Chapter 104: Wedding
That tall knight helped Princess Sibylla up, his movements light and composed, as if picking a flower or a small bird from the ground. At first, Princess Sibylla only felt stranger to him, wondering when a attendant she did not recognize had appeared by Baldwin’s side, until the handmaids filed in and lit the candles, when she saw the familiar calm and indifference in those green eyes.
But he was no longer the little slave in her memory at all. Like Baldwin, he was one of the chosen, with ample meat and high-intensity training and combat, so both his height and shoulder width far exceeded those of his peers—she had once described him, surrounded by handmaids, as like a puppy surrounded by a group of kittens.
Now, the handmaids almost uncontrollably wanted to get close to him, like iron beads drawn to a magnet, even though the reins of reason were still pulling them back, but there must be a few boldest ones among them who would cross that line without hesitation. Princess Sibylla knew that several of her handmaids were better at hunting knights than waiting for them to hunt them.
But surprisingly, these few handmaids stood at a distance, just watching with great interest, doing nothing.
“What?” After Baldwin and Caesar had both left, Princess Sibylla asked as if casually: “Has he not become someone’s yet?”
The handmaids exchanged a few glances, “He is Damara’s knight.” one handmaid said.
“You care about Damara?” Princess Sibylla said. Damara had not returned to Princess Sibylla’s side since returning to Ayyarasa Road, nor was she in Holy Cross Castle, and there were not a few among her handmaids who would fall out over a knight; she did not think Damara’s relationship with them was deep enough for that.
“Can’t say that.” Another handmaid said thoughtfully.
“Besides, Damara may soon get married, and if her husband is not a knight here, she should break her oath with Caesar.” The third handmaid said.
“Indeed it should be so,” Princess Sibylla lowered her head, thought for a moment: “Then, once Caesar is free, who wants him to be their own knight?”
She thought the handmaids would compete for him, but they just looked at each other, none answering.
“Is it because of status? He is already a Knight of Bethlehem, and my brother will soon put him in a suitable position.”
“It’s… not this reason,” one handmaid said hesitantly: “Although… but I’m a bit afraid of him…”
Princess Sibylla showed just the right amount of astonishment: “Why would you say that? Has he done anything shameful to you?”
“No no no,” that handmaid said hurriedly: “Just… don’t you think he is very… imposing?”
The handmaids immediately nodded one after another. Caesar was indeed a very gentle man, especially respectful and caring toward women, like the Saint Knights praised in the picture books or poetry they had seen before, pure, fearless, and steadfast—but it was this near-perfect character and attitude that made him seem not like a real person, but like a statue of silver or marble.
“You are afraid of him too?” Princess Sibylla looked at the other handmaids; they had powerful families behind them, so they did not care much about the rules and laws imposed on women by the Church and the secular world; they even dared to seduce priests and monks.
“Can say that.” One handmaid answered with a smile, but their “fear” had a different meaning from the other handmaids’ “fear.”
If it was just for a moment of pleasure, who couldn’t?
And Caesar was the one among all knights, even among all men, who truly respected and cared for them—this was evident from Gerard’s Damara. Back then, Princess Sibylla chose Damara because she was young and naive, easy to manipulate, and would not be dissatisfied with being given a slave-born handmaid by the princess.
But likewise, Princess Sibylla had not considered Damara at all. Damara was still a child, and a man older than her could easily deceive her; not to mention that Caesar was only nine years old at the time, even if he had not yet understood matters between men and women then, what about after? After that, he and Damara often met in the castle.
If he wanted to do something, Damara had no room to resist.
And they had seen that over these years, let alone her body, Damara’s mind remained in a child’s state, still so pure and sweet, without a trace of stain or shadow.
If Caesar did not like Damara and refused to serve her, yet because of Damara’s plea, he, as the few against the many, lured and killed a whole group of vicious Saracens, and fulfilled his promise, leaving not a single sinner.
He was so good that they could not help but be moved. Several handmaids lowered their heads and smiled; they had sensed Princess Sibylla’s malice toward Caesar and would not cause him trouble.
Unless they could truly marry him, if they could choose for themselves, they would of course be more than willing, but unfortunately, their marriages were like Princess Sibylla’s, connecting two families, two territories, or two nations; their families would not allow it.
“If I could really make him fall in love with me.” A handmaid had once said fancifully, “And I cannot become his wife. Then this love would only break his heart and wear down his body and mind—this is more than unfair, it is simply an unimaginable, immense sin.”
She said this, drawing mockery from her companions, “To make someone like Caesar abandon his piety and responsibility, probably only Princess Sibylla could.”
This sentence made all the handmaids fall silent.
