Chapter 167: The Isaacites’ New Year
“Go to Nalessa.”
Hearing this sentence suddenly, Sibylla instantly lost the composure she had been barely maintaining. She looked at Baldwin in disbelief, as if looking at a monster that had taken the form of her brother.
She had always been fearless because she knew Baldwin was a soft-hearted man. She had even privately joked with Abigail, saying that although her brother had the reputation of little Saint George on the battlefield, when facing his family, he was as weak as a woman. He would sob in his mother’s arms and repeatedly yield to his sister’s soft appeals.
And that had indeed been the case until today.
Baldwin sat behind the desk, hands crossed, looking at her calmly.
Even at this point, even though he had realized that his sister might not love him as much as he thought, he was still willing to grant her some tolerance for the sake of their shared father and mother, just…
“Why do you insist on staying in Holy Cross Castle?”
He asked somewhat puzzledly, “Would I deny him or refuse to let him be this kingdom’s heir just because this child was born outside Holy Cross Castle? As a pregnant woman, what you need most now is quiet rest. Do not think too much. Nalessa is a prosperous and beautiful city. I have already promised its Bishop that I will donate a small chapel to him.
You can spend the next few months in his mansion. When the child is born, he will be welcomed back to Ayyarasa Road. I will have Patriarch Heraclius baptize him.” He paused, without promising when he would publicly declare this child as his heir.
After all, in this era, infant mortality was extremely common. He did not want to announce that the Kingdom of Ayyarasa Road had an heir only for it to be gone next month or the year after, which would inevitably cast an ominous shadow over Ayyarasa Road and their family.
Sibylla was speechless. Of course she could not plainly reveal their scheme. This was also because Baldwin had always grown up in Ayyarasa Road and did not understand the poison brewing in the courts of Francia or Fustat.
This was a rather simple scheme, but once accomplished, it would kill three birds with one stone.
It might not be obvious in Ayyarasa Road. But in the court of Francia, to see how high someone might rise in the future, people looked at how much favor they received from the King, or from the person of highest status.
And the latter did not need to show favor as directly as Baldwin. Their indications were usually quite subtle, perhaps just speaking the first words to someone in a day, allowing him to be the first to accompany them, and—requiring others, this person mostly being the previous favorite, to yield the way or give up a room, etc.
The rise of a new star often began from these tiniest details. You could see it as a means these kings used to control their subjects, but it was indeed much simpler than leaving ministers and generals to blindly guess the monarch’s intentions.
If Baldwin acted as they expected, whether out of guilt, anger, or any reason, as long as he left Holy Cross Castle, they had ways to make the uninformed think Baldwin valued this unborn infant even more than himself.
This would create an illusion—that Baldwin IV, no matter what glory and merit he achieved, could only blaze across the firmament like a comet, and only this child could carry on that brilliance.
If they revered the King, they should revere this child protected by the King, because—the King was bending the knee for him, scheming for him.
But what could an infant in swaddling clothes do? Of course, it would be up to the infant’s father, mother, and even grandfather to worry for him… This way, over the next few years, they could control most of the authority in the Imperial Court, instead of waiting in vain for over a decade for this child to grow up, waiting for Baldwin IV to be sent to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Secondly, not to mention a leper, even an ordinary person could trigger illness from drastic emotional changes—priests often said that strong emotions generate heat in the body, stimulating the production of bodily fluids, disrupting the fragile balance.
Rage causes blood to rush from the heart to the limbs, swelling blood vessels and boiling the blood; once black bile is heated, it vaporizes to the brain, causing hysteria; mucus is caused by melancholy and sadness, and once excessive, a person becomes depressed, restless, prone to despair, even suicidal.
Moreover, all these conditions would accelerate the spread of those bad things to every part of the body—meaning the disease worsens.
Bohemond did not plan to let Ayyarasa Road see another king’s funeral so soon, but Baldwin was too good—yes, too good.
He was not yet sixteen years old, had not yet ruled personally, and had not even led an army on expedition, yet on his first battlefield, he shone with such brilliance that no one dared despise his talent and gifts. Such merit was almost comparable only to Baldwin I.
And his character—though still young, people said he was like that pious and just Godfrey.
Worse still, when he was first diagnosed as a leper, those attendants around him left out of fear or his father’s orders. Though he had now summoned them back, one could calculate that from age nine to fourteen, during that time most conducive to building bonds and when he most needed affection, whether David, Abigail, or others, it was all a blank.
Even if they did their best afterward, they could only become his ministers. His confidant was only Caesar, and Caesar was also a figure who always surprised them.
He was more perfect than Baldwin, even once provoking Amalric I to murderous intent. And not long ago, the last flaw in his life had been filled: his origin.
He was already Count of Edessa, ruler of one of the four Crusader states. You might say the County of Edessa no longer exists; now it is Saracen territory.
But that does not mean he has lost his claim to that land. As mentioned before, he can even seek aid from Tripoli, Antioch, and Ayyarasa Road with this, organize a counterattack, and reclaim Edessa.
The kings of the four Crusader states all swore oaths back then to stand united against the enemy. If someone abandoned an ally, not only would the already precarious Crusader states alliance be endangered, but even their subjects would doubt whether they should continue their loyalty.
With him, the young king would have a strong arm beside him, and they were both so young, while Raymond and the others were old, and their heirs so unsatisfactory.
David might barely manage, at least able to hold the fort, but someone like Abigail was out of the question.
Finally, it was Sibylla’s little bit of ambition.
She had once heard that Byzantine emperors were always born in the Purple Chamber—literally, a room whose ceiling and walls were decorated with purple curtains. Every prince and princess was born there, so later generations used “born in the purple” as a term for emperor.
