Chapter 234: Vineyard
This was a hot and humid night.
The previous Wedding Ceremony was cruel, sorrowful, bitter, and tragic. Not only the parties involved, but even the witnesses were reluctant to recall it.
Tonight, after the newlyweds entered the room and stepped onto the bed, King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road and Patriarch Heraclius covered them with the bedsheet. After a short wait, they signaled the other witnesses in the room to exit together with them, leaving this nest flowing with honey to Caesar and Boccia.
Since arriving here, Caesar had not thought about those past events for a long time— the moment he realized he could never go back, he was prepared to devote all his will and strength to confronting this cruel and barren world.
But tonight, he suddenly recalled something from quite a long time ago, when he was still a student. At a classmate’s invitation, he came to a desert equally ruled by blazing sun and gravel, but it was not barren there.
Amid the rows of cream-colored houses were endless vineyards— it was the season of grape harvest, with lush branches and leaves and abundant fruit. Led by their classmate, they leaped naked into the clear canal water like mischievous children of three or five, drifting freely along the grayish-white canal.
He fell into the canal water, and it instantly buoyed him up gently.
At first, it carried a slight chill, but it soon became warm.
The water waves were so smooth, yet so playful.
He opened his eyes, expecting to see dazzling sunlight, but instead saw only the dense, overlapping leaves above the canal, green to the point of almost black, with slender transparent tendrils; every leaf was trembling, dancing, with light casting down through their gaps like fine gold.
The wind blew through them. He reached out eagerly, through the branches and leaves, trying to pick the sweet fruit that appeared and disappeared, but in the next instant, the current carried him away again, drawing a cry of disappointment and frustration from him.
But in the next moment, the canal water lifted him up again toward those deep purple fruits, each plump and sweet. He put them in his mouth, letting the sweet juice flow in his mouth and over his body.
The grapevines also leaned toward him; vines, branches and leaves, and fruit seemed to form a fine and vast net, overwhelming him, yet he felt no fear— he welcomed it joyfully, arms outstretched, as if he too had become a grapevine growing wildly under the scorching sun, reaching toward the sky and burrowing into the ground.
They fused tightly together, entwining and grasping each other; countless tiny flowers bloomed on their bodies, fragrance rising, honey flowing.
Finally, the two fell from the sky, stars shining in their eyes, ultimately settling into tranquil midnight.
—————
The events of the previous wedding night left everyone with lingering fear. This time, the protagonists of the wedding changed from Byzantines to Venetians— they simply kept all Cypriots out. The witnesses were only the King of Ayyarasa Road, ministers, and Knights of the Order. Oh, and this time Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch also came, though even when smiling, his face seemed somewhat gloomy and strange.
The location for all ceremonies also changed from St. Lazarus Cathedral to the Governor’s Palace.
The current Governor’s Palace could be called the safest place on the entire island. Nine out of ten guards here belonged to Caesar’s knights, along with his sister and his most loyal servant Longinus— last time Longinus had come to Cyprus too, but he did not yet have a title; though he could observe the ceremony, he could not be a witness. He arrived only after the incident occurred.
This time, he was even more prepared; no matter how others scolded or belittled him, he would stand guard outside the wedding room. And the knights of the three great Orders were on high alert— the previous events had dealt them a heavy blow, both to their dignity and their interests.
Even though this marriage alliance was with a Venetian, they exercised utmost caution— after all, Manuel I of Constantinople and Alexander III of Rome would absolutely not wish to bless this marriage.
“We could perhaps take a walk in the courtyard.” Heraclius glared at Baldwin and said. Don’t just stand so stiffly outside the door; if Caesar knew, he would definitely feel embarrassed.
“You know what kind of person he is.”
“Sometimes he is even more shy than a girl raised in a monastery,” Baldwin complained. You know, among boys of twelve or thirteen, fourteen or fifteen, there is endless competitive spirit, curiosity about physical development, and all sorts of resulting contests and competitions— don’t think the son of a knight wouldn’t compare who could pee the farthest…
But no matter how David, William, Guy, and others provoked him, Caesar always held his bottom line firmly, never compromising.
Even Baldwin could not walk around too freely in front of him, except when applying medicine or checking wounds.
Baldwin carefully recalled; he had seen Caesar naked— even if only upper body— only a handful of times. “He should… be fine.”
“Please stop worrying about this. You’re not his mother.”
Heraclius said without much kindness: “Templar Knight Geoffrey, and your— Berion of Ibelin, and I… have all taught him already. Besides, both he and Boccia are still very young; if it doesn’t work once, there can be a next time, ten times, dozens of times… Doing it more will surely succeed.”
“I plan to launch an expedition in June next year. I wonder if before then, Caesar can get his wife pregnant.” Before going to war, a wife becoming pregnant might be the thing to make a husband happiest, after all, no one can guarantee they will return alive from the battlefield.
“God will bless them with everything going smoothly,” Heraclius said. “Besides, Boccia is already seventeen; they will surely have a child soon.”
“Once he has a child, can I bring him to Holy Cross Castle?”
At this, Baldwin immediately became excited; he had long been looking forward to taking care of Caesar’s child.
Heraclius rubbed his brow. If there were no Sibylla, perhaps, but the problem was that Caesar had been proven to be the Eldest Son of Count Jocelin III of Edessa, meaning he was Baldwin’s cousin, and his son could potentially become Baldwin’s heir.
