Chapter 212: Born In The Purple Chamber
“Porphyrogenita”.
This was the last sentence that Princess Anna of the Byzantine Empire left in the mortal world, a Greek word meaning “born in the Purple Chamber”. At that time, two-thirds of the people gathered in the room could understand the meaning of this word. But whether it was Patriarch Heraclius, Baldwin, Caesar, or the Cypriots, they all thought it was just a moan of despair, or a sigh of unwillingness.
Was she regretting being born in the Purple Chamber? If she were not a princess, perhaps she would not have suffered such misfortune at such a young age, and later people mostly misunderstood the meaning of this sentence. In their various creations, whether text, drama, or paintings, they only depicted Princess Anna as a pale and thin shadow.
She was like one of the countless stars hidden under the sun, visible only after she was detached from the protection and shelter of the holy king, shining brightly in the dark Sa River.
At this time, the only person who might fully understand Anna’s thoughts was probably Theodora.
“I will leave before the funeral,” Baldwin said. “Although I really want to stay.”
His hasty departure was not because there had been any changes on Ayyarasa Road, or because a rift had arisen with Caesar, but before the wedding, Caesar was just an attendant by his side, a landless Count and a Crusader knight. But after the wedding, the one presiding over the funeral would be Princess Anna’s husband, a lord with territory and real power.
When a new sun rises, it is best not to let others or things stand by his side to shake his authority.
“You don’t need to explain to me,” Caesar even found it somewhat amusing. “Do you think I would question our relationship because of this?”
“Of course not,” Baldwin hurriedly said. “But from my own standpoint, at this time, I really should stay to comfort you.” Caesar had only spent a few short months with Anna, and to say there was any deep affection between them would be pure nonsense.
But the end of this wedding was too bloody and tragic. Baldwin also knew that Caesar was kind-hearted and grateful for kindness. He must thank Anna for the sacrifice and dedication she made for Caesar. But he still worried—that such a deep and bloody wound would likely remain in Caesar’s soul forever, making it hard for him to heal.
Patriarch Heraclius also had to set off immediately to return to Ayyarasa Road. Baldwin had to give way to Caesar; he had to give way to the Archbishop of Cyprus.
He was the Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road, not of Cyprus. Moreover, before, Princess Anna had insisted on having him preside over the wedding to place her husband’s power above hers. If he stayed and presided over the funeral as well, it would only make people feel that the Crusaders were overreaching—some pressure should be given to these Cypriots, but being too aggressive would also provoke resentment among the people.
Considering the upcoming matters, they should more deeply impress upon the people the image of the new ruler—not as an outsider Crusader knight, but as the Lord of Cyprus. “Leave the funeral to the Archbishop of Cyprus. I think he will…” Heraclius thought for a moment and changed a word, “accept this appointment with fear and trepidation.”
The Archbishop of Cyprus had no choice either. Who let him fail to escape in time when it happened? He had no choice but to serve as a witness for this outsider Crusader knight and Princess Anna. His name was already written on the marriage certificate; even before God, he must uphold this vow and bear witness for them.
Not long ago, it was also he who administered last rites to Princess Anna. Do you think he considered refusing? Perhaps for a brief moment, but would he really do it?
He had heard that the Knight of Bethlehem, the Count of Edessa, was a tolerant man. Perhaps it was because of such a reputation that those people dared to take the risk. But from the moment the Count of Edessa chopped off the Eldest Son’s head, the Archbishop had completely turned sides.
He could see that compared to other knights and nobles, this young man carried an air of fearlessness.
The Archbishop of Cyprus did not think his neck was nobler or tougher than the Eldest Son’s. If he insisted on standing in opposition to Caesar, it was hard to say whether the three major events in Princess Anna’s life—her wedding, last rites, and funeral—would be handled by three different high-ranking clergy.
This was St. Lazarus Cathedral, the largest church in Cyprus, filled with over a hundred priests and monks. This meant that picking one from among them who was willing to obey the new lord’s arrangements would be effortless.
