Chapter 133: Dispute And Admonition
Baldwin was in a very good mood today. No, it should be said that ever since Caesar’s identity was confirmed, he had been in a very good mood.
This good mood persisted until Patriarch Heraclius mentioned to him the matter of wanting Caesar to serve as envoy to Acre.
“Are you mad?” He widened his eyes, almost unable to believe what he had heard—”We all saw his birth certificate! He is the only heir of Count Joscelin III of Edessa!”
He stood up and paced around the room, waving his hands, completely unable to understand Heraclius’s idea: “He no longer needs to do those dangerous things!”
Heraclius could understand Baldwin, this child he had watched being born and grow up—before Baldwin contracted leprosy, he was not as humble as he was now. On the contrary, he had all the flaws of a noble heir—irascible, fierce, autocratic, and clear in his loves and hates.
He did not care about Witt because such despicable little people were not worth his consideration, but people like David, Abigail, William, Guy, and others whom he had once regarded as friends but who later betrayed him still had not received his forgiveness.
In contrast, Caesar, who came to his side during his most difficult times, never wavered even after gaining the favor of nobles, and was even willing to take risks for him several times, naturally deserved his reward—he had already ascended the throne and firmly grasped authority.
Even without Amalric I’s deathbed gift and this belated surprise—Baldwin would surely soon arrange a marriage for Caesar, marrying him to a female heir with a title and territory, elevating him in one leap to become a count or even a duke; such things were not unprecedented.
The most recent example was Bohemond’s stepfather, Reynald of Châtillon. He was originally just a penniless knight with no territory or title, simply hoping to try his luck in the Holy Land. His luck was indeed good; he encountered Constance of Antioch.
After Caesar’s identity was revealed to the world, Baldwin was so delighted he was nearly going mad. He could now reuse and reward Caesar without reservation. Unexpectedly, at this time, the Patriarch proposed sending Caesar as envoy to Acre, that ghostly place that could turn into a vortex of blood and flesh at any moment!
“Not a chance,” he said categorically, “Caesar can only stay in three places: Ayyarasa Road, or Bethlehem, or on the battlefield with us fighting the Saracens.”
For this, he quarreled with his teacher, Patriarch Heraclius. Poor Caesar was caught between the two, amused yet helpless.
Because of this matter, Baldwin was so angry he did not want to speak to him, but he also would not allow him out of his sight. He knew Caesar could be stubborn at times… fearing he would go to Acre for the sake of a promise, abandoning him.
“I don’t understand,” Baldwin said angrily, “I am the King of Ayyarasa Road, you are my cousin. No matter what I am willing to give you—” He said something quite extreme, “Even my throne—they have no right to interfere!”
“Baldwin…” Caesar was only glad they had already returned to Baldwin’s room, and because of what happened when he first fell ill, Baldwin did not like being attended by many people—attendants and servants did not dare appear before the king without being summoned.
He had only said a name when Baldwin interrupted him: “I know you’re going to say those discouraging words again—yes, I know I was once just a… powerless person. I got leprosy, everyone avoided me like the plague, I couldn’t even leave my room, even the Eucharist had to be brought to me by you. And when the crisis came, no matter how anxious I was, I could only stand at this window, staring into the darkness and praying in vain.
I made mistakes, I nearly lost you. I can’t even imagine, if you had died or been maimed that time, how I would face you, face my mother…
Caesar, you are so gentle. If others owe you a debt, you will forgive them without hesitation—if they truly have no ability to repay. But if you owe others, even just a copper coin, you will go to any lengths to repay it, even several times, dozens, hundreds of times over.
I’m not blaming you. I just want to say that everything you did for me before, I remember every bit of it in my heart.
Now I am the King of Ayyarasa Road. I want to give you power, give you a title, give you more territory. No need to feel uneasy.” He sneered, “Think about it. That fool Abigail—though he was also chosen, has his father dared to let him out in these two years?
