Chapter 207: Wedding Ceremony
As the eldest daughter of Manuel I, when her mother was still alive, Anna naturally received all kinds of care and favor. Even Manuel I had once placed her on his knee, calling her the most radiant pearl of Constantinople.
Even later, when Manuel I, in order to obtain a strong claim to the Principality of Antioch, firmly annulled his marriage to her mother, causing her and her brother’s status to plummet, the women in the palace still did not dare to torment her like a slave or servant.
After being adopted by Theodora, they at most cold-shouldered her in private, mocking and provoking her. Some even bluntly wanted to send her to meet her birth mother, but failed—nevertheless, she had never suffered. The few times she was injured were from pricking her finger while embroidering, or being scratched by thorns on branches while breaking flower stems. Even such minor wounds would make her cry out in agony.
Now a sharp sword pierced through her abdomen, yet Anna felt no pain, only anger. She had long known her brother held no brotherly affection for her. He even saw her as a rare commodity, scheming in every way to sell her for a good price—and sometimes the way he looked at her reminded Anna of those women in the palace. He was jealous of her, which sounded like an incomprehensible thing.
It would be much later before she understood what her brother was jealous of her for. Compared to the Grand Prince who was exiled, as a Princess, Anna could still remain in the Grand Imperial Palace, raised by the favored consort. She could still see Manuel I from time to time. Even if Manuel I treated her as nothing, it was better than him, the “most noble Alexios,” who had to go through layers of announcements just to see his father once.
He hated her disobedience. She had not followed his arrangements to marry a stranger she had never met, nor was she willing to speak for him before their father to restore his former status and power.
Anna did not waste time, nor did she have the strength to argue with her brother. She had not been pierced by a weapon, but she had watched gladiatorial performances held in the name of duels in the arena—she knew that if a person could still shout and scream after being wounded, it meant the injury was not serious, not damaging vital organs or causing excessive bleeding. But if after one sword stroke he immediately fell silent, only able to emit weak groans, then even the most powerful monk could hardly save his life.
And now she was facing such a situation. Anna only felt like a pierced waterskin. Just as water flows out from the hole in the waterskin, her strength and consciousness were also flowing out with the blood from this breach. She could not make a sound.
Alexios knew this well too. He pulled the sword out slightly, but not to withdraw it, instead cruelly twisting the sword tip in his sister’s abdominal cavity. The immense pain finally arrived belatedly.
Under this intense pain, Anna exerted all her strength to swing her arm. Her fingers finally hooked onto the glass wine jug on the small table—Cypriots greatly favored glassware. Out of respect and submission to the Princess, the room she used for changing certainly lacked no such sparkling luxury items. This wine jug even came with a pair of small cups filled with mead. Her handmaid had just brought it for her to drink earlier. The Princess could not see, but when her fingers touched something ice-cold and hard, she knew she had done right.
The glass wine jug fell to the ground and immediately shattered into pieces. Because Cyprus was not too hot even in January, there was no carpet in the room. When the wine jug turned into thousands of irregular shards, it made a crisp sound, alarming the people next door.
Alexios was not panicked. He raised his short sword to deliver a fatal blow, but at that moment, one person had already rushed in.
This was probably the most disheveled Caesar had ever appeared. He had changed into a short linen robe, barefoot, with only a scimitar in hand—Baldwin’s Damascus knife hanging at his waist. When he was changing, this scimitar had been placed on top of all his clothing.
Upon hearing the strange noise from the next room, he immediately drew the knife and rushed in without hesitation. Perhaps the worries he had always harbored had finally turned into reality at this moment. He showed no hesitation, no questioning or scolding, and directly engaged the Grand Prince Alexios in combat.
Alexios dodged to the side, but his crown’s dangling pearls were still sliced open. He did not care about that now—he despised Caesar, but he dared not underestimate this young knight who had gone on an expedition to Egypt with Amalric I when his identity was still unknown, and who had charged against Nur al-Din’s army with Baldwin IV. With a backhand, he knocked over the room’s only light source—a candelabra—onto the ground, plunging the room into darkness.
Anna lay on the ground, wanting to warn Caesar that the saint the Grand Prince Alexios worshiped was Saint Bartholomew, who had originally been blind but regained sight under the mighty power of Jesus Christ. Thus, under his protection, Alexios could see in the darkness as if it were daylight.
