Chapter 218: The Lord Of Cyprus In High Demand
Nathia also knew that dragging this on was not a solution. Some people did not dare to directly bring the marriage proposal before Caesar, but there were always those with the courage and qualification to do so.
She personally brought over a chair and sat down beside Caesar, casually picking up documents from the table to flip through them—she sometimes had to act in Caesar’s stead as lord, and Caesar would not hide or guard against her. Otherwise, when he left Cyprus, if something happened that Nathia did not know about, would it not catch her off guard?
Nathia only looked at a few documents before frowning. The Cypriots despised the Crusaders to the extent that upon hearing they would have a Crusader lord, they resolutely rose in rebellion. Besides their inherent greed, part of the reason was that there were undoubtedly some scoundrels among the Crusaders.
Their actions completely violated the code of knighthood. If in Francia or the Apennines, they would long ago have been stripped of the shoulder belt and golden spurs that only knights could possess, then hanged as vile bandits.
But here, they often acted recklessly under the pretext of fighting for God, especially those who had received God’s blessing. The Knights Templar, Knights Hospitaller, or kings and lords had always taken an ambiguous attitude toward them—they were very clever, and the victims were often heathens or heretics. No matter what crimes they committed, under the protection of rulers who were fellow Christians, the vast majority of the aggrieved parties’ complaints sank like stones into the sea, and sometimes even they themselves suffered as a result.
To avoid such things, during the “seven days of mourning” action held for Anna, the knights who followed Caesar—whether from the Knights Templar, the Knights Hospitaller, or the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre left to him by Baldwin, as well as those who had gathered since he became Count of Edessa—those knights who had once sworn loyalty to his grandfather or great-grandfather, or their offspring—had all made an agreement with Caesar.
After capturing those palaces and fortresses, Caesar would not participate in dividing the spoils of war. They could take some small trinkets they liked, while the heavy, cumbersome items that were hard to handle would be dealt with and appraised by the merchants who followed the army, then distributed according to the proportions negotiated among the Crusader knights themselves.
This practice certainly greatly harmed the interests of Caesar as lord, but the knights who had followed him considered it nothing to make a fuss about.
“He has always been so generous, surpassing any king I have ever seen,” a Knight of the Holy Sepulchre said proudly.
These families had entrenched themselves in Cyprus for centuries, amassing wealth nearly equivalent to that of a nation. Even a Templar Knight like Walter, with his violent temper, immediately calmed down—though it was regrettable not to hear the cries and wails of those heretics, this gold was enough for the Knights Templar to sustain their operations in Cyprus.
Do not forget that Caesar allowed the Knights Templar to build military fortresses and city walls in Cyprus. Moreover, their Grand Master Philip had decided to expand the Knights Templar, doubling or tripling the number of formal members. These members, upon joining the order, would renounce all worldly power and property; all their subsequent expenditures, from horses to armor, would need to be supplied by the order.
Though the Knights Templar were wealthy, providing equipment for two or three hundred men at once was still somewhat straining.
As for Caesar, did he need money? Of course. After becoming master of Cyprus, almost every place required money, especially the urgent southern border defenses.
According to their knowledge, after becoming Grand Vizier of the Fatimid Dynasty in Egypt, Saladin moved the capital from Fustat, which had been destroyed by fire, to Cairo. In that tumultuous year, while overseeing the construction of the Muqattam fortress, he struck down opponents everywhere. Now, Egypt had become his personal domain, and it was likely he would soon become Sultan.
At that time, Cyprus might become his first chosen target. But similarly, Caesar did not want his rule in Cyprus to begin with an unconstrained and limitless massacre.
The construction of any palace required deep foundations hidden underground. Though unseen, their sturdiness directly determined the palace’s lifespan.
He would mourn and seek revenge for his wife, but he would not indulge his anger, turning a military action so precise and restrained that even the goddess of revenge would rejoice into purposeless venting—even in extreme rage, Caesar had never crossed the line he set for himself.
Thus, after a brief period of panic—people saw him hang so many nobles, including noble ladies and monks—Cyprus quickly restored calm before Lent arrived.
