Chapter 13: Son Of God And Son Of Man
Caesar later heard that David had continuously participated in several duels between attendants and achieved an indisputable victory. He divided the victory prizes into two portions: one offered to God, and one offered to Princess Sibylla. This could be considered as washing away the shame of failure and regaining his honor. After all, David was not yet a true knight.
However, none of this had much to do with Caesar. He and Baldwin were immersed in a passionate love for the foals Pollux and Castor.
Pollux and Castor were the black stallion and the white Arabian mare of Amalric I’s twins. They possessed all the advantages of their father and mother: small heads, long necks and legs, short backs, and broad chests. Even though they were not yet a year old, everyone who saw them believed they would become a pair of excellent war horses.
Pollux was black with a white star on its forehead, Castor was white with a black star on its forehead. Their names came from the twins in Greek mythology, the sons of the god king Zeus and the Spartan queen Leda. Pollux was the son of a god, while Castor was the son of a mortal. So in Baldwin’s original plan, he would give Castor to his most trusted friend, that is, David, the son of the Count of Tripoli.
Now Castor belonged to Caesar.
Castor was completely different from any horse Caesar had seen or touched before. This horse, born for war, exhibited many qualities surpassing its peers even as a foal. Furthermore, it was smarter than many dull servants and more responsive than any iron vehicle. Even though it was Caesar’s first time riding it, he could strongly feel how agile and in tune it was.
Without Castor, Caesar did not think he could have caught David so easily.
“I don’t know how to describe it,” he said. “At that time, my knees and calves were pressed tightly against Castor’s body. I could feel its heart beating violently, in sync with my own rhythm. It was as if for a moment, my thoughts flowed into its mind. We were closely connected, joined as one.”
“All great knights should have such a beginning with their four-footed friends,” Baldwin said. “I also hope to have such a first battle with my Pollux.”
He reached out his hand with a dried apple in his palm. Pollux immediately stretched out its long tongue to lick it, the itch bringing a rare smile appropriate for his age to Baldwin’s face. “But it’s not bad now either. Since my father is still willing to make me a knight and his heir, my first combat side by side with Pollux might be on a real battlefield.”
This sentence piqued Caesar’s interest. “A real battlefield? You’re not even an escort yet, Your Highness. Can you go to the battlefield?”
“After the Choosing ceremony ends,” Baldwin said. “Whether we obtain ‘Chosen by Michael’ or ‘Chosen by Raphael’,” here people avoided mentioning the archangels’ holy names too much, using these two terms in less formal times to represent being chosen by Michael or Raphael. “Chosen by Michael” referred to being chosen by Michael, and “Chosen by Raphael” referred to being chosen by Raphael.
“If we are both fortunate enough to obtain ‘Chosen by Michael’, then what follows goes without saying. But if one of us obtains ‘Chosen by Raphael’,” his expression became serious. “I will still stay by my father’s side. As for you, I hope you will make the same choice.”
“I swore to you and your father that I will not leave you unless you drive me away.”
Baldwin made a satisfied gesture. “You don’t need to use honorifics with me, Caesar. Friends don’t need to between them.” He pondered for a moment. “Of course, in case of any contingency, we should also have corresponding measures.”
“Mm.” Caesar responded, without pressing further. His future, more accurately, was not tied to the foal Castor, but to Baldwin. He was Baldwin’s spear and shield. Before the knight died, the spear would surely break, and the shield would inevitably shatter.
He sighed silently and turned his attention back to the foal Castor, vigorously brushing its pristine white fur with a hog bristle brush. The foal, with its holy-colored coat, should have been named Pollux. But before naming the foals, Baldwin had been diagnosed with leprosy. In extreme grief and unwillingness, he gave the name Pollux to the black foal and Castor to the white one—this was not incomprehensible.
Equally comprehensible was the jealousy of Abigail, the son of the Duke of Antioch. White horses had always been mounts for kings and bishops. If it had been Baldwin or David who owned it, he might not have been so resentful. But who let Baldwin give Castor to Caesar?
Perhaps sensing that the comfortable brushing had suddenly stopped, Castor turned its head and nuzzled Caesar, as if urging him. The foal’s large, limpid almond eyes could soften the heart of the most cold-hearted person, let alone Caesar, who was originally a gentle person.
He raised the brush and continued brushing Castor’s seemingly luminous fur until it was spotless, then braided its long mane. This way, in the hot summer, the foal would be cooler.
Baldwin did the same, though not as neatly and beautifully as Caesar. Pollux snorted, seeming dissatisfied. “Alright, alright,” Baldwin said with a laugh. “It’s too late today. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have Caesar braid it for you.” He looked at Caesar. “Have you ever tried sleeping in the stable?”
“I don’t remember,” Caesar said. “But I can try.”
After lying down on the fluffy haystack, Baldwin quickly fell asleep, while Caesar gazed at the flickering torches, the frozen sky, and the twinkling stars—for a long time, until his eyes grew sore. Unlike Baldwin, he had no way out. At the upcoming Choosing ceremony, he must be chosen to ensure he would not die prematurely. Even though Baldwin said he would not abandon him, how long could a slender spear and a thin shield endure the coming storm?
——————
“How can we increase the chances of being chosen?”