When they were still children, Anna’s brother had often used this method to tease her, making her cry loudly.
She could still clearly remember that in those few instances of darkness, her brother shouted in a strange tone, “The devil is coming, the devil is coming!”
Yes, the devil had finally come.
Anna could not see the situation in the room, but she could judge from the wind sounds and occasional touches to her skirts and feet that Caesar was steadfastly guarding in front of her, even though she seemed unlikely to survive.
Her brother exploited this. Whenever he fell at a disadvantage under Caesar’s hand, he would take the chance to attack his sister. Not only would he stab and slash with the short sword, but he would also grab whatever was at hand and hurl it viciously. Caesar could only retreat to Anna’s side, using his body to shield her as much as possible.
However, Alexios did not intend to fight Caesar to the death here. After probing a few rounds, he knew Caesar was not someone he could kill in a short time.
And upon seeing others rush in, Alexios hesitated no longer. After throwing a heavy dolphin bronze statue at Caesar, he unhesitatingly charged toward the window. But almost at the same moment, a spear as if from the goddess Artemis suddenly leaped out of the darkness. It tore through the air, pierced his shoulder, and instantly nailed this arrogant prince to the wall.
Before the crowd realized what had happened, Baldwin had already dashed through the people. His aid came so timely; the Grand Prince cried out in pain. He wanted to pull out the spear, but as soon as his hand touched it, the pain was unbearable, like being scorched by burning coals.
“Baldwin!” he shouted the name of the King of Ayyarasa Road. Who did not know that the King of Ayyarasa Road was favored by God and Saint George, possessing a sharp spear that could destroy all things?
He clung to the wall, face contorted, but still not much fear in his heart. “I am the son of Manuel I, I am the Grand Prince of the Byzantine Empire! You should not treat a supreme person like this!”
But the people rushing into the room at this time would not listen to his nonsense. Heraclius was the first to reach Caesar’s side. By the faint light of Saint George’s Spear, those rough yet warm hands quickly passed over Caesar.
Although he knew his student was like a dragon with thick armor, and even on the battlefield, few weapons could harm him, he still feared the people of the Byzantine Empire. Those who thought themselves inheritors of all of Ancient Rome had long lost the courage and integrity of a hundred years ago. They would use conspiracy, poison, and curses, which no one could guard against—like a cobra hidden in the dark, ready to strike at any moment.
“I’m fine.” Caesar grabbed his hand in return: “It’s the Princess.”
At this point, someone finally lit a candle. Amid the Grand Prince’s hoarse roars, Heraclius could no longer care about anything else. He pulled up the blood-soaked linen robe with one hand. With just a glance, his and Caesar’s hearts sank sharply, straight into a bottomless abyss.
Heraclius placed his hand on it, and the other two Chosen by Raphael monks had also arrived to help. Their expressions told Caesar that Anna’s condition was not optimistic.
Monks Chosen by Raphael could heal many diseases, but God’s power is infinite, while human power is limited. Only a few monks and priests could regenerate missing limbs and organs or cure terrible ailments like leprosy, the black death, diphtheria, malaria, and so on.
And here, the most powerful monk was of course Patriarch Heraclius. He had even healed a knight whose chest was caved in by a heavy hammer.
His treatment was immediate. The wound’s bleeding stopped instantly, and the muscles and skin faintly showed signs of regeneration. But the problem was, “If her organs were not damaged, or simply pierced through, I might still save her.” Heraclius said, “But he stirred up half her belly with the sword. The uterus and part of the intestines are already a mass of bloody pulp. Even if monks from the Pope’s side came to treat her, she couldn’t live.”
Heraclius hesitated only slightly, then under the cover of his wide-sleeved robe, took out a bottle of potion from his sleeve. Caesar immediately understood and helped him pour the potion into Anna.
Anna could feel herself being held in someone’s arms. His hands were so warm. She did not know if it was because her injuries were too severe, but she smelled no spices, only fresh water vapor. She grasped his hand, felt it grip hers in return, and knew who he was.
Back at Holy Cross Castle, she had heard the noble ladies mention more than once that her future husband had various quirks, one of which was disliking the use of spices.