His posture of submission was as smooth and fluid as mercury. Now he only hoped that this new lord could hold out in Cyprus for a few more years. Whether for the Cypriots or the Saracens, at least until he was called by God to leave the mortal world. As for what came after… he had no illegitimate son, no nephew, so he naturally did not care.
“The herald who has already left（ to notify relatives and friends of the deceased’s news）,” the Grand Master of the Knights Templar walked in and said. “The death knell has also rung.” Churches and bell towers everywhere would relay it continuously, wave after wave, to all directions of Cyprus.
When they held the wedding, only a small number of Cypriot nobles rushed over and attended. Undoubtedly, they were the faction supporting the Crusaders. The nobles who attacked St. Lazarus Cathedral were firm supporters of Byzantium and opposed this marriage, but most people were still watching and waiting for an outcome.
If the Crusader knight about to marry the princess could not even withstand this wave, then they could not expect him to resist the Saracen invasions or the Byzantine Empire’s exactions for Cyprus either.
“When holding the funeral for Anna, if these people still have not arrived, then they can be treated the same as last night’s rebels,” Caesar said.
Then he looked at Theodora beside him: “And you? Where will you go after the funeral? Will you stay in Cyprus?”
“If you think it’s acceptable, I want to go to Ayyarasa Road,” Theodora said. “I cannot stay here. That Cypriot noble already knows my identity, and no doubt this news will soon reach Manuel I’s ears. If he demands me from you and you refuse, he will surely place all the blame entirely on your side.
But if I go to Ayyarasa Road, you can say that to soothe my grief and sorrow, I went on pilgrimage and to pray for my poor daughter, and will not return to Constantinople for the time being to avoid painful memories. Moreover, I have a niece there.”
As she said this, she smiled. Speaking of which, Manuel I had quite a few nieces: “A mother who has lost her child, overwhelmed by grief and unable to endure a long journey, is understandable, isn’t it?”
Of course it was understandable. Although from Cyprus to Ayyarasa Road was even a bit farther than to Atalyea, it was indeed closer than to Constantinople. “After a few years, I will take vows to become a nun. Once I enter the monastery, unless Manuel I can conquer Ayyarasa Road, he will have no way to force me back. God is the master of all, isn’t he?”
Heraclius glanced at Caesar. Theodora was his wife’s adoptive mother. With his wife already deceased and the adoptive mother arriving so suddenly, deciding where to let this woman stay was for Caesar to determine.
“As long as it’s not Constantinople, anywhere is fine,” Caesar said. Then he looked at the people in the room and still asked that question. “May I ask something? How did you come here? I heard they rescued you from the sea.”
“Oh, that was because of the Emperor,” Theodora said with regret yet lightly. “I almost bit through his throat.”
The men in the room all let out an “oh” in unison, each subconsciously sizing up the petite Theodora. Though impolite, they carefully observed her mouth—having been the emperor’s favorite in the harem for nearly a decade, Theodora was naturally a rare beauty. Her beauty fully conformed to the Byzantine Empire’s standards: black hair, thick eyebrows, bright eyes, straight nose, and lips like roses. They could not imagine how a flower could turn into a jackal to tear at someone’s throat.
“You didn’t succeed, did you?”
“If I had succeeded, why would I have fled to Ayyarasa Road?” Theodora said bluntly. “Manuel I must be furious. But rest assured, if he learns I’m here, he will demand his niece from you. But if I go to Ayyarasa Road, as long as there’s a legitimate reason, he can only make other plans. After all…”
A gleam of smug satisfaction crossed Theodora’s face. “He wouldn’t dare let others know that after being betrayed by his Eldest Son, he was also torn at the throat by his own beloved consort. They would mock him for cowering before a child and a woman. This great ship cannot withstand any storms now, and after he returns, he will doubtless have more matters to attend to.”
