Chapter 102: Funeral And Wedding
Among the noble ladies present, some, like Damara, immediately beamed with joy; others showed displeasure on their faces—simply because they too had a brother or lover whom they hoped could take Caesar’s current position; and still others secretly glanced at Princess Sibylla. Indeed, Sibylla was about ten years older than little Princess Isabella and was now like a tree in full bloom, her ovaries plump, just waiting to bear fruit…
But who could help it that her husband was Antioch’s Abigail? To tell a hellish joke, let alone Baldwin, even the other vassals and generals of the Holy Land, and Princess Sibylla herself, looked down on Abigail. Previously, because she had too lightly dismissed this young man, he had done something nearly irreparable, which made Bohemond explode in anger and send Abigail back to Antioch—”like a sinner in iron shackles,” as one knight put it.
Many people had witnessed this scene firsthand. It could be said that if Bohemond had a second son, he would simply have killed Abigail—if Abigail had used such a conspiracy against the Saracens, or for the nation’s grudges, personal enmities, and interests, people would only call him cunning and treacherous, just like his father Bohemond, but they wouldn’t say much more—but if it was for a woman…
Don’t think that just because the knights proclaim their love for their mistress, even willing to die for it, everyone knows this is just a pretext for them to boast their military force. Without a noble lady, they could take a mountain goat and fight to the death over whose wool pelt is shinier… For a man who truly defied the contract of guest rights for the sake of beauty and nearly caused enmity between two kings, they would only sneer in contempt.
The only one truly happy about this marriage was probably Abigail.
If possible, Princess Sibylla would surely want to send Abigail to Baldwin’s side too—Abigail had originally been Baldwin’s attendant, after all—but judging by Baldwin’s attitude, from now on, or rather for a long time to come, no one could compare to Caesar—and as for whether Princess Sibylla’s son or Princess Isabella’s son would succeed in the future, Baldwin’s opinion would inevitably carry great weight.
No, perhaps by then, the Knight of Bethlehem might also hold an important vote.
Princess Sibylla knew her unease also stemmed from another terrifying past event: she had once suggested to Baldwin that she would arrange an accident to give Caesar a flaw that could never be remedied or tolerated, lest he lose his true self due to people’s adulation, become arrogant, and even dare to lord over his master…
Although Baldwin had rejected her suggestion, whenever Princess Sibylla saw Caesar, she suspected whether Baldwin had told him about it. She told herself it couldn’t be—Baldwin loved her very much—yet she worried that Baldwin might have let it slip, or that someone else had overheard their conversation and told Caesar.
Caesar’s attitude toward her remained consistent; he did not know about this. Baldwin truly loved his sister Sibylla and kept it completely secret even from his best friend. He feared they would develop resentment over this misunderstanding, leading to an irreparable fissure.
But what kind of person Sibylla was, we all already knew; such a person would only see others as being like herself.
Her resentment and fear grew with Caesar’s rising importance: he became Baldwin’s servant, then his attendant; he became Patriarch Heraclius’s student, participated in the Choosing ceremony with Baldwin, and later even formed a mutual contract.
Although Caesar’s enemies still cursed him as an Isaacite slave. Likewise, they could not deny that his future was so bright and smooth, visible to the end at a glance. Baldwin had now received God’s blessing; even if he still died before thirty, that would leave nearly fifteen years of rule, and during those fifteen years, he would surely grant power, money, and honor to the man he trusted most, having him stand by his side to receive people’s obeisance.
Who else could that man be?
Surely not those like David and Abigail, who, upon learning of his illness, immediately abandoned him without looking back,
Princess Sibylla also knew that after Baldwin received the blessing, the King had asked if he needed a new attendant, but Baldwin had refused each time; he only needed Caesar.
God knows how many people hoped Caesar would make some mistake, anger Baldwin and the King, and then fall from the heights into the mud—but unfortunately, they were all disappointed in the end, and some were even reluctantly admitting that perhaps Caesar’s origins were not so lowly after all.
They simply could not imagine a craftsman’s or serf’s son being able to accomplish so much that even they could not.
Not to mention Caesar’s good reputation among the knights, the priests and monks of Ayyarasa Road, and the pilgrims; they liked him, which was far more frightening than revering him.
But for Princess Sibylla, the better Caesar was, the worse off she was; she had expended great effort to keep herself from saying anything vicious.
But as soon as Baldwin and Caesar took their leave, she stood up too, coldly bidding farewell to her stepmother—without even glancing at her birth mother—and returned to her room.