Since the fiasco of the sham betrothal “assumed” jointly by Louis VII and Amalric I fell through, Princess Sibylla’s behavior had become much more restrained, and correspondingly, she had become more beautiful. Everyone who saw her said she was finally no longer so childish, but had grown into a good woman conforming to education and secular norms.
Especially when facing those knights, she had become gentler and more melancholic.
She often lowered her eyelashes, hiding those blue eyes like whirlpools in the sea. Her face was pale, occasionally flushing with a blush from the low fever in the early morning or evening; she was no longer aggressive and arrogant, so even someone like David, who knew what role she played in Count Etienne’s attack, could not help but feel pity for her.
Who doesn’t make mistakes? Especially since she was only a thirteen-year-old girl at the time.
And at this time, people viewed women as if they were children not yet grown up. Since they used this as a reason to deprive them of many rights, it was not good to be too harsh on them now—even Amalric I had, a few years later, put aside his dissatisfaction with Princess Sibylla and begun seriously considering her marriage.
The king had originally wanted to marry Princess Sibylla to an outsider knight, so that if Baldwin had no heirs of his own, her husband would not, as the queen’s husband and future king’s father, lay hands on Ayyarasa Road—he still favored Princess Sibylla, after all, his daughter with the Byzantine Princess was still in swaddling clothes, and his eldest daughter was already sixteen years old, ripe and able to bear a healthy seed.
But Amalric I had not expected his death to come so suddenly.
Abigail was certainly not a good choice. And he had a sullen, cunning, and changeable father—Bohemond had suffered greatly from his mother and stepfather in his youth. And not long after regaining power, he fell into a Saracen prison. If not for the mediation of Byzantium’s Emperor Manuel I, he might have been imprisoned longer.
But he did not escape without cost; his cost was being forced to allow Byzantium’s tentacles to reach into his nation and his family. He married Manuel’s daughter and together they begot this fool Abigail.
But precisely because Abigail was foolish enough, he was chosen. His existence ensured that Raymond could not dominate the Imperial Court alone, nor easily ally with Bohemond.
In any case, once Bohemond gained more voice, and as the future king’s grandfather, he would likely sideline Raymond overnight, and possibly, Bohemond would become the unnamed but real king of Ayyarasa Road.
If Abigail were someone like Baldwin or Caesar—no, as long as he could be like David, Raymond would find it hard to cope with Bohemond, but as if the devil were at work, Abigail was an idiot who achieved nothing in the Imperial Court or on the battlefield.
He was the inescapable shackle or stain God placed on Bohemond.
Look at what he had done before; before even entering Holy Cross Castle, he offended Baldwin, ruined his father’s face, and created a very bad impression among the knights.
Bohemond would not naively think the knights would keep quiet—not just the knights in the castle, but those two outsider knights; they would not cover for such a vile little man. He believed this matter would soon spread like it had grown wings: Ayyarasa Road, Acre, Jaffa, Ghazalafa… even possibly to the Apennines or Francia.
This was truly a grand event; those people might not have heard of Baldwin, Raymond, and Bohemond yet, but would first hear of Abigail’s name.
But no matter how much people disliked this frivolous fellow, his marriage to Princess Sibylla remained unshakable.
This was the decree of King Amalric I, and Baldwin would carry out the king’s wishes to the letter.
To complete this marriage, he even postponed his own Coronation Ceremony.
Thus, on the feast day of John the Baptist（June 24）, they held the wedding for Abigail and Princess Sibylla.
In the days before the wedding, Princess Sibylla was fasting and bathing; on the wedding day, the handmaids added large amounts of fresh and dried flowers to the water tub, and applied a mixture of powder and white vinegar to her. This mixture could make the skin look whiter, though long-term use would cause lead poisoning.
In Ayyarasa Road, women also used rose water and olive oil. These two substances were of course much better than the lead mixture.
But whichever it was, Princess Sibylla was not very interested, perhaps because Abigail had been visiting too diligently these days.
Sometimes Princess Sibylla wished she could shout at him: you should go achieve success! Go kill Saracens! Even just enter a tournament, or serve by my brother or your father’s side, see if they can get you a good position!
Instead of sticking to me all the time, like a fat bumblebee, annoying!
Of course, in the end she said nothing. Although Abigail adored her almost madly, he was still a man, inherently disdainful of women; if she said that, it would not only be useless but might lose her last useful hunting dog.
“Look at this.” A handmaid exclaimed in delight, “How beautiful it is…”
Although Princess Sibylla’s wedding dress had been made long ago. But when this deep blue wedding dress, identical to the robe worn by the Virgin Mary, was taken out, people still exclaimed in admiration, even though it could even be called simple—deep blue silk with no excessive embroidery or decoration, only silver embroidery and pearl accents at the cuffs and hem, like layers of ripples on the sea surface.
