Chapter 67: New Member
Baldwin took a small step back.
This action made him look a bit endearingly childlike, after all, over these three years, he and Caesar had both grown rapidly, and now they were about six feet tall and weighed one hundred and forty pounds.
Caesar was still worried whether this growth rate was normal, which drew laughter from Heraclius and Amalric I; it was quite amusing to see Caesar occasionally ask such childish questions.
Heraclius immediately dispelled his doubts, saying that if one passed the Choosing ceremony before the age of fourteen, or even earlier, the child would bathe in the glory of Heaven and become stronger and taller, just like wheat seedlings thriving under the sun, with visible changes every day.
This was a good thing, or one could say not entirely good, because if the child was too young, even if they survived the backlash after being Chosen by Michael or receiving the blessing, the sudden lengthening of bones, swelling muscles, or even just the high fever from losing teeth in the time that followed could still cause them to die young.
Now, when he and Baldwin went out, they were almost indistinguishable from adults, except their muscles were still a bit lean; Caesar seemed to be naturally so, while Baldwin’s was due to the persistent illness still tightly entwining him.
While Amalric I was full of worry, he was also eagerly awaiting the arrival of his second son. When the Byzantine Princess married him, she was already fifteen, a good age for bearing offspring, but there was no movement in the first year. In the second year, the king built a chapel to pray for a son’s arrival and promised that if a second son was born, he would build a church for the Virgin Mary.
The Byzantine Princess Maria also faced great pressure because of this. Before cohabiting with the king each time, she insisted on fasting for seven to ten days—though in fact this practice was not conducive to conception, Caesar couldn’t say anything—and before ascending the bed, she would pray together with the king. After cohabiting, she wouldn’t casually get out of bed and walk around, instead dispatching a reliable handmaid to pray for her, lest the precious seeds be wasted.
Finally, nine months ago, she was suspected of being pregnant.
Heraclius examined the queen’s urine, confirmed it was grayish-white with sediment, and then verified it through some ancient methods, such as immersing seeds in the urine to see if they would sprout early, or sprinkling the urine on a pregnant beast to see if it became agitated, and so on— the results were of course all joyful.
The king held a Thanksgiving Mass for this, along with a grand parade and almsgiving, and earnestly requested a priest devoted to Saint Joseph, the patron saint of women and families, and a Templar Knight devoted to Saint Antony, the patron saint of lost items, poor people, the oppressed, and pregnant women, to come to Holy Cross Castle to soothe and protect the fetus and the queen.
He even moved the queen’s room to the main tower, the former armory, on the grounds that it was quiet and secluded enough not to disturb the pregnant woman. In fact, everyone knew the king hoped that under the protection of the True Cross, the queen would give him a healthy son.
Although this era hadn’t yet reached the point of crowds watching the queen give birth—that was centuries later—the room of the woman in labor was still shielded very tightly, with windows covered by wooden boards and tapestries, the tapestries carefully selected to feature only saints or geometric patterns, no beasts or knights, lest the pregnant woman have hallucinations and the fetus become deformed from fear.
And in such a pitch-black room, only a single small candle was allowed, the air turbid, shadows flickering; a timid pregnant woman might even faint outright.
But the floor was certainly covered with the freshest rushes and herbs, ensuring it was a “comfortable environment.”
Fortunately, Princess Maria was strong and could give birth sitting in a chair, without needing handmaids to hold her, and there was a rope specially fixed to the ceiling that she could pull when in pain.
However, all this was relayed by several noblewomen; men were not allowed in the delivery room. The king and Prince Baldwin, Heraclius and Caesar, and all the chief ministers waited and prayed in the chapel.
Caesar heard Bohemond discussing the queen’s hips with Raymond; this was no irreverence, but purely out of concern and care for the kingdom’s heir. Bohemond said that though the queen was young, her hips were wide and her legs strong, so giving birth to a child shouldn’t be difficult, but Raymond cited his own example: his wife had died in difficult labor with her first child—and left him a son like a wild bull.
He said youth was certainly an advantage, but experience was the rarest; a woman who had given birth before wouldn’t cause such worry.
In fact, things seemed to be heading in the direction Raymond described. Normally, even a first-time mother should deliver the child within a day, at most adding a night, but no joyful news came from Queen Maria’s room.
The Countess of Jaffa entered the chapel with a grave expression, a Virgin Mary belt tied around her waist; the queen had one too, as did the noblewomen summoned to supervise and assist in the birth—they were called “God’s sisters.”
On the birthing bed there would also be a parchment belt around the waist, but rather than an ornament, it was more like a scroll, covered with prayers for safe delivery and pictures related to childbirth, said to ensure the queen gave birth smoothly.
But these relics apparently failed to free the queen from the devil’s torment—the countess requested a fragment of the True Cross to hold in the queen’s hand, and the king agreed.
The queen’s labor began at midnight, and now it was dawn of the second day. The king looked out the window, feeling they could wait no longer. “Call her in, and call them in too.”
“Her” referred to a dirty old woman carrying a basket timidly, a cloth draped over it, but when the guards checked, Caesar still saw the scissors and hook inside. She was the kind of person in a village most easily accused of being a witch, but sometimes indispensable, because when a woman was in difficult labor and the husband still wanted the wife, she would hook the fetus out—or if not, cut it to pieces.
Baldwin saw it too; it was at this moment he stepped back. Though over these three years they had followed Amalric I through several wars large and small against Saracens, Seljuk Turks, and even thieves, the thought that the one being cut might be his brother or sister…
They were a group of criminals.
Queen Maria was moved to the window of the room, and once positioned, at the king’s command, the attendants began vigorously whipping the criminals. They used all their strength, and in the gradually brightening daylight, those naked backs were soon covered in blood, the criminals’ howls rising and falling as they prayed, begged, cursed…
They knew well that if the queen still couldn’t give birth, they would be flogged to death.
