Chapter 246: Worries
“A boy! A boy! It must be a boy!” Baldwin said firmly, he was extremely excited, pacing back and forth in Patriarch Heraclius’s room, holding his head high, waving his arms, stamping his feet.
The last time he had darted around like a monkey was when Caesar was confirmed to truly have a blood relation with him, Heraclius had just wanted to say something when he interrupted him again.
“Can I go to Cyprus?” he asked, then he shook his head at himself, the expedition was imminent, the knights who had answered his call were arriving in Ayyarasa Road one after another, his hall was full of guests, and the streets and houses were crowded with countless brave men expecting to achieve success and serve God, as the King of Ayyarasa Road, the Commander of the Crusaders, the Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre, he couldn’t spare even a moment of leisure time.
Not to mention running from Ayyarasa Road to Cyprus, even leaving Holy Cross Castle was a slim hope for him.
“So, how should we celebrate for him? Hold a banquet? Or continuous Masses?” he said enthusiastically, then he seemed to remember something and became happy again. “Right, I still have more than ten purple silk robes in my chest.” This was part of the reward promised by the Emperor after they had sent troops to rescue the Emperor Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire.
When Princess Anna got married, apart from Cyprus, she had almost no proper dowry, Baldwin took out half of them and added them to the dowry, but after Caesar quelled the rebellion in Cyprus, he returned them to Baldwin as tribute.
But Baldwin was not the kind of person who coveted enjoyment, he distributed the vast majority of them to his subjects and knights under his command, but although the purple silk robes were precious, they were not so easy to sell.
So Baldwin still had more than ten, “Take them all to Cyprus, tell them to use these silks to decorate a purple room for that child…”
“Wait.” Heraclius had to interrupt him, “I think you know what the Purple Chamber means?”
“Is it not allowed?” In any case, all the ceremonies of Caesar’s first marriage with Princess Anna of the Byzantine Empire had been completed.
According to the law of the Byzantine Empire, he was already a member of the Komnenos family, a part of the royal family, and Baldwin naturally felt that his child was qualified to be born in the Purple Chamber.
“This child already has enough enemies,” Heraclius said grumpily, “don’t bring disaster upon him.”
Baldwin sighed in disappointment, “Indeed, the child is too fragile at birth.” He rubbed his hands, “Then can I send my silver cradle from when I was little for him to sleep in?”
Heraclius only felt the blood vessels on his forehead throbbing like the head of a startled wild deer, “Are you also planning to hold him at his baptismal ceremony and say that he will one day possess Ayyarasa Road?”
Baldwin really wanted to, but seeing the ashen face of the Patriarch, he knew it was absolutely not the time to pour oil on the fire, “Alright, alright, but we can’t just pretend nothing happened, at least… can we hold a tournament? I want everyone to know that Caesar has a child—and this child is not only his but also mine, teacher, do you understand what I mean?”
“I understand.” Heraclius answered quickly, “But if you don’t want others to think this is another Uther-like romantic affair, it’s best not to show such excitement.”
Baldwin’s matters of the bedchamber had always been something he, Heraclius, and Caesar tried to avoid mentioning, and at the same time, in order to not tarnish Baldwin’s honor and shake his throne, this issue had never been definitively confirmed.
So to outsiders, whether Baldwin could still have marriage and children remained ambiguous.
Although Caesar and Boccia had always stayed in Cyprus, Baldwin had visited this young couple several times—if he showed too much concern for this child, there would indeed be some rumors.
It must be known that King Uther, believing the wizard’s prophecy, would have a son with the wife of the Duke of Cornwall, and this son would become a powerful, wise, and sagacious monarch.
For this, with the help of the wizard Merlin, he disguised himself as the duke and spent three days with the duchess.
After the duke learned of this incident, he boldly rebelled, and ultimately, defeated by King Uther, had his head cut off. The duchess Igraine later married King Uther as a widow and became his queen, but because their child Arthur was born before this marriage, he was still an unacknowledged illegitimate son.
