Chapter 213: Funeral
The family of Saint Parna had the fastest reaction; they were neither the closest to Larnaca nor among the first families to side with the Crusaders, but upon learning from their in-laws the news of Princess Anna’s death, not only did important family members arrive at the cathedral within a few hours, but they also brought a coffin.
The coffin at this time, especially the one used by nobles, was of course not an ordinary wooden coffin, but a stone coffin carved from a single block of marble. Not to mention its thickness of half a foot, the coffin lid alone weighed fourteen hundred pounds.
The stone coffin was seamless except for the top cover, which prevented sewage infiltration, plant roots, or insect invasion after burial. Moreover, the carvings of flowers, birds, and saints on the top cover and four walls made it look more like a work of art than a cold resting place.
Most astonishingly, they not only brought the stone coffin but also lime, garlic, and sulfur needed before sealing it—a procedure that seems somewhat incongruous to modern eyes, as it perfectly aligns with basic sterilization principles: sulfur kills microorganisms, and garlic eliminates bacteria.
But to the people of that time, this was merely a solemn exorcism ritual. The stone coffin was first fumigated with sulfur, then layered with garlic, and finally covered with dried flowers and rush, along with lime; the lime reacts with gases from decomposition to form a hard, solidified substance.
After that came linen, cotton, and silk. Theodora personally changed the clothes of her most beloved daughter. She refused to wrap Anna in linen cloth and instead asked Caesar for the clothes Anna wore at the wedding. “Was she happy then?”
Caesar nodded, and Theodora said, “Then we should choose this one. If Anna’s soul is here, she would be pleased too.” Perhaps for this reason, when Anna lay in the stone coffin, she did not look like a dead person, but like a little girl who had finally found relief and fallen into a long sleep.
People then scattered camphor leaves and oak acorns. Caesar personally wove an ivy wreath and placed it in her hair, and Theodora sprinkled spices and liquor.
Before closing the coffin lid, the Archbishop of Cyprus specifically reminded them, “Do you have anything to place in her hands?”
This was also part of the custom: people would be buried with their most cherished items. And at the time of farewell, relatives and friends could place mementos by their hands. Generally speaking, these were reliquary boxes containing hair and fingernails, crosses, rosaries, or flowers.
Theodora unhesitatingly cut a lock of her own hair and placed it in Anna’s hand. Caesar had no ornaments on him, but he fetched a long sword. “This is the long sword that severed Grand Prince Alexios’s head.”
Theodora nodded: “This is surely something Anna would like.”
Caesar held the long sword and placed it in the stone coffin, letting Anna grasp it—if there are things in heaven that displease you, swing this sword, he said to himself in his heart. As he withdrew his hand, his finger brushed the blade, leaving a smear of blood. Those nearby could not help but cry out, but Caesar just waved his hand. “Just accidentally touched it.”
Upon receiving the Archbishop’s signal, the craftsmen nearby slowly lowered the heavy coffin lid, but this was not yet complete—to ensure the stone coffin was truly airtight. There was one more step: the craftsmen hurriedly applied a viscous paste of heated rosin, gypsum, and resin carefully into the seams of the coffin lid. Once cooled, this mixture would harden like rock and resist erosion from moisture or mud.
And when it came time for actual burial, the bottom of the grave would be laid with a layer of stone bricks, and Roman cement would be poured on site, with the gaps filled with charcoal and spices.
However, since Caesar had already said he would give the Cypriot nobles one day and one night, it would be one day and one night.
But Cyprus is about sixty miles east to west（about two hundred forty kilometers）, and about twenty-five miles north to south. A fast horse traveling day and night covers fifteen to twenty miles. St. Lazarus Cathedral is in the center of Cyprus. Those nearby aside, but those unfortunate enough to be in the Kryzes Islands（the easternmost of Cyprus）or Paphos（the westernmost of Cyprus）would be in trouble.
The next morning, the first batch of Crusader reinforcements arrived: Crusaders stationed at Margat Castle and Tortosa Castle. They brought about seventy-five knights and their escorts, along with a large number of craftsmen. These craftsmen unloaded some siege engines from the ships—ones that would make some Cypriots faint upon sight…
These Crusader knights were all in high spirits; as soon as they disembarked, they began exclaiming in admiration at the surrounding scenery.
Most Cypriot buildings are white, set against verdant olive groves and azure seas, appearing elegant and holy.
“Are we going to build a castle here too?”
“Of course.”
“Then should we paint our castle white too?”
“Of course.”
“Then can we wear silk robes like those Byzantines—and pearls?”
“Of course.”
“I hear our new lord is still a child. Does he know how to manage this place? If not, can we do it for him?”
Bang! A large lump immediately swelled on the head of the loquacious escort. “You’re too annoying,” his knight said. “This is not something for you to talk about…” He paused and then added, “As long as he’s not a coward, it’ll be fine. Even in Francia, lords don’t need overly sophisticated ruling methods.
He just needs to ensure he leads us into battle, preferably to victory—rewards and punishments fair enough, or squeezes the last coin from his farmers, merchants, and craftsmen without inciting rebellion—that’s sufficient. Leave more to the priests to worry about.”