And at Pentecost, Caesar sent out his knights again, announcing that Cyprus could continue to conduct transactions and daily life according to its original laws for a year, and the edicts he issued—proclaimed loudly by heralds in the market, squares, and various mansions—were not about increasing taxes or demanding conversion to the Roman Church, but three simplest rules.
One: No arbitrary harm to others’ bodies, even taking lives. If knights or nobles needed duels, they must apply in advance and obtain the lord’s consent.
Two: No theft, plunder, fraud, or obtaining others’ property by other illegal means. Violators would be severely punished and required to repay three times the value of the property.
Three: No raping women or committing acts forbidden by the Church.
The last rule might be mistaken by later generations as a requirement of the Roman Church—in fact, at this time, the Church had not yet been so strict. Even in the eighteenth century, priests only made suggestions, and for ordinary couples or lovers, such requirements had little effect. After all, once the door was closed and the bed curtains drawn, who knew what happened on the bed?
The reason Caesar added this rule was that when much of Cyprus fell into chaos, some people not only looted property but also assaulted young men and women, so he omitted the victim’s gender in the last rule to prevent anyone from escaping punishment on that account.
These three rules were simple and easy to understand, even slaves who could not count on ten fingers could grasp them, but some people still harbored illusions. These were not all Cypriots—the latter would not risk their lives to test their new lord at this time. But those Crusader knights were different—no, they could not even be considered proper Crusader knights; they had no knight order or lord to whom they were loyal.
They were all wandering knights like the former Longinus. They always shouted about fighting for God, but when they reached Ayyarasa Road, Antioch, or Tripoli, they became disoriented and at a loss, unable even to find where the Saracens were, let alone fight for God.
At first, they might have some spare money to cover their own and their escorts’ food, clothing, housing, and travel, but if no one accepted them, they would soon exhaust their funds. Next, if they did not want to starve to death, they had to do despised things—knights’ aversion to labor was deep-rooted; even if becoming bandits, they were unwilling to work like commoners.
These people flooded into the cities and indeed caused great trouble to some Cypriots. Even if they caught these knights, they dared not kill them as before, only repeatedly begging and pleading. Fortunately, the worst did not happen. Their lord, though also a Crusader knight, deeply detested such vile behavior and dealt with these people quite fairly.
This caused dissatisfaction among some, but when Caesar laid the evidence before them, they were suddenly speechless. After all, he could not possibly admit those scoundrels were one of them—those crimes were utterly unforgivable, no matter where or who the victims were.
These people were indeed repulsive, but Walter still reminded Caesar that if he remained so stubborn, he might lose the loyalty of some knights. “Do you not need them? You still have not built an army entirely your own.” This elder and brutal knight said, “I know of your relationship with the king—you are as close as true brothers, but he is ultimately the master of Ayyarasa Road, and you are the master of Cyprus. Any close bond, as long as it belongs to two separate entities, will one day separate. And on that day, if the king withdraws his support, what will you do?”
“I know.” Caesar first thanked the old knight for his kindness, then said gravely, “But you should also know that corruption is contagious, just like finding wriggling worms in a sack of wheat yet keeping the moth-eaten barley grains in the warehouse out of unwillingness to discard them. Those worms will continue to survive and multiply in the part you refuse to discard, growing rapidly. The damage they cause will spread as quickly as ink dropped into clear water.
You start by being unwilling to discard one sack of wheat, and the result might be the destruction of all your harvest.
I never test human nature, for it is inherently fragile and cannot withstand any trial—and corruption is always pleasurable, while seeking profit is innate. When they see someone nearby acting with impunity without punishment, what do you think they will do?
Sir Walter, I believe you understand. Otherwise, the Knights Templar would not adhere to the twenty-five laws established at the Council of Nablus（In 1120, King Baldwin II of Ayyarasa Road, together with the Patriarch and various high priests, formulated laws concerning the Crusaders）.