“If the queen weren’t a Byzantine princess,” Bohemond said with schadenfreude, “that whip would be falling on her.”
And reassuringly, the frightened princess seemed to muster her final strength, and with joyful shouts from the handmaids and noblewomen, around the time the sky fully brightened, an infant’s cry rang out.
But disappointingly—the True Cross hadn’t prevented the devil from swapping the son in the queen’s belly for a daughter at the last moment.
——————
Damara was sure she saw Princess Sibylla smile.
She immediately lowered her head, even lightening her breathing—since Count Etienne’s departure, that farcical marriage was no longer mentioned, but it was only not mentioned; everyone kept it in their hearts and occasionally brought it out to savor and mock, at least Princess Sibylla thought so.
The Countess of Jaffa’s visit and reprimand only made things worse; after the countess slapped the princess and left, Princess Sibylla rarely burst into loud tears and didn’t eat properly for several days. If this had happened before that incident, many young men might have come to console her, but during those days they were as if dead.
Oh, no, that’s not quite right; at least Abigail insisted on visiting the princess, but before Count Etienne safely returned to Holy Cross Castle, he was sent back to Antioch by knights dispatched by his father. It was said that when he “left,” his cheeks were swollen like a peach pickled in honey, and those two knights treated him poorly, just short of putting him in stocks and chains.
The situation hadn’t improved much even after Amalric I married the Byzantine Princess Maria; these young men seemed to have grown up overnight. They still treated the princess with respect, enthusiasm even eagerness, but that subtle sense of distance was palpable even to simple Damara, especially after Queen Maria was confirmed pregnant.
Damara’s father had analyzed for Damara that if Queen Maria failed to bear a son, the inheritance rights to Ayyarasa Road would inevitably fall to Princess Sibylla or her offspring, and as long as one became the princess’s husband, as Bohemond had once hoped, at minimum one could co-rule Ayyarasa Road with her, or even supplant her.
But if the queen bore Amalric I’s second son, no further thought was needed: Baldwin could directly pass the throne to his brother, which wasn’t unprecedented on Ayyarasa Road, and Princess Sibylla’s inheritance rights would be postponed—if her brother soon married and had children, the possibility of gaining Ayyarasa Road through her would be even more remote.
When the news came from Queen Maria that she had given birth to a princess, not a prince, Sibylla’s smile was genuine. She turned to her handmaids—if not for the lesson from Count Etienne, she would almost have shared her joy with them!
And as she thought, soon the king sent for her to go to the chapel and pray with everyone for the newborn infant.
——————
Baldwin’s gaze was almost reverent… Though he made no sound, Caesar could tell he was begging the saints for protection—for himself. He wouldn’t tremble facing four or five fierce enemies on the battlefield, yet he was at a loss before a swaddling bundle, teetering.
Caesar had to steady him; if Ayyarasa Road’s prince, the future king, fainted from excitement the first time seeing his sister, people would gossip about it for years.
He looked down at the infant; she was wrapped in several layers of snow-white linen from chin to toes. People at this time believed infants’ bones were soft, and without wrapping them this way, the infant would grow into a dwarf or monster—he had seen many infants during his training and could tell this one would likely resemble Baldwin when grown…
She had inherited many of Amalric I’s features, but not the most important one. The king didn’t hide his disdain for this daughter at all; he even had the infant brought to Baldwin to see, but even though Baldwin’s condition had been well controlled these three years, this careless attitude—he was already starting to discuss expedition matters with Bohemond and Raymond.
Caesar could understand the king’s displeasure; after all, they had confirmed they would set out in September this year, avoiding the hot summer and cold winter, and this expedition might take several years.
That meant Amalric I couldn’t share a bed with Princess Maria again during these years to beget heirs; this daughter was completely outside his expectations.
Baldwin, however, was overjoyed, though still afraid to touch or approach his little sister. “Hold her for me.”
Caesar took the princess in his arms, and Baldwin leaned on his arm to look for a good while.
“Father.” He asked eagerly: “Have you named her?”
Amalric I had prepared a name for a son; for a daughter… “Isabella.”
The name Isabella comes from Hebrew, meaning “God’s oath” or “sacred promise.”
If it weren’t right before an expedition—this name was dignified and elegant enough, but at this time, it couldn’t help making one wonder what this “oath” and “promise” were.
Baldwin sensed it too; on the way back to the left tower, he sighed and complained to Caesar that Amalric I’s attitude was truly too cold. Even if Amalric I had always expected a son, he was still young; he and Queen Maria would have many children in the future.
On this point, Caesar really couldn’t offer consolation.
“You don’t need to accompany me,” Baldwin said. “Go sleep; you haven’t slept all day either.”
Though he said this, after Caesar returned to his room, he still drank a cup of coffee to dispel his slight sleepiness, then called a page to check if Damara was asleep or awake, and if awake, whether she was interested in going to the market with him.
Due to the need to stockpile fodder and arms, the original weekly market became twice weekly, and even on non-market days, merchants came in to trade goods; as long as not too conspicuous, the supervisors turned a blind eye.
Caesar hadn’t missed a single market, though he always went under the pretext of accompanying Damara, for which a whole layer of gold coins had disappeared from his box. Damara wasn’t greedy, but Caesar never had anyone work for nothing.
This day he left the castle again, not returning to his room until the afternoon, around two to three o’clock.
He barely had time to close the door, not yet reaching the window to lift the light-blocking tapestry, when he heard a light cough. “What did you buy?”
Caesar’s hand slipped, and the large bundle hidden under his cloak fell to the ground.
（To be continued）