However, this lighthearted atmosphere had already begun to sink as they arrived in Larnaca.
St. Lazarus Cathedral already flew Caesar’s flag, and beside it hung black curtains. This signified that the people here were plunged into profound grief. But when they reached the church entrance and requested entry, the Lord of Cyprus, Caesar, came out to greet them.
His build and features did not match his age, yet it was the type knights admired most: tall but not fat, lean but not weak. A trace of redness lingered at the corners of his eyes, indicating he had just been crying.
The knight was astonished in his heart; it was the first time he had seen a husband so sincerely mourning his wife, let alone this Princess Anna, whom he had barely known—their time together utterly disproportionate in each other’s lives.
The Crusader reinforcements had arrived, with more personnel to enter Cyprus continuously. When King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road and Patriarch Heraclius came to bid farewell, Baldwin even wanted to leave all his Knights of the Holy Sepulchre with him, knowing Caesar would soon face a hard battle.
“I don’t think you cannot achieve victory,” Baldwin said softly. “Cypriots are not worthy of respect; they have always wavered. Remember, Cyprus was occupied by Saracens several times, but the Cypriots did not resist until the navy of the Byzantine Empire arrived, drove the Saracens away, and only then did they resubmit to the Empire.
But sometimes conspiracies and tricks hurt more than open arrows.” He said with some regret. If he had not underestimated these Cypriots, Anna might not have met such a fate. But now it was too late for words; he could only repeatedly warn his brother, “Do not show your tolerance here. Without pruning and cleaving, trees will never grow into the shape you want.”
“Then you must promise me too: when you return to Ayyarasa Road, send away Sibylla and Abigail. You may give them a territory, but do not let them stay in Ayyarasa Road.” Caesar said straightforwardly. “She has already hurt you once.”
“I will. As soon as I return to Ayyarasa Road, I will write to you.”
“Me too. As soon as the funeral ends, I will send word to you.”
“By the way,” Baldwin said, “I have waived your one hundred days of service.” Whether as Count of Edessa or Lord of Cyprus, as subject and vassal of the King of Ayyarasa Road, Caesar was to serve one hundred days in the king’s court. He was to bring his knights to Holy Cross Castle; if there was war, he would campaign; if not, he would stay to help the king handle state affairs or tedious documents.
This was what Raymond and Bohemond had done before.
However, given that Caesar could not be spared recently, Baldwin simply waived his entire service period with a wave of his hand. “But in any case, I must return once on February second.” That was Baldwin’s name day and the day he assumed full rule.
Baldwin cursed under his breath. Damn the Grand Masters of the Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller; they had pressed too hard, or else Caesar would not have to rush about so.
But he hoped Caesar could stand by his side that day.
They bid a rather hasty farewell, as several Cypriot nobles had already arrived at St. Lazarus Cathedral, anxiously awaiting an audience with the new lord.
When Caesar led his knights back to the cathedral, he saw these people—they did not even dare wait in a room but respectfully stood in the square before the cathedral. Upon seeing the flags borne by the escorts, they knew the new master of Cyprus, the Count of Edessa, had returned, and they hurriedly bowed.
They opened their hands, tilting their heads toward the ground in an utterly humble posture. Caesar dismounted. “Come in,” he said, passing them without pause. His figure was tall and slender, his strides larger than average, so the Cypriot nobles had to trot to keep up.
As soon as they entered the nave, they saw a massive pure white marble coffin placed squarely before the altar, covered with a silk coffin shroud. It was clearly rushed but still finely made. “Why not a crescent flag?” a Cypriot noble whispered, only for his finger to be pinched hard by the person beside him.
As a Princess of the Byzantine Empire, the coffin shroud should of course bear a crescent-patterned flag, but now it was covered with a blood-red banner embroidered with a golden Ayyarasa Road cross at the corners.
At the time, some had indeed suggested sewing a crescent flag shroud, but Caesar did not believe Anna would be pleased to lie under the flag symbolizing her father and brothers. She was indeed a Princess of the Byzantine Empire, but now she was the Countess of Edessa, sleeping eternally under her husband’s watch—Caesar said this, and no one could raise objections.
The priests and monks of St. Lazarus Cathedral had gathered around the coffin, reciting scripture for this noble and unfortunate princess. This was not part of the formal ceremony, but the Archbishop of Cyprus spared no effort.
The Cypriot nobles thought that after seeing them, the Count of Edessa would immediately retire to his room to rest.
Though it was a vigil, it did not mean every relative had to stay by the coffin at all times, especially the count as husband—he was nobler than his wife, and no one would blame him for resting.
But this count in his black fitted long robe walked to the coffin, sat on the steps beside it, leaned his back against the cold marble, placed the scripture on his knee, lowered his eyes, and softly recited along with the priests.
The people around seemed accustomed to it; no one tried to persuade or stop him.
The Cypriot nobles exchanged glances. Then their eyes swept to the dark corner, where several of their in-laws and friends were. Being shrewd, they understood with a glance what they should do now.
They hurriedly removed their fine clothes, revealing the cotton or linen long robes beneath, and knelt down to pray for Princess Anna.
