Chapter 68: Herbs
Only a crisp strike was heard, the flint was struck alight, and a candle was lit—he seemed to have no intention of lifting the tapestry or opening the shutter to let someone spy—the flickering firelight illuminated his face, and it was no other than Heraclius, the teacher of Prince Baldwin and Caesar.
Heraclius turned his head and looked at Caesar. “Close the door tight,” he said. As Caesar turned to shut the door, he stood up from the chair, walked over to Caesar, bent down to pick up the package. The package was small and light. Heraclius silently placed it on a large chest and opened it, beginning to rummage through the contents.
“What is all this?” Heraclius asked.
Caesar hesitated. “Herbs.”
“I’m glad you haven’t taken me for a fool yet,” Heraclius said. “I thought you might tell me these are spices and seasonings you use for cooking, just like you told those idiots.”
“You’re very cautious, very careful. You don’t make appointments with anyone, nor do a second transaction with them. You wander the market with Damara at your side, a bossy noble lady with endless demands. No one would think you’re the one keen on the market. Indeed, most people would think you bought these things on a whim or were cheated.”
He held up a tuber. “Aconite, hmm,” then grabbed a handful of plant stems and bark. “Elder, burdock, licorice…” He stared at Caesar. “But do you know how many are watching Prince Baldwin? How many are watching you?”
“Teacher…”
“They truly don’t know what these are and can’t get their hands on any—you and Baldwin might think you’ve done it flawlessly. If for ingestion, Baldwin would chew it up completely and swallow it; if for rubbing, mix it into the lard and palm oil for weapon polish; if for bathing, put them in a gauze bag, let it dry, and toss it straight into the fire.”
“We…”
“But they can always find the herb seller or note the features of those items. One priest might not know, two priests might not know, but three priests still wouldn’t know? Of course you could say you’re just using them to cook food, but… sometimes, many things just need a pretext.”
Heraclius said sternly, “These days, it’s the King and I cleaning up after you.” Seeing Caesar’s slightly stunned expression, he curved his lips without any smile. “Surprised? I was more shocked than you when I discovered you could use herbs—and that these herbs actually worked!”
“This…”
“This outcome isn’t entirely unexpected. You even pity those lowly farmers and prostitutes…” Prince Baldwin and Caesar were just one blood tie short of being true brothers—no, they were even closer than true brothers, after all, real brothers might scheme against each other or clash with swords for the throne.
“I couldn’t just watch…”
“Baldwin’s condition now is much better than I imagined,” Heraclius said. “Your medicine is indeed effective, but precisely because it’s effective, you’ve brought big trouble upon yourself.”
“Baldwin told me the Church doesn’t allow anyone but priests and monks to practice medicine.”
“Practice medicine?” Heraclius let out a loud scoff. “Far more than practicing medicine, Caesar. You didn’t even ask me—even for Amalric I, I wouldn’t just watch Baldwin suffer, but why haven’t I done it? Why only use St. John’s Wort to fob you off? Or do you think I’m as ignorant as those fools?”
“I didn’t…”
Heraclius just waved a hand. “Baldwin has contracted this terrible disease. Indeed, to my knowledge, perhaps some herbs can alleviate his pain and the progression of the disease, but we’ve still been earnestly praying, mediating, and negotiating.
Why? Simple—even permission to use herbs is monopolized by the Church. Only herbs approved by the Pope of Rome are relics; otherwise, they’re the devil’s bait. We can’t take that risk.”
He pointed at the items on the table. “You haven’t encountered true malice yet. This isn’t a secret or law everyone can access—Baldwin only knows a bit, but if it’s proven you used these herbs, and you’re not a monk or priest, you can only be a servant of the devil.”
“But aren’t you already the Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road?” Caesar asked.
“Even a Patriarch fears enemies, especially when they’re numerous,” Heraclius said calmly. “You’re still a bit naive—nothing, that’s our fault. We truly didn’t expect you could do it—could there really be a millennium-old devil hiding in this perfect shell?” He even joked, “But this ends here.”
“But!” Caesar said in a low voice.
At first Baldwin disagreed too, but the symptoms in his left hand had progressed to affect balance and grip. This important limb sometimes suddenly became a useless burden. He even forgot what he was holding and let it fall or shatter—and those patches, they began to raise, crack, or ulcerate. The first time he saw the rotten marks like countless whip scars in the morning sunlight, Baldwin nearly collapsed…
He had still clung to some illusions before, but they shattered so quickly and vividly that he couldn’t even deceive himself.
Baldwin couldn’t sleep; he itched and tingled all over, blood flowed from his mouth and nose. He begged for the saint’s blessing time and again, Saint George’s spear still shone sharp, yet it could never dispel his fear—his abnormality naturally couldn’t be hidden from Caesar, who was by his side most of the day.
Caesar suggested it; he firmly opposed, but Caesar wouldn’t urgently force him. He just kept persuading Baldwin.
The left tower was now “very clean.” Using Damara as cover to buy spices and seasonings at the market was above reproach. Who would believe a knight Chosen by Michael would know herbs? Though he was Heraclius’s student, Heraclius had never let him cross that line on this point.
Baldwin finally nodded, but at first he only allowed Caesar to get a little medicine for him. Gradually, they realized people saw the alleviated symptoms as the saint’s favor, and they grew bolder.
“Ancient Greek ατρ, Latinized as īātrós—we’ve had the word ‘doctor’ since early on, and in Ancient Rome and earlier records—before the Church appeared—doctor was a profession, though many were slaves. So when did doctors disappear?”
