Chapter 290: Broken Wings
“Bohemond…”
Bohemond had his back to the room door, but he also knew that few people could enter this room without announcement: King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road, Patriarch Heraclius, and Count Raymond of Tripoli.
He had spent a full forty years with Raymond, and it could even be said that they were more familiar than true brothers. They had served as attendants together, fought against Saracens on the battlefield together, served him in the king’s court together, and their territories were closely adjacent, having aided each other in the past.
But in Bohemond’s heart, Raymond would always be a foolish hypocrite.
Perhaps this tradition had existed since his grandfather’s generation. Raymond IV of Toulouse clearly had the opportunity to claim the crown of Ayyarasa Road, but to demonstrate his selflessness and piety, he yielded the crown to Godfrey of Bouillon.
Of course, that was his claim.
In fact, everyone knew that at that time, the Crusader knights admired and loved Godfrey of Bouillon more. He was the only one in the entire Crusade who truly abandoned his inheritable territory and title to participate in the Crusades.
The others either had no territory, or had lost the king’s favor, or due to marriage, had to hand over their territory to their eldest son in advance, and thus were forced to pretend in the name of God, traveling thousands of miles from Francia to the Holy Land to seek a place to settle.
Raymond IV of Toulouse probably never imagined that his actions, meant merely to boast, gain reputation, and accumulate political capital, would become a shackle on his descendants.
Raymond had always deliberately maintained an image of severity, integrity, and aloofness—after all, Amalric I was not an easy king to deal with, and his son had truly been poisoned by his ancestors’ legacy, genuinely seeing himself as a saint.
Unfortunately, Ayyarasa Road already had a saint.
Whether out of true intent or hoping to regain the king’s trust, David’s imitation of Caesar was not well-regarded. In Baldwin’s court, some saw it as a disguise, others as excessive flattery, and few believed he was truly a good person.
Raymond walked over. Bohemond had moved a chair and was sitting in front of Abigail’s bed. Abigail had lost a great deal of blood before, his face was pale, the loss of his right arm was irreversible, but under the priest’s treatment, he could at least continue living.
But the monk also said that this blood loss had caused him great damage, and in the future, he might have to languish in bed for a long time, unable to live like a normal person. He even vaguely mentioned that this might affect his future offspring.
Of course, as a seal fee, Bohemond gave him a full reliquary box of gold coins, but this monk probably could not imagine that this box of gold coins would soon return to its original owner, and as interest, he would also lose his life.
Bohemond absolutely could not let anyone know that Abigail had lost the two most important things for a man—his capital on the battlefield and in bed.
He and Princess Sibylla still had no children.
“Don’t be too sad,” he could feel Raymond’s hands on his shoulders. This rough man unusually softened his voice to comfort him, “He will pull through. It’s not that no knight has encountered such things and still been able to charge back and forth on the battlefield afterward, or find a suitable position in the court. He is ultimately your son and the brother-in-law of the King of Ayyarasa Road.”
Bohemond paused for a moment, stood up, turned to Raymond, and grasped his hand. Bohemond had always been eccentric and gloomy, perhaps related to being expelled from Antioch at a young age and then living for a long time under the oppression of his birth mother and stepfather.
It was the first time Raymond had seen him with tears streaming down his face, grieving to the point where he seemed unable to maintain the mask always firmly worn on his face. He immediately panicked: “Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s fine—Abigail still has you, me, and David.”
Bohemond wanted to laugh loudly and curse in anger, but no one could glimpse the raging storm hidden beneath his expression and demeanor.
What qualification did Raymond have to say such words! What qualification to pity him! To pretend generosity and give him a promise!
He knew he had persuaded Raymond before, but that did not mean Raymond could ride roughshod over him and do as he pleased.
“You were a fool before, and you still are a fool now.” Bohemond said in his heart, but he also knew that this fool had suddenly said such words against common sense because he had become complacent.