Through her blurry vision, she could see many people walking around in his room, some loudly cursing amid pleas and arguments, but these voices were very distant from her. They must have lit many candles and torches, yet her eyes were still dim. As if still in that nightmare.
The devil came, the devil came, she shouted, but no one could hear her voice.
The atmosphere in the room was somewhat oppressive. The Grand Prince’s pained curses turned into sneers. While enduring the pain, he watched these expressions of despair.
The reason he chose this time, rather than others, was to watch them fall from the peak of hope into the deep valley of despair, including his sister.
A knight hurriedly ran in: “Someone is attacking the palace! It’s—Byzantines and Cypriots.”
The knight glanced at the Grand Prince nailed to the wall and the officials of the Byzantine Empire. Their army was launching an attack here. “I should have known earlier.” The Grand Master of the Knights Templar suppressed his anger. The near-success turned failure made his mood extremely bad.
He saw Baldwin removing his fine clothes and quickly held him back: “Your Majesty, please stay here for now. To deal with these guys, there is no need for you to lead personally.”
The Grand Master glanced at Caesar. With him there, he was worth a hundred or thousand sets of armor. But he still waved his hand, “You stay by your wife’s side too. She’s about to die. Hurry and give her last rites.” In any case, the dying princess was definitely a victim. If she went straight to hell like this…
He had little mercy for this girl, but even the battle-hardened Grand Master had to admit she was too unlucky.
In fact, it was just as the Grand Master said. They had indeed come for the wedding and as witnesses. But as long as the king was here, he could not be alone. Moreover, this was Caesar marrying the Byzantine princess; many knights had come willingly to congratulate.
Every knight and monk was blessed by God—Baldwin had once led three hundred knights to charge Nur al-Din’s great camp. The Grand Master did not believe the Grand Prince, watched by his own father, could assemble an army of ten thousand. But he had not yet left when a weak call stopped his steps.
“What did you say?” Heraclius asked for the Grand Master: “Continue the Wedding Ceremony?”
Cyprus was the territory they had most desired in these decades—the Grand Master halted. The Grand Prince nailed to the wall as an ornament paused, then suddenly hysterically screamed and shouted.
The response from the Grand Master of the Knights Templar was to draw his long sword, scabbard and all, and slap it across his face, instantly knocking out several of his teeth. One side of the Grand Prince’s cheek swelled rapidly, leaving him mumbling incoherently, unable to speak.
And the crowd held their breath listening, but upon hearing Anna’s answer, the Grand Master’s first thought was not wild joy, but suspicion that a devil had possessed this woman.
“Am I going to die, right?” Anna asked.
“Yes,” Heraclius answered bluntly.
“No chance… at all?” Anna struggled to ask—although, although, she still clung to a sliver of faint hope. She was so young; she had only just seen a ray of light leaking from the edge of long darkness.
The Grand Master certainly knew Anna was definitely going to die. He had been on too many battlefields and seen companions or enemies with wounds burst open, entrails exposed.
If it was a companion, he would unhesitatingly give him a knife to send him quickly to heaven. He would even do the same for enemies. Because even if the wound could heal, the organs inside would not regrow. He could only suffer in vain for hours or days before dying miserably.
Heraclius was about to speak when Anna grabbed him.
By rights, Anna should be weak and powerless now, but the hand gripping him was so resolute—or rather, mad. He could feel the girl like a candle burning to its end, bursting with brighter light in her final moments of life.
“What do you want to do?” the Patriarch asked in a low voice, while giving a look to the monk. The monk immediately placed his hands on Anna’s head. They had long discovered that the power God granted them not only healed diseases and wounds but also invigorated the spirit and sharpened reactions.
And as the monk infused power into Anna’s body.
Anna’s vision instantly brightened again. It was as if she had been pulled from hell back to the mortal world. Everything returned to this room: light, sound, sensation.
But the pain also came roaring back. Even just breathing made her feel the intense pain from her abdomen, like someone had scattered a handful of iron thorns in her belly, then sewn it shut again.
Even just lying still, simple breathing made these iron thorns shift, stab, and tumble repeatedly in her fragile flesh.
She was so pained she felt dizzy again. Heraclius beside her immediately gave her another bottle of potion. Everyone waited anxiously, hoping Anna could make a sound again.