Whether for battle or negotiation, or even just attending a wedding or funeral, his father doesn’t dare, only keeping him in Holy Cross Castle, where he can watch over and back him up. Just such a completely useless guy will become the Grand Duke of the Principality of Antioch in the future, and my vassal and minister. No matter what, he will have a place in my Imperial Court.
Why? You tell me, why? You are my close friend, my brother. Why must you risk life and limb to gain what others can get lying down? If you want to achieve success, there will be opportunities. We will step onto the battlefield again—I need your protection and your support.
You can’t be so selfish…”
Baldwin turned around and stared intently at Caesar. Whether it was the dim light in the room or not—those blue eyes were like a vortex beneath a calm lake surface, dark and deep. His hands gripped Caesar’s shoulders firmly, almost causing Caesar pain.
For a moment, Caesar almost agreed to Baldwin. He did not crave power, but as Heraclius said, if he did not go to Acre at this time, then they could only wait for God to grant a miracle to the Crusaders.
Heraclius had also realized that compared to the era of Godfrey of Bouillon, the current Crusaders were clearly lacking in successors. Amalric I still had the courage to organize a second expedition to Egypt, while the lords of Antioch, Tripoli, and other places mostly relied on truces, marriage alliances, and transactions to maintain the status quo.
Not to mention whether they still had the courage to take the initiative—even their understanding of their enemies was shallow. Seasoned men like Raymond and Bohemond would make the grave mistake of seeing the hero Nur al-Din as an ordinary old man, confidently saying that even if the main Crusader forces were completely withdrawn, there was no need to worry about Ayyarasa Road facing external threats.
“Calm down, Baldwin,” Caesar grabbed Baldwin’s hand in turn: “I can tell you something right now.”
“What?”
“Do you remember at the banquet in Fustat when I suddenly left the great hall?”
Banquets at this time often lasted a long time, from morning to late night not uncommon. Leaving occasionally was not strange—some to answer nature’s call, some just feeling the room too stuffy—the lighting relied only on torches and candles. Some had drunk or eaten too much meat and wanted to vomit, or the performances of dwarfs and clowns made them feel annoyed and noisy.
After they returned to Ayyarasa Road, some maliciously mentioned Caesar suddenly leaving the banquet, but no one paid attention, not even Raymond who usually disliked Caesar. After all, at that time Caesar had cut through the guards outside the palace and rushed into the fire to find them.
“A eunuch asked me to meet someone, and that person was… Saladin.”
“Saladin?”
“Saladin intended to recruit me to his service—he had an agreement with Shawwar and knew Shawwar might perish together with us, so before Shawwar acted, he managed to have me called out of the great hall where the banquet was held.”
“But you came back.”
“I came back, because I swore to you, and I never forgot Amalric I’s favor to me. I could not abandon you.”
“I believe you.”
“Then you should hear one more thing. Do you know Saladin is not meeting me for the first time?
Remember, we once disguised ourselves as young Byzantine nobles and went to the Market. I met a Saracen there. Perhaps you didn’t notice him, but when you entered the tent to hear the divination result, I had a brief conversation with him.
He is not a wicked person, and he has a kind heart and an open mind. But he is definitely not one to waste time and energy for nothing. So, why did he disguise himself and come to Ayyarasa Road? Surely not for me.”
Caesar squeezed Baldwin’s hand: “I think he wanted to see Ayyarasa Road and the one ruling this nation.
Then he saw it. Perhaps this visit confirmed to him that Shawwar’s plot could succeed. There was a saying in the Far East: to know your enemy is to achieve victory.
Saladin has indeed done what that saying requires. Now it is our turn. We cannot know nothing about our future enemies, and the earlier and more detailed our knowledge, the more we can accomplish.
Baldwin, I know you are not one to only hunker down in the City of Ayyarasa Road, passively accepting Saracen invasions and humiliation.” He smiled.
“I know how people view us, but I never take their gazes and gossip to heart. Why? Because I know one day we will leave here, and those hateful stares will one day be left behind us, forever unable to reach us.”