This color in this era signified purity and the protection of the Virgin Mary; she would bless the bride with a lifetime free of worry, happy and healthy, and also ensure she soon bore healthy boys.
The handmaids helped Princess Sibylla into the wedding dress, styled her hair, and put on the exquisite golden crown—this crown was still a gift from Baldwin, heavy gold, precious sapphires and rubies gleaming even under the thin veil, but still incomparable to the princess’s beauty.
Because Amalric I had already passed away, the task of giving away the princess could only be done by Baldwin; he was Princess Sibylla’s guardian—this had nothing to do with age; as long as he was male, he had power and duty over all his sisters; he could arrange their marriages, whether they were willing or not.
Today, the most gorgeously dressed and dazzling should of course be the bride and groom, and among the ladies, the most beautiful was undoubtedly Princess Sibylla. No matter what her heart was like, her appearance was as the poets praised, like flowers crafted from gemstones.
Abigail was also a handsome young man, with fine long eyebrows, bright eyes, a narrow but high nose bridge, thin lips, very similar to his father; even the most critical person could not call him ugly.
But the problem was, Caesar was here, and people would only look at him.
Even in such a grand occasion, he still wore dark clothes: a pure black velvet jacket and matching trousers, even his boots and gloves were black, only with some gold embroidery in places, and a silver cross hanging on his chest.
Baldwin today also wore only white attire; unlike later customs, white at this time was a noble yet mournful color; he was still mourning his father—their attire was unremarkable among the generally colorful guests, yet it drew eyes that could not look away.
Clothing was originally something to gild the lily.
If the brocade was already gorgeous enough, the flowers became superfluous.
Even though Caesar was as plain as possible without affecting the wedding, like a gem set against a plain background that stands out more, the simple attire only highlighted his features and temperament more.
All, yes, all the ladies were looking at him, at his black hair, his green eyes, his flushed lips, staring, smiling, completely ignoring their husbands or brothers beside them.
To be honest, some of their husbands and brothers were also secretly peeking at this young man, regardless of orientation. People’s pursuit of beauty is innate. Only some older people with enough experience could lightly cough to remind these young people not to get too carried away.
After all, today’s protagonists should be Princess Sibylla and Abigail.
Abigail’s face was very ugly; he kept staring nervously at Princess Sibylla, worried she would look at Caesar like those handmaids; fortunately, Princess Sibylla did not, still as cold as ever, to him as well as to Caesar.
Although comparing Caesar to himself did not comfort Abigail much, at least Princess Sibylla’s attitude showed she was not that kind of frivolous woman.
He smiled and took Princess Sibylla’s hand. Seeing that shiny gold ring, Abigail was filled with tenderness; unlike later people, at this time couples did exchange rings, but not at the wedding, rather at the betrothal; the two rings were engraved respectively with the couple’s names and wedding date, and could be said to be one of the proofs of this marriage.
Under everyone’s gaze, they each made their oaths and received everyone’s blessing.
After that, they were led into a room. Although at this time, when women gave birth, they did not need, like queens centuries later, to have dozens of nobles watching to prevent infant swapping or harm to the mother.
But regarding the bedding ceremony, they were more radical than later people—Princess Sibylla and Abigail, each in loose thin linen robes（only such one piece）, were sent onto a large bed, surrounded by about ten witnesses: Baldwin, Caesar, Bohemond, Raymond, Berion, Humphrey… and other important people; Heraclius stood before their bed to dispel curses and bestow blessings on the newlyweds.
Then the crowd pulled a large bedsheet to cover them. By tradition, they should consummate under this bedsheet, completing the true marital act; people had to watch them round the room for the marriage to be fully established.
After all, the canon law at this time stipulated that if the wife could not fulfill the wife’s obligations, or the husband could not fulfill the husband’s duties, the marriage was invalid; for the Church, marriage was not for romantic love between man and woman, but for producing offspring. If one party could not do it, the marriage naturally had no reason to exist.
Generally, the onlookers were not too harsh. As long as the newlyweds lifted their robes and entwined their legs, it counted as successful bedding.
Princess Sibylla closed her eyes and extended her legs; although she had expected it, when she touched Abigail, that cold and rough feeling still made her shudder uncontrollably. At the same time, she smelled an indescribable odor—not stinky, but more unacceptable than stink.
She trembled uncontrollably all over, and Abigail only thought it was the virgin’s shyness and nervousness; he pulled her arm to kiss her, wanting to comfort her, but Princess Sibylla nearly fainted—Abigail’s embrace made her feel nauseous; she could only bite the inside of her lip, forcing herself not to cry out in sorrow or wail.
The light moved before her eyes; she instinctively opened them and saw the tall black-haired attendant by her brother’s side blowing out a candle; this seemed a signal, and people let out good-natured laughter, leaving one after another.
“The ceremony is complete!” they shouted happily.
