Chapter 209: Promise
Kostas was a young noble on the island of Cyprus. When he failed to meet the Grand Prince at the appointed time and place, he knew the situation was dire.
He had previously advised the Grand Prince that if they wanted to stop the marriage, their inside man could easily end Princess Anna’s life with poison and a dagger. But to his dismay, the Grand Prince was stubborn; he even said that one born in the Purple Chamber should die by the hand of one born in the Purple Chamber.
This statement indeed won the agreement of many, completely ignoring that many emperors and Imperial Family Members had died by the sword of generals or the noose of eunuchs.
But as in every previous instance, those people from Cyprus—Kostas meant his father and some Cypriot nobles—were as if bewitched by the devil, wholeheartedly believing that Grand Prince Alexios was completely different from Manuel I.
Indeed, the Grand Prince had always behaved politely, magnanimous, and kind in his presence, even extremely generous. He promised Kostas’s father that once he became the monarch of Byzantium, he would always tilt military power toward Cyprus, so the people of Cyprus would no longer have to hold out bitterly against Saracen harassment and assaults.
Moreover, he promised to grant Cyprus more autonomy in the future, or even make it an autonomous region. This sounded truly moving, but Kostas, as someone who could only watch from the sidelines, found it hard to believe Alexios. His intuition told him that this Grand Prince was not as upright and reliable as he pretended; was he really just trying to prevent Princess Anna from dying so humiliatingly?
No.
Kostas saw in those flickering eyes his cruelty and brutality toward blood kin, not to mention that he had once overheard Alexios, after drinking, casually describe his sister as a Crusaders’ prostitute. He had seen people like Alexios: they feared the strongman and dared not confront him, but vented their anger on the weak because the weak could not resist their violence.
Alexios insisted on doing it himself, and Kostas believed it was merely to satisfy some unspeakable private desire deep in his heart, and indeed, for this evil thought, he brought about the bitter fruit that everyone did not want to see.
Looking at the still silent cathedral, Kostas wanted to persuade his father and the others that it was not too late to stop now—but his persuasion not only failed to convince his father but also earned him a scolding.
“Don’t you know how greedy those damned Franks are?
When they came here from Francia, they were just beggars and refugees. They plundered every place they saw, whether villages or cities; even Constantinople had been ravaged by them.
They couldn’t even compare to the Saracens, just a group of barbarians without any morality or character. If we let them take Cyprus, we would be cattle and horses raised by a pack of beasts!”
Kostas knew why his father was so stubborn. People of the Byzantine Empire had always looked down on those crude Franks; they were the chief culprits in the downfall of the Western Roman Empire. Even if they called themselves heirs of Roman civilization, don’t make him laugh—they destroyed temples, burned libraries, and slaughtered learned scholars…
Had they truly inherited anything? Don’t make jokes; they hadn’t even inherited a cookbook.
“What about the Grand Prince then?” Kostas asked. Since he hadn’t come out at the appointed time, it meant he might have been captured by those Crusaders.
Kostas’s father fell silent for a moment. “They dare not do anything to the Grand Prince. He is after all the eldest son of Manuel I. Even if he no longer has the status of a legitimate son, his title is still the noblest Alexios, and there are plenty in Constantinople who support him. Those Crusaders will surely consider this; they might demand ransom or negotiate with us, but no matter—we have ten thousand men.”
Kostas was speechless, not because he didn’t want to refute his father, but because he knew it was futile no matter how much he said.
He looked around. Ten thousand sounded terrifying indeed, but unfortunately, true Cypriots were few and far between—perhaps just dozens, or a hundred Family Disciples. The rest were all mercenaries; they came for money but wouldn’t die for it in a crisis.
Even if the Crusaders had brought fewer than five hundred men, most were those blessed by God—there were knights Chosen by Michael, and priests or monks Chosen by Raphael.
Moreover, because of the Grand Prince’s folly, they hadn’t lured the Crusaders out of the cathedral. The cathedral was built in the 9th Century, and like all churches of that era, to resist internal and external assaults and plunder, every church was built like a castle, with thick city walls, arrow towers, and battlements for shooting and throwing…
And that tall bell tower standing to one side of the city gate allowed anyone standing atop it to easily overlook the entire cathedral from above.
And as far as he knew, a castle had once withstood the siege of thousands of soldiers with only dozens of defenders inside. Even with such a disparity in numbers, the defenders still achieved victory.
The cathedral had sufficient food and water sources. As far as he knew, the priests also had horses and armor, possibly weapons. And these Crusaders didn’t need to hold out for long; Cyprus was not far from the Principality of Antioch or the County of Tripoli—their reinforcements could arrive in two or three days. What would they do then?
Although they too worshipped God, to the Crusaders, followers of the Orthodox Church were heretics more detestable than heathens; they could easily turn this into another Ayyarasa Road.