Back in her room, Sibylla immediately summoned a handmaid. “Abigail will arrive at Holy Cross Castle today; send two attendants to meet him and have him come straight to my room.” The handmaid showed hesitation—this was hardly proper—but Princess Sibylla just waved her hand in annoyance; she didn’t want to meet Abigail so urgently either.
But she could imagine how elated and smug that fool Abigail would be upon hearing he could marry her. And at such a critical and solemn moment, if he showed any sign or said something idiotic like “That’s great,” Baldwin would absolutely not spare him.
It must be said that Princess Sibylla understood Abigail profoundly; unfortunately, the attendants she sent still failed to intercept him. He had already gotten into a fight with several knights in front of the drawbridge and was dragged before Baldwin by them.
Baldwin pressed his temple—a gesture his father often made. Back then he hadn’t understood it, but now he felt it too: irritation, disgust, and above all, anger.
He recognized these two knights; after all, they had just left his presence with his rewards.
The suggestion to give some reward to those knights who had mourned the King had come from Caesar.
At that time, Baldwin had been dazed, focused only on weeping and grieving, with no attention for outside matters. But Caesar had clearly seen how those knights had galloped in, thrown their precious items before the King’s coffin, and gashed their faces and arms in mourning.
So when the army turned back to Ghazalafa, Caesar had reminded Baldwin not to forget these worthy men.
Baldwin had listened and felt a pang of regret. As we said before, most knights who joined the expedition did so for honor, money, and perhaps territory; now territory was certainly out, and they couldn’t return empty-handed. After all, they were originally the unvalued second or youngest sons in their families, like Longinus.
Their families could not support a second son, so they had to charge into battle and wander on their own, seeking a way out.
For them, the Crusaders’ expedition was undoubtedly a grand gamble: win it, and their offspring would remain knights, not fall from their class, and might even rise to become the King’s generals or ministers.
But if they returned home empty-handed, for survival they would have to bow their heads to their brother or brother’s son, begging for a steward’s position.
But don’t think becoming a steward meant security, unless they had no offspring. If they did, when their brother’s sons had sons of their own, they would sink further, becoming a craftsman in a village—and even a craftsman might not last.
If their offspring found no suitable opportunity—like going to war with the lord or becoming a monk—they might become the most ordinary serfs.
Think serfs are the bottom? No, they could be plundered or traded; a few generations later, they might go from a lord’s descendants to nameless serfs.
Such things might be rare, but they did happen.
Or in their own generation, desperate, they might turn bandit, lose their knighthood, and end up hanged from branches. That might even count as a good path—at least no watching their offspring suffer.
But when these knights came with simple hearts to mourn the King, they unhesitatingly threw their most precious possessions to the ground, burying them in the dust, without a thought for what they would do after returning?
They might earn admiration from local lords for this act, or someone moved by their loyalty might write them a letter of recommendation, but ultimately, they had lost a vital asset for Amalric I.
Caesar did not know how people acted in such times.
But since Heraclius had said: if a master accepts a guest’s gift, he should return something more precious to the guest, then Baldwin should not overlook these loyal and pious knights, letting them go empty-handed.
Baldwin immediately realized his oversight; at Ghazalafa, he gathered those knights who had mourned his father. He patiently asked what treasures each had offered in mourning the King, then repaid them double their value.
For the wounded knights, he added a gift of money so they could seek treatment from a priest.
Thus at Ghazalafa they hosted over five hundred knights, plus more than two hundred who followed to Ayyarasa Road or came later upon hearing the misfortune to pay their respects—the number eventually swelled to over two thousand.
Raymond had not approved at first, of course; such conduct was praiseworthy and befitting a king.
But the expense was staggering; though there were booty and gifts from Fustat and Bilbeis（ those Saracens’）, Ayyarasa Road’s treasury was not empty, but this sum could have raised an army.
Baldwin’s inquiry completely exceeded these knights’ expectations. Of course they knew Baldwin—a young man like King David, with an attendant like Saint John—but he was still just a fourteen-year-old child.
Unexpectedly, he not only did not indulge excessively in his grief and anger but, in extreme sorrow, remembered them.
The knights naturally understood Baldwin’s goodwill; with this experience and having seen a saint depart, now receiving this money, they would face no former hardships upon returning home.
Some knights immediately knelt and swore that, though loyal to another master, once their duty to him was fulfilled, whenever Baldwin summoned them, they would don chainmail, take up their spears, and gallop day and night without hesitation.
These two knights had sworn to Baldwin; he was effectively their second master. While waiting for the drawbridge, hearing someone blaspheme the late King and Prince Baldwin, they immediately fought him and dragged him before Baldwin.
“Call Bohemond,” Baldwin said.