I do not require my knights to renounce all money like monks and eliminate all desires, but I hope they understand that the world is not only about violence and desire. They may feel my edicts are like shackles, but without these shackles, they will inevitably suffer disaster—not given by me, but by God.
I once saved their bodies on the battlefield; now I hope to save more souls on the road to hell.”
These words left Walter speechless. He looked at Caesar, seeming to want to say something, but finally withdrew his gaze. Soon a dilemma would confront this young lord, he thought. Then let him see if the other could uphold the oaths he had now made.
As he left the Governor’s Palace, he unsurprisingly saw the Gerard family patriarch. The gray-haired old man sat in a tavern, surrounded by several Gerard family members, clearly doing their utmost to persuade him. Walter tsked; he knew what these people were saying.
The Gerard family was among the earliest to invest in Caesar. At first, Abbot John had only acted out of pity and regret for such a good child, investing a small sum as a personal venture—only after he stood firm beside Prince Baldwin did the Gerard family willing to add more stakes.
They had invested little but reaped huge returns. Especially after Baldwin ascended the throne, the Gerard family and the Knights Hospitaller they supported received many favors in Ayyarasa Road—the king, upon assuming personal rule, was not stingy in promoting their family disciples.
By rights, they should be satisfied, but human desire knows no bounds. If Damara had already married, they might seek another path, but had not her husband died? This marriage contract had invalidated before fulfillment.
Naturally, Damara should continue seeking a suitable marriage. Then who could be better than the current Caesar?
He now held the title of Count of Edessa, and the rich territories of Cyprus and Bethlehem. Best of all, his family was simple: aside from one sister, no other male kin（besides Baldwin IV and David）: “Have you not always wanted to find a stable place for Damara? What place could be more stable than Cyprus?”
They previously worried about Egyptian incursions, but now this island had the full support of Ayyarasa Road and the two major knight orders; even Antioch and Tripoli had promised aid. If Damara could become Caesar’s wife, the Gerard family would offer full assistance. For her to become mistress of such vast territory—would that not be far more comfortable than returning to Francia to guard a castle, a few mills, a few barren fields, or a patch of woodland?
“Moreover, even if she became the wife of some Frankish knight, you could not follow her back to Francia. You have sworn an oath; before fulfilling your duty to God, you must remain here. But if she marries in Cyprus, you can still see her often in the future, even come directly to Cyprus. You are his father-in-law and should rightfully bear some responsibility for this young man.”
“Indeed,” another Gerard family member nodded and said, “Our lord now has few trustworthy people to use. Look, when he left Cyprus, he even had to entrust governance to a woman. Though that woman is his sister, it is still truly troubling.”
Such great temptation, accompanied by seemingly legitimate reasons, would be hard for any father with a daughter to refuse. But the Gerard family patriarch only listened expressionlessly; onlookers could tell this persuasion would inevitably end fruitlessly.
A Gerard family member dressed more like a merchant than a knight leaned helplessly on his chair, gulping down delicious wine. He really could not understand why the Gerard family patriarch was so stubborn.
They were not pushing his daughter without self-interest; it was because Damara had once shared a bond with Caesar, and reportedly, they got along very well at Holy Cross Castle.
Of course, Damara could not claim beauty like Princess Sibylla nor a dowry like Princess Anna, but she was young—two years younger than Caesar, fourteen this year, the perfect age for marriage. Surely after marrying Caesar, she would soon bear him sons and daughters.
Having an heir was very important for a lord.
Moreover, Caesar was universally acknowledged as a good husband. Before betrothing to the Princess of the Byzantine Empire Anna, he had scarcely met her; their only time together was that brief one or two months at Holy Cross Castle.
They acknowledged Caesar’s looks and character could easily make a woman fall for him, but Princess Anna was clearly not the kind of beauty to inspire love at first sight. In minstrels’ poetry, they could expound at length, exaggerating her beauty, benevolence, and nobility, but in reality, anyone who had only heard of her would feel disappointed upon first seeing her.
Moreover, she was a Byzantine, yet Caesar unhesitatingly cleared half of Cyprus for her—even if his actions could also be explained as striking and expelling forces in Cyprus not belonging to him, and giving due deterrence to his enemies.
