Chapter 21: Sibylla’s Humiliation
How the Envoy to the Holy Land was granted an audience with Amalric I, and how he conveyed Louis VII’s longing and greetings to this Lord of the Holy Land, knight of Christ, we will not elaborate on here.
That evening, a grand welcome banquet was held, which was of course planned in advance; over a month earlier, the castle steward and kitchen steward had begun bustling about for this banquet—there was too much work to do.
In addition to the castle’s original staff, they hired an extra thirty cooks, a hundred kitchen helpers and laborers, and ten or so carpenters and blacksmiths; they needed to provide enough tables and stools for this banquet.
Merchants of various skin colors and faiths came and went from their residences or offices—the castle needed beer, wine, wheat, rye, large quantities of chickens and ducks and geese and other poultry, as well as pigs and calves, olive oil, vinegar, sauces, and, most importantly and most expensively, spices; at such times, money was almost no longer money but sand, with expenditures pouring out like flowing water every day.
Even so, the castle’s knights would still go out hunting every day at the steward’s urging; after all, in this period, without deer and wild boar, swans and such game, even if everyone could use gold plates, the whole banquet would be lackluster; once these prey were brought back to the castle, they would be smoked and salted in the large kitchen—of course not as tasty as fresh, but most such dishes at the banquet were not meant to be eaten anyway.
In addition to these things to eat, there were tapestries, ornaments, linen, and seemingly ordinary but indispensable wooden chopping boards.
The wooden chopping boards here were not for cutting meat—at least not the kind you might think; their true use was more like plates. Because plates, whether silver, gold, ceramic, or glass, were considerable assets; even Amalric I could not produce so many plates, so people used either a dry hard flatbread or a piece of wood to hold food.
There were also knights who, to show their diligence and valor, used shields as plates, cutting pig legs into strips on them.
The master would not even provide cutlery to the guests; although nobles at this time would eat with three fingers（to distinguish themselves from serfs who used five）, they would bring their own spoon and knife.
Additionally, in the intervals between each course, dances, music, and juggling performances needed to be provided to entertain the guests; these also had to be hired from outside the castle, as the castle’s clowns and band were far from enough.
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Baldwin took Caesar’s hand and led him up to the “gallery.”
“Gallery” was just a name; it was more like a long narrow platform or room protruding inward from high up in the castle great hall; sometimes it would be made quite concealed, with the master using tapestries and flags for cover, allowing people to hide inside and peep down, what people called “peeping.”
Amalric I’s “gallery” was not deliberately concealed, but it was covered with heavy tapestries, with flags standing, and occasionally a band would play up there; but now it was empty, and though narrow, it could easily accommodate two children.
“My father allows me to watch from here,” Baldwin said in a low voice. “Do you remember—before, did your father ever let you see these?”
“I don’t really remember.”
“No matter,” Baldwin squeezed his hand: “We can watch together… juggling is fun, and the dancing and music aren’t bad either.”
For such a formal banquet, even if Baldwin did not have leprosy, as a child he would not have the qualification to participate; those running around the venue were either page boys pouring wine or diminutive dwarfs, but Amalric I allowed him to peep from here, and certainly not just for simple amusement—from here one could overlook the entire great hall, with every person’s position, expression, and movement all in view—it was inherently one of the educations every king’s and lord’s son must receive.
Amalric I was already seated at the head table, and the guests, monks, and knights were also taking their seats; Caesar leaned on Baldwin’s shoulder, looking down through the gaps in the tapestries—the great hall was the castle’s most important place, even above the chapel and bedroom; it was the venue for formal ceremonies（audiences, enfeoffments, weddings or funerals）, the courtroom for trials and judgments, and as today—a place of an incomparably splendid and grand feast.
