Chapter 217: The Lord Of Cyprus In High Demand
As the Archbishop of Cyprus passed through the square in front of the Governor’s Palace with his attendants, he saw the crowd around him suddenly ripple slightly. They had originally been making way for the Archbishop and his group, but at that moment another magnificent and ostentatious procession turned out from an alley almost simultaneously, forcing them to yield to the newcomers.
But at that moment, no one was there to tell them what to do. Some retreated, some advanced, some stopped, and others quickened their pace. They pushed and shoved each other, or trampled one another; some hot-tempered people shouted curses and even fought, while pickpockets took advantage of the chaos—the owners’ shouts made even more people panic.
While the Archbishop was undecided whether to send the priests around him to intervene—a year’s time had been enough for him to learn something about Cyprus’s new lord—he was a man who strictly followed rules and laws and hoped others would do the same. No matter who the other party was.
The Archbishop did not want the new lord to associate him with the chaos when thinking of him, but the other side acted faster. A team of agile and nimble attendants dashed out from the procession, waving clubs, and in no time dispersed the tangled crowd. They even caught two or three opportunists trying to fish in troubled waters and handed them over to the guards who arrived soon after. After doing all this, one of them broke off to come and pay respects to the Archbishop.
Then the huge sedan chair, borne by two tall mules, lifted the curtain on one side, and the noble lady inside lowered her gaze in salute to the Archbishop, who nodded slightly in return.
“It’s her,” one of the priests beside him said softly.
“Who else could it be? In Cyprus, there is no woman more noble than her,” the Archbishop replied, his face calm, though a hint of complex emotion could still be heard in his words.
Speaking of which, destiny is truly a spiteful fellow. This pair of siblings was born in a Saracen castle and, as toddling children, was forced to separate from their birth parents. Nor did they grow up as smoothly as people expected—when they were eight or nine, they were raided by bandits and sold into slavery.
The younger brother among them, their lord Caesar, was fortunate to encounter Amalric I returning from a hunt and was saved by him, coming to serve as an attendant to Prince Baldwin. His sister was far less fortunate; she was sold into Sultan Nur al-Din’s harem in Syria. She would originally have been just one of the consorts the Sultan occasionally favored, like the other female slaves—perhaps one night, perhaps two—and then quickly buried among the influx of newcomers, never to be remembered by the Sultan again, unless she was blessed by God and bore the Sultan’s child.
And astonishingly, her fate was even more extraordinary than people imagined.
After Nur al-Din was decisively defeated and killed at the Sea of Galilee, she and a few other virgins who had not yet been favored were sent by Nur al-Din’s First Lady as gifts to the King of Ayyarasa Road.
This ill-fated pair of siblings actually met again in Ayyarasa Road, the holiest of holy places, after being separated for five or six years—a miracle only God could create.
To this day, this once lowly female slave had undergone earth-shaking changes—she sat in a sedan chair made of fragrant wood, with handmaids kneeling at her feet; attendants in silk clothes and clowns cleared the way for her, minstrels played short flutes beside her and sang poetry praising her, while fully armored knights vigilantly guarded her sides.
Around the sedan chair followed two or three young Cypriot nobles who were eagerly vying for her favor, either racking their brains for a joke or offering flowers or jewels; they competed to invite this noble lady to their mansions for banquets, to enjoy music, plays, and juggling performances.
Compared to Ayyarasa Road, the Cypriot nobles knew better how to enjoy themselves; they never refused anything that pleased them, whether Latin or Greek, accepting it all wholesale.
If it were an ordinary noble lady surrounded and flattered like this, she would likely have become beside herself with delight long ago.
But this noble lady with hair as black as crow feathers merely smiled. In this regard, she was very much like her brother—always appearing gentle, polite, humble, and kind—but just when you thought you could reach her, you found a transparent barrier forever between you.
The Archbishop also knew what the priest beside him was secretly disparaging.
Although she had brought proof of her status with her to Ayyarasa Road—a document issued by the Saracens（） proving that this female slave still retained her virginity—nonetheless, she had been a Saracen slave and had long lost her parents and territory. If her brother were not the Lord of Cyprus, on the battlefield of marriage, she could only be a defeated opponent to other noble ladies.
