Chapter 87: Assault On The City!
Baldwin raised his hand and slapped it on his forehead with a smack. To make a young man at an age that should be carefree, with almost no economic or status constraints, make such a gesture, Richard deserves full credit.
They were merely exhausted, with no fatal wounds. So after being brought back, they just slept soundly for a whole night, received treatment from the priest, and immediately became lively again.
Caesar woke up half a day later than them, but in just that half day, Richard made Baldwin sincerely feel that his father Henry II must have committed countless sins to have such a son—no, his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine was equally sinful.
Although by our standards, Richard loved his mother very much, Baldwin never imagined that when Richard mentioned twice arranging a marriage for Caesar, he meant his mother.
“Eleanor?” When he heard this name, Baldwin involuntarily widened his eyes. Then he thought it might be Richard’s sister, the Duchess of Aquitaine and Henry II’s second-to-last daughter, Eleanor born in 62, which would make her age-appropriate.
“But my sister has no territory,” Richard said honestly. “I’m talking about Eleanor of Aquitaine, my mother.”
Baldwin was at a loss for words for a moment. He was dumbfounded and only managed to say after a while, “Do you want to petition the Pope to annul your mother and your father Henry II’s marriage?”
This was a major matter, involving not only the ownership of vast Aquitaine but also the legitimacy of the several children Eleanor bore after marrying Henry II. If the marriage were deemed invalid, those children along with Richard would all become illegitimate sons.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“But you just said…”
“My father is very old and won’t live many more years.”
“This isn’t about whether he lives or not,” Baldwin shouted loudly.
Even if Henry II died, as his widow, the Queen of England and Duchess of Aquitaine, she could not possibly give herself to an ordinary young knight.
Perhaps Antioch’s Constance（ was Bohemond’s mother） could do so, but that was because the holy kingdoms of the Holy Land had their peculiarities. Even so, Constance lost the knights’ support after Bohemond came of age, lost her power, and was exiled by her own son to some remote monastery, where she lived out her days in loneliness.
If Caesar were his real brother, there might be some possibility, since there was that damned family relationship between him and Richard—and quite a close one.
His grandfather Fulk V had a son from a previous marriage, Geoffrey, Henry II’s father, nicknamed “Handsome” or “Plantagenet,” who gained the throne of England through marriage. His eldest son “Short Mantle” Henry II was Richard’s father. In other words, they shared a common ancestor, and Baldwin was actually Richard’s uncle…
But the problem was, Caesar was not. His starting point was far lower than most knights. To marry a great lord like Eleanor, he would have to carve out a kingdom for himself with his sword after Baldwin ascended the throne.
Even so, because it involved Aquitaine’s rights, the English and French would gang up on this lucky man.
Simply put, how large was Aquitaine’s territory? One-third of France, far exceeding King of France Louis VII’s direct holdings. Moreover, Eleanor had married Henry II and borne him several children; Richard had only recently been confirmed as Duke of Aquitaine.
In other words, after Eleanor’s death, he would become the master of that territory. What would a new husband for Eleanor popping up mean?
In the face of such a critical issue, the age difference between Eleanor and Caesar was no longer a big problem.
Sincerely speaking, if Caesar could truly gain Aquitaine through this marriage, Baldwin would strongly support it, but unfortunately, it was impossible.
“Then what will you do?”
“I’ve always wanted to give up my territory and join the Knights Templar or Knights Templar, or your father’s Knights of the Holy Sepulchre,” Richard said confidently.
“I prefer to be a knight rather than a king, to fight for Christ rather than for my father or monarchs. I want to accomplish this holy and great cause, willing to die on the battlefield like King Arthur, rather than on a bed that only mediocre people like.
He thought his idea was excellent. “After my father dies, my brother will inherit his kingdom, and my mother—she needs a young, strong, loyal, and brave knight to protect her.”
He waved his hand. “The only reason I became Duke of Aquitaine was to help my mother hold onto her territory. My father has always coveted her dowry and been eager to seize it.”
“Caesar is so young,” he said bluntly. “If he marries my mother, he would mostly rely on her past prestige and the people’s love for her.
To establish his own authority, he would have to wait until my mother dies. By then, he should have built solid relationships with Aquitaine’s nobles and people, allowing a smooth transfer of power.
I wouldn’t have to worry about my mother, sisters, and brothers anymore, and Caesar is so handsome. Even if he and my mother have no children, just admiring him daily would make my mother’s remaining years joyful and radiant.”
Baldwin… Baldwin was stunned.
He could only warn Richard that if he dared tell this idea to anyone else, he would immediately go to Amalric I, have him tied up, put on a ship to Jaffa or Jaffa, and sent straight back to London for his father to deal with him.
Richard could only shut his mouth sullenly. “This is completely feasible,” he muttered. “Don’t you trust your brother? Besides, if he faces danger in Aquitaine, I will lead an army to help him.”
Before entering the tent, he was still trying his utmost to convince Baldwin and finally revealed his shameful true intentions.
His point was that after this campaign ended, there wouldn’t be any major battles here. It would be a pity for Caesar to stay and waste his youth.