Its walls were originally grayish stone and white plaster, now covered by countless flags: red, white, gold, blue, black… Maltese crosses, crosses potent, Saint John’s crosses, Saint Peter’s crosses… eagles with spread wings, roaring lions, horses rearing on hind legs, trinitarian fleur-de-lis, fish back-to-back…
They were either hung or leaning; some represented family, some nation, some a knight’s entire glory and achievements…
From the huge tea-brown wooden beams hung bronze or black iron lamp stands, filled with animal oil; when lit, they emitted dazzling light amid rising black smoke, but the distance from the lofty heights to the ground was a full thirty feet, making these lights seem insignificant, so people supplemented with torches fixed to the walls and pillars.
Of course, whatever it was, the master and important guests were guaranteed first; so what Baldwin and Caesar could see most clearly was still the head table.
The banquet’s head table was spliced from three ordinary long tables, covered above with several layers of fabric: white linen, blue cotton, gold and red velvet—this arrangement of course had its reason, to be explained later—usually sitting in the center was the castle’s master, unless a noble of higher status was present, such as a count receiving a king in his own castle, then he would have to yield his seat.
But Amalric I was both king and master; in this world, probably no one except God could make him yield his seat; he sat in the center, with Heraclius on his right, which was not surprising; now more and more kings had priests exercising divine authority sit in the position next only to themselves, but intriguingly, on his left was Princess Sibylla.
The current Amalric I was a widower, his daughter was already grown, and as mistress of the castle sitting in that position was understandable, but on her left was today’s honored guest, Count Etienne of Sancerre, the Envoy to the Holy Land.
This arrangement made some people restless: some young knights, admirers and suitors of Princess Sibylla—her supporters were of course not just boys like David or Abigail; there were plenty of knights willing to swear to her, but in such an occasion, even if they wanted to, they could do nothing.
At this time, the banquet would divide the participants into a “mess,” meaning a group, usually two to six people, sitting on both sides of a long table; the closer to the head table, the more it indicated being favored or valued by the master.
Those who could sit below the head table were almost all important figures from various powers in the Holy City; these knights could only sit near the walls.
Attendants brought rose water for washing hands; Etienne, sitting beside the princess, perfectly fulfilled a knight’s duty: he served the princess like a servant to wash her hands, offered her a silk scarf, then washed his own hands in the same dish.
At such close distance, Sibylla could clearly see the other’s already graying temples, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth; what the handmaids all knew, she could not be ignorant of; for a girl just opening to love, marrying a knight old enough to be her father was truly painful, but from Sibylla’s standpoint, she knew she was not choosing a husband, but a capable helper, the father of her children, and the King of Ayyarasa Road.
Although Amalric I was exceptionally stubborn about Baldwin’s matter, those earnestly trying to persuade the king were not just one Raymond; there were not a few suggesting the king view Princess Sibylla’s husband as heir, or even the child born to the princess and husband they could accept… objective reality does not shift with human subjective will; no matter how much the king cherished Baldwin, a leper could never be cured; his condition would only worsen, not improve.
And was Amalric I truly as firm as he thought himself? Sibylla did not think so; if Amalric I truly felt that way, he would not continue seeking marriage with the Byzantine Princess; Amalric I was only thirty-four this year; if he married a new wife, he could very well have one or more healthy boys…
At this time the first course was served; perhaps it should not be called that, because this sweets more akin to ornamental was called “sculpture food”; the cooks mixed various candied fruit and pastries together, shaping them like animals or buildings—Etienne had once seen at Louis VII’s banquet celebrating the birth of an heir sweets shaped like a swan, with a fleur-de-lis carved and colored with sugar in the swan’s mouth.
What was served here was a “Holy Cross Castle,” mainly made of nut brittle and dates, drizzled outside with honey and sugar; delicious to eat, but with a clear Byzantine even Saracen style; Etienne tasted a few bites absentmindedly while instinctively scanning around, wondering if these knights fighting for Christ had noticed this.
Unfortunately, no.
Next came the real feast: roast pigeon, roast chicken, roast rabbit; a whole pig was brought up, stuffed inside with sausages made from its stomach, intestines, and bladder; venison was brought up cut open, adorned with sharp antlers, surrounded by heaps of various herbs; and thick stew with floating meat, seasonal vegetables, and burst barley grains.
