Chapter 194: The No-laughing Order
Some people were eating heartily, while others had already grown tired of the fixed menu, along with the light songs and dances in the hall. The official in charge of diplomatic affairs did not notice that his friend had drunk too much wine, his head beginning to feel dizzy, but another train of thought became exceptionally clear, and his courage was amplified along with it.
His gaze passed through the bustling crowd and fell on that black-haired young man. “His posture in using the fork and spoon is truly elegant,” he said as if talking to himself. “Is he really a Frank? Or perhaps the son of some exiled emperor?”
Or perhaps his father, or his grandfather?
He turned to his friend. “Have you seen his father or grandfather? I mean the Count of Edessa. Do they have any similarities? He is just like a Byzantine, like a monarch born to rule.” He laughed heartily. “At least part of him is. Do you remember any emperor with black hair?
I remember my history teacher once told me that Emperor Julian had black hair,” he muttered.
When recording emperors, people rarely detailed their hair color. Generally, they would record their height, voice, gaze, and even down to their eyebrows, nose, and mouth, because these could reveal human character and preferences.
Hair color was rarely mentioned.
“Emperor Julian’s hair was black, but his eyes were gray. That young knight’s eyes are like emeralds. Do you remember any monarch with green eyes?
I remember Anastasius I had a pair of differently colored eyes. A scholar once described it this way: his eyes were always the most striking, one as blue as the firmament of daylight, and the other as black as a lake at night.
Perhaps inherited from his mother; he might have an Apennine or Frankish mother.
His body is so tall and graceful, reminding me of Constantine VII, with snow-white skin, but blue eyes. And there was another general, once the new husband of an empress; he too had black eyes.
Oh, heaven forbid any relation to that man—his eyes were as small as a mole’s, his mustache like a hyena’s, his neck like a turtle’s, his skin like an Ethiopian’s. He bore no resemblance to this child at all; even his black hair was dirty and loathsome.
They were two opposite extremes.
I do recall one admirable man of outstanding beauty and well-proportioned build. But his hair was like the sun’s rays, that is, red.
Anyone else?”
He slumped there, muttering. At first, his official friend did not notice that he had lost control of himself—he was discussing another, more important matter with someone else.
When he turned his head to see how his friend was doing, he faintly heard one or two complaints like delirium, and his face changed drastically. He immediately called two slaves and told them to escort the drunk official out of the great hall. Of course, he did not forget to stuff a thick, heavy piece of buffalo cheese into his friend’s mouth to prevent him from continuing to babble.
He told the slaves to take him out of the great hall and hand him over to his own servants. At this point, he hesitated slightly, unsure whether to notify his own servants or the friend’s relatives. But thinking of all he had already said, he could only steel himself, turn away, and pay no more attention.
And as the official had foreseen, before the banquet ended, an eunuch secretly passed him a slip of paper: his friend had been arrested.
He sat pale-faced in his seat, only hoping his friend’s transgression would not implicate him, but his thinking was truly too naive. Manuel I, having just suffered a major defeat, was precisely at the moment of reestablishing his majestic image; even if it meant using severe punishments, he would have no scruples.
The next day, Baldwin and Caesar were again invited to the Hippodrome for the victory celebration. Clearly, Manuel I was still working hard to portray this disheartening failure as a victory—even if the evidence was not so certain—thus the King of Ayyarasa Road was a must-attend important guest.
Although they could only be counted as late-arriving reinforcements, if they were mercenaries hired by Manuel I, then the mercenaries’ victory would also be Manuel I’s victory, would it not?
In fact, in a fair and square battle, they had routed Arslan II, leaving him defeated and in disarray; even if the emperor was fleeing at the time, it did not prevent him from borrowing some of that glory for himself.
Early in the morning, they set off with Manuel I to the Hippodrome, where Manuel I of course had his own viewing terrace—connected by a passage to the Grand Imperial Palace. In other words, Manuel I could go directly from the passage to the Hippodrome without leaving his palace.
This Hippodrome was about fourteen hundred feet long and five hundred feet wide, with all spectator seats paved in marble. The frontmost seats naturally belonged to the high officials and nobles, but the tiered seats upward also ensured that even commoners in the back could see the entire field clearly.
The Hippodrome was filled with statues of heroes, gods, and emperors, purple and gold silk draped everywhere, and along the track were bronze sculptures of racehorses and carriages; at the northern end were four gilded bronze quadrigas.
The chariots would race around the central spine, on which stood the bronze Serpentine Column, the Obelisk, and the Constantine Obelisk.
To start, wild beasts were used for warm-up; after beast tamers led the beasts in various performances, came beast-versus-beast fights, with scenes of blood and flying entrails that made Baldwin instinctively furrow his brow.
Hunting was one of the essential skills for every knight, but seeing these fur-covered animals fighting not for territory or food, but forced into combat for humans’ thirst for blood and death, still made him feel uneasy.
Not to mention that gladiators appeared later; human duels had been legislated against by Emperor Constantine the Great as early as 325, but humans always find endless ways to circumvent laws or restrictions.
They no longer called these brutal shows gladiatorial combat, but duels—though unlike knights’ sparring, they did not use jousting, but wore simple armor, held round shields and short swords to fight to the death.
