Chapter 23: The Unlucky Count Etienne
“It’s snowing.”
Amalric I said coldly—it’s often said that angels are always solitary, while demons always come in groups, and bad news always follows one after another.
At the same moment three days ago, the King of Ayyarasa Road had already gone to bed; what had happened before left him exhausted and his heart troubled, with no interest in playing chess, reading, or listening to music. Just as he was about to fall asleep, an attendant came to report that Prince Baldwin was waiting outside the main tower.
If it had been anyone else, they might truly have been turned away, but Baldwin—if there was anyone in the castle who understood his king, his father, and the immense responsibility and heavy pressure that came with it better than Baldwin himself, it could only be Amalric I; he was such a gentle child who would absolutely not disturb the Lord of the Holy Land’s sleep at this hour unless something major had happened.
Amalric I immediately got up and had someone bring candles. Baldwin soon arrived before the king with Caesar and Damara; they brought very bad news—Amalric I immediately summoned servants to fetch Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch and Count Raymond of Tripoli, along with their sons.
During this waiting period, Amalric I inadvertently glanced at the icon of the saint hanging on the wall—Saint George, he, and the patron saints of Bohemond and Raymond—the valiant knight clad in armor, riding a holy white horse, raising a gleaming silver long sword, locked in deadly combat with the red dragon symbolizing Satan, angels casting golden light from behind the roiling clouds, illuminating the saint’s body… This was God’s gift, granting him boundless wisdom and strength…
He did not know if this was God’s trial or the devil’s prank. Antioch, Tripoli, Ayyarasa Road—they were kings, grand dukes, and counts revered by all, Christ’s knights, protectors of pilgrims and the Holy Land, but why were they all so unfortunate in their heirs?
His son Baldwin was nearly flawless, yet he had contracted leprosy not long ago; Raymond’s son David was upright in character, even stubborn by some accounts, which might not be a flaw for a knight, but as the future lord of the county, it would be the point his enemies most eagerly exploited; and Bohemond’s son Abigail… Amalric I was too lazy to even mention it.
And things seemed able to get even worse: he, Raymond, and Bohemond all had only this one heir…
Soon, Raymond and David arrived, along with Bohemond and Abigail. David seemed bewildered and a bit sleepy, clearly knowing nothing about the matter; Raymond truly did not know whether to blame or be relieved by his son’s obliviousness; meanwhile, Bohemond’s expression and Abigail’s split lip already explained everything.
Bohemond was about to step forward to beg forgiveness, but Amalric I merely waved his hand; this was not the time for discipline and punishment. Caesar brought over a chest, the kind usually placed by the bedside, flat-surfaced for resting feet or holding items; now it was used to unroll a map.
“What did you and that guide say?” Amalric I asked.
Abigail shrank back upon seeing Baldwin; he had always been afraid to approach the prince, fearing that his leprosy might infect him in a single breath or gesture. His father Bohemond had no such patience and immediately slapped him, then grabbed his hair and dragged him to the chest.
In ordinary times, someone might have tried to intervene, but the trouble Abigail had caused this time was simply too great.
Because of this bungled betrothal, Princess Sibylla’s reputation might suffer some impact, but as Amalric I had originally planned, selecting a husband for her from among the most pious and valiant knights, this flaw was utterly insignificant. As for the rashness of Amalric I and Louis VII, it might draw some laughter, but it was harmless and even made them seem approachable—and if Amalric I did not have only Baldwin as his son, Princess Sibylla’s marriage would not be a major issue at all.
But Abigail bribing Count Etienne’s guide to lead Louis VII’s subject, the Envoy to the Holy Land, a Christian, into heathen territory, to be injured, killed, or imprisoned… that would be a scandal truly shocking the world!
This was not something a Christian should do to a Christian, nor even to a heathen; even the devil would not devour its own kind, let alone that Count Etienne was a guest of the King of Ayyarasa Road, the Grand Duke of Antioch, and the Count of Tripoli; he had been invited into the castle and received bread and salt in the great hall, and when he left, all had come to see him off.
If Count Etienne were truly captured by a heathen lord, they might still ransom him back, but if he were injured, lost, or died in combat…
Amalric I closed his eyes; what was shaken was far more than just Ayyarasa Road! What was fundamentally shaken was the very foundation of the entire Crusades! Just like a shepherd discovering blood of the lamb on the dog’s muzzle, how could he not harbor suspicions? At that point, not only Louis VII, but even the Church would come demanding accountability; perhaps he would truly have to surrender Ayyarasa Road to quell people’s doubts.
Abigail had already been scared out of his wits when his father questioned him and dragged him up the main tower; under the gaze of Amalric I’s steel-blue eyes, he spilled everything in a rush.
Damara had already been sent back to her room by Amalric I’s attendants. Caesar leaned by Baldwin’s side, and when Abigail said that the matter was truly his doing alone, with no connection to Princess Sibylla, Baldwin gently breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his tense shoulders; regardless of the standpoint—brother or future king—he did not want Sibylla involved.
“…So I told him to lead Count Etienne to Mulai’s territory…”
To Caesar, Mulai was an unfamiliar name, but not to Amalric I and the other two lords. Amalric I immediately had attendants take David and Abigail away; Bohemond insisted on throwing Abigail into prison, but Amalric I refused—this matter was best resolved with as few people knowing as possible; if Abigail were imprisoned, what charge would they give if someone asked?
Baldwin and Caesar naturally could not remain in the room either. Before leaving, Bohemond placed his hand on the map, but his head snapped around with a strange smile on his face: “Ah, right,” he said, his gaze falling on Caesar: “I saw this pious and clever good child,” he asked rapidly in a light tone: “Was it him? What did he hear, what did he see, or did an angel descend in his dream to tell him this secret that should have remained unknown to all—so he hurried here in such haste… Was it him?”
