Chapter 292: Broken Wings
When Haridi realized that Lego might be a big trouble, he almost wanted to drive him out.
The teacher had once mocked him as a badger skilled at digging holes in the sand and soil, always so cautious, careful, and good at escaping, but from Haridi’s standpoint, his body also did not lack the cruelty and selfishness that Isaacites always had.
But he also possessed reason and calmness that other Isaacites did not have, to the extent that he could avoid falling into the trap of greed like his clansmen in many situations—he was so restrained with himself, let alone with others.
Up to now, in his more than thirty years of life, he had only done two things that could be called reckless—the first was taking his teacher to escape from the Secret Land of the Isaacites, breaking with the great sage there; the second was participating in the war between Christians and Saracens to avenge his teacher’s wife and children, even personally shooting Sultan Nur al-Din.
But essentially, he was still full of weariness and vigilance toward all conflicts and accidents. Why did he repeatedly escape from Caesar? Even though Caesar had been utterly benevolent and righteous to him, and was a generous master.
Simply put, his teacher had once seen that child and immediately saw through his ill-fated destiny.
Facts proved that what Caesar could do was far more than his teacher had thought; he might very well become a kind lord, or even a wise monarch, or a revered saint, but this was not what Haridi wanted—call him heartless or selfish, what he desired was to find a place to quietly curl up and spend the rest of his life.
This idea had not changed even until today.
And his willingness to work for Caesar was, rather than repaying a favor or the like, better explained as being moved by the novel ideas Caesar occasionally mentioned—these things did not exist in existing books, nor were they related to any sage’s teachings; he was like a child who had strayed into the wilderness, not only unafraid of this unfamiliar world, but continually moving forward because of a small flower he had never seen or a brightly colored beetle.
He was already prepared—if the matter leaked out, he would be pushed onto the gallows as a scapegoat.
And Lego’s appearance might bring this scene forward by many years.
He could not be sure whether the letter Lego received was targeted only at Lego, or at him, or was a vortex blown up before a larger storm arrived.
But in the end, he still did not do so.
No matter for what reason, when he was penniless and went to seek refuge with his teacher, bringing his wife and daughter, it was Lego who warmly hosted them, giving them a place to live, food, and clothes.
Not only that, he also promised to build Haridi a workshop solely his own, which was generosity far beyond that of Isaacites; even later events forced Lego to abandon his industry here and go to Nalessa, but Lego had always kept in touch with him, even enthusiastically inviting him to Nalessa—although the second invitation might not be so pure, Haridi did indeed owe him a favor.
Various thoughts flashed through Haridi’s mind, probably only a few breaths’ time; Lego might have sensed it, or might not have, or more likely sensed it but pretended not to know on purpose, but when Haridi came forward to help him up, this cunning old fellow let out a long sigh of relief—this might be the only place in Bethlehem without need for worry.
Haridi would not betray him.
Haridi had him sit on a chair in the workshop; after the apprentice incident, he had become much more cautious, tediously putting away everything every night before bed. Whether gold, gemstones, tools, or semi-finished products.
But the workshop’s tabletop was empty, which was strange in itself; Lego surveyed the empty cabinets and display boards, wondering if Haridi had lost the lord’s favor, or even incurred disgust, causing people here to shun him.
This was Bethlehem, the place of Jesus Christ’s birth; customers seeking amulets or reliquary boxes had always been endless.
Moreover, Haridi’s craftsmanship was beyond words; even in the Synagogue of Isaac in Bethlehem, those goldsmiths could freely spit on Haridi’s eccentric temperament and lack of piety, but could not say a word against his skills, and even after he was expelled from Bethlehem（Haridi had lost a protector）—they still asked him to take two apprentices.
Once he finished things here, he would see if he could invite Haridi to Nalessa again.
Haridi had been bustling about; he first brought Lego water, clean clothes—the clothes were his own; luckily after all this, Lego was no longer as white and fat as before, now he was dark and thin, let alone Haridi’s clothes, even those apprentices’ clothes he could wear.
However, those two apprentices had taken all their things from the workshop, so what Haridi brought was still a set of his own inner and outer garments: the long undergarment inside, the pullover outside, a leather belt, socks, and boots; then he bundled up all the clothes Lego had changed out of.
“What are you taking those for? Just leave them there,” Lego shouted from behind, “I’ll wear them when I go back.”