But indisputably, executing those noble ladies and monks could only be for Anna, not to mention the seven days of remembrance, monthly remembrances, and annual remembrances afterward, during which he meticulously fulfilled every duty a husband should, including fasting, chastity, prolonged prayers, and processions.
Many husbands, after their wives died, could not wait to revel in celebration, let alone wallow in grief for her—they might start seeking the next wife the very next day.
Even devoted, long-married couples: husbands would not refuse women throwing themselves at them, and during the year of mourning, it was not uncommon to seek prostitutes to “alleviate sorrow.”
At this time, most knights viewed daughters like Amalric I once did: as long as she behaved and caused no trouble, he scarcely thought of her, only recalling her when needing a marriage alliance.
But there were fathers who doted on daughters, like the Gerard patriarch. What puzzled his clansmen was that whether for their daughter’s future happiness or to cement an alliance, the lord of Cyprus was an ideal match.
The Gerard patriarch had previously taken Damara out of Holy Cross Castle—they understood; he feared his daughter might secretly marry Caesar for love. At that time, Caesar’s status was unclear, just a slave-born attendant; the enfeoffment given by Amalric I before his death was plain to see as reward for charging into court and battlefield for the prince.
If Damara married him, her happiness was uncertain, but encounters with danger would surely not be few.
The Gerard family patriarch’s decision was understandable. But now insisting on finding a match for Damara in Francia was baffling… If not for Damara having once earned Caesar’s loyalty, and that young count being hard to approach, they had plenty of young beautiful daughters.
He did not continue persuading; he could see more words were useless.
But on the other side, in a mansion in Nicosia, Damara was also enduring a buzz of annoying voices. The Gerard family’s men went to persuade her father, while the women came to persuade her.
“Our Damara has grown up. Not marrying that Frankish knight may be for the best. We will dress you up, make you bloom like a spring flower, so when you stand before Cyprus’s lord, he marvels at your change, realizing you are full of fragrance, ripe for the plucking.”
“Going to see a knight and making him fall for you is no shame,” another lady persuaded. “On the contrary, it is a duty every Christian woman should fulfill. His mourning period is over, and you are not tempting him to sin and crime—you have no husband, he has no wife; it is a match made in heaven.”
“I have heard,” an elderly lady earnestly said, “the daughter of the Venetian governor is on her way to Cyprus, and the Emperor of the Byzantine Empire seems intent on continuing the marriage alliance between the Byzantine Empire and Caesar. He has so many illegitimate daughters, all stunningly beautiful, but we all know beneath those gorgeous exteriors lurks deadly poison.
In any case, Caesar was once your knight. Would you rather see him seduced by those vile Greeks, falling into the enemy’s trap like Samson? Even if not for him, not for yourself, for the Crusader cause, you should become his wife. That would benefit everyone; you should devote yourself to God, should you not?”
Their words were sincere, but Damara found them amusing. If Caesar were the type swayed by beauty, he would have long been Princess Sibylla’s minion at Holy Cross Castle—and Sibylla’s malice toward him would not have thickened with time and an unhappy marriage.
She was no longer a naive little girl; now she could clearly discern people’s true intentions. Looking back, Princess Sibylla making Caesar her knight was not from goodwill but malicious jest—and only because it was Caesar did she escape harm.
These ladies who once cherished her, called her pearl and flower, might have some goodwill, but more for their husbands, sons, and brothers.
Her father had once talked long with her: as a husband, was Caesar good? Yes. To say Damara never felt moved would be false. Even when young at Holy Cross Castle, seeing him as a brother, but that time chasing her father to Ghazalafa—when Caesar unhesitatingly fulfilled his promise to her—she would have died for him willingly.
They all said how Caesar was to Anna, but Damara could mentally puff up: she was first!
But she soon severed that immature affection—not just for Caesar, but for the Gerard family—they were too greedy. Caesar had given much, yet they remained unsatisfied.
If indulged further, Caesar would only reclaim all past favors together.