“More matters?” Wasn’t the Eldest Son’s head impaled on the city wall? The Grand Master of the Knights Templar instinctively looked outside. Could they have killed a fake?
“The Eldest Son is dead, but doesn’t he still have a son?”
“You mean Alexander. He’s only six years old this year.”
“What’s to stop him at six years old? His mother is no pushover either, not to mention the Duke of Antioch waiting covetously.” Speaking of which, Antioch originally belonged to the Byzantine Empire, its easternmost military district. Unfortunately, it was first occupied by the Saracens, and after the Crusaders recaptured it, they did not return it to the Byzantine Empire’s monarch but kept it for themselves. This was also why Manuel I was determined to take it back.
“Then, based on your understanding of Manuel I, would he hold us accountable for the Eldest Son’s death?”
Theodora leaned back slightly, a gesture that made everyone present except a few jump inwardly. “He will send envoys to sternly condemn you. If possible, he will use threats and blackmail to make you hand over Cyprus—ignore him. If he could truly cross the strait to attack Cyprus, the Eldest Son would not have chosen this place as a base for covert development in the first place. But…”
She said solemnly to Caesar: “You face the same problems as previous Governors of Cyprus: internal chaos, external threats. Your enemies are not only the Saracens, but also the Byzantine Empire, the Seljuk Turks, Hungarians, Tunisians, and possibly even Armenians…” She did not say the rest, but her gaze lingered for a moment on the Grand Master of the Knights Templar and the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller, the meaning clear: wouldn’t the Crusaders want Cyprus too?
They certainly did.
She believed that many were saying it was a waste to give Cyprus to such a young knight. “This will be a difficult trial for you, but if you pass it, the benefits you gain will be endless, far beyond what you see now.”
This was also why she was unwilling to fake her death, change her name, and live out her later years comfortably in Francia or the Apennines.
Theodora believed that if she made this request, Caesar and Baldwin IV would certainly arrange it for her. But were Anna’s enemies only the Eldest Son?
And as long as she lived, as long as she retained this surname, she was one of the closest people to Manuel I. This meant that in many cases, people would believe what she said.
What were the “born in the Purple Chamber” but not only those children born in rooms draped with purple silk? From the earliest Theodosius I—he had once been just an ordinary soldier, but became heir to the Roman Empire by marrying the previous emperor’s daughter. After him came Marcian, Zeno, Anastasius I, Maurice, Artabasdos, Stratios, Michael I… they all rose to the supreme Basileus through women’s influence.
What were they originally? Subjects, generals, even just obscure soldiers. Theodora looked at that black-haired, green-eyed young man. He stood beside the King of Ayyarasa Road, discussing future matters.
His attire today was exceptionally plain. In the sixth century, the Catholic Church designated black as the color for believers’ funerals, but at this time, people had not yet confined black to mourning clothes. So although Caesar had worn black velvet clothes before, they represented solemnity and gravity, not a curse.
In contrast, today’s clothes were not velvet but cotton, the belt merely black cowhide, the inner shirt and outer cloak both plain linen in natural color, with no ornaments on his body—except for the cross on his chest and the ring on his hand.
Just as Anna had hoped in life, even if he did not love her, he still showed her the respect due, perhaps with some nostalgia. When speaking of Anna, his tone was filled with guilt and regret. Clearly, even though Anna was not an unforgettable beauty, for this upright young man, her death was still regrettable, unlike some husbands who, after gaining their wife’s dowry and ridding themselves of a troublesome wife, only showed joy and excitement.
Theodora had also heard what those two fools who violated the “no laughing” order said. She felt that the young man before her was more suited to appear on church or palace walls and stained glass（ At that time, Byzantine emperors loved placing their images in public places）.
If so, what nickname would the people give him? The Thick-Browed, the Tall, or the Philosopher? More likely the Handsome, which John II had once used. Unfortunately, that nickname was mocking John II because he was ugly. Theodora smiled, completely unaware of how chilling that smile was.
