Chapter 58: Shall We Kill?
“Have you ever killed anyone?” Geoffrey asked.
Caesar was stunned for a moment, instinctively lowering his eyes, “I have.”
Although it was not his wish, nor his hobby, when Witt and others issued their malicious invitation, he knew that he and these original beneficiaries could only have a relationship of no rest until death.
They could also be said to be his first exam paper, and what kind of answer he gave on this exam paper directly related to his future destiny.
He was a cowardly person; he did not believe that if he disappointed Amalric I, Amalric I would forgive him as generously as he said. He had already seen that in this era, a person’s life was always as insignificant and fragile as sand in the wind.
Caesar could only tell himself that this was self-defense; they wanted to kill him, so he could only retaliate.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Geoffrey waved his hand casually. Since he had taken a liking to Caesar, he had of course looked into his past. Before being rescued by Amalric I, he was a slave of the Isaacites, but even though people did not know where he came from and he had no memory of his past, what he displayed was indeed the demeanor and talent of a knight’s son.
As for Witt, don’t let the fact that this guy also received a blessing fool you; to the Templar Knights, he was still just a patch of dried dog shit on the road—something you would disgustedly scrape off the sole of your shoe if you stepped in it by accident. His death would have no impact on the Holy Land, Holy Cross Castle, or the Knights.
Except for his crazy mother, Geoffrey spat in his heart. After Witt died, his mother was not willing to let it go—she had long wanted to get her son out of the monastery but had never succeeded. It was said that after hearing he was dead, she even secretly dug Witt out of his grave with some people.
She had once appealed to Amalric I, of course with no result. So she ran to the Patriarch at that time to appeal, but the Patriarch couldn’t be bothered with that insignificant little woman who offered no gain, and in the end, she actually approached the Knights Templar—it was truly ridiculous.
Although the Knights Templar had many conflicts with Amalric I, in this situation, they would not stand by an Isaac woman’s side. She was mocked wantonly, nearly beaten to death by the soldiers, and in the end could only curse as she took her son’s corpse and walked far away.
When Geoffrey heard this, he couldn’t help but curse these guys for not handling things cleanly enough—he immediately took people to chase after her, but this woman was very cunning. As soon as the Templar Knights followed her to the Isaacites’ neighborhood, she slipped away like a fish into the sea, vanishing without a trace.
Although the knights could raid the Isaacites’ neighborhood to search, unfortunately at that time Amalric I was preparing the ceremony to welcome the Byzantine Princess into the city, with large numbers of craftsmen building the arena for the martial arts tournament here, people everywhere, materials and warehouses… in the end, it could only be dropped.
But it should not matter much. Geoffrey thought to himself, how much trouble could one Isaac woman stir up?
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he pulled his attention back to the conversation with Caesar. “You already know that your king has decided to attack our castle in Tortosa, right?”
Caesar nodded: “It’s not a secret.” Amalric I, upon hearing the accusation from the people of the Eagle’s Nest, immediately summoned the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. He may have intended to mediate, but both sides were at daggers drawn with no room for reconciliation, especially since the Grand Master of the Knights Templar had an unprecedentedly tough attitude. He and Baldwin could almost hear Amalric I’s roars from the left tower.
To speak from the heart, he also thought that the hierarchical relationships in this era were very strange, or rather, only in the Holy Land was there such a loose and deformed relationship.
Amalric I was the Lord of the Holy Land. Yes, he was also the leader of all the Crusaders; Antioch, Tripoli, and the surrounding Christian cities could all be said to be his vassals, but aside from the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre directly under his jurisdiction, the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights Templar only obeyed the orders of the Pope of Rome.
As the Grand Master said, they fought for God, not for secular monarchs. Their relationship with Amalric I was merely cooperative; they might be willing to follow Amalric I’s commands when fighting against the Saracens, but at other times, not only would they not bow to Amalric I, they would frequently challenge his authority.
The forces in the Holy Land were like a monster forcibly held together by faith, with each head having its own will, always quarreling and fighting incessantly. Although they could barely stay united when facing the Saracens, people were emotional creatures after all. Caesar, watching from the side, found it shocking and wondered when this barely pieced-together thing would suddenly fall apart.
“Last time Amalric I hanged twelve of our brothers, which made many of us angry and uneasy, but in the end, they were indeed negligent. Not only did they lose an important military outpost against the Saracens, they also surrendered to the Saracens. Even if they returned to the Knights Templar, they would still be held accountable, and might even be executed.
What Amalric I did was somewhat excessive, but still within his authority,” Geoffrey analyzed calmly: “After all, the Knights Templar can continuously receive various donations, privileges, and fresh blood because we are fighting for Christ, exterminating those hateful heathens, and ensuring the safety of pilgrims along the way.”