They were more unfortunate than ancient Roman gladiators; there was no such thing as final mercy here. The audience would not raise thumbs to spare the wounded’s lives; they would only watch in silent excitement, waiting for one side’s death, like worms eager to burrow into blood and suck.
This performance already made Baldwin turn his head away, refusing to watch.
He did not yet know this was just a small appetizer.
——————
In Heraclius’s history and etiquette lessons, the Byzantine Empire’s prevalent law had been mentioned more than once—this law was enacted by Emperor Justinian in 527-565. After establishing the codex, to safeguard the monarch’s dignity, he included “verbal disrespect toward the emperor” in its ordinances.
In this famous codex, it explicitly stated that anyone daring to publicly mock or ridicule the emperor would be punished with confiscation of property, exile to foreign lands, or having their mouth mutilated.
Heraclius had said that from this perspective, the Byzantine Empire could not be the purest heir of ancient Rome—after all, the emperors of the ancient Roman Empire were fundamentally still “first citizens” checked by the senate and legions; from Emperor Constantine the Great onward, emperors became true emperors, representatives of God on earth, the dual core of religion and politics.
He had even specially prepared coins, holy images, and ornaments, one brooch, to give to the two children to view the emperor’s image on them.
Although every Christian king would engrave his face on coins to familiarize his people with it, on ornaments, a king’s image was extremely rare unless canonized as a saint by the Roman Church.
In Byzantium, the image of the empire’s emperor was everywhere, not only on gold coins, but on church frescoes, in glass holy images, in the ornaments of ministers and generals—they would pin brooches bearing the emperor’s image on their hats and cloaks to show loyalty to the emperor.
With the emperor’s image elevated to such heights, this article in the codex by Emperor Justinian naturally rose accordingly, revised and supplemented by successive emperors.
By the late seventh century, this law had become so harsh it was hard to believe.
This ordinance repeatedly used words like “all,” “any,” “every,” “everything”—terms that should not lightly appear in laws.
Simply put, whether speech, writing, poetry, drama, or even casually hummed tunes, any description of the emperor could be deemed a violation.
And so-called public occasions were defined as any with two witnesses, making it infinitely sarcastic that the law also listed informers among the offenders.
Because to accuse someone, he must repeat what that person said. By saying it, he himself committed the crime.
Public executions were commonplace in Crusader States too, but influenced by Caesar, Baldwin, though unable to prohibit them yet, would not encourage them—respect for life. This idea, which no one in this era followed or preached, was deeply etched in his heart.
So when he saw these two criminals brought forward, he felt no joy, only annoyance—he should have feigned illness and stayed away. Though he knew it unlikely; after all, at last night’s banquet, the emperor had repeatedly toasted, demanding everyone celebrate the victory over Arslan II with him—without Baldwin, where would this victory come from?
And in this grand celebration manipulating opinion and fooling the populace, he was an indispensable prop.
But the scene that followed was so unbearable even to a usually stern and cold-blooded Templar Knight.
Two young men, wearing only coarse linen tunics, bare-limbed and barefoot, hair disheveled, dragged before the crowd, the iron chains around their waists clanking, their occasional whimpers evoking pity.
They knelt below the emperor’s terrace, watched by tens of thousands, as a magnificently dressed privy scholar, not a judge but permitted by the emperor to conduct some judicial acts, unrolled a thick parchment and loudly read their charges.
These two were that blundering drunk and his unfortunate official friend. Though the official had tried, in the emperor’s bid to assert authority, any effort was futile.
He raised a pallid face, awaiting the privy scholar to finish reading his charges—he and his friend had both committed the sin of disrespect to the monarch.
As the privy scholar’s words fell, the surrounding crowd erupted in excited shouts.
But as Caesar had seen at Holy Cross Castle, their cheers held little thirst for justice, more a desire for swift bloody spectacle. Nor were they disappointed: the two criminals were fitted with “veils of shame” bearing the emperor’s portrait, then the executioners advanced with whips; each was to receive thirty lashes.
These thirty lashes were not like those knights knew on backs, buttocks, or thighs. Though nominally to reduce fatality, it was more to prolong the torment; the executioners started from the shoulder blades.
The shoulder blades had only thin skin; even the strongest had little muscle there. A few lashes sufficed to flay skin from flesh, expose bone; their screams echoed through the entire Hippodrome, audible even outside.
And this was merely the beginning of the prolonged torture.
Deemed serious offenders, they faced two more punishments: branding the emperor’s emblem—Manuel I’s was him on horseback, thus especially large—on their cheeks, signifying an indelible charge.
Then their tongue tips would be cut off, preventing further blasphemous words. Fortunately, the emperor at least granted mercy allowing families to ransom priests for treatment, though whether to keep them as living warnings or out of benevolence was questionable.
After this blood-soaked show, Baldwin lost all interest in the remaining performances.
He and Caesar sat uncomfortably in their seats, staring at the fervent chariot races and mock battles below.
As Alexios had said, there was indeed a sea battle simulation with seawater. It continued from dusk to night; on the dark water, ripples reflected burning torches and sails, but what exactly they saw, neither could say.
Nothing left a deeper impression than those two bloodied faces and gaping mouths.
