Chapter 210: Promise
Baldwin had already pulled out that spear and taken him down from the wall. The knights found iron chains and leather straps, binding him tightly. They were all people who had received a blessing, so of course they knew what methods to use to restrain a guy who had also received a blessing.
And Alexios had always behaved very arrogantly. When he saw the iron chains, he even smiled and said they should find him a pair of shackles forged from gold, as that would be fitting for his status as Grand Prince of the Byzantine Empire.
At this moment, he was just as those nobles of Cyprus believed, thinking that these Crusaders would not actually do anything to him.
Although he had intentionally sabotaged this marriage, he had not succeeded—he hated Anna so much that he gnashed his teeth, yet he still had to force a smile and maliciously congratulate her on finally getting what she wished for.
“How much ransom do you want?” He stared at Caesar, head held high, mockingly asking, “If it’s less than one hundred thousand gold coins, I won’t agree. Given my worth, it should be at least one hundred fifty thousand gold coins, but I can only offer fifty silk robes. In any case, my price can’t exceed that of my father.”
He was not only mocking Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire but also mocking the Crusaders—some among the Crusaders had read history books, and they immediately understood what Alexios was saying. He was imitating Caesar, the founder of the Roman Empire. When Caesar was young, he had said something similar to the pirates who kidnapped him: he paid a ransom higher than their asking price but fitting his status, then returned with an army to wipe out those pirates.
Clearly, Alexios also believed he could do the same. The Grand Master of the Knights Templar turned away in disgust. He looked at Caesar—whether for public or private reasons, Caesar was the one most qualified to deal with Alexios.
But seeing that Caesar was still holding Princess Anna, he suggested: “Shouldn’t you first send the princess back to her room?”
“No.” The refusal came from both of their mouths at the same time.
Anna leaned closer into Caesar’s arms: “No, thank you, but I don’t want to leave my husband.”
This posture was obviously damaging to a lord’s dignity, but neither Caesar nor Anna were people who cared about such things. Still, Caesar instructed a handmaid to add a wool cloak to Anna, because he noticed she was trembling. Holding her, he walked to face Alexios.
Alexios snorted like a horse: “It seems not only has my sister gotten what she wished for. You’re truly a lucky man—one night and you’ve gained Cyprus.”
His words made the people around show some anger, but Caesar had no intention of defending or rebuking. He lowered his head to look at Anna. “Do you remember what I said to you before the ceremony began?”
Anna gave him a pale and weak smile, like a snowflake that might melt in his palm, beautiful yet carrying a chill. “I remember, my dearest husband. You promised me that you would cut off my brother’s head—the Grand Prince of the Byzantine Empire.”
Alexios’s face suddenly changed, but he could barely maintain his previous composure. How could that be possible? They must just be threatening him. Even without considering the love of the Byzantine Empire’s people for him or his father’s love, he was a noble. Even if captured on the battlefield after a fight to the death, the victor had no right to cut off his head. Having captured him, they should follow the code between knights and allow him to ransom himself.
He voiced all these reasons, but saw no trace of softening on Caesar’s face. He sought help from others, but even the usually profit-driven Templar Knights only whispered among themselves, with no one stepping forward to stop Caesar.
He heard someone say that if they were Caesar, they wouldn’t mind using one hundred fifty thousand gold coins and fifty silk robes to offset his “offense.” But then that knight added that this matter should still be left to Caesar. He had always been a just and upright man, and whatever decision he made would be right.
And this conclusion was not just from that knight—most people here thought the same. Count Raymond of Tripoli stepped forward two paces, as if wanting to say something, but then he changed his mind, or rather David made him change his mind.
In this matter, he chose to listen to his son.
The others went without saying. The two heaviest weights—Patriarch Heraclius was Caesar’s teacher, equivalent to another father. And the King of Ayyarasa Road went without saying; from his gaze, he was more willing to serve Caesar.
“Then it’s settled.” Caesar said calmly. “Alexios, you plotted to murder my wife, and I have already promised her that I would avenge her.
And I have always followed one creed: an eye for an eye, blood for blood. However you treated my wife, that is how I will treat you.”
“No, you can’t do this!” When two knights came over, lifted him up, and fixed him to a wooden frame, Alexios finally showed a wretched expression. He truly hadn’t expected them to actually dare do this.
These hateful barbarians—didn’t they know who he was? Didn’t they know what a revered and beloved figure he was in the hearts of the people of the Byzantine Empire? In Constantinople, how many ministers and generals secretly supported him, even surpassing his father.
If they executed him, their alliance with the Byzantine Empire would immediately break. They would gain neither his father’s forgiveness—Emperor Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire—nor the forgiveness of the Byzantine Empire’s people. They would become irreconcilable enemies, slaughtering each other on the battlefield until the last drop of blood was shed.
Weren’t they afraid? Nearly two-thirds of the road walked by those pilgrims was within the territory of the Byzantine Empire—how could they be so impulsive, not considering the consequences?
But no matter how he argued, how he shouted, how he threatened, it was all in vain.
The knights bound him tightly to the wooden frame, then used sharp daggers to cut open his clothes, fully exposing his body to everyone’s gaze. This humiliation nearly made Alexios faint.
He saw Caesar lean down and say something to his sister, then place her on a soft couch that had been brought in at some point, like treating a newly hatched chick, letting her recline leisurely on the soft couch like the Vestal Virgins of Ancient Rome, awaiting a bloody performance.
When Caesar walked toward him, he finally lost all reason and began cursing wildly.
“You’re not a knight! You’re not a knight! If you were a knight, you would at least let me down and let me be properly dressed. I am willing to duel you, in your way—the victor represents forgiveness. Release me, I want to duel you!”
“If you were a knight, I would.” Caesar slowly thrust the short sword into Alexios’s skin, blood seeping out. “But are you a knight? No, you’re not. You’re just a coward who vents his anger on women, a clown who only plays with conspiracies and tricks.
If I agreed to duel you, all knights would be ashamed; from then on, they would no longer mention their title and would not duel anyone, because you have sullied these two words—they would only bring shame because of them.”
Just as Alexios had once done to Anna, Caesar thrust his sword through his abdomen. Amid the Grand Prince’s frenzied screams, he slightly withdrew the blade, then twisted it a few times, ensuring all the organs in the abdomen were completely shredded.
Alexios’s screams abruptly stopped, turning into hoarse groans. He wasn’t even as good as Anna—when she suffered such a wound, she knew she was surely doomed. But he still clung to a sliver of hope. “Don’t do this,” he gasped violently, each breath causing large gushes of blood from his wound. “Don’t treat me like this. You can… you can exile me, cut off one of my hands, one leg, but please, please… please.
Anna? Anna? Look at me. I’m your brother, your only family. I swear, I can swear, I… I’ll never harm you again. I’m willing to give you all my assets, connections, secrets… everything… all of it. Please, quick, quick… get someone to save me. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!
Let me live. I’ll be more useful to you alive…”
Caesar withdrew the short sword and tossed it casually to the ground. Alexios, tears blurring his vision, thought he had finally been moved by his words. But Caesar only took the long sword handed to him by Baldwin. He stepped forward, and in Alexios’s incredulous gaze, one swing cut off his head.