“This is the foundation upon which the Knights Templar was established and has stood until now. If we fail to fulfill what we promised to God and the faithful, the Knights Templar would be a palace built on sand, destined to collapse sooner or later. But this time is slightly different. The brothers in Tortosa struck against heathens, even though your king keeps saying he intends to win over this force that split from the Seljuk Dynasty and bring them to convert to God.
But haven’t they converted yet?
The Templar Knights striking them is like a lion hunting goats—it was originally a perfectly reasonable matter. But from your king Amalric I’s standpoint, this is a naked provocation that he cannot tolerate.
So, you can see it as a punitive small-scale war. The scale of this war will not be large, and Amalric I will surely win.”
“The Knights Templar… won’t intervene?”
“No intervention. Neither side.” Geoffrey said bluntly.
Caesar couldn’t help but raise his hand, “May I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.” Geoffrey answered readily.
“Don’t you have jurisdiction over the branch in Tortosa either?”
“We do indeed have a Grand Master, Provost, Knight Commander, and all sorts of large and small administrators and supervisors. But according to the original doctrine, everyone in the Knights is of equal status; the brothers are like monks in a monastery. When a brother becomes stubborn, as long as he has not broken his oath, abandoned his faith, or blasphemed God, we can only advise him, not attack them.
Otherwise, we would be killing each other under God’s gaze, destined to be abandoned by the saints and cursed—we would never do that.”
Geoffrey then lowered his voice and said, “Of course, the brothers stationed outside can and should have more freedom.” He said meaningfully, “You know as well that to maintain the operation of a military fortress, we need a lot of money.”
Knights do not engage in production; the Templar Knights often say they are armed monks, but they equally despise and loathe labor. But what doesn’t require money? Food, water, clothes, armor…
On their own territory, they can collect taxes from tenant farmers and merchants; what about on Ayyarasa Road? Of course, the old way: collecting taxes from passing merchants and pilgrims, as well as tribute from surrounding forces.
The new master of the Eagle’s Nest only took over this position a few years ago,” Geoffrey said: “But there are also voices opposing him in the Eagle’s Nest. We all know that the founder of the Eagle’s Nest was Hassan; his son Hassan II inherited his position. After Hassan II’s death, his child should have gotten the position. But the problem is, his son is still very young, so Rashid al-Din Sinan became the new elder.”
Geoffrey gave Caesar a knowing look: “Sinan was once Hassan II’s close friend. Some suspect he seized the power that Hassan II left for his heirs by exploiting Hassan II’s trust in him.
And when he was in Tortosa—he lived very difficultly, so he even signed an alliance with us, paying a sum of money each month to the Templar Knights in Tortosa, and the amount was not small.
But later they signed a new alliance with your king, and one clause was to cancel this tax.”
Hearing this, Caesar suddenly understood: so Amalric I was generous, but with other people’s money.
The Templar Knights branch in Tortosa suddenly lost such a large sum of money; he certainly would not let it go and boldly sent troops to sabotage the alliance between the Eagle’s Nest and Holy Cross Castle.
And the Templar Knights on Ayyarasa Road have decided to remain neutral this time, because the root of the matter is rather ugly to say—whether the Lord of the Holy Land, Amalric I, makes peace with the Saracens—others won’t care what faction or stance the Eagle’s Nest belongs to; they only know that those who do not believe in God are heathens.
And the alliance that the Templar Knights in Tortosa signed with these Saracens even dates back several years—they attacked the Saracens this time not for righteousness or faith, but for money.
“But your king also agreed with the Knights Templar on a condition: he can only capture the Templar Knights in Tortosa—if they do not die immediately on the battlefield, he cannot execute them. The Knights Templar are willing to pay ransom for them, including some sergeants and escorts on the list, but ordinary soldiers are not included.”
Geoffrey said seriously: “To demonstrate authority and vent his anger, your king will surely choose to kill them all. Do you understand?” He stared intently at Caesar: “Not one or two, not ten or twenty, but more. You and Baldwin, since the king is sending you to the battlefield, you must fulfill your duties as escorts, one of which is to walk the earth after a brutal war, in the fortress, and finish off those still moaning and crying.
Those worthless things—you have to stab your sword into their chests or slit their throats with a dagger to ensure they are thoroughly dead.
There are about fifty Templar Knights in Tortosa; each knight has one or two escorts, three or four armed attendants, and some sergeants—the kind that will be left behind, about a hundred or so. Priests are of course exempt, as are craftsmen.”
Geoffrey counted on his fingers.
“The remaining soldiers and laborers number four or five hundred. To temper your character and make you see blood, Amalric I will surely call on you to do it—this is a rare good opportunity. But can you do it? You can fight back against those who want to kill you, but in front of those unarmed, dying, perhaps crying and begging for your mercy, desperately wanting to live—can you strike?
If not, you must start preparing from now.
A knight is a hunting dog,” the Templar Knight said without shame: “Whether God’s or Amalric I’s, a hunting dog that cannot race across the hunting grounds to bring its master rabbits and geese is useless, no matter how sleek, clever, strong, or loyal it is.