Why did Amalric I appoint Raymond as Regent back then? And what prompted the marriage between Sibylla and Abigail? Very simple: the best way to keep fierce beasts occupied was to throw a blood-drenched lamb between two fierce beasts.
While they tore and fought over this succulent good meat, the one originally threatened by them could remain safe and sound, and his scheme had nearly succeeded.
If Abigail had not been so incompetent, and Baldwin and the attendant by his side had not risen so quickly—after more than ten years of struggle and infighting, he and Raymond should also have been old and weary, unable to control the next young King of Ayyarasa Road, but reality always changed so abruptly and drastically.
Just as Bohemond had not expected that in the most dangerous siege warfare, Abigail could retreat unscathed under his protection, yet when they had occupied Damascus and everything was about to return to normal, he was severed of an arm by an Assassin assassin.
He, like Abigail, simply did not believe that Caesar had truly been powerless at the time. She was a woman! A woman could not possibly sense a saint or possess extraordinary strength—no matter how many times she attacked, Caesar should have been able to protect Abigail.
He even maliciously speculated whether Caesar had long colluded with this Assassin assassin, not allowing her to kill Abigail directly but taking one of his arms instead—was this a warning, revenge, and show of strength?
Bohemond had to wonder—had Jocelin III said anything to his knights back then? Had those knights said anything to the young Caesar? And his sister? Since the latter firmly remembered the hiding places of those treasures and birth certificate?
Caesar had once said that at nine years old, he lost his previous memories due to a high fever.
But what if he remembered? Perhaps his current memories were still incomplete and vague. But one day, the entire past would unfold like an opened tapestry, complete and clear before his eyes. It must be so; he wanted to make him heartbroken, to make him fearful, he was tormenting him.
“Good.” This time he did not avoid Raymond’s outstretched hand but solemnly shook it.
“Yes, for Abigail, for David, for our son.” Raymond’s heart relaxed. He still feared Bohemond somewhat; among those who grew up together, he feared Bohemond the most, even more than Amalric I who later became king.
This was why Bohemond had proposed cooperation several times, but he always refused. He felt he could not outmaneuver Bohemond in plots and schemes. And like Bohemond, he had only one only son. David was too upright, and he dared not take risks. But now the situation had changed; Bohemond had no hope left.
If Bohemond could place his David, or even him, on the throne of the King of Ayyarasa Road, he could still reserve a position for Bohemond in the court. It could even be said that in Bohemond’s lifetime, he could still be heavily employed, and his son Abigail could get a suitable position—for example, abbot of some monastery. It was not a regret to turn from a knight unable to lift a long sword into a leisurely abbot.
And once Abigail and Sibylla’s betrothal was dissolved, David could marry Sibylla and thereby consolidate his claim to Ayyarasa Road. This was simply a top-notch, splendid, and unmatched marriage.
Raymond soon left Abigail’s room. For most people, this was just an ordinary visit—David had even guarded Abigail for several nights. Little did they know, conspiracy grows like mold, always in the most habitual times and places.
————
Today Baldwin, Caesar, and Patriarch Heraclius finally sent off the Saracen delegation. As Saladin thought, Baldwin had no intention of making things difficult for them. After receiving a ransom of one hundred thousand gold coins, he released Emina and the other accompanying personnel without hesitation, even dispatching a team of knights to escort them out of Damascus and hand them over to another Saracen force waiting outside the city.
This matter indeed made Baldwin and Heraclius break out in cold sweat. Now they somewhat understood why Caesar had included prohibitions on slaughter, plunder, and rape in his requirements for knights.
In unfamiliar lands and cities, no one knew what might happen, and knights willing to abide by the law would, even if capturing women, children, and merchants, escort them to Damascus for judgment and disposal.
Whereas a force unbound by any agreements, almost like bandits, could only bring endless trouble.
In fact, even after Emina had left Damascus City, some knights indifferently said that even if she had suffered humiliation and harm from Abigail, it did not matter, as long as the knights of Antioch could clean up the ends thoroughly—for example, killing them all and discarding them in the nearby wilderness, where beasts would naturally take care of the rest.