But who let her have such a loving brother? What he gave her was not just silk and gold, but power.
When Caesar needed to go to Ayyarasa Road to serve the King or simply to gather with friends and kin, he would leave his sister Nathia in Cyprus to manage this vast island for him—a fact sufficient to drive the Cypriot nobles mad.
She was not only the Princess of Cyprus but also the Queen of Cyprus. Winning her meant not even considering how much dowry her brother would give her—perhaps a city or a port. Even just the possibility of inheriting a share of Cyprus would make those men pursue her relentlessly, sparing no effort.
Unfortunately, she was a woman who had come out of the Sultan’s Harem, the Archbishop thought to himself; he was not optimistic about these young men. Compared to the courts of Francia or the Byzantine Empire, the harems of Sultans or Caliphs were far more ruthless—after all, in Francia or Byzantium, illegitimate children had no inheritance rights; no matter how favored a consort was by the King or Emperor, their children could at most become a Count or Duke.
It was not like that in the harem of a Sultan or Caliph; as long as their sole master willed it, any prince could become his heir, and the prince’s mother could leap to become the most noble woman in the harem—it was not a matter of willingness but something you had to fight for desperately once you were in it…
Not to mention that after she came to her brother’s side, she had indeed greatly eased the tense relationship between Cyprus’s new lord and the Cypriots through her own means. They might still fear their new lord, but it was hard to feel disgust toward a noble lady—she was young, beautiful, gentle, and almost never refused banquets or gifts. To later generations, this appeared greedy, but at the time it excellently soothed their uneasy hearts. Moreover, because she enjoyed Caesar’s trust, some of Caesar’s ideas could be conveyed to the people through her.
For example, the St. Anne’s Cathedral to be built beside the Governor’s Palace—St. Anne was the mother of the Virgin Mary, and another name derived from her was Anna.
Everyone knew this cathedral was built by Caesar for his wife Anna, but no one would object. After all, at this time, building a small chapel for a deceased loved one was a very common thing.
The priests in the small chapel would recite requiems and prayers for the dead at fixed times, hold Mass daily, and distribute money to the poor at those times.
A cathedral was undoubtedly more solemn and magnificent than a small chapel. But considering the misfortunes Princess Anna had suffered and the vast legacy she left Caesar, let alone a cathedral—even building a city for her would not seem excessive.
Of course, Caesar would not do something so resented.
He even scaled back his own residence. He chose Nicaea as the new political center for a reason—not only because Nicaea was at the heart of Cyprus, but also because it already had a Governor’s Palace built in the seventh century and renovated and expanded over several centuries since. Roman and Byzantine Governors had once exercised power here; the city walls were high, the towers majestic, and the stables, water room, workshops, and other facilities were all complete. He only needed to make minor modifications to move in, without extra expense of money or manpower.
“Is my brother still in the council hall?” Nathia asked. Upon receiving confirmation, she walked lightly toward the square main tower, dismissing her handmaids and not letting them follow. Alone, she pushed open the door to the council hall, and what met her eyes was a scene she was already quite familiar with.
The young lord sat at the wide desk, one hand propping his chin, the other flipping through documents, occasionally picking up a pen to write his opinions on them.
She stood there admiring him for a good while; this was the scene from her dreams, the pillar that had sustained her through her precarious survival in the treacherous harem.
Now it had all come true, and much sooner than she had anticipated. Thinking of this, she felt she should pray for that princess she barely knew—she had originally wanted to attend the wedding, but because Cyprus was unstable then, Patriarch Heraclius had required her to stay at Holy Cross Castle for safety. Now it seemed Heraclius’s concerns were not unfounded.
Even now, whenever she left the Governor’s Palace, a squad of knights would closely accompany her, even for banquets or plays.
She knew where Caesar’s fear came from, so no matter what others said, she would not sympathize with those executed noble ladies.
“You’ve come?” Caesar looked up with a slight smile. Nathia walked to him, and as he stood, they lightly embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks.