There were also pies, stuffed layer upon layer with meat: pork, pigeon meat, or venison.
Wine was also poured; the kitchen steward had prepared a hundred barrels of wine and three hundred barrels of beer for this banquet.
In the intervals between each course, as said before, there would be performances: musicians playing lutes or flutes, clowns doing tricks or dancing.
When a spice plate of minced meat dyed blue, gold, and red with madder and saffron, and sandalwood was brought up, a dwarf climbed onto a rope hanging from the wooden beam; this rope allowed him to swing from one end of the great hall to the other; he held the rope with one hand, a very large silver wine jug with the other—he flew directly over the head table, was grabbed by an attendant behind Amalric I; people burst into laughter, Amalric I also showed a rare smile, extending his cup for the dwarf to pour him wine.
The dwarf poured the wine, winked and told a fresh joke; everyone at the head table doubled over laughing, even Princess Sibylla was no exception; Etienne casually plucked off a gold brooch and threw it; the dwarf was overjoyed, extending the wine jug to catch it, but the narrow jug mouth could not catch the brooch; it bounced once on the jug and fell.
“Let me down quick!” the dwarf shouted; he did not notice that attendant’s face twist rapidly; he was shoved out—viciously—his body immediately lost balance; the wine jug fell first, then him; he crashed onto a long table; the knights loudly mocked him; when he lay motionless, a knight shoved him, then he fell to the ground along with the nearly eaten plate of venison.
He was too unlucky; he was not very high from the ground, but when he fell on the table, the decorative antlers pierced right through his chest.
Before Caesar realized what had happened, the table that had gone quiet for just a moment erupted in even louder laughter; the knights slapped the tables, beside themselves with mirth; clearly this “joke” was funnier than the dwarf’s performance and words; a group of attendants ran out from behind; they grabbed the four corners of the tablecloth—there were several layers—they directly lifted the topmost layer; two attendants picked up the dwarf’s corpse along with that antler and placed it on top, then carried him off with the leftovers.
After that, it was as if nothing had happened—except this “joke” was spreading like wildfire everywhere—someone gorging themselves had not seen it with their own eyes, what a regret… From Caesar’s position, he could just see the blood flowing from the dwarf, but soon other dwarfs and musicians stepped on it, and in a blink it blended with the great hall’s dark floor.
Baldwin touched his friend; he did not feel much about it either, but he knew Caesar was a good person so soft-hearted it was laughable. “Let’s go back.” he said softly.
Caesar shook his head; since arriving here he had personally killed two people; though they were not innocent, he too must get used to the death of innocents; in this Holy City, inside or outside it, human lives were worth as little as grains of sand.
Another course came up: a chicken sauce mixed with rice boiled in almond milk, then added with fried almonds and anise; people called it “white cheese soup,” between soup and dessert, though it more evoked Saracen rice pudding—and after this dish was an aspic, which needed spices sprinkled on; Etienne attentively held the spice plate for Princess Sibylla—a partitioned plate with onion, ginger, pepper, saffron, cloves, and cinnamon respectively; the princess pinched some cinnamon with her fingers and sprinkled it on, and also sprinkled some on Etienne’s aspic.
“They really do match very well.” Bohemond said to Raymond beside him.
“I wonder about Count Sancerre’s military force.” Raymond said with furrowed brows; Amalric I could certainly live another twenty years, but if the king did not have a long life, and Baldwin who might only live to thirty and likely linger bedridden before that could not bear the heavy responsibility entrusted by God, then the only one who could lead them in combat against the Saracens and defend the Holy City would be Princess Sibylla’s husband; he preferred to be cautious, but others in the Holy City did not think so.
“He once repelled an army of one king and two counts.”
Bohemond said half-seriously half-jokingly.
“For a woman.” Not for God.
“Is our Princess Sibylla not beautiful? I see she has already enchanted Count Sancerre.”