They seemed never to consider that there are no secrets in this world, as long as some people are willing to pursue them.
“But Your Majesty, and you, Caesar, you cannot treat the people in Damascus the way you treated the people of Cyprus.” Heraclius said sternly.
Baldwin and Caesar nodded together. They were sitting, Heraclius standing, with a small blackboard beside them. This scene was like a few years ago, when they were still receiving Heraclius’s teachings in the room at Holy Cross Castle.
And Heraclius was indeed teaching a new lesson.
It could be said that capturing Damascus was what surprised him.
This was the Earthly Paradise, the human garden, so praised by the Saracens. He had led processions in prayer, Mass, and parades through the city these past few days, seeing every part of the city. It could be said that the city was still intact, with only some damage on the edges, which made it even harder for him to understand.
Not to mention that he had then inspected the warehouses and water sources in the city. Indeed, Damascus was no longer as prosperous as a few years ago, but they had already been in stalemate with the Crusaders for nearly two months, and holding out another two months was not impossible.
Why had those Saracens so easily abandoned sovereignty of this city? Was it because they saw that their only reinforcements, Saladin, were unable to restrain the emirs and Fatah below due to the Assassin assassin’s assassination, leading to their defeat by the Crusaders?
Caesar of course knew why Heraclius said this. Back then, to avenge his newlywed wife Princess Anna, Caesar had nearly wiped out a third of Cyprus’s nobles, though he had not affected too many commoners—merchants, craftsmen, and farmers—but panic was inevitable.
His announcement of tax exemption could be seen as buying hearts, which everyone could understand. After all, the Byzantines were still Christians and allies of the Crusaders.
But Damascus was different. For heathens to keep their lives was already God’s mercy.
And the king generously allowed them to continue owning their property, residences, and fields, which was somewhat unbelievable.
Although for these things that originally belonged to them, the people of Damascus did hand over all their savings, and some, unable to pay the ransom, had to abandon part of them.
But for the Crusaders, this was far from enough; they could have taken everything.
The rumors circulating on the streets were not baseless, especially since one of the three conditions proposed by the people of Damascus was to have Caesar as Governor of Damascus—this meant another large chunk of the spoils of victory they could divide was lost.
Those coming to visit the king and hoping he would change his mind were endless, leaving Baldwin quite helpless.
But no matter what, he would not yield Damascus.
If these people were dissatisfied, why didn’t they also become little saints? He believed the Saracens of Damascus would include them in the candidate list then.
Of course, such words could not be spoken aloud, or even as king he would get beaten, especially by Heraclius’s ruler, which would not easily spare him.
“Teacher is right,” Baldwin said. “We will not exempt taxes. The wealth of Damascus far exceeds people’s imagination. Even if the people of Damascus now seem bankrupted, they surely have backups.”
This was evident from the merchants—he was not referring to the Christian and Isaacite merchants who came with the army, but those who had always traded in Damascus. Though a mix of Christians, Isaacites, and Saracens, their attitude toward the new masters was quite consistent: utmost respect and utmost submission.
The gifts they presented were enough to offset the expenses of this expedition, and the money obtained from the people of Damascus could fill the purses of every foreign lord and knight who came to participate in the expedition, with gold coins nearly overflowing, just like the cheerful Count Magigao.
A lord was always very stingy, after all, money was needed everywhere in the territory, and they still had to pay taxes and tribute to the king.
But this time, even he could say he would personally arrange his eldest son’s wedding and let him buy whatever he wanted—which showed how much he had gained in this campaign.
“The Englishmen leave tomorrow; then we must go outside the city to see them off.” Baldwin referred to the English knights led by William Marshal. They had come at God’s call—although relations between England and Francia had not been harmonious since the Duchess of Aquitaine remarried, on the battlefield, they were indeed companions to entrust one’s back to.
