Chapter 35: Mithridates Prescription
Geoffrey watched as Caesar picked up the money bag and tied it to his own belt, nodding in satisfaction. As an old knight, the thing he was most impatient with was talking to fools, whether they were in the Knights Templar or outside.
He noticed that after the child put away the money bag, he seemed to have something else to say to him: “Is there anything else you need my help with?” He couldn’t think of anything for a moment. If it were him, the biggest thing would be to leave that cursed place, Holy Cross Castle.
“I have a servant,” Caesar said, “When I was doing asceticism in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, he served as my guard by my side.”
“And then?”
“He is a wandering knight, but he has a family name and background. He has been in the Holy Land for several years and has always wanted to join the Crusaders but has not succeeded.”
“You want him to join us?” This was a bit difficult, and Geoffrey frowned.
How to put it? When the Knights Templar was first established, almost any knight could join, but fifty years later, the Knights Templar had become a golden Temple Mount, no longer needing people to add glory to them. Instead, those who joined could gain many benefits from it.
Therefore, wanting to join the Knights Templar was harder than joining the Church. One needed either power, money or territory. In short, it was impossible for a wandering knight with no backing or background.
“He doesn’t have such great ambitions,” Caesar said: “As long as he can practice in the Knights Templar for a while.”
Geoffrey raised an eyebrow: “For a while?”
“He will leave after January 6.”
“Does Your Highness the Prince know?”
“No.”
Geoffrey suddenly showed a playful smile, and then the smile became lighter: “That’s good.” His hand wearing chainmail gloves reached across the table and landed heavily on Caesar’s shoulder, instantly making the space darker and more secretive: “Perhaps you are too young, or perhaps Baldwin is too young. You both have not yet realized what a king, a person with endless power, can be twisted into?
You respect your master, which is worthy of respect, and on top of that, you can still maintain your own thinking ability and code of conduct. Not everyone can do that. There are always some people who, like stubborn guinea pigs, will not stop until they crash their heads and bleed.
He sat back in the chair: “Are you talking about that knight in black who has been following behind us? I agree. Call him in.”
“You noticed?”
“I noticed him from the drawbridge. He is very smart and agile, but I am Christ’s warrior.” Geoffrey pointed to his head, “To deal with those Saracens as cunning as foxes, how can one not be vigilant enough?”
Caesar couldn’t help but show a bit of admiration. Seeing this, Geoffrey felt a surge of comfort in his heart. To know, if a child shows wisdom surpassing his peers or even adults, it does make one happy, but at the same time, it inevitably brings a bit of frustration.
Being able to make him show the expression a child of this age should have—if not worried about getting drunk, the Templar Knight would almost call the tavern owner again to buy several large cups of beer and drink heartily.
Longinus had been waiting outside the tavern early. As soon as Caesar called, he ran in. Upon seeing the expressions of Caesar and that Knight Master in the white robe, he knew the matter was settled. He immediately wanted to kneel down and kiss Geoffrey’s chainmail gloves, but was pulled up by him: “A bow between brothers is enough.”
“The quartermaster has just complained to me about the lack of manpower to organize the warehouse,” Geoffrey said: “You have a guarantor whom I trust. I hope you can live up to his trust.”
“I will never betray his expectations of me,” Longinus said sincerely.
“What is your name?”
“You can call me Longinus for now. Before coming, I swore that before I make a name for myself—at least by cutting off the heads of three Saracens—I will not take back my original family name and name.”
“That means you are quite lucky,” Geoffrey stroked his clean chin: “Give him a gold coin, let him shave off his beard, change into a clean robe, and do a good job.” He said to Longinus: “If you do well, there might be a chance to stay in the Knights Templar.”
But Longinus said: “To stand among God’s knights, even if only for a short three days, is glory enough for me to preach for a lifetime.”
Geoffrey snorted: “Since when has the Knights Templar become so unpopular?” But deep down, he truly preferred people like Caesar and Longinus—those who didn’t immediately show greedy joy and impatience at the mere mention of joining the Knights Templar. This was a quite contradictory psychology, yet very real.
He said no more, waved his hand directly, and walked out of the tavern. Longinus looked at Caesar, and Caesar nodded.
They mounted their horses, and Longinus tried hard not to laugh. Since he met this green-eyed, black-haired boy, he had never seen him lose composure, not even when encountering an assassin or facing hundreds and thousands of poor pilgrims…
But today, Caesar riding his pony Castor was a whole head shorter than them, indescribably… cute. Longinus then realized that the master he followed was still a child.
“What’s going on?” Geoffrey muttered. The street they were passing was already crowded, now completely impassable. He had not brought an attendant today in order to have a heart-to-heart talk with Caesar—Longinus, seeing this, immediately dismounted, lifted his sword scabbard to whip the sluggish crowd, “reminding” them to clear a path.
“They caught two people intending to destroy the market.” Geoffrey vaguely saw some moving figures and actions, guessing what had happened there.
There was always an open space in the Market for publicly punishing merchants who evaded taxes or sold fake goods. Earlier, those two merchants selling bad wine and dead birds—one was still drinking his wine, his body already frozen red, the other still eating his dead bird. And between them, another woman had been added. Her clothes were ragged, she knelt on the ground, and two people were digging a pit for her, preparing to bury her alive.
The Market Inspector also saw the white robe and red cross. He hurriedly dispersed the crowd, telling them to come back later for the spectacle.