“I admit I have such ambitions,” Baldwin rested his forehead on Caesar’s shoulder, his voice muffled: “But why you, always you. I don’t want a second time like with Count Etienne. That feeling of only waiting, powerless, was truly awful.”
“Perhaps you are right, I am very selfish.” Caesar said: “I hope to do what others cannot, for you, for myself, and for God.”
When he was doing the final care work for Nur al-Din, he had not thought so deeply, but if he could use this to travel through half of Syria to Damascus, Bosra, Homs, Hama, and Acre—known as the eye of Syria—there would be even more opportunity to meet the man who might become Sultan in the future.
“You should know how precious this opportunity is, and I do not think it will be that dangerous a task. Unless they no longer acknowledge Sultan Nur al-Din as their Light of Faith, I can at least retreat safely.”
Baldwin was silent for a long while. Caesar almost thought he had persuaded him, but he stubbornly turned his head away.
“No, let me think about it, let me think some more.”
But they did not have much time for thinking and hesitation. Even though the weather was not yet very hot, and they had delayed the corpse’s decay with salt and ice cubes, the envoy’s procession still had nearly a week to reach Acre.
At this time, the Patriarch brought out someone Caesar had not expected.
Queen Mother Maria.
Amalric I’s marriage to the Countess of Jaffa ended when Baldwin was three, so in Baldwin’s memory, for a long time Holy Cross Castle had no mistress. He certainly loved his mother very much, but he also had to admit that Amalric I’s new wife, the Byzantine Princess Maria, was a lady worthy of respect.
Though plain in appearance, Maria had a decisive temperament like a man’s and many tactics for internal and external affairs. During the years Amalric I prepared the second expedition, she endured the heavy pressure of delayed pregnancy while managing the castle’s affairs inside and out impeccably.
How the king, her husband, was; how the two children from the husband’s previous wife were; how the guests were; how the vassals were; how the knights were—she knew everything and handled it all properly. Everyone said she was a good wife, good mother, and good mistress.
But did the Byzantine Princess exhaust herself to control the entire castle just for these few praises? Of course not. When Amalric I suddenly died during the expedition, people coming to persuade her to side with Raymond or Bohemond were endless.
She was certainly not foolish enough to stand against Baldwin. She knew Raymond—he despised women and hated foreigners, Byzantines. As the Byzantine Princess, allying with him was nearly impossible. And Bohemond was even more so; his son was the husband of Princess Sibylla, and their children would be the heirs of Baldwin IV.
Unfortunately, she also had a daughter. Children grow up quickly; in twelve years her daughter could also have marriage and offspring, and thus claim Ayyarasa Road—unless she remarried to Bohemond, giving him guardianship over Isabella, which might make him change course.
But that was pure fantasy. Bohemond’s marriage to his first wife was still valid, the other party also being a Byzantine princess, and they had Abigail. Unless Bohemond went mad would he abandon this already grown child—not to mention how stupid he is—and marry Maria, then vie for power with his stepdaughter’s husband.
But if she fully supported the new king Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road, as long as Baldwin could hold on until Isabella married and had children, who the crown of Ayyarasa Road would ultimately rest on was still uncertain?
At least for these dozen years, she would be a reliable ally.
After the Patriarch specially came to discuss this matter with her, that very evening she invited Baldwin and Caesar.
When they arrived, the first thing Queen Mother Maria did was serve an incredibly sumptuous feast, all cooked to Caesar and Baldwin’s tastes.
After these two boys in their growth spurts had their fill and were content, their reactions slowing, the Queen Mother smiled and handed the muttering little Princess Isabella to Caesar, telling him to take her to the next room to play.
Caesar sympathetically glanced at Baldwin; he also felt Baldwin had been a bit carried away lately.
For the first time, he ignored Baldwin’s pleading look, scooped up little Princess Isabella, and followed the giggling handmaid out.
