Chapter 195: The Emperor’s Daughter’s Marriage
He punished two loose-tongued men—even though they had not openly accused Manuel I—but Manuel I still believed that their casual claim that a foreign Frankish knight from Francia was some emperor’s descendant, and that he had the qualities of a wise ruler, was a malicious insult and blasphemy against the emperor.
Even knowing it was just the ravings of a drunkard, and that another man had tried to dissuade him, he still could not suppress the inextinguishable anger rising in his heart.
This anger required the blood of many men to extinguish; the blood of just two was not enough. But at this moment, he also knew he should continue to maintain a benevolent and generous facade to appease his discontented subjects.
However, to dispel this dissatisfaction in his heart, he did not go to the empress. Although the empress sent handmaids to invite the emperor, he also knew that this aged body and withered face held no attraction for a young, vigorous woman full of desire.
The empress inviting him was merely to complain to him about her brother, that is, Bohemond III.
Like most noble children, this pair of siblings had not spent much time together and had no deep affection between them.
Not long after Bohemond was born, their biological father died in battle on the battlefield. Soon afterward, their mother Constance found a Crusader knight, the later Reynald of Châtillon, as her new husband.
They thought Bohemond III held the Principality of Antioch for over a decade in name as regent. During this time, Bohemond could not even return to Antioch and could only struggle to survive in Holy Cross Castle on Ayyarasa Road. He, along with Raymond, were nearly ten years younger than Baldwin III, but similar in age to Amalric I, which meant they could not enter Baldwin III’s inner circle at all.
Bohemond had no way to borrow the strength of the King of Ayyarasa Road to reclaim the rights that originally belonged to him. But undoubtedly, he had contacted his sister multiple times, but evidently, at that time the empress had not helped her brother much; it might also have been because her mother and stepfather bribed her to keep silent on the matter—in return, they would find her a good marriage.
They did indeed keep their promise; although Manuel I was old enough to be her grandfather, who would not want to become the Augusta of the Byzantine Empire?（ In Byzantium, people address the emperor as Basileus, a Greek-style title. But when addressing the queen, they use a Roman-style title, a variant of Augustus, that is, Augusta）.
In these years since marrying into Byzantium, she had been perfectly content, even bearing a son for Manuel I.
After Bohemond regained great power, she did think of reconciling with this brother; when Bohemond III became a Saracen prisoner in a war, it was she who repeatedly pleaded until Manuel I acted as intermediary, negotiating back and forth to ransom Bohemond III back.
Afterward, Bohemond III had even married Manuel I’s grandniece, so their relationship should have advanced further, but things did not develop as smoothly as she imagined.
Bohemond was still resentful toward her; this time he could clearly have returned to Constantinople with Manuel I, so the siblings could meet again and properly talk about what happened during their separation, as well as expectations for the future…
What expectations? Of course, her son becoming the Emperor of the Byzantine Empire; she had already seen how much Manuel I feared his eldest son Alexios. Her son was only six years old, but children all grow up, and she could not wait until he was in his teens to start scheming.
If Manuel I was still alive by then, who knew what mad things he would do for that throne.
Anyway, the Emperor of Byzantium had little desire for blood ties; they were a group of butchers, a group of madmen, and… “Beasts without any human decency!” When she learned Manuel I would not come to her palace, the empress could not help but curse angrily.
She then suddenly covered her mouth. Fortunately, the handmaids around her, fearing she would take out her anger on them, had already left the room. No one heard this exclamation she uttered in panic; in her heart, it was still like being bitten by a venomous snake, silently cursing Manuel I’s heartlessness on one side, and complaining about her brother’s incompetence and foolishness on the other.
She already knew that in the previous expedition, Antioch had suffered the greatest losses. But precisely because of this, Bohemond III should come to her side as soon as possible. If they could push the six-year-old little prince onto the throne, let alone losing ten thousand men, even if they lost a hundred thousand, the Byzantine Empire could give the Duke of Antioch sufficient compensation.
Moreover, now as Manuel I’s son-in-law and brother-in-law, Bohemond III had no choice but to adopt an extremely deferential posture—he should be fed up with such humiliation. But if the little prince ascended, he would become the emperor’s uncle, and might even become regent.
But Bohemond did not come, so all her plans came to nothing. She paced furiously around the room in anger; the handmaids only heard constant sounds of things breaking from the room, each one silent as a cicada in winter, not daring to say a word.
But on Manuel I’s side, the emperor’s mood was much better than the empress’s.
After all, the consort he summoned tonight was one of his most favored women, the arrogant and extravagant Theodora; like the Queen Mother of Ayyarasa Road, Maria’s mother, she was also Manuel I’s own niece, and she felt no shame about this chaotic and sordid relationship.
What was there to be ashamed of? When she was summoned into the palace, she was still a child, and her father’s head was still hanging on the city wall, her brothers had all been castrated—some dying in agony from high fever, others reduced to lowly eunuchs. Even though she was so young, she knew that the man she saw controlled her life and death, and could even make her wish she were dead.
She put on a face of reverence and docility—although she was very stern with others, in front of Manuel I, she was forever a fluffy little kitten; no, that was not quite right, kittens had claws; she was a flower, a flower without thorns, letting Manuel I to pluck or ravage at will.
Manuel I was quite satisfied; although it ended quickly, the emperor still felt refreshed, and his previous troubles seemed to have departed far from him.