“I just saw the Archbishop of Cyprus in the square.”
“What is it?”
“Did he come to nag you about St. Anne’s Cathedral again?”
St. Anne’s Cathedral could be said to have been built for Anna, but there was also a reason: to fend off blackmail from the Roman Church.
Ever since Pope Alexander III learned from the priests who had gone seeking Saint King John that Cyprus now belonged to a Crusader knight, he immediately became excited.
And this servant of God had the exact same idea as the former Pope Gelasius II; he immediately sent envoys hoping to persuade this “pious” young man to donate Cyprus to the Church gratis—yes, gratis.
For this, he offered many conditions. Unfortunately, they included no exchanges of money or power, though he was quite generous with honors; the envoys even hinted that if Caesar agreed to the Pope’s terms, it was not impossible for him to be granted sainthood even after death.
Caesar, of course, would not grant the wishes of these insatiable jackals. His words were polite, but his attitude firm: he would not hand Cyprus to anyone, not even the Knights Templar or Knights Hospitaller who had greatly assisted him.
The Knights Templar also hoped he would donate—but not as voraciously as the Church, demanding the whole of Cyprus at once; they hoped to obtain part of Cyprus’s territory, like that left by the expelled families, which would be very nice—
But Caesar was only willing to lease, and for how long? Ninety-nine years.
This answer naturally dissatisfied the Knights Templar. Walter even openly cursed him as a sly little devil. If it was just a lease, wasn’t that saying the Templars still had to support him, even his heirs—after all, if Cyprus got a new master, the Knights Templar’s contract with Caesar would no longer be recognized.
To continue enjoying this island, the Knights Templar had to stand by Caesar always, even against the Roman Church.
Caesar had made great concessions. For example, for this century, he only wanted one gold coin in rent annually; he even allowed the Knights Templar to build castles, station armies, and granted them important commercial privileges—the taxes on commerce handled by the Knights Templar would be twenty percent lower than his set taxes.
Don’t underestimate this twenty percent; the commercial privileges the Venetians schemed to get from the Byzantine Emperor were only a ten percent tax reduction, and that ten percent was enough for their power to rapidly expand—even flood—throughout the Byzantine Empire’s reach, and the huge resulting shortfall made later Byzantine Emperors obsess over reclaiming it.
This return could not be called anything but generous.
After several rounds of negotiation, the Knights Templar had no choice but to agree. After all, Cyprus—from a certain perspective—was not conquered by them; they only assisted and cooperated, so this outcome was not bad.
The returns the Knights Hospitaller received were roughly the same as the Knights Templar, though they had no intention of building castles or stationing armies in Cyprus; their strength was still insufficient to extend tentacles to new territories.
“I’ve already told him that Anna will continue to rest eternally in St. Lazarus Cathedral, and I will not move her coffin here after St. Anne’s Cathedral is completed. But this sir seems unwilling to believe me; every so often, he finds an excuse to make me reaffirm it.”
“So what excuse did he find this time?”
Caesar’s expression darkened. “Anna’s anniversary memorial.”
“Has it been that long already?” Nathia murmured.
Yes, time always passes like a white steed flashing by, fleeting in an instant; even Caesar felt a bit dazed. The dusk when Anna departed seemed like yesterday, but those around him were already reminding him it was time for her anniversary memorial.
The anniversary memorial was more important than the seven-day or monthly memorials; it lasted two days, starting from evening prayer in the afternoon of the first day, then morning prayer and hymns the next morning, followed by requiem Mass after breakfast. During the memorial, a funeral for Anna would be held again, with tolling bells, a procession carrying the coffin, lighting candles, and large-scale almsgiving.
People redeemed the souls of the dead in this way, reducing their suffering in purgatory.
Nathia gently placed her hand on her brother’s shoulder but ultimately did not voice the requests the nobles had asked her to convey; she thought her brother would not be pleased to hear them.
Yes, the start of the anniversary memorial also meant the end of the mourning period; Cyprus’s lord was to begin seeking his next marriage.