Haridi paused, “I’ll find you a monk’s clothes then.” With that, he carried the clothes to the stove and burned them piece by piece.
Haridi was not originally so unthrifty, but ever since his master Caesar told him about “epidemic devils”—the lord said many diseases were transmitted through wind and air, and air and wind were not as clean and harmless as they appeared, even without any mixed odors.
For this, he specially took Haridi to a dimly lit room, opened the window there, and when sunlight shone through the window into the room, countless tiny specks could be seen tumbling in the beam of light.
Those were not mere dust; anything could adhere to them, including those tiny devils.
Unfortunately, Haridi could not share this knowledge with others; whether among Isaacites or Christians, a person not “Chosen by Raphael,” nor a monk or priest, discussing such medical matters was easily branded a heretic or possessed by demons.
When he finished with the clothes and returned, Lego was already lying supine on the bed, relaxed and defenseless in sleep, blowing cheerful little whistles from his mouth, brows tightly furrowed; Haridi reached out to test his temperature and found the once feverish skin had dropped to normal; he slightly relieved, if it was just a fever, there was nothing serious.
Stay in a cool place, drink more water, rest well, and by tomorrow morning everything would be fine.
At the bedside were the things Lego had brought this time: a similarly dirty and worn backpack, containing a water bottle, earthenware pot, wood carvings, rags, and scraps of fur in a jumble.
There was also a satchel, equally gray and inconspicuous.
Haridi glanced at them twice, did not touch them, got up, and left the room.
On his way back to his own room, he remembered to close both doors: one between the apprentices’ room and the workshop, the other between the workshop and his room.
The next morning when he woke up, the first thing he did was check on Lego, but unexpectedly Lego had woken even earlier and was diligently sweeping the courtyard for Haridi and tidying the workshop.
“Are you planning to open today?” he asked.
“Not opening these few days.” Haridi said; just as he spoke, they heard sincere wailing from outside the door; Lego peered through the door crack, turned back shaking his head: “It’s those Christians.”
Believers who made the long journey to the Holy Land for pilgrimage were inevitably the most pious and fanatical among them, essentially using their lives to prove to God how fervent their devotion was, and they were the easiest to be incited by priests’ words.
And asceticism, parades, and witnessing apparitions firsthand could excite their emotions to near madness. At such times, they were like a swollen fermenting wine barrel; even a pinhole gap would make them burst instantly.
Haridi and Lego had both witnessed such situations.
Haridi did not harbor illusions, nor pin his safety on others’ self-control, which was commendable, though a bit un-Isaacite.
Lego was an Isaacite, so after that procession passed by crying and shouting, he prepared to head to the Synagogue of Isaac, “What do they want you for?”
“The sages here asked the sages of Nalessa for a jar of Sea of Galilee water（water from the place of Jesus Christ’s apparition）, very precious; want to see?”
Lego was not stingy at all; he hauled out the heavy earthenware pot, shook it lightly, and it indeed contained water, sealed with wax that could not be opened, “They trust you to do this?” Haridi asked.
“Indeed…” At this, a shadow of displeasure crossed Lego’s face. That time, they decided to offer Princess Sibylla of Nalessa a golden crown no less splendid than the Lady of the Manor’s of Cyprus, arranging for Isaacites merchants of Nalessa to source the needed gemstones, while Lego bore the cost and crafting of the golden base.
They called Lego to discuss, but it was really blackmail.
Lego had succeeded in Bethlehem, then quickly established himself in Nalessa, making many in the Synagogue of Isaac jealous; for the sages, it was a harmless trial, and Lego was no pushover; though he did pay the money, he also managed to show merit to the princess and connect with Princess Sibylla.
Thus, people in Nalessa respected him much more, and this important task was probably compensation for him.
The streets had now returned to their former quiet and brightness; Lego packed the earthenware pot into the backpack, covered it with a wool cloth, and headed to the Synagogue of Isaac.
As Lego walked, he pulled up his hood; he had many enemies in Bethlehem, plus those Christians who hated every Isaacite; local residents had risen to start work, and pilgrims were increasing; luckily most Christians just glanced at him and turned away—for them, these Isaacites all looked the same: bearded, big noses, wearing round caps.
Lego heard them discussing Saint Jerome’s apparition; he had thought it a scam, as no true apparitions had occurred for many years; now hearing the holy relic still persisted, not fleeting and only told by monks to believers, he could not help but be moved.
But the most urgent now was to complete the task from Nalessa’s sages.