Theodora saw the emperor lying in bed with eyes closed and thought Manuel I wanted to sleep; she was about to call the handmaids to bring sleep-inducing spices when Manuel I waved his hand. “I have something to say to you.”
The woman immediately curled up her body, prostrating at Manuel I’s feet, holding one of his hands and kissing it at her lips. “Please speak, my love, my monarch; I am all yours, awaiting your command.”
Manuel I slightly opened his eyes; the mist from the spice box made it hard for him to see clearly, so he quickly closed them again to avoid added annoyance. “How is Anna?”
This question momentarily stunned Theodora; she did not quite understand why Manuel I suddenly mentioned Anna.
Anna was no other; she was the eldest daughter born to Manuel I’s first wife. She and Manuel I had one son and two daughters in total; the son was Alexios, whom Baldwin and Caesar had seen before, and one of the two daughters had died young at four years old.
The one who grew up was Anna, born in 52; whether among the Saracens, in the Byzantine Empire, or in Ayyarasa Road, a girl this age should long have married and borne children, even having several already.
But as for this Anna, how to put it? Like her brother Alexios, she was in a rather awkward position.
Because Manuel I had annulled his marriage with his first wife, they were all illegitimate children, which meant their future marriages could only be arranged among lower-ranking subjects or similarly illegitimate children.
Alexios’s marriage was not particularly urgent, after all, he was a man. But his sister Anna was a bit tricky to handle; no one knew if marrying this unacknowledged princess would be fortune or misfortune.
If she did not want to become a nun, Anna’s only choice was to marry abroad.
A few years ago, when the King of Ayyarasa Road Amalric I wanted a marriage alliance with the Byzantine Empire, Theodora, as her guardian, had tried to advocate for her, but before she could propose it, Manuel I rejected（ another official’s suggestion）.
Manuel I’s attitude was very clear: he would not marry her to any monarch with an army. Theodora knew what he feared—that this daughter’s husband would become an arm for her that eldest son.
In the end, Theodora could only regretfully watch the daughter of another of her enemies become the queen of Ayyarasa Road, now the Queen Mother.
Now Manuel I suddenly mentioned this daughter again, and Theodora’s fur stood on end in an instant; no one knew better than her that Manuel I never spoke without purpose.
If he mentioned Anna, it must be because he had already decided where to place this chess piece.
What she feared most was that Manuel I would decide to send Anna to a monastery. Anna’s mother had been empress for twelve years; although not liked by the people of the Byzantine Empire, she had always protected and cared for the women in the palace. Although Theodora often acted in ways that seemed provocative toward the empress, it was just a way to vie for favor.
No man would be happy to see harmony in his harem—these women were like the subjects in the imperial court; if they did not attack each other and compete, what was the point of him as their husband and monarch?
And Theodora, who had raised this girl for over a dozen years, naturally hoped she would have a good match.
“Theodora?”
Manuel I asked softly; though his voice was low, to Theodora it was like a thunderbolt striking her. She trembled slightly. “You mean that child? She is well, always reading scriptures, doing needlework, praying for your well-being and her brothers’.”
“Is that all?” Manuel I slightly turned his head; though his eyes were still closed, it was as if they pierced through the slack eyelids, staring intently at Theodora. “Does she not resent me? I abandoned her mother and turned her into a shameful illegitimate daughter.”
Theodora tried her utmost to relax, putting on a feigned smile of surprise.
“What are you saying? Everyone knows that your previous… marriage was just a mistake. You timely corrected this error, not letting Kosmas（ the former Patriarch of the Byzantine Empire, who was close to Manuel I’s enemies）’s curse damage the foundation of the entire empire, and you still treat them as before.
Look, you still call her Porphyrogenita（ meaning one born in the Purple Chamber）; she grew up in your court, dressed in fine silks, with abundant diet, and countless handmaids serving her. What could she possibly have to be dissatisfied about?”
Manuel I smiled in satisfaction. “So, she still loves me?”
“What daughter does not love her father?” Theodora said confidently. “Do you want to go see her? Believe me, the moment she sees you, she will burst into tears and throw herself at your feet, kissing your robe.”
“No, I do not plan to see her; just… how old is she this year?”
“Twenty-four, almost twenty-five.”
“When you came to me, you were only twelve; when her mother married me, she was also only twelve. I should put her marriage on the agenda.”
Theodora’s movements paused for a moment; she quickly put on a smile, hoping the emperor did not notice. “This is a good thing; I believe you will choose a very good husband for her.”
“Indeed, some say he has the qualities of a wise ruler.” Manuel I finally opened his eyes, not surprisingly finding a trace of panic in Theodora’s eyes—no one knew better than her how sensitive this aged emperor was to such words. “Rest assured,” he reached out to stroke that delicate face, “he cannot possibly become an emperor, can he? He cannot even become a king. He is just a Crusader knight; though he has the title of count, his father long ago lost their territory.
He is now merely a subject of the King of Ayyarasa Road.” His thumb gently brushed over Theodora’s eye; Theodora did not dare move a muscle, even as the rough surface of the finger scratched her delicate eyeball, forcing tears to flow.
Manuel I gently wiped away the falling teardrop for her, saying leisurely, “This might be a good thing for Anna, lest she develop undue ambitions. And if you saw that young man, you would surely think it the best possible match,” he said, seeming somewhat unwilling, “he is even more handsome than I was at sixteen, like the favorite of the moon god descended to this world.”