Useless swords will be broken and recast; hunting dogs are the same, and so are people—especially since the master you serve, Baldwin, has received a blessing and those close to him have not been infected, making the positions around him hotly contested again.
If he hadn’t insisted, there certainly wouldn’t be only you by his side now.
Amalric I probably won’t be pleased about this. If you cannot show greater value, Baldwin won’t be able to protect you,” he placed his hand on Caesar’s shoulder and pressed down hard. “You are the child most favored by God that I have ever seen; you seem flawless. Perhaps because of that, he gave you this greatest weakness.
You must overcome it—do not see those lying on the ground wailing and moaning, looking at you with helpless eyes, as innocent as pilgrims. If it were you lying there, they would strike without hesitation, even more cruelly.
They are your enemies. Treat them as you once treated your enemies,” he shook Caesar’s shoulder hard, his expression grave as he said in a low voice: “Understand? This is something you must do.”
——————
“Do you really like him that much? You’re teaching him almost like you’re instructing a new brother joining the order.”
Not long after Caesar left, a Templar Knight who had observed the entire conversation approached and sat opposite Geoffrey.
“Is he not worth it?” Geoffrey asked.
“He even refuses to follow your advice to leave Baldwin and join the Knights Templar.” The other said with a smile.
But they both knew clearly. If Geoffrey made such a suggestion and Caesar immediately joyfully abandoned his original master to join the Knights Templar—
Of course, Geoffrey would not break his promise; he would still accept him, but he would probably no longer earn the respect of the Templar Knights.
Even if the blessing he received was enviable, even jealous, he would only become a spear or shield that the Templar Knights would not hesitate to use. Even if he luckily survived, he could forever only be a sergeant, unable to formally advance to knight, let alone further.
A person disloyal to their original master will inevitably be disloyal to their new one—this is an idea engraved in everyone’s heart.
“Many people are inquiring about the attendant by the prince’s side,” the later Templar Knight said: “And indeed, which lord, or lord, or even king would not want such a beautiful and capable little attendant by their side? For them, keeping such a pleasing little thing in court is no trouble at all.”
“He refused?”
“No, those invitations never even reached him.” After all, to those in the know, these invitations were almost a form of humiliation; they did not understand the relationship between Baldwin and this attendant and only thought they could buy him with money.
“However,” the later Templar Knight said, “when William Marshal burst onto the scene in the arena, these people’s attention was all diverted. After all, a nine-year-old attendant, no matter how immeasurable his future, how could he compare to a knight who is useful right now? Even Amalric I wanted to invite him to join the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, but William Marshal did not agree.”
“As expected.” Geoffrey said.
William Marshal was not only English but had recently received a favor from Queen Eleanor—the Templar Knight recounted the matter between William Marshal and Queen Eleanor, then continued: “With such a favor, Amalric I could not press further and could only give this brave knight a set of silver-plated chainmail and some money.
But I think when William Marshal returns, Queen Eleanor and King Henry the Young will also not stint on rewards.”
“Of course, didn’t he come to participate in this martial arts tournament precisely to establish King Henry the Young’s authority?” Geoffrey said. At this time, dual rule by two kings was very common; sometimes it was the Queen Mother and the king ruling together. Sometimes even the old king and the new king co-ruled. What King Henry the Young faced was this situation—Henry II was still alive, still holding a vast court and palace apparatus, and although he had abdicated, he still controlled most of the power.
King Henry the Young was also very young and immature. Even with Queen Eleanor supporting him from behind, he could not confront his father head-on.
In that case, William Marshal had to make a name for himself so as not to shame his master.
“He did it; the offers from those lords or envoys were truly tempting.” The later Templar Knight teased, “Even I was tempted.”
Geoffrey nodded in agreement, “After hearing a few of those offers, I thought that even if William Marshal wavered, it would be understandable.”
“Hey,” the later Templar Knight asked with a beaming smile, “Didn’t you always believe that a person’s character is like a flawless porcelain plate, irreparable once cracked?”
“William and Caesar’s situations are different,” Geoffrey said frankly. “William Marshal was originally the second son of a count. Before meeting Queen Eleanor, he had already passed the Choosing ceremony and been knighted. Queen Eleanor merely ransomed him from others; what she redeemed was his body, not his soul.
But Caesar… although I very much hope he can become a Templar Knight, I must admit that without Amalric I back then, he would still just be a slave of the Isaacites, to be sold to heathen slaves.
Do you understand? Even if he had been baptized before, at his death, no one would perform the sacrament for him. His soul would fall into the lake of fire in hell, burned for ten thousand years until possibly redeemed at the end of the world.
Amalric I’s favor to him is completely different from Queen Eleanor’s to William Marshal; the two are incomparable.”
——————
“Baldwin?”
“Hm?”
“If…”
Baldwin waited patiently; it was the first time he had seen Caesar show such a hesitant expression.