The synagogue was as before; the two young students guarding it eyed Lego warily; one recognized him and nearly cried out, but Lego quickly showed the amulet from Nalessa’s sage: “I’m here on sage business!”
“What business?” The student looked around in panic, fearing being seen as accomplice for speaking with an exiled sinner—but Lego had only violated Christians’ law, not Isaacites’; he could not betray an Isaacite, only hurry him away.
“It’s the Sea of Galilee water your sage wants.” Lego tried to unload the backpack, but was stopped by the student, “The sage is not here. He and the students went to an Isaacites village to preach and teach.”
“When will he return?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’ll leave the things here.”
“Can’t do that; I never heard of any Sea of Galilee water, I have no duty to keep your things!”
“Find someone to notify them?!”
“I don’t have that authority.”
Lego could not help cursing; he did not want to waste time in pointless waiting, especially as his status in Bethlehem made him a criminal; if discovered back from exile, he would surely get a whipping, maybe even thrown in prison.
But this was helplessly inevitable.
He asked the village’s location and found walking there was almost like from Bethlehem to Nalessa, “But this is sacred lake water!” Lego argued; he had walked five full days from Nalessa here, and with the weather still hot, what if the water spoiled beside him?
His question drew the student’s sneer: “Since you say it’s sacred lake water, personally drawn by Nalessa’s sage, it surely won’t spoil.” Anyway, don’t expect him to take responsibility.
Lego was furious but could only carry the earthenware pot back; if the crowd was dense when he went to the synagogue, now the main road was even jammed; when he lived in Bethlehem before, there was no such scene—but he soon figured it out: these people were drawn by Saint Jerome’s apparition.
Though Saint Jerome’s apparition monastery was outside the city, it could not hold so many pilgrims; after venerating the holy relic, they still had to leave, but in a place rife with beasts and bandits, without sturdy fortresses and patrolling guards, humans in the open wilderness were just tasty meat, so pilgrims surged into Bethlehem before sunset.
Moreover, many, even hearing of Saint Jerome’s apparition, would first come to Bethlehem to venerate the birthplace of the Holy Child.
“Make way, make way!” A squad of guards suddenly shouted, parting the dense crowd like sharp scissors cutting thick wool cloth; Lego startled, quickly ducked into a shop; the shopkeeper shushed him, forcing him to pay a few copper coins as temporary rent.
Luckily these guards were not after him; they came to proclaim the Knight Commander’s order—the Deputy of Bishop Andrew; while the bishop and Knight of Bethlehem were away with the king on expedition, he was summoned to temporarily handle security here.
And today he received news—His Majesty the King, His Eminence the Patriarch, the Knight of Bethlehem, and Bishop Andrew would return to Bethlehem within a week—of course, for Saint Jerome’s apparition.
The Deputy of Bishop Andrew often served at his side and was no stranger to these eminent figures, but hearing they would all gather here still made him involuntarily show some trepidation.
He was not incompetent, or Bishop Andrew would not have promoted him, but the sudden influx of pilgrims severely impacted Bethlehem’s safety and sanitation.
This was not his fault; even centuries later, the Holy Land was no paradise, but current Bethlehem—if safety, he could hang a few on wooden frames to make an example, but ordering personal hygiene—don’t be ridiculous, how could precious water be used for that!
But that Knight of Bethlehem was quite eccentric, with fervent pursuit of hygiene and order even surpassing strict abbots; he demanded no feces on streets, neither human nor animal; required regular clearing of sewers and pipes; waste like fish guts, entrails, furs must not be littered but buried in pits; and forbade digging up rotten food to boil and eat.
If anyone dared, they faced charges starting from murder.
Besides, the Deputy of Bishop Andrew had even heard he once wanted to divide main roads into horse and pedestrian zones, left and right; shop awnings not to exceed half the road; pilgrims not to lie on roads or parade at will…
All sorts, in exhaustive detail; even as a priest accustomed to rules, the Deputy of Bishop Andrew thought this lord was too meddlesome, and after Bishop Andrew and Caesar left, Bethlehem’s rules had indeed gradually loosened and become lax.
Thinking of this, he jumped up from the table, “Hurry!” he said: “Drive those pilgrims out of the city—or tell them to find an inn!
Then sweep the streets, prepare perfume and petals!”