But according to law and tradition, the people in the City of Ayyarasa Road would surely prefer this heir to be the son of Princess Sibylla and the son of the Grand Duke of Antioch.
But at this moment, he did not want to mention Sibylla.
Sibylla had only just been expelled from Ayyarasa Road and was staying in Nalessa to await childbirth, still very composed. Perhaps she thought the dispute between her and Baldwin could also be resolved like every previous time, like footprints left in the sand— once the wind blew over, all traces would be erased.
When Princess Anna arrived at Holy Cross Castle, Baldwin seemed to finally let go of the resentment in his heart, allowing her to return to Holy Cross Castle as the king’s only sister to welcome the emperor’s daughter together.
But she had not been smug for long; shortly after Baldwin began ruling personally, they had a big fight again over what position Abigail should have in the upcoming expedition army… so she was sent back to Nalessa.
People had various opinions about this.
Heraclius guessed that Baldwin might have been a bit influenced by Caesar— others said Caesar had a good temperament, but his teacher did not think so.
But it could also be that Baldwin’s personality had turned extreme the year he contracted leprosy; he could be tolerant to the extreme with someone he loved, willing to give them any power.
He hated someone so much that even thinking of them still being in this world annoyed him endlessly.
And Princess Sibylla happened to be stuck right in the middle of these two extremes. Before she completely wore down the king’s remaining thread of familial affection and hope, the best way Baldwin could think of was to send her far away, to avoid being influenced by her again.
Now Heraclius could only pray that Boccia would not give birth to a son before Sibylla; with Baldwin’s temper, he would definitely bring the child to Holy Cross Castle. Not only would Sibylla be furious, but even Abigail’s father Bohemond would likely not let it rest.
This would not be good for that innocent child.
If he unfortunately died young in Holy Cross Castle, it would affect the relationship between Baldwin and Caesar— but Heraclius thought about it and ultimately did not voice any objection. Even if Boccia was exceptionally gifted and conceived on the wedding night, the child would still take a year to be born, and at least three more years to grow enough to leave his mother and be brought to Holy Cross Castle.
He only hoped that by then, Baldwin would be more mature, and perhaps without Heraclius’s persuasion, he would abandon this fanciful idea.
Heraclius could not stand watching Baldwin’s anxious look anymore and practically dragged him all the way outside the Governor’s Palace.
Cities in this era had curfews; generally after the church bells rang for night prayers, residents returned to their houses, shops closed, and only patrolling soldiers walked the streets.
But to celebrate the wedding of the Lord of Cyprus, there would be a whole month of celebrations next— no curfew, people could drink, play music, and dance all night, with street performances and gladiatorial games; hired minstrels and clowns would provide free shows.
Such a celebration ceremony should have been held at the first wedding, but unfortunately— Caesar “mourned” for Princess Anna for seven days, and in the following three months, half the families on Cyprus were in mourning for their loved ones.
Under such circumstances, it was impossible to hold any celebrations; everywhere was deathly still, and even on feast days and anniversaries, there were only Mass, prayers, and parades.
Now there was finally a good opportunity to revel freely; whether island natives or newcomers, all wanted to indulge fully.
At this time, the Patriarch had taken cloaks from the attendants and draped them over himself and Baldwin’s overly expensive robes, to avoid causing panic among the people.
On the vast square, four or five bonfires were already burning, the largest one almost lighting up half the sky. People sat around the bonfires, chatting, playing music, singing, and dancing; some bold knights even jumped over the bonfires to show off their agility and bravery.
Such a scene indeed caught Baldwin’s attention— he was still just a young man after all.
When he saw a knight wearing a helmet and chainmail leap over a bonfire about three feet high, he could not help but exclaim in admiration. He reached for his pocket, only then realizing he had not brought his money bag.
The attendant beside him was still fumbling with his belt when Baldwin casually removed a ring and threw it to the knight. The knight caught a glimpse of something shiny flying toward him with the corner of his eye and deftly caught it with a raise of his hand.
He raised his hand to his eyes, opened it, and laughed. He saw that the ring had come from a group of people, led by two figures with hoods and cloaks, but from their height and the attendants clustered around, they were surely some great nobles. So he pocketed the gift with a clear conscience, bowing deeply to them.
Finally, he untied his small money bag, put the ring inside, then took out two silver coins, turned to the people by the bonfire, and said something— Baldwin vaguely heard him say that he had received such a generous reward, so he decided to be generous and invite his friends for drinks. Immediately, several people jumped out from the shadows; they linked arms, cheerfully heading to a nearby tavern.
Baldwin watched them the whole time, then noticed something interesting.
“Look, teacher,” he said. “Those people don’t seem to all be Christian knights.” Not only were there knights like that one, dressed in chainmail and outer robes, but also Cypriots; their attire still followed Byzantine traditions, so they were easy to spot at a glance— they even saw a Venetian.
He had been brought before Baldwin, so Baldwin remembered him.
“The people here aren’t afraid of Crusaders,” Baldwin continued. Indeed, though the crowd by the bonfire was roughly divided into groups— Crusaders in one, Venetians in another, local Cypriots in another, even Isaacites in one…
The distances between them were not great. Whenever someone, no matter where they came from, stepped forward to show their skills, others would not stint on mockery or applause; if someone truly excelled like that knight, people like Baldwin would even throw coins or gifts.
In this age of material scarcity, knights would not feel humiliated; on the contrary, they would feel proud.
