, the monk raised his long eyebrows slightly and then lowered his head.

The king saw the two children, covered in blood and without any light or sacredness, sitting on the ground leaning against each other. When they heard his footsteps, one of them reached out and pushed the other, and the other hurriedly wiped his face - it was useless, as their sleeves were also soaked with blood, but from this action, Amalric I could recognize that he was his son Baldwin.

He strode forward proudly, held Baldwin in his arms, and then pulled up Cesar.

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Baldwin and Cesar did not rest for long. They barely wiped their faces and changed their clothes before they were rushed to the battlefield to perform another important task of the escort.

Because the Knights Templar promised to go out of the city to fight, the king also promised not to massacre conscripted and hired civilians except the main culprits. But on the battlefield, although the cloak of death covers everyone fairly, compared with those knights who are either blessed by saints, or protected by ransoms and surnames, or both, they are just insects on the roadside, and no one will feel sorry no matter how many of them are crushed to death.

Some were chopped, some were hacked, some were shot by arrows, some were trampled by horses' hooves, and some were just unlucky enough to fall or be caught up in the knights' fight.

Their heads were broken and bloody, they wailed, and when they saw the young retainers coming towards them with daggers or short swords - as Geoffrey reminded them, they begged, cried, pleaded for mercy, made broken promises, or lied that they were the illegitimate children of some great man.

Cesar's heart surprisingly calmed, for he had witnessed such horrific scenes in another world, though the disasters back then were caused by nature, not humans. But faced with the threat of death, people's reactions were not much different. They clung to this world, and even if it was not beautiful or fair, they still wanted to live.

And the duties he has to perform seem to be the same as before.

To decide who can live and who can only die.

There are better and faster treatments here than modern medicine, but priests and monks will not treat an ordinary civilian, even if he can pay for prayers. The favor of the saints they receive must be used in more precious places. Even if no noble person is injured at this moment, who knows if there will be any in the next moment?

And this is a battlefield.

If they only had broken bones, rolled up flesh, and dizzy heads, and sprinkled a handful of soil to stop the bleeding, they might be able to survive. Cesar would ask the soldiers to move them aside, but those with obvious heavy bleeding, skull fractures, and ruptured organs... they could only linger for a day or two, and there was no way they could escape the inevitable death.

They may still be breathing, or groaning, or even conscious, their eyes fixed on you, and these eyes will reappear many times in your dreams. Baldwin looked at Cesar worriedly, but saw that he just half-knelt down and let the hopeless man hold his hand.

"Save... help me..."

“I can’t,” Cesar said, not looking away. The man’s forehead had caved in, a broken bone piercing his chest. Even in a thousand years, he wouldn’t be able to be saved. “I can’t save your body,” he whispered. “I can only save your soul.”

His body was once again filled with a soft light, but this time it was not for fighting. "I have brought holy oil. If you are willing, I will anoint you and pray for you."

The man's pupils, which had been scattered, immediately froze. He stared at the person in front of him in disbelief. "Ah," he muttered, "I've seen you... I've seen you... ah," and a look of joy appeared on his face. "You are... you are... you are our little saint!"

"Yes."

The hand that was squeezing Cesar relaxed. "That's great," the man replied in a barely audible voice. "That's great, please... I can go to heaven, right?"

"Yes."

The man closed his eyes and smiled as Cesar rubbed him with oil and then stabbed him in the throat.

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"What is he doing?"

Taking the cup handed to him by Amalric I, Walter took a big sip of the cold wine. While drinking, he complained about the king's pettiness - it was not heated and there were no spices. But he was relieved. Generally speaking, giving food and drink to prisoners meant that the latter would not be executed - Amalric I had executed twelve Knights Templar, although the nature of their faults was different.

When he saw the holy light appear again on the battlefield, he thought that the child had encountered a stubborn enemy.

"Does he want to join the Knights Templar?" The Knights Templar are called knights, but in fact they should be called armed monks, so they say that they only obey the arrangements of the Lord in heaven - the priests among the Knights Templar can indeed perform sacraments for others.

As long as Cesar's actions do not seek personal gain (harming the interests of others) or as long as he does not impersonate a priest or monk, not many people will pursue him. After all, watching believers fall into hell is not a good thing.

"Don't even think about it," said Amalric I.

-------

Three years later.

(End of this chapter)