Of course there was no Purple Chamber in Holy Cross Castle, but she could create one, for example, giving birth in the small chapel holding the True Cross—she hoped that from birth, when people spoke of her child, they would say this was an infant born under the True Cross, born to be King of Ayyarasa Road.
And she, his mother, like the Virgin Mary who bore the Holy Child Jesus, his flesh came from her. Of course she could rightfully share, even monopolize, the authority originally belonging to the King.
But at this moment, the once beautiful fantasy had been shattered by Baldwin’s words. “Do you not love me anymore?” This was completely subconscious.
Baldwin looked at her. He also realized that he perhaps did not understand this sister much. As a boy, the education he received was utterly different from a girl’s.
Sibylla’s beauty had high recognizability even when very young; women unanimously believed she would surely become a noble lady who could make countless knights, nobles, even kings bow.
And from then, Sibylla was aware of her uniqueness, to the point that she was cold to everyone, taking any attentive care as a matter of course.
To him, her brother—in her youth, she might have loved him. Even after he contracted leprosy, she had visited him despite the priests’ obstruction, given him gifts, comforted him that even if he went to the monastery, she would visit often.
That tender scene, when Baldwin recalled it now, seemed filled with jumbled voices and gray noise.
Was this really just a sister’s care for her brother? Or did she think that without Baldwin, she would be Ayyarasa Road’s heiress?
At that time, Sibylla was nearly of marriageable age; her wedding was already on the agenda. She could indeed marry and bear children.
And before her, Ayyarasa Road had once had a female heir.
No, Baldwin immediately told himself, impossible. He knew his sister had always harbored some irrational delusions. But he also knew that women, like men, desired and pursued power, which was understandable—humans are born with greed; it is original sin, inescapable.
Only those with fanatical faith, unwilling to continue living a sinful life in this world, ascetics could abandon worldly things.
No one does not want power. Even to do good, one needs power and money to achieve their wishes.
“You cannot treat me like this. Father instructed you to take good care of me!”
Faced with Sibylla’s accusation, Baldwin pursed his lips in distress.
His next response nearly made Patriarch Heraclius, sitting beside him, laugh out loud. “No,” Baldwin answered very seriously, “No, Sibylla, Father never told me to take care of you.”
This slap was far louder than Queen Mother Maria’s, but the truth was so. Amalric I was a true political animal. His life was not for God, but for Ayyarasa Road, or for his people and nation, and finally for his family.
He defied the Church at all costs to protect Baldwin; he eagerly married the Byzantine princess, using Baldwin as a stepping stone for his second son, all for this reason.
As for his daughter, Amalric I did not like her much, or rather, he was always indifferent to her.
Though a female heir was possible, she would have to place Ayyarasa Road’s crown on her husband’s head, meaning his kingdom would ultimately be possessed by an outsider.
If someone said to trade Sibylla for his second son, he would unhesitatingly accept the deal, even if trading with the devil.
When he died outside Fustat, his mind was still only on his kingdom and God. Baldwin was his only heir, the future King of Ayyarasa Road, so he kept him in his heart and schemed tirelessly for him.
Sibylla—her only role was to bear a child for the Kingdom of Ayyarasa Road, preferably a son. Nothing else could leave a mark in Amalric I’s heart.
But Baldwin’s blunt answer pierced Sibylla’s heart like a sharp sword. She did not think Baldwin would lie about this; there was no need, and no matter how much she disliked her brother, she knew he was not one to lie about this.
Everything she had done before seemed like a joke. At the same time, she realized that all their petty tricks were powerless before true legitimacy.
They might have indeed struck Baldwin some blows, making the young man impulsively yield his position. But what use was that? He had so many people around him. Even without Caesar, when Queen Mother Maria and Patriarch Heraclius found out, they would certainly persuade him back to the castle.
Once Baldwin sobered up and realized he should not continue to indulge her, the result would be as now: she was exiled, and people approved.
Baldwin was not the sensitive type; he only saw his sister suddenly pale. Though she had just hurt him badly using emotions as a weapon, he now felt some pity.
“Sister.” He stepped forward, wanting to speak, but Heraclius blocked him. “Accept the King’s kindness,” he said coldly. “Nalessa might suit you well.”
Sibylla trembled. She stared at Baldwin, seeing a monarch for the first time, not a little boy. Fear rose in her heart, but she dared not ask the terrible question: would she have to stay in Nalessa from now on?
Would it be—that even if her child returned to Holy Cross Castle, she could never re-enter Ayyarasa Road?
This thought left her dejected and distraught. Until Abigail worriedly led her away, she said nothing more.
Caesar leaned by the window, watching Sibylla and Abigail lead a group out of Holy Cross Castle, sighing inwardly.
He still remembered first seeing Sibylla: she was so perfect and radiant, like the blazing sun. At that time, not just him—even Baldwin seemed like a star dimmed by the sun’s brilliance.
But now, that sun had fallen. She still had beauty, status, the title of mother to a future king, but she…
Caesar shook his head, casting aside these complicated thoughts. He did not know Sibylla harbored such vicious intentions; otherwise, he would have no pity.
Baldwin’s worsening condition was what worried him most.
Though he had returned to Holy Cross Castle and was in his own room, both Heraclius and Baldwin hoped he would stay here a while, at least to recover from the weakness of hasty travel, and it would better aid the priests’ treatment—after all, Holy Cross Castle had the most blessed priests.
He stepped away from the window and saw Longinus bringing a steaming cup of mulled wine. It was medicinal wine, not great tasting.
Caesar downed it in one go with a martyr’s resolve. As he hurriedly rinsed his mouth with water nearby, Longinus brought news: “A woman wants to see you, Lord.”
“Who?”
“She says you should remember her. You once gave her a date, and later gave her justice.”