Heraclius tightly furrowed his brows. He was the same age as Amalric I, but due to his excessive thinness, deep wrinkles had long appeared on his forehead, corners of his eyes, and around his mouth. His nose and cheekbones were prominently raised, and his lips were always pursed inward, making him look very stern when not smiling. If it had been David or Abigail, they would have been scared and slipped away immediately, but for Caesar, this appearance was not something to fear. On the contrary, he felt a bit of nostalgia—his past teaching directors had almost all such faces.
“If you raise this question outside, you will immediately be denounced as a heretic,” Heraclius said. “A mere mortal, daring to speculate on God’s will?”
“Then I withdraw my previous question,” Caesar said without fear. “How can we more profoundly and keenly feel God’s joy?”
Heraclius glared at him, then showed a slight smile. Baldwin, afflicted with leprosy, was in a position between sinner and one being tested. Neither he nor Amalric I needed a fanatic believer as the prince’s attendant. “Piety and asceticism.” Fearing Caesar might not grasp the mystery at once: “And strict fasting to purify your body and mind—not just what you’re experiencing now. During the Choosing ceremony, it will be even stricter, and your diet will be provided by the monks.”
Caesar blinked. It seemed the king and Heraclius’s methods lay in the diet. He did not pursue further. “Thank you for your guidance and your comfort.”
“Be firm,” Heraclius stroked his head. “Child, you must be firmer and purer than anyone else.”
Caesar understood his meaning. Doubts about Baldwin might persist throughout his life because he was a leper. As his attendant, Caesar needed to demonstrate advantages others lacked, proving with his own bravery, wisdom, and piety that Baldwin was a perfect king.
Just like the twelve knights surrounding King Arthur, some indeed used Arthur’s prestige to achieve themselves, but others like the wise Gawain, the pious Graheide（who found the Holy Grail）, and the steadfast Bedivere（who guarded King Arthur to the last moment） were knights of noble character and outstanding quality, testifying to Arthur that he was a king worthy of following and reverence.
He had no complaints about this; it was his duty. But after thinking, he made another request.
“You want to personally clean the Church of the Holy Sepulchre? Every inch?” Heraclius said in surprise. “Child, do you know how big the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is? It’s one-third of Skull Mountain.”
“I’ve decided,” Caesar said. “Right now, I am just a lowly mortal. The only thing that belongs to me is my body, and I can only do such small work.”
After considering for a while, Heraclius agreed to his request.
Though he also solemnly reminded Caesar that such non-secret cultivation and pilgrimage, once begun, could not be easily abandoned. Everyone in the Holy City would be watching him. At the same time, he could not neglect his primary duty as an attendant; he did not have much leisure time to dispose of freely.
But since Caesar said so, it meant he had weighed it carefully beforehand. His background, like Baldwin’s leprosy, was a weapon enemies could always pick up to stab at them. Baldwin could not change the fact that he was a leper; he also had no way to prove he was the son of a knight or lord. But he could at least do one thing—prove he was a pious Christian.
This was not difficult. Before him, countless believers and monks had found ways to show God or people how pure and fervent their faith was.
Generally, prayer, choir singing, and kneeling were common among commoners. To go further, they would choose pilgrimage—this was not like centuries later. They first had to save food for the road from their meager rations, make offerings to the lord or church to obtain a special document（a kind of identity proof） to ensure they would not be caught as vagrants. After barely escaping the sharp eyes of beasts, bandits, or knight masters no different from bandits, they still had to face trials of getting lost, poisoning, or disease. If fortunate under God’s glory to overcome these layers of barriers and obstacles and reach the destination, they still had to pay a fee to the guardians of the Holy Land to touch relics or witness holy relics firsthand.
But this was not without gain. Anyone who went on pilgrimage and returned home intact would inevitably become a “spokesman” in the locality due to such experience. People would listen to his stories repeatedly without tiring, the lord would remember his name, and stewards would list them after relatives when selecting helpers like “wheat reapers.” He might become the first among commoners to receive the Eucharist, and his son might join the choir.
As for nobles and monks, they had more ways. Besides attending Mass and pilgrimage, they would fast（commoners’ two meals of wheat porridge a day really showed no difference between fasting and not）; donate sacred garments, holy objects, candles, even an entire church; some tormented the flesh to contrast the soul’s purity. Knights often tightly cinched a coarse rope under their shirts, monks whipped themselves until blood flowed, and some practiced without bathing（or even using cloth to wipe their faces）—this way was very popular among noblewomen and monks.
Compared to those who went unclean for years, using dirt as armor, or vowing to build a church and monastery, Caesar’s oath was not particularly shocking. If a monk made such a vow, he might not even qualify to be remembered. But he was only nine years old, the age when boys are most playful and lazy. Would he really, as promised, after finishing his attendant work, take half his precious sleep time to clean the massive Church of the Holy Sepulchre?
Compared to the doubtful Heraclius, Baldwin held an enthusiastic attitude toward this. Although the Pope in Rome and the Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road both refused his father’s request, this mild-tempered child still believed the error lay with the Church and its servants, not with God and His angels. This was why, upon confirmation of his leprosy, he accepted this harsh trial with reason beyond his years.
He fully supported Caesar’s asceticism. “I will go to sleep two hours early, so we can wake when Venus rises（three-thirty in the morning）. I will pray, and you take my blessing to complete your work. We meet again after morning prayer.”
This was equivalent to giving Caesar four extra hours of leisure time. The sleep he had to sacrifice was reduced to two hours, which would not cause much loss.
“Thank you.” Caesar said. Baldwin looked at him, and Caesar suddenly understood. He smiled, stepped forward, and tightly embraced his friend.