“They still haven’t announced…” Kostas’s father stared intently at the window of the cathedral facing the square. “Since the witnesses haven’t come out, it means the Grand Prince succeeded; they failed to complete the ceremony.
The Crusaders have reinforcements—don’t we? I’ve already sent men to seek help from the Governor of the Kibyrrhaiotai military district. He once promised us he would support the Grand Prince. Now is the time to call on him. Once we drive out these damned Franks…”
“Manuel I will send troops over…”
Kostas’s words made his father’s face darken. Moments later, he said through gritted teeth, “That’s inevitable sooner or later, isn’t it?”
Far from it. Kostas thought to himself. He wouldn’t betray them; everyone knew Manuel I would uproot their families entirely. But he had no interest in the Grand Prince’s cause either—he had seen through him; he was no wise ruler worthy of the trust of Cypriots, but a cunning hypocrite.
He had originally wanted to delay as long as possible—a year if he could manage it—since no one knew what might happen next; perhaps the Grand Prince would die before Manuel I. But now it was too late to say anything.
The mercenaries were already chaotically charging toward the cathedral in a noisy mob.
They had no siege engines, but they had two crossbows and one trebuchet. Yet these apparatuses were too weak; though they dented the cathedral’s main door, they could never fully destroy it—it remained as solid and impregnable as ever.
And at that moment, someone brought a box, claiming it could destroy the gate in one go.
“What is this?” Kostas asked.
“Greek fire!” the man replied, with a smug expression. “We spent ten thousand gold coins to obtain it.”
Kostas looked puzzled. Greek fire was a weapon devastatingly effective both at sea and on land, and Manuel I had long ordered the strictest secrecy on its manufacture and use, especially against generals within the Empire and enemies outside.
The other saw his doubt and quickly added, “The Grand Prince arranged it.”
“Have you tested it?” Kostas asked instinctively, earning a stern glance from his father. He knew he had spoken out of turn and could only step back silently, while that Cypriot merchant gave a contemptuous look, as if to say, look at this coward.
He and those craftsmen said to be skilled in using Greek fire took out the contents of the box and clumsily assembled them, completely ignoring the craftsmen’s uneasy expressions. Once assembled, he boldly stood by the device, lit the liquid spraying from the nozzle as instructed—and he fervently hoped the Greek fire would shoot onto the sturdy city gate and burn fiercely as in legends.
The wooden parts would of course burn up quickly, and the metal fittings would warp and deform in the heat; then a makeshift battering ram would open the cathedral to them. But contrary to his imagination, as soon as he lit it, it exploded.
At the first flash of light, the merchant sensed danger, but it was too late. The flames did not shoot forward but burst in all directions. The leather pouch storing the deadly liquid burst instantly, and countless flames fell on him and those around him. They let out agonized screams; the bystanders were caught off guard, some even running to water to extinguish the flames.
“Don’t use water!” Kostas shouted, tearing off his cloak and lunging at the nearest person. Others followed suit, but the flames were hard to extinguish. Even if put out, the intense heat had already blistered flesh. A monk rushed over to treat them, but several severely burned men had already died.
One of them was the man who, following the Grand Prince’s arrangement, had traded ten thousand gold coins for this box of Greek fire. Kostas too suffered minor burns. Enduring the pain, he looked toward his father.
Clearly, this box of Greek fire was fake—made by the Grand Prince either to bolster their confidence or to swindle their money.
He saw regret on his father’s face, but they had no way out now. In despair, Kostas watched his father’s lips move, seemingly about to order continued assault on the cathedral. He could only gasp and gaze at that dark window.
“Wait, father, wait!”
The window facing the square suddenly lit up. Two Templar Knights in white robes with red crosses emerged, holding torches high, seemingly unconcerned that those outside might target them. “Are they wearing silver-plated scale armor?” a Cypriot asked in surprise.
Yes, these two Templar Knights seemed to shimmer with a pure white light, not fixed but flickering like ripples on a lake. They instinctively looked to the sky—no moon, no stars. Where did this light come from?
Suddenly, Kostas recalled a legend that Cypriots dismissed as a fabricated boast to glorify themselves.
They said young King Baldwin IV of Ayyarasa Road had a spear bestowed by Saint George, invincible on the battlefield—any hard armor or shield was powerless against it. Meanwhile, his loyal attendant and blood kin, the Knight of Bethlehem, Count Caesar of Edessa, possessed the most solid armor in the world.
This armor not only protected him but also granted others a barrier against evil and violence.
They even said that during Amalric I’s expedition to Egypt and now King Baldwin IV’s assault on Nur al-Din’s army, this knight’s invoked divine grace covered hundreds of knights, letting them charge freely on the battlefield unharmed.
This sounded utterly implausible; no one wanted to believe it, and Kostas was one of them.