The order the guards Lego saw proclaimed was this one; undoubtedly, it caused an uproar, but the people would not defy the lord or agent’s commands—they were used to obedience; even if unwilling to leave the city, the inns were instantly full, people stacking in stables, some smart ones knocking on residents’ doors, trading money or goods for a bed.
Lego breathed a sigh of relief.
He hurried to the inn where his sister lived; the innkeeper was also an Isaacite, who barely recognized Lego, but frowned upon hearing that mad woman’s name.
Of course he was glad someone would pay the woman’s debt, but where she went? How would he know? Never mind Lego’s sister marrying a Christian, a traitor; even a proper Isaac woman, if her kin abandoned her, why should a merchant like him care?
“If you don’t tell, no money.”
Lego’s words enraged the innkeeper: “I’ll tell you, your mad sister not only owed me money, broke my furniture, drove away my guests, but brought me trouble like you, heavens!
I’d say she’s a devil-sent prostitute, a shameful rebel; you should have cut ties early, join us in spitting on this woman who abandoned her faith and people, but instead you help her slander an honest, upright businessman like me.
I even put in good words for you then… Now I see I was too stupid; take your money and get lost, pretending to care now—what for? She’s probably long dead, lying in some gutter, no sacrament, no coffin or grave prepared; go find her, among bones gnawed by wild dogs, ashes scattered by wind to remnants, hug those stinking rags and cry.
That’s the end she deserved!”
Lego endured baseless insults, fearing the innkeeper might report him to Bethlehem’s administrator in anger; in the end, he had to leave the money as hush fee, fuming back to the workshop.
Upon entering, Lego smelled food aroma; he set down the backpack, saw packages of bread and pastries on the wooden table, even sacks of wheat and beans, “I don’t have that big an appetite.”
“This isn’t just for you.” Haridi said; I checked outside—more and more people in Bethlehem. Though the influx of pilgrims wouldn’t cause famine, bread and pastries were indeed rising in price, “I also went to the mill outside the city, bought some flour.” Beans and wheat too, from the miller.
“These next days, we should minimize going out.”
Lego said nothing.
“Did it go smoothly?” Haridi wanted to ask if Lego had looked for his sister, and what the letter said—but Lego just shook his head.
“Nothing got done.” Lego said.
He complained at length to Haridi; he hadn’t expected real help from him, but Haridi’s response shocked him.
“Go back to Nalessa.” Haridi said.
“The Sea of Galilee water…”
“I’ll deliver it to the sage for you.”
“My sister…”
“I’ll keep an eye out for her.”
Lego bowed his head; after a long while, he said helplessly: “Thank you, Haridi, but I can’t.” He thought, anyway Haridi was no merchant, no competition: “This return to Bethlehem has reasons; first, I must find my sister, put her on any ship, send her to Francia or wherever; you know, she… she might affect my reputation…”
“Reputation?”
“I’m working for Nalessa’s sages now, Haridi; I’m no longer a sinner; I want back my industry in Bethlehem—” He saw Haridi look up and smiled: “I know you won’t approve, but this was my great-grandfather’s to my grandfather, grandfather’s to my father, father’s to me… I can’t just abandon it.”
Haridi nearly blurted that the letter could not possibly be from his sister—Lego need not worry she’d ruin his reputation again—unless the dead could crawl from the grave.
But he could only sigh; he knew even confessing would not convince Lego; Lego was a typical Isaacite, with inexplicable confidence in God’s eternal protection.
He had been driven from Bethlehem, industry divided; suffered in Nalessa; this time using the sages’ prestige to intimidate Bethlehem folk; before interests and dignity, Lego was a red-eyed gambler.
Haridi now could only hope Nalessa sages’ task had no major link to that prior letter.
The two sat in silence, hastily ate something; Haridi went to rest, while Lego pondered the earthenware pot for a while; he lit a candle, closely examined the wax seal, found it simple—just a Hebrew word.
Bethlehem’s sages bore him no goodwill, especially as he sought to reclaim industry from merchants under their protection; if this Sea of Galilee water spoiled due to deliberate delay… He took a deep breath, stood up.
He lifted the cover cloth, removed the wax seal, opened the wooden lid; leaning in, he smelled a foul odor; bringing the candle close, he saw the water inside had turned murky, with some bugs swimming about.
Lego hesitated no more; he carried the earthenware pot to the courtyard, squatted at the drain, emptied all the water—when Bethlehem’s sage returned, he’d refill with spring water.
————
“You knew he would do that?”
“Any Isaacite would do that.”