“Roughly in the last century,” Heraclius answered himself. “It’s time you learned some knowledge beyond books, child. This question traces back to the beginning of the Choosing ceremony— what, you don’t think the Choosing ceremony has existed since God created the world.”
He pointed his finger downward, signaling Caesar to sit.
“In fact, in the second century AD, the concept of pilgrimage emerged, but not to Ayyarasa Road, rather to Rome or the Apennines. In the fifth century came the notion of saints, and by 800, Pope Leo III crowned Charlemagne in Rome, birthing the divine right of kings—and in these centuries, the miracles shown by priests and monks were indispensable—who doesn’t fear pain and death?”
And in these centuries, people discovered not every monk and priest could perform ‘miracles,’ and some pious warriors or knights, after prayer, gained powers different from monks’ but still worthy of awe—smart people always exist. At least to my knowledge, some began early compiling locations, numbers, and frequencies of blessings.
“You said the holier the place, the more likely to receive a blessing.”
“Indeed. At first, people focused on those spirited churches, monasteries, and saints’ tombs, but later they found the key was relics. You know not every relic is authentic, but highly authentic relics do increase chances of blessing—thus, in the tenth and eleventh centuries came ‘penitential pilgrimage.’ Tell me, what is penitential pilgrimage?”
The sudden question stunned Caesar, but brought an indescribable wondrous feeling. “Penitential pilgrimage is when a sinner atones through Mass, prayer, or buying indulgences, or by pilgrimage—they must journey far to Ayyarasa Road, then bring a true relic to the local church as atonement.”
Heraclius showed a faint smile. “Yes, I don’t know which cunning priest thought of it, but it worked. Even if most brought back fake relics, some brought real ones—and immediately after possessing true relics, young priests received blessings…”
“Wait, teacher, you mean…”
“Yes, otherwise, why? Ayyarasa Road and surrounding areas were held by heathens for centuries, their prosperity and wealth well-known. Pilgrims’ roads weren’t cut off overnight, and most sultans and caliphs were tolerant— so why did Pope Urban II only incite the Crusades in 1095?
Not to mention the Byzantine Emperor’s plea for help—Seljuk Turks didn’t suddenly appear at Constantinople’s city walls one morning…”
“I can only say, demand drives action. Before the Crusaders reached Ayyarasa Road, they plundered vast wealth in Byzantium to send back to Europe and the Apennines. From then on, those receiving blessings increased.”
Heraclius raised one finger. “You know, before seeing the holy light cover you, I thought you might not receive a blessing. You’re insufferably arrogant—don’t deny it. I know you don’t believe in God, even if He appeared before you, you’re a donkey more stubborn than Saint Paul. （Saint Paul refused to believe in Jesus’s resurrection until Jesus appeared）”
He muttered lowly, “I don’t know where you came from—no, rather, you believe in no one. Allah, whatever, anything…”
“Of course, you receiving a blessing is good, but such good fortune isn’t for everyone, even if they’re priests, monks, a bishop’s illegitimate son, their lover’s father or brother. So how do these people still get a satisfying position?”
“They’re… doctors?”
“Right—who doesn’t get sick or injured? Knights do, lords do, kings do. Isn’t Baldwin an example? Even with the saint’s favor, he’s still a patient—the Roman Church can still hold it as a key chip. Moreover, the doctor profession originally conflicts with monks Chosen by Raphael.”
Caesar nodded. He understood—not every monk or priest could instantly make the lame walk or heal lepers on the spot; that’s for Jesus Christ. Ordinary monks and priests treat fractures, bleeding, fevers, or diarrhea, etc., but if doctors continued, people might not choose them.
After all, the cost for treatment from monks and priests wasn’t something ordinary people could bear—sometimes they’d be blackmailed into yielding vast land or hundreds of serfs, even a forest and lakes.
Back then, Caesar could be tended by a monk Chosen by Raphael at Saint John the Baptist’s chapel because he only had a slight fever and fainted, no serious injury, and he was truly pitiable.
Even so, Abbot John “casually” mentioned that if settling the bill, even as a knight, Caesar would owe a full ten years’ debt.
“So do you understand now?” Heraclius pointed at the herbs Caesar brought. “If discovered you used herbs to slow a leper’s disease—even if not healing—every monk or priest would want to devour you. It’s not one or two people; the whole Church would be in unrest.”
“Would lords and kings think the same?”
“Tch,” Heraclius made a “truly troublesome” face. “Even the devil would call you teacher, child, but you’re only one man. Amalric I protects you because you’re protecting his heir; others won’t, unless you suddenly produce ten thousand doctors—then they might play along with the Church.”
“And you hit the nail on the head,” Heraclius continued. “The Church has no army; what they have are priests, monks, and God’s residences on earth （monasteries and churches）. Without those two, our previous Patriarch is a cautionary tale for all holy officers.”
Recalling now, it was because the Patriarch explicitly refused to treat Baldwin, even barring Amalric I and the heir from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre during the Choosing ceremony, that the King decided to break ties completely.
And those oil lamps laced with poppy paste—nothing came of it afterward, as those people predicted. Heraclius’s potion couldn’t be brought to light either; saying it out would cause an uproar.
“But Baldwin…”
“Not for the time being at least,” Heraclius said. “We’re about to join other Crusaders; merchants will follow us, but who doesn’t know you’re Baldwin’s close friend? Anything you do is as good as Baldwin doing it…” He shook his head. “May God protect Baldwin, and you—”
He placed his hand on Caesar’s shoulder. “Then, leave these herbs and what follows to me.”