He could first take Caesar back to London or Aquitaine. His mother had been imprisoned by their father, but no matter—he believed that with him and Caesar, they could quickly gather an army.
Or he could seek help from Louis VII, who always wanted to cause trouble for his father. As long as he hid his final intentions well, things might go extraordinarily smoothly.
As for when to return Caesar? Of course, for the next Crusades, when he and Caesar would come to Ayyarasa Road with their army.
“And then go back together after fighting, right?” Baldwin couldn’t help but sarcasm him.
“If I can carve out a territory, I’ll stay here,” Richard said full of expectation. “Caesar can go back and meet us at the next Crusades. Wouldn’t that be great, Baldwin? Maybe we could become Saint Baldwin, Saint Richard, and Saint Caesar someday!”
Faced with such a devastating blow, what could Baldwin do?
But out of consideration as a son for his father, he didn’t repeat this outrageous theory to Amalric I, who still naively thought having such a valiant and noble young man like Richard was a delight.
He praised Richard’s courage and piety, thanked him for helping Baldwin, but also subtly suggested that he shouldn’t worry his father and mother so much. He said he had written to Henry II, praising him highly for having such an outstanding son, and requested forgiveness on Richard’s behalf for his previous offenses.
Whether Richard wanted that forgiveness was another matter; he behaved quite elegantly and calmly in front of Amalric I, humble and restrained—at least he didn’t mention marrying his mother Eleanor to Caesar.
Amalric I had vaguely heard that he intended to arrange a marriage for Caesar but didn’t take it seriously. After all, since Caesar gained status, many people wanted to act as matchmakers—some asked Baldwin, some asked him.
Any normal person would assume Richard meant one of his mother’s handmaids, a minor noble’s second or youngest daughter. Amalric I didn’t even consider Richard’s own sisters—how could that be?
To Amalric I, Caesar’s future wife should be some woman from a remote territory in Francia far from Ayyarasa Road, to avoid him gaining more power and supporters in the Holy Land. Family name and lineage didn’t matter, but she had to be very wealthy—to ensure that when Caesar got a territory and built it up, he wouldn’t worry about shortages.
He knew Baldwin’s temperament: he would stubbornly refuse those who had once abandoned him, but if a friend he acknowledged was in trouble, he would unhesitatingly help with all he had.
Heraclius hadn’t even thought of it. His expectations for Caesar’s future were similar to Amalric I’s, but focused on the Knights’ upper ranks and neighboring vassals. The former might not care about Caesar’s past; the latter could bring Caesar a fixed dowry, that is, territory.
Hearing Richard’s words, Heraclius even laughed. He didn’t think Richard could really secure a good marriage for Caesar, but who was Richard?
Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou.
Although Baldwin was blessed by God and wouldn’t face challenges to his illness upon ascending the throne, if he really didn’t live to thirty, what about Caesar? He was already Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road, but he knew his position came from Amalric I—just as Caesar’s came from Baldwin. Once they lost these supports, their enemies would eagerly bare claws and fangs.
Unless they could establish an unshakable foundation beforehand, but that was too difficult.
But if Caesar gained Richard’s favor, he believed Caesar could also find a place in Aquitaine’s court. Thirty was the prime of a knight’s life—young and strong, experienced. Even he would have a fallback. Ayyarasa Road was holy, but couldn’t compare to sunny southern Francia for retirement.
Before Richard said his real name, Caesar had risen from the bed. His clothes had been changed by the monks, his body wiped clean. He tested himself; the previous soreness, pain, and fatigue seemed never to have existed. He saluted Richard again and accepted Richard’s gift—Richard directly took off the gold cross and hung it around his neck.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Not long, it’s dusk on the second day,” Baldwin said. “We won a great victory.” Even he got a bit excited here: “Laudae Island is ours now, but unfortunately, Fustat’s Saracens saw it was hopeless and immediately burned the drawbridge and the wooden bridge below—”
“Everything you said was right,” Richard added. “By then we had charged to the fortress’s highest point, with too many enemies, so we didn’t see—Saracens did prepare some ships upstream. The second wave of knights on the bridge were ambushed, but someone remembered your warning, and the knights stayed vigilant, so there were no losses.”
“How are our men?”
At this, Baldwin was even more joyful: “No deaths. Even the two who fell from the bridge only broke a few ribs. In the fortress battle afterward, we blocked the Saracen reinforcements from the drawbridge, and my father’s knights blocked those from the wooden bridge on the right side. They fought with some difficulty, but not too badly.”
“The King there…”
“King’s Gate—and Victory Gate—didn’t make much progress,” Richard said. Though he didn’t say it outright, his expression showed Fustat’s situation wasn’t going well. “Too many fools, and Fustat is indeed a large city… Fortunately, we won here.”
Otherwise, repeated early setbacks would easily breed fear and thoughts of retreat. Amalric I knew well that with just his own army and knights, he couldn’t encircle Fustat.
“Lord!”
Just as Richard was about to complain more, a herald suddenly entered, holding the king’s edict. He solemnly conveyed the king’s orders to Baldwin and Richard.
“A Saracen relief force of about five hundred is coming from Giza,” he handed the edict to Richard. “The king orders you to select suitable knights from his reserves to intercept them.”