At this time, the charge of destroying the market was very serious: men would be hanged, women buried alive. But as Caesar rode his pony Castor past, the woman suddenly looked up at him. Caesar was just stunned, and Geoffrey, who had been watching him, noticed: “Do you know her?”
In fact, if not for Caesar’s strong memory, he wouldn’t remember this woman easily, as most poor people at this time were disheveled and ugly in appearance. “She is the woman whose child was ill.”
Geoffrey smiled. So she was the special actor arranged by the monk Heraclius. But what happened later, he didn’t know if Heraclius and Amalric I would regret it. He looked at Caesar: “Do you want to save her?”
“What happened?” Caesar asked.
It wasn’t complicated: this prostitute had a dispute with a guest, and in the scuffle, the prostitute fell onto a stall, which happened to sell dyes, so all the goods fell to the ground, flowing everywhere with the broken jars.
Although the woman did it unintentionally, she couldn’t compensate for the merchant’s dyes, so she could only be judged as deliberately destroying the market.
The dye merchant was also complaining nearby. He didn’t necessarily want to see someone die, but his dyes were all ruined, no one compensated him, his business was completely done, he was bankrupted—who would pity him?
Caesar glanced at the empty, crooked stall. The muddy ground was indeed flowing with quite a bit of black, white, green, and yellow dyes. Although there were no expensive reds, indigos, or purples, this amount of money was definitely beyond what this woman could pay.
He was still hesitating, but at this point, someone finally recognized him. Immediately, someone said they were willing to pay the fine for this prostitute. The dye merchant also instantly changed from dejection, no longer mourning his dyes—as long as this pious good person was willing to bless a few ornaments by his side.
Geoffrey chuckled and cursed under his breath. This merchant was really clever. Those few jars of dye wouldn’t exceed three silver coins in total. Relics blessed by the Little Saint, any one taken back to Europe with the story, could fetch one or two gold coins.
Caesar did not agree to bless his ornaments, but compensated for the dyes, and quickly left before the crowd gathered.
The Market Inspector also had to sigh that this prostitute was really lucky. He took out a few copper coins and gave them to the diggers, waving them away in annoyance—along with the woman. The woman quickly disappeared from everyone’s sight. She heard someone blaming her for not thanking the saint, thanking God, and sincerely confessing her sins.
But she knew that guy was no saint at all. She and her child were hired to perform for others to see. Her child hadn’t actually recovered, or rather, she didn’t want to raise him. She had eaten that date herself. She wanted to live.
What was his name—oh.
Caesar.
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Count Etienne set off on the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Although Amalric I sincerely tried to keep him longer, the Count already knew that Amalric I was preparing to hold the Choosing ceremony for Prince Baldwin on January 6.
Hey! He could figure out with his knee that the day would not pass quietly or smoothly. As an outsider, who knew what conspiracy might befall him? Especially since he already knew his enemies were not only bad but stupid and unrestrained.
Until he left, he did not see Caesar again, though Caesar would hardly remember this Count Sir either.
The most important, most critical, and most deadly preparation before the Choosing ceremony arrived.
This was a secret circulated only among the upper class.
The Choosing ceremony could only be held in a church, and in an ordinary church, the failure rate was very high. To be “selected,” it was best to hold it in those cathedrals that housed true relics, were recognized by the Roman Church, and worshipped by kings, lords, and countless believers.
The child undergoing the trial needed to fast for three days before the ceremony began, bathe daily, pray at set times, then kneel before the altar, silently reciting the Lord’s Prayer until feeling the arrival of a saint or angel. They would guide him onto the right path and grant abilities beyond mortals.
After the children entered the church, for a full day and night, they could not come out until “selected.” Coming out meant failure in the Choosing, and there would be no more right to hold a Choosing ceremony afterward, not even if one was the only son of an emperor or king.
But this also posed a problem: not all children could be as steady and patient as Baldwin or Caesar. Don’t think the age limit for the Choosing ceremony is fourteen—there are plenty of fools like Abigail. So, when nobles wanted a satisfactory result… they would resort to all sorts of means.
The most common method among them was using medicine.
Stimulating, soothing, invigorating, controlling… But few monks could do this properly—either it didn’t work as intended, or the dosage was too much, or over-prepared, causing the taker to die…
“It is called the Mithridates prescription.” Heraclius held up a glass vial for Baldwin and Caesar to see. The vial was only finger-length, bulging in the middle, able to hold about three ounces of potion. “This name comes from a legend. In 120 BC, the King of Pontus held a grand banquet to celebrate the prince’s birth, and at this banquet, Mithridates V was poisoned and died in front of the guests and his own son.
This was the nightmare of Mithridates VI’s life. Fearing he would also be poisoned to death, he hired some doctors to make low-toxicity poisons for him to take daily, hoping to escape the threat of poison this way—he succeeded, though it led to the tragic ending when Pontus fell, where he failed to commit suicide by poison and had to have his attendant kill him.
Mithridates VI died, his kingdom perished, but this prescription remained. It is said that Egypt’s Queen Cleopatra used it, Nero’s mother Little Agrippina used it, and Egypt’s snake charmers used it.
I obtained this prescription from my teacher, and over the next decade or so, optimized and refined it. Its effect is immediate. And because it is so effective, I cannot give it to you too early—in my previous trials, taking it for more than ten days would kill them.”
He placed the glass vial in front of the two: “But it will still cause some hallucinations and pain—who wants to go first?”