For this reason, he did not grow up in the king’s castle like all crown princes, but was fostered in the home of a loyal knight; although he also received systematic knight training and education, before pulling the Sword in the Stone, he was indeed just an obscure little person—no one told him he was King Uther’s son.
And this background meant that even after he pulled the Sword in the Stone, was taken back to the castle by King Uther, became the crown prince, and even ascended the throne, it remained an indelible blemish in his glorious image.
Heraclius’s words might not be pleasant to hear, but they turned Baldwin’s expression from joy to gloom.
He knew there were many people who disliked Caesar; Caesar’s influence over him was too great, hindering them from approaching him, confusing him, controlling him, and moreover, Caesar was upright, of noble virtue, and his will had always been quite firm, so anyone with malicious intent could not act recklessly under his gaze.
Baldwin had no doubt that Caesar’s future child would also be like him, with impeccable virtue, but would those people be happy to see Ayyarasa Road having such an heir?
By then, the conspirators would not hesitate to use any means, after all, whether in Francia, in Cyprus, or in Ayyarasa Road, if an illegitimate son could ascend the throne, it would mean that countless alliances forged through marriage were desecrated and destroyed.
He was even less likely to let his brother and friend suffer such humiliation.
“You’re right, teacher,” he asked dejectedly, “but can I really do nothing?”
“Congratulations are still possible, and you don’t need to go to Cyprus. In a couple more days, Caesar will be back, and you can congratulate him in person.”
——————
When Boccia fell down, everyone present was horrified and changed color.
The tragedy that occurred in Caesar’s first marriage was still fresh in everyone’s memory; even throughout the entire honeymoon, they had been on tenterhooks, tossing and turning, not knowing when or where another conspiracy might erupt without warning.
Now that several months had passed, everything was calm everywhere, a picture of peace, people’s vigilance had slowly relaxed—until this moment.
The first word they could think of was poisoning.
This banquet naturally also invited the monks and priests of Cyprus, and immediately two priests rushed forward to examine and treat Boccia; the Archbishop of Cyprus even snatched off his cumbersome tall hat, bent down beside Boccia, clasped his hands, and murmured prayers for her.
As the holy power entered Boccia’s body, her chest began to heave violently, then she opened her eyes, but was unable to focus— one of the priests incredulously lowered his head: “I hear two heartbeats.” he murmured.
“She is pregnant.” He spoke very softly, but to the people at this time, it was like a bolt from the blue; the quickest to react was of course Dandolo, who cared the most about this matter; he immediately held Boccia’s hand and asked joyfully, “She has a child?”
“Let me listen again.” the priest said, then everyone immediately held their breath, some even covering their mouths; in the silence, the priest listened again with his ear inclined.
What this priest specialized in was listening to patients’ breathing, heartbeats, even the sound of blood flowing in blood vessels; he could determine thereby whether the patient was recovering or worsening.
Of course, besides patients, what he listened to most was the sounds made by fetuses in their mothers’ bodies, heartbeats, gurgles, and such… he had even sworn that a fetus was praying in its mother’s belly.
This time he did not disappoint either, moreover the fetus in Boccia’s womb was very strong, “Two sounds, one big and one small,” he repeated, “I didn’t hear wrong. Yes, she is pregnant, a child is growing in her womb.”
Hearing the priest say this, everyone couldn’t help but show joy on their faces or cheer eagerly.
Caesar looked down at Boccia, Boccia’s gaze met his, and for the first time she showed a frightened expression: “I am pregnant, I have a child?”
“Yes.” Caesar did not doubt the priest’s words; what benefit would it be to this priest to fabricate a lie and make them rejoice in vain?
Moreover, more priests would come to visit Boccia, and from others’ mouths, this news was confirmed, even one priest judged that the fetus in Boccia’s womb was already three months along. That is to say, although it was not as people had hoped that this child was conceived on the wedding night, it was still a child conceived during the honeymoon, which was of course the best possible good news.
But strangely, the two parties involved were not ecstatic. If Boccia was still somewhat incredulous, Caesar showed no joy and instead some worry, which was incomprehensible.