Baldwin had not been stingy. Besides money, he replaced their horses, armor, even their attendants’ equipment with brand new sets. William even received a silver-plated chainmail and a gold-plated helmet.
Not only that, he also received two fragments of the True Cross. One was given to him, enshrined as an amulet in a reliquary box and hung around William Marshal’s neck.
The other was to be placed over his heart and taken back to London for Richard, though it was unknown if Richard was still in London or had run off to Aquitaine again.
William could almost imagine Richard staring at this Cross fragment, frustrated, relieved, and yearning, pounding his chest in regret.
Before he left, Richard’s height and shoulder width had already surpassed his, growing into a golden-red-haired little giant. He fought for his mother and father, invincible on the battlefield, no noble able to withstand a single bout against him.
But he need not regret too much. If no major changes occurred in Ayyarasa Road, this young king would surely launch another expedition in three to five years.
At that time, given Henry II’s worsening health, the one succeeding was very likely his current eldest son, Young Henry.
Then, as Duke of Aquitaine, Richard would have plenty of time to serve God. By then, William Marshal might still have the chance to expedition with Richard.
The subsequent journey was almost perfectly smooth, until they reached Acre and were about to board the ship, when a knight somewhat regretfully mentioned something to him.
“An apparition of Saint Jerome?”
William Marshal asked in astonishment.
“Indeed. On the night we left Ayyarasa Road for Acre, the statue of the saint enshrined in the Monastery of Saint Jerome in Bethlehem suddenly glowed.
After glowing, people discovered stigmata on his hands, feet, and side, with blood flowing from the stigmata.”
The knight enviously glanced toward the distance. Their ship had left the port; turning back was impossible. If possible, he really wanted to jump off the ship and swim back to Acre, then dash all the way to Bethlehem.
“The saint you sense is not Saint Jerome, is it?”
“No, but Lord, who can witness a miracle firsthand? Such an opportunity might come only once in a lifetime.” Though saying this, the knight did not do anything rash.
As William Marshal said, the saint he sensed was not Saint Jerome. He made the sign of the cross over his chest and returned to his cabin, while William Marshal frowned, trying to recall if any of the English knights who came with him sensed Saint Jerome.
Fortunately not. If there were, he would really have to ask the ship owner to turn back.
After all, both common law and canon law stipulated that if the saint sensed by knights appeared, they must go on pilgrimage, no matter how distant, difficult, or dangerous.
There had indeed been knights who, because of this, fell into debt and had to sell their horses and armor; some met mishaps on the Pilgrimage Road, going missing or dying; others, upon arriving at the site of the apparition, gained new insights and decided to abandon their property and titles to become monks.
Of course, some knights—for various reasons, perhaps laziness, illness, ongoing battles, or other causes—failed to go on pilgrimage and thus received quite severe punishment.
They lost the strength granted by their saint, becoming ordinary people. Not only that, they would also face excommunication from the Church.
If willing to purchase indulgences, or if a king or bishop intervened, they might be allowed self-excommunication.
That is, long-term fasting and cultivation, isolated from the world, exiled for twenty or thirty years.
This way, they could at least interact with people and participate in sacraments, suffering only a little hardship.
But if the Church imposed excommunication, things would turn dire.
Minor excommunication, or little excommunication, would prohibit them from participating in sacraments and bar priests from administering sacraments to them.
And inability to participate in sacraments meant becoming a sinner. Their official position, inheritance rights, and knightly title would be revoked, reduced to a commoner. Their wife, children, and other relatives would suffer guilt thereby, needing to purchase indulgences.
And he himself would be destined for hell.
Even worse, the Church would impose major excommunication.
Those under major excommunication truly lost everything.
At that time, people were tightly bound to the Church. From birth to entering the grave, all marriages, contracts, documents, oral or written testimonies, status, titles—once major excommunication was imposed, these would all be declared invalid.
Not to mention sacraments, he would even have to avoid crowds like a leper, and crowds would avoid him.
Though alive, he was as good as dead, and an extremely miserable and unwilling death at that.