Baldwin stepped forward, using his body to shield Caesar.
“Enough,” Raymond interrupted Bohemond’s sarcasm in a deep voice: “Even if no one saw or heard, the attendants’ mouths would be loosened by women and wine—you might as well say it was God’s will, allowing us to mend the fold after the sheep are lost, rather than being forced to face a utterly disastrous and nearly irreparable situation after the matter fully erupts.”
Amalric I nodded to Baldwin, who immediately pulled Caesar and ran out the door. He felt a bit regretful; he should not have let Caesar stay there any longer—it would be best if he left with Damara.
Caesar, however, did not mind. Some might say that drawing the hostility of a grand duke out of nowhere was asking for trouble, but ever since he had seen Witt and those servants, the pilgrims before the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the fate of the dwarf at the banquet… he should have known that in this place and time, those in high positions needed no doctrine, law, or morality to dispose of those beneath them; they required no reason at all.
And Abigail’s hatred for him was long-standing; unless he left the castle, ceased being Baldwin’s attendant and friend, and no longer had any contact with Princess Sibylla… but if so, just because he, a lowly servant, had once stood beside the princess and spoken with her, Abigail would have a thousand reasons to kill him.
“Who is Mulai?”
“He is a prince of Armenia.” Cilician Armenia was an independent duchy founded by Armenian refugees fleeing the Seljuk invasion. “This Prince Mulai once lived in Ayyarasa Road for several years, even becoming a member of the Knights Templar, but unfortunately, soon after, he succumbed to the devil’s temptation, abandoned the Knights Templar, and defected to the Seljuk Sultan Toghrul II, where he gained a position and a small piece of territory.
That territory happened to lie on the road pilgrims must pass, so a former Christian, a knight with a cross on his cloak, had fallen to become a thief, engaging in robbery and plunder.”
Baldwin entered the room; though it was already late at night, he had no intention of sleeping. Like Amalric I, Raymond, and Bohemond, he took a rolled map from a locked cabinet, spread it on the bed, and examined it face-to-face with Caesar.
The First Crusade was in 1096, the Second Crusade in 1147; these two grand expeditions had opened four smooth great roads for pilgrims: “When Count Etienne arrived, he took the route from Louis VII’s second expedition, departing from Paris to Lyon, from Lyon to Metz, through the Holy Roman Empire, Hungary, Bulgaria, to Constantinople, then from Constantinople along the coastline by horse or ship across the Mediterranean—already very close to Seljuk territory.” Baldwin pointed to a specially marked red line.
“If by ship, they would pass Rhodes and Cyprus, but they must beware Saracen pirates. Still, in terms of safety, it is always better than crossing Seljuk sultans’ territory. You attended class with me before,” Baldwin said: “You should know—”
The Seljuk Empire was a great empire established by Turks in Central Asia and West Asia, professing Islam, once glorious, but after the death of the last great ruler Malik Shah in 1092, it splintered into over a dozen small dynasties, with Toghrul II as sultan of one of the larger ones… but judging by Mulai’s behavior, he was clearly just an incompetent fool.
“My father put Count Etienne on a ship at Jaffa port.” At this point, Baldwin sighed; because of the prior events, many young knights had challenged Count Etienne, who clearly had no intention of shedding blood for a grand duke he barely knew and would likely never see again. He could be said to have “fled” Ayyarasa Road as quickly as possible, not planning to linger even a day—if he had gone to Acre to board ship, they might still catch him.
A person walks on average 6 leagues per day（one league equals four kilometers）to 10 leagues, on horseback 8 to 12 leagues, but a single-masted ship can reach 30 to 50 leagues per day. If Count Etienne had gone straight to Smyrna or Thessalonica, it would be fine; those cities are deep in Byzantine Empire territory, some distance from the Seljuks—but with a bribed guide, he might tamper with things, persuade the count to disembark early, then find a way to lead him to Mulai or other Seljuks.
“Abigail gave him a deposit of one hundred gold coins,” Baldwin said hoarsely: “If successful, he could get four hundred more from Abigail upon return.”
Equals three point three three… of me, Caesar thought to himself.
“What will Your Majesty do?”
“There’s no other way; we must search, find Count Etienne. If we catch the guide before he suspects anything, fine; if he already senses something wrong, we may face negotiations. But in my view, Count Etienne is not a greedy man, so it won’t be too difficult to handle. The worst… you understand; someone always has to step up and take responsibility.”
Caesar fell silent; after being here so many days, he had roughly figured out the relationship between Ayyarasa Road, Antioch, and Tripoli. You could see them as one big family, their lords as close as brothers, but Antioch and Tripoli were vassals of Ayyarasa Road; Amalric I was like the eldest brother, receiving the fealty of Bohemond and Raymond while bearing the troubles and guilt they brought.
Baldwin and Caesar thought all they could do was wait, but after three days passed, no trace of Count Etienne or his attendants appeared at any ports—neither on the great roads pilgrims usually took nor the paths only thieves knew, from Ashkelon and Jaffa to Caesarea, Acre, Tyre, Sidon, Beirut, Tripoli, and Antioch; not a single thread of clue…
Bohemond, as the father of the culprit, had been riding out nonstop for days and nights; Raymond too looked haggard and dazed; Amalric I buried himself in heavy state affairs while constantly watching for news from all sides—to this day, he still had not written to Louis VII to say his envoy might have become a Seljuk captive.
As knights rode out one after another through the castle gates, Baldwin always stood by the window watching; Caesar knew he desperately wanted to be one of them, for his father Amalric I and for his sister Sibylla.
“Can I go?” he suddenly asked: “I’ll go.” In your place.