Boccia’s grandfather Dandolo, however, was a worldly-wise man; he had noticed early on that Caesar did not seem pleased by this news—although he had seen some heartless men who were indifferent, even disgusted, by their wives or own children, he believed Caesar was not such a person.
Moreover, he was about to go on expedition; what father would not hope his child would arrive at this time? Even Amalric I, when about to expedition to Egypt, had set the departure date after Queen Maria gave birth.
He immediately thought that Caesar was perhaps worrying about what came after; he was certainly glad to see this couple’s deep affection, but he did not think Caesar had to stay by his granddaughter’s side, going nowhere, to show his loyalty—that would not only fail to demonstrate his love but would invite ridicule.
People would not say he was reluctant to go to the battlefield because he was attached to his wife and child; they would only say he had become cowardly, using this excuse to refuse to fulfill his duty, which would inevitably bring him much criticism and blame, even the King of Ayyarasa Road could thereby reclaim his fief of Bethlehem.
Caesar also knew he absolutely could not stay by Boccia’s side, but he had to admit that Boccia’s belly had shown no movement before—which had actually relieved him.
He would prefer that during the pregnancy and birth of this child, he could stay by Boccia’s side. Besides duty and love, it was also because he had no hope at all for this era’s medical technology.
It could only be said that in this incident, the luckiest thing was that Boccia was the same age as him.
When people of this time calculated age, there was never any fiction; they considered infants one year old at birth, so she was said to be seventeen, but Boccia was already a mature sixteen-year-old woman.
Compared to later generations’ women advised to give birth between twenty-five and thirty, sixteen was certainly a bit early, but compared to women of this era often starting to bear children at twelve or thirteen, fourteen or fifteen, Boccia was already fortunate.
Moreover, Boccia’s physical condition was better than that of ordinary noble ladies. She did not like sitting in a room for long periods reading the Bible or doing needlework; she preferred horse riding, hunting, and playing ball—a sport similar to later golf.
She had her grandfather’s protection before, and now even more Caesar’s connivance; neither criticism nor cold stares could prevent her from continuing her habitual lifestyle, making Boccia strong in body and vigorous in spirit, greatly reducing the chance of difficult labor.
But the problem was, Caesar had truly witnessed women giving birth—not only in his own world, but now the Queen Mother, formerly Queen Maria, when giving birth to little Princess Isabella, he had been present.
Even as noble as the Queen of Ayyarasa Road, Princess of the Byzantine Empire, the highest treatment Maria could receive was just having a birthing chair, ropes to pull on, and knights waiting in the square, ready at any moment to obey orders to whip criminals or draw the bowstring to loose blank arrows.
Beyond that, she was no different from other parturient women, no doctors or midwives; the only possible help for her was noblewomen who had given birth before.
But what they could truly do was pitifully little; at least as far as Caesar knew, some things that might now be effective were liquor, poppy paste, a hot linen cloth that could be placed on the parturient’s belly to reduce some pain.
Even so, these had to be done secretly. Because God, to punish Eve for tempting Adam to eat the fruit of wisdom with him, made her and her female offspring suffer the pains of childbirth; this was the punishment women must accept. If anyone tried to deliberately escape it, that was impiety.
You might say, what about priests? Can’t priests heal diseases, regenerate limbs, and ensure the safety of mother and child easily?
But similarly, for the above reasons, they could only pray for the parturient and child, not use God’s blessing or saint’s blessing here.
“I think I just got too excited.” Caesar looked at Dandolo and finally said so; although Dandolo was a tolerant, rational elder who doted deeply on Boccia, as a man, as a Christian, it was impossible to twist ideas he had held unchanged for decades.
Caesar was almost certain that if he voiced his worries, Dandolo’s first reaction would definitely be to donate a few more Masses at church; for the first time, Caesar felt the weakness brought by powerlessness, he walked into the room heavy-hearted, and under everyone’s crowding, embraced and kissed Boccia, welcoming the arrival of this child together with her.
When he raised his head, he saw his sister Nathia.