But now he saw it with his own eyes. Arrows were shot at the two torch-bearing knights, but they had no effect. The arrows fell like children’s toys made of branches before even touching the armor.
Then more Crusader knights holding torches or candelabras appeared on balconies, battlements, and windows. They looked proud and confident, and the crowd below stirred in the next moment, for they saw a young knight carrying a noble lady out.
Caesar carried Anna to the window, from where they could see the army gathered like ants in the square—motley though it was, the numbers were impressive.
Anna’s once-racing heart had gradually calmed. Nestled in a warm embrace, she felt an indescribable comfort. “I’m like a cat,” she whispered to her husband. “You know?
In the Grand Imperial Palace, I envied them so much. They often slept in the sun, exposing their fluffy bellies, utterly relaxed like piled silk. I thought then how wonderful it would be to sleep so comfortably. And now I feel just that.”
“Then sleep.”
Anna laughed. “Not yet. I will sleep; I will fall into a long slumber. In my dreams, I believe I won’t have those nightmares of being chased by beasts anymore, because you have thoroughly slain them with your love.”
“You will ascend to heaven.”
“That depends on whether heaven has you,” Anna said, reaching out to gently stroke Caesar’s face. She could feel lingering heat on his ears and neck, filling her heart with tenderness.
She admitted she was selfish, craving the one she loved—not a right exclusive to men. As a woman about to leave this mortal world, she too hoped for a lover. He was so perfect; even in her fantasies, she had never imagined such a man. He might not love her or like her, but he would forever keep her in his heart.
“Carry me out. Caesar, let the Cypriots see me. Let the witnesses declare we have completed the final Wedding Ceremony. You are now the lord of Cyprus. If they continue to harm you, it will be rebellion and treason—that’s entirely different.”
Indeed, as Anna said, when Caesar carried her to the window for all to see their faces, the crowd below fell into dead silence.
Even the hired soldiers turned to look, hoping for clear orders.
If Caesar and Anna had not completed the Wedding Ceremony, the marriage contract was invalid. Since it was invalid, these Crusaders were unwelcome guests on Cyprus—the Cypriots could rightfully expel them as the true masters here.
But if the marriage was valid, then the Crusader knight standing there and the Princess Anna in his arms were the true masters of this island. And now this Crusader knight had a new identity: son-in-law of Byzantine Empire’s Manuel I, even as a follower of the Roman Church.
Kostas dropped his shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. “Stop, father,” he said. “We still have room to maneuver now.”
“The Grand Prince…”
“This is no longer a matter of Byzantine Empire people versus Crusaders.” Kostas gripped his father tightly, saying urgently, “Now it’s a fight between Manuel I’s son and Manuel I’s son-in-law. I don’t need to remind you what happens to those caught in such royal disputes, do I?
Apart from those whose authority and armies already threaten the Emperor, almost everyone swept into such storms ends up with no bones left.
His words indeed shook his father and some others; they looked hesitant. “But we…”
“Say no more,” Kostas said. “This is ultimately new territory, complex and tangled. If we submit to them, they will likely need helpers to handle affairs—if they truly are as barbaric and rude as you say, we can always scheme otherwise…”
He glanced at Princess Anna, still watching them. He couldn’t see her expression clearly, but from her posture, she leaned heavily on her husband.
“I hear that… the Knight of Bethlehem is not overly harsh. He is a landless count, the king’s most trusted retainer—and in Ayyarasa Road, the Knights, whether Knights Templar or Knights Hospitaller… have always had tense relations with the king. Perhaps we can find an opportunity…”
His words made sense, or rather, the absent Grand Prince and the newlyweds declared by the witnesses to have completed the Wedding Ceremony proved who lost this gamble.
Anna breathed rapidly, nestling against Caesar’s chest until the crowd besieging the cathedral began to slowly retreat and disperse.
The Grand Master of the Knights Templar also breathed a sigh of relief. If possible, he would have liked to thoroughly clean house on Cyprus as Walter suggested. Unfortunately, today’s Crusaders were not those of seventy years ago, and they still needed to maintain the safety of the Pilgrimage Road. Inciting Cypriot hatred would do the Knights Templar no good.
“Stay vigilant!” the Grand Master ordered loudly. Though the Cypriots had left, who knew if jackals still lurked in the darkness eyeing this place? And he now understood: Princess Anna and they had all been used. Who knew if Manuel I, comfortably playing the mantis stalking the cicada, had left any trump cards…
Until reinforcements arrived, caution was paramount. Anyway, the cathedral had ample provisions. He had remained unpanicked earlier because the supplies here could sustain them for three months.
Of course, the best outcome would be for the Cypriots to come tomorrow or the next day to confess and beg forgiveness from their new lord, presenting the silver keys of Cyprus’s major cities.
But before that, there was one thorny matter to handle—the Grand Prince Alexios.